Pointy Fangs and Pointy Ears

(I'm finally home! And for some reason I made it Oct 3)

The darkness only covered what lurked in the thick forest that swallowed all light. A pair of glowing eyes moved their way through the everlasting darkness. A special kind of soul keeper moved about, sniffing the air for the scent of an unguarded soul. An unguarded soul had an intoxicating smell, one that drew in others, like how humans were drawn to weird art pieces. This creature didn't care. A lost soul was a lost soul. The creature came upon the battlefield, tilting his head at the soul of an elf. The usual thing he'd seen, but it was something new and someone that could potentially be shoved back into his battered body. This creature had a name and his name was Bane. Bane was the rarest soul-seeker among the rest— a hellhound.

Bane stepped out of the forest, the moonlight hitting his onyx eyes, turning them ember. He glanced up at the moon, noting its half looking shape. In six days, it would have been a fortnight and a hunter's moon. He sighed. A fortnight since his betrayal. But in about a month, it would be his least favorite event. A blood moon. He came upon the soul of the dead elf, staring at it as it interested him. "Hello, slain one." Should Bane even try to shove him back into his body? Would it be useless? He wouldn't know until he found it. The hound had found the lost, claiming the soul for his own. This deterred others from stealing those who deserved rest from him. "I don't think I can actually fix you. Your body might be— horribly mutilated." He looked the soul up and down. Sometimes, Bane could fix the body. Most of the time, he couldn't.

Bane's ear twitched, and he stared at the elf's soul. "Yes, fix you." He waved his hand, looking around for the body this soul had come from. "I could place you back in your body if it is not badly mutilated. I could heal the wounds, so you can live again." He paused, finding a lanky body sprawled across the ground. From this far away, it didn't look horribly slashed up. But Bane would find out when he moved closer to it. "But I can only do it once, and if you died again— you'd be out of luck." Bane turned his attention back to the elf, biting his tongue as he racked his brain for appealing solutions. "It would save you from a life of hell, but the consequence, that would be my price. It drains me and I pass out almost immediately from exhaustion." He crossed his are over his chest, holding his sincere gaze with the elf. "Do you want to breathe again or not?"

Bane gazed at the body and could help but stifled a laugh. “You are dead dead! Even I can’t fix you… the only thing you have going for you is that your body parts are whole.” He knelt down and grazed his fingers over the body. Nothing happened to the body, as Bane didn’t bother to even try. “Even if I were to ask the demon of resurrection to return you to your glory.” He took a breath. “The price would be too costly— especially after.. the way I ran away..” shaking his head, he stood up and faced the elf. “You’re stuck like this, I’m afraid. I could present some options to you, but you wouldn’t like them.”

Bane sucked in his breath. It was a vicious sound, almost like water being drained from its grounded spot. He nodded, staring at the horizon. “Yes, there are a few options. But as I said, you probably wouldn’t like them.” The Hellhound seemed to be on edge, glancing over his shoulder once in a while. “Well, you could face an afterlife, but you wouldn’t want that. Lost souls don’t fade, thankfully, but they’re cursed to wonder. Unfortunately, if I left you, you’d be dragged off somewhere else.” He grabbed Arcturus’ wrist, making sure he could still touch him. Bane sighed in relief. The elf was still solid to him. He let go. “Option one: You could become a demon. Option two: you could wait until the hunter’s moon and see what comes of it. Options three: You could—“ He gritted his teeth, sucking in air between his teeth. His face scrunched as if he was unsure if this was a viable option. “Try making a contract with me to ensure your soul safe and what not… but the catch is, I’m a Hellhound. We’re not supposed to make contracts. But it can be possible… though I’m not sure it’ll work.”

Bane’s eyes glittered in the moonlight. He turned his attention back to the darkened horizon. His breath visible against the harsh air in the little light provided. He looked unsure, as if he didn’t know if his worry was true or irrational. “Yes.” Bane seemed far away in his own head. “I have no where else to go, so I will wait with you.” He breathed a heavy sigh. “The hunters moon is in six days.”

Bane was brought out of his head by Arcturus’ voice. Fear consumed his eyes. “So, what is your name? I’m Bane… a traitor according to my lovely father..” He looked up at the sky. Bane started to moved, walking towards the dark horizon, his hands in his pockets. He hoped Arcturus followed him. After all, if he didn’t, the elf would be dragged. “I’m not looking for something per se.” He voice was carried out by the still, cold air. “I’m looking out for someone— my father… whose a bitch and has threatened to murder me. Isn’t that fun.” He muttered.

Bane slowed his pace, walking slowly. His movements lanky and unappealing. Each step he took was heavy, crushing the ground underneath his feet. Anyone he found who could help him, he constantly told them about his personal life. It was out of desperation for a better life. It was a kinda stupid, but Bane didn't know any better. He was like a child in a sense. "No." He bit his tongue. "That would be a dead man's job.." He paused, looking at Arcturus. "Well, not for a dead man like you. You'll be double dead. You'll become nothing." Bane staggered while trying to keep up with the dead elf. "You need to get used to how to utilize your dead-self. You have some useful dead man abilities."

Bane sighed. He stopped, yanking Arcturus by his wrist. "Alright, listen here ghosty boy. I get it may be jarring to hear me talk about you being dead. But's reality and I am telling you why you can't do some things. There is not other way to sugarcoat it." He let the soul go, huffing and walking ahead. Pulling out a hilt, he flicked it and shadows formed a blade. Bane needed to feel protected. A shiver ran up his spine from a bad feeling. "Well, that's for you to find out and for me to kill of some nasty creatures. But phasing through things can be helpful. Possessing things can be helpful."

