Disclaimer: Nope. Ain't mine. Not at all.
Summary: Ever wondered what exactly Drizzt's Hunter-side is..?
The HunterThe ghost snarled, freeing itself from the fallen body. It had taken several drow soldiers before anyone had managed to get close to the large hook-horror it had possessed, and even then, the ghost's powers had enabled the monster to keep fighting long after it technically would have died. Spells had bounced off it, weapons had pierced its flesh, but it had not felt the pain. It had been an unstoppable wave of chaos and destruction. Just as the ghost liked it…
Shaking off the last remains of the hook horror's spirit, it glanced around. The entire area was a tomb, dead or dying drow lying everywhere. Those strong enough to walk were limping from the area, leaving those who were too weak to fight behind. All the males too weak to walk, that was…
The ghost thought, running an ethereal hand over its non-existent chin. The drow were merciless killers, experts with their weapons, and the finest fighters anyone could imagine. With the ghost's powers, the drow body it inhabited would become the best of warriors…
Smirking, it pushed off, slowing through the air, following the drow soldiers as they returned home. It could, of course, possess one of the bodies walking before it, but it would require a great deal of its strength just getting a hold on the soul. No, it would be far easier to get a hold on the soul of an unborn child – one not marred with life, nor having experience or willpower…
It was clear the soldiers and priestesses could sense something, but, as their eyes could not see the ghost following them, they paid it no further heed – even as the ghost carefully examined the strengths of each.
One particular drow male caught its attention. He moved with an elegance and balance not found in the rest, and, as the ghost gently touched his mind, it found, to its joy, that it had stumbled across the finest weapons master in the drow city – a fighter who seemed made for the two long swords at his hips, rather than the swords made for him…
For a few seconds, it toyed with the possibility of possessing this male right here and now. But, it would be too risky. The drow were naturally strong of will, and if it failed to possess the male swiftly, it would risk the priestesses would discover its presence. And that would mean its destruction.
The ghost calmed itself, forcing its patience to last. It touched the mind of the others in the group, and found that there were two more males, and a female, from this house that the fighter belonged to. Do'Urden… The ghost smiled. It would turn that name into a name of fear and respect. It would create tales of a warrior whose anger and fury were greater than any, who seemed impossible to defeat in battle.
It smirked, seeing the great houses of the city rise before them as they entered the cavern in which it lay. Menzoberranzan... The seat of where it would start its work.
The ghost had possessed countless creatures through time, not giving care to which or what it took. The only thing it cared about was the killing. It would lay hidden, deep within the confinements of the soul of the body it had taken, waiting. Waiting for the moment where either the person would summon its strength – believing it to belong to the person - or lose control long enough for the ghost to take over. Then, it would turn its carrier into an instrument of killing, strengthen the most basic of instincts to aid it, and bring an unnatural wrath behind every hit.
The ghost had been created millennia ago, by a great demon who thought it had made a spirit that would turn other creatures into things of pure evil. However, it had failed on that part. The ghost did not care about good or evil. It happily followed the course of whatever creature it took, whether it was a noble knight, or a wizard filled with the purest malice. It would only slay the enemies of its carrier, merging to something near perfection with the spirit it rode. Though, was the spirit of nature dual-sided, and had already planned to change side and attack its own, then the ghost never backed away from a chance to help…
Through its existence, it had been given many names. "Slayer", "Destruction" and many others. But the name that always had appealed most to it, was "Hunter". And, in truth, it was what the ghost was. A Hunter…
Once it had managed to merge with a soul, however, there was only one single way of getting rid of it. And that was to kill its bearer – something that only would release it and set it free to find a new soul to ride.
Yet, it did not only benefit with skills in battle. It would not be possible to turn a creature into a master-fighter without adding a few things… One of the first were enhanced sight – something that with these drow probably meant they would be able to adjust to even sunlight without much pain… The second was speed, so that its bearer could fully use the potential the ghost brought… And thirdly, it brought an enhancement of the creature's already existing abilities. Which meant that, in its ethereal hands, a drow would be something close to invincible.
It followed the strong male it had found to the complex that made up the house Do'Urden, and paused. It could feel something… The spirit of one yet-to-be-born… From within the house.
It chuckled. It could clearly sense it – the Weapon Master it had followed here had an unborn child. What a perfect chance..
Laughing, the spirit kicked in the air, bringing itself through the wall, and floated unseen towards the pregnant, resting female, stopping before her.
A boy-child, it could sense.
Smiling, it brought itself in contact with the female, easily slipping through her skin – only causing her to shiver slightly in cold – and touched the babe lying in her womb.
"My friend - you and I shall make a fine pair," it whispered, slipping into the lavender-eyed baby's body …