Royal Citizen Bhardnam's gloved hand clutched against his breast in fear. His white hair sprawled over his shoulders and stuck to his face from the sweat of his fear. He could hear the deep guttural grrrowwwl from around the alley. Why, o' had he not marked the days till the Hunt?
Sniffing… the thing was sniffing now, the clack-clack-clack of what sounded like claws tapping against the cobblestone streets of Yharnam. It was coming for him, it could smell his fear, Bhardnam knew it better than anything.
Panting now… the claws were getting closer as it reached the corner. It would round it soon and it would begin to tear the helpless Bhardnam apart piece by piece and eat the meat off his bones, lick the marrow from them, and…
Bhardnam's hand wrapped tightly around the cane's hilt. No. He was not powerless. He would not be powerless. He aimed the threaded cane at the alley, his eyes focusing solely on the edge of the building.
It leaped out, a mass of black fur with large fangs and white eyes that shone like the full moon above. Very well then, Bhardnam thought. Let's try it.
Bhardnam wasn't sure if he'd leapt first or if the beast had. Either way, his cane had ended up in one of the beast's moon eyes, shutting it into blackness. The beast had scattered back, letting out a roar of anguish, or perhaps rage, as it stood on its hind legs, more than a few feet taller than Bhardnam.
It seemed to grin at him grotesquely before swiping a clawed paw at Bhardnam, knocking him back, nearly stumbling him to the ground.
Bhardnam looked to his cane. Blood stained the shaft. A coldness filled his head and his nostrils burnt, his tongue tasted blood.
The shaft of the cane slammed against the beast's side, then slammed against its snout, breaking a chip off of a fang. Then, without thinking, the cane slammed into the maw of the beast, pressing in until the beast gagged and slashed at Bhardnam in its animalistic panic.
It wasn't expecting me to fight back, Bhardnam realized, removing the cane and smashing it furiously upon the head of the beast until it fell to the ground. The heel of Bhardnam's boot slammed into back of the beast's skull, cracking it against the pavement.
The smell of the blood stung Bhardnam's nostrils and his arm rose to the sky. In the moonlight, the blood sheamed. And the cane came down, hard.
Then again.
And again.
And again, and again, until the beast lie still and its blood pooled out around graments of broken teeth and torn fur.
Bhardnam sat upon the husk of the beast, using a rag to wipe the blood from the shaft of the cane. He glanced up at the moon again when he heard it.
A deep, harmonious grrrowwwl sounded from around him. Bright beacons of white light bore at him in the darkness of alleys and pathways. About six pairs of the things, three beasts all slowly advancing upon him.
Bhardnam stood slowly in a patient calm, his cane sticking out and addressing the beasts around him.
"Well, come on then," he said. "I don't have all night to wait." As soon as he'd finished speaking, a beast lunged forward with a gaping mouth of wet, sharp fangs and hot, rancid breath.
Truly, a warm welcome to the Hunt.