Bane growled at the elf. "I'm not being a jackass. I'm just telling you up front. What. Do you want me to call you deceased or departed? Because you're not departed." He shook his head, his eyes glowing in the darkness of the night. The hound charged at something, slicing through it's stomach. A creature shrouded by darkness became visible in the moonlight. The creature fell dead and Bane cursed under his breath. "It's not safe in an open location. Either you give me ideas or I take you somewhere random." The blood on the sword evaporated into a cool mist. "The moon is highest in the sky. We about six hours before sunrise." The hound didn't answer Arcturus' other question, instead, he grabbed the Arcturus by the hand. "Paint a picture of somewhere safe to go."

Bane rolled his eyes, sighing. “I just need some ideas of where to go!” Shadows flickered around their forms. They appeared in a small little base. It was disastrous. It was obviously the a temporary base of a Hellhound. He threw his sword on the ground. “Here’s random.” Bane scavenged around the makeshift base from something.

Bane looked in his satchel, cursing under his breath when he couldn't find what he searched for. The base wasn't really— homely per se, but when you're a hellhound on the run— you aren't looking for homely. The hound had just found some random abandoned cabin and settled. "If been on the run for a week. I betrayed my pack a week ago. They never liked me anyway." There were a couple of makeshift comfort items, but Bane didn't need to sleep, and neither did his new guest. The walls and floor were made from plain wood. The cabin was mostly empty save for some abandoned furniture items. Bane held up a necklace with a symbol hanging from it. I was quite similar to him. "Here. It's an enchanted neckless of Mercury. Mercury is the element that is able to drift between life and death." He placed it around Arcturus' neck. "And the enchantment should give you more of a solid form, so you don't look as—" He bit his lip, searching for a better word. "Expired?"

Bane stepped back, looking at the elf with aww. Now he could see Arcturus features better. He closed his eyes, listening for anything of interest. "You're welcome. I have my ways in getting enchanted stuff. My friend is the best at it." He frowned. He knew his friend was going to die soon, but that rose a bigger question. What was he going to do? He had only picked up a dead elf from the streets. There wasn't anyone to protect him if his father found him. Spirits weren't— the best at fighting. "How would you like to live out the six days before the hunter's moon? Maybe then, you could ask for resurrection.. Maybe.." Bane's ear twitched and he whined. A snotty growl came from outside, and Bane picked up his umbra sword. "Shit."

Bane hissed, moving back from the door. He held his sword in a readied position, protecting both him and Arcturus. Growls came from low in the hound's throat, the most wafting from the sword curling around his feet. Bane shook his head when the question reached him. “You can’t. You can't fight alongside me at this current moment. The best thing you can do is stay put and let out a banshee scream if something tries to drag you away.” He looked the elf in the face, three long scars consuming the right half of his. “You also need to make sure I don’t pass out— because if I’m too wounded, I can’t protect you.” Something hard hit the door, a long-drawn-out growl coming from it. “Try to access weapons you can use. Then maybe I’ll consider you fighting with me.”

The door busted open and a giant, burly hound stomped in. It was the size of a pony. Bane’s species was— very pissed at him, and now they’ve come to fetch their prisoner. He started the hound deep in the eyes. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, charging at the creature. It slashed its claws at him, it’s giant paw knocking him to the ground. A very bad start. Bane let out a sickening oouf before slowly getting back up. He aimed for the creature’s left side, slicing it open. Hellhound blood started to drip on the floor. The creature retaliated with a blow to Bane’s belly, raking its claws against it. The hound (Bane) screamed in pain, biting his own tongue. He struck at the beast’s neck, slicing it slightly. The battle was— not going well.

Bane was frying his best, but his best was— rusty. He didn't train, nor had he fought something in a long time. Currently, he was trying not to focus on the pain the scars on his stomach caused him. Hellhounds we're very hard creatures to fight and that was evident. Bane lifted his blade over his shoulder. He swung it at the beast’s chest, slicing right through its chest cavity. It snarled, using its front paw to kicked Bane in the chest. Well, it tried to. Its weak paw was blocked by his blade. Luckily for Arcturus, anything ghostly could kill a Hellhound. The thin spike went through the dorsal side of its body, killing the already dying creature.

Bane looked down at the Hellhound, scoffing. He moved over the makeshift bed, placing his sword down gently. He looked down at the wounds scorn across his stomach and frowned. They hurt. A lot. Out of his satchel, he grabbed a small canister of yarrow poultice. He sat on the comfy bundle of nesting objects, applying the poultice on the wounds. He made a sour face. Obviously, Hellhound wounds hurt a lot.

Bane gritted his teeth, smearing the poultice over the wounds on his stomach. He closed the canister, putting it back in his bag. He buttoned his jacket closed, protecting the wounds from infection. He licked the rest of the poultice off of his fingers. It was bitter, but edible. “No. I don’t know every Hellhound. I just know what they’re after.” He looked up to Arcturus. “But it seems you’ve found someway to attack. It’s the same principle found in the way you’re solid to me.” Bane laid down in the makeshift bed. Leaves and mosses were weaved together to line a small frame made of wood. He opened his jacket to look at the damage. The wounds were ugly, but stopped bleeding. There wasn’t much swelling either.