Hircine's Hunt

[punkin_head]

this short story is about the Daedric Prince of the Hunt, Hircine. Thinking of having a short story for some of the other Daedra also.



Hircine’s Hunt

Hircine sat on his throne and gazed at his domain. The Hunting Grounds were beautiful and massive. Mostly woods and jungle, populated with every animal imaginable and some you could not imagine. It was daylight and the Nords were out hunting all kinds beasts. The Prince of the Hunt looked up at the sun hanging low in the sky. In about an hour the tables would turn.

One hour later

The sun began to set. As the last of the daylight faded from his plane of Oblivion, he stood. He pulled his bow off of the wall, strung it and placed it over his shoulder. It was a Daedric bow with inlays of solid gold, instead of red.The string was also made of gold.That guaranteed it would never fray or break, but it also gave it more power to kill the huge beasts that roamed his domain. He walked to his hunting table and stared at the amount of arrows arrayed before him. Every type imaginable was laid there. He picked up a quiver filled with arrows made with the bones of fallen dragons, he himself killed. As he approached the stairs that led down to the Hunting Grounds, he picked up his spear that was resting against the corner.

He examined it, making sure it was in pristine condition. It was made from the tusks of a massive mammoth. He then took the razor sharp teeth of a fallen dragon and bound them to the side of the spear near the tip. The tip itself was made from the horns of the mighty son of Akotosh himself: Alduin.

He had great fun watching the Dovahkiin battle the mighty dragon. He even went down to Sovengard himself and gathered the horns. He fastened the horns to the end of the spear, facing out to make a devilish looking Y.

As he descended the steps, he heard the howls of the werewolves in the distance. He smiled wondering which beast they were after. As he reached the end of the stairs a huge werewolf ran up to him. Much like a dog, he sat down beside the Daedric prince.

“Skjorn my friend, how have you been?” Hircine asked. Skjorn looked up at the prince and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. Hircine laughed and said, “Either you have been good, or one of the massive elk have kicked you in the head one too many times.”

He began his trek through the woods. He approached a clearing and laid prone on the ground. As he approached the edge of the field he saw them: Two massive elk. After millennia of hunting boring, normal sized animals, he decided to make them all grow. Instead of an elk the size of a horse, these are about half a story tall. It proved quite a challenge for some of his quarry, like the mammoths and dragons.
He laid his spear down and pulled the bow off of his back. He pulled out a dragon’s arrow and nocked it on the golden string. He pulled it back to his right cheek and aimed right behind the elk’s right leg, right where its heart would lie. He breathed in deeply and on his exhale, he released the arrow.

 

[Van Moro]

ooooh i like this, i've always been a fan of Hircine, keep going ^_^

 

[punkin_head]

Hircine’s Hunt

The arrow flew from the bow on its way to its mark. It struck the elk exactly where he wanted it to go. It dropped to the ground as the other elk ran towards the tree line. Hircine whistled loudly and Skjorn lunged into the woods, on his way to cut off the elks escape.

The prince stood and nocked another arrow. From his position, he couldn’t get a clear shot at any vital organs. He waited. He could hear Skjorn crashing through the woods, and then he erupted into the clearing. The elk bolted in the other direction giving Hircine a clear shot at its heart.

He loosed the arrow and it sailed through the air. The elk lurched forward and flipped over on its back. Hircine sauntered over and gathered his arrows. He left the bodies untouched. As a Daedric prince, he didn’t need to eat so he just hunted for the sport of it.

He looked at the horizon of the night sky and could see the torches that illuminated his palace burning bright in the night sky. Hircine heard Skjorn howl at the moon hanging high in the sky. Simultaneous cries erupted from the woods all throughout the Hunting Grounds. Hircine smiled at his creations as he walked back to his home.

As he walked he began to think. It was strange. Normally after a hunt he felt great, reflecting on the perfect shots or that amazing spear throw. This time he didn’t feel content with his hunt. The hunt happened the way most of them do, and that was the problem. After millennia of hunting the same beasts, no matter the size, maybe he was getting bored. He gathered his spear and walked through the woods thinking.

He approached the stairs of his palace and looked up. The palace was magnificent. It was built high on a hill, much like Dragonsreach in Skyrim. A staircase stretched high onto the hill for what seemed like an eternity. Hircine made it tall for a very good reason; he hunted all over his domain, which was thousands of miles in any direction. If he built it into the air, no matter where he was in his kingdom he could see his palace, and hs way home.

His home was a massive structure held by beams of ebony with golden walls encrusted with gems. The ceiling stretched high and had almost one of every animal mounted on it facing down. Some days he liked to relax on his throne and gaze at the remains of the beasts, remembering every kill. Today he had no time for this. He set his spear in the corner near the door and unstrung his bow. Setting it on the nails that held it; he coiled the golden string and set it on his hunting table. He placed his quiver of arrows down and sat on his throne.

He thought of what else he could hunt. He racked his brain and could think of nothing. Then like a strike of lightening, he knew what to do. Hunt man. It was perfect! Man can fight back with weapons, he can be cunning and deceiving, and he would prove a worthy challenge.

He wouldn’t kill him though; he wasn’t Sithis. He would pull them into his plane of Oblivion and hunt them. When they were ‘killed’ he would just send them back to Nirn. He would bring men and mer alike to his domain; the more dangerous the better. He leaned back in his chair, gazing over his domain. A sly smile on his lips, he began to plan.

 

[punkin_head]

Hircine’s Hunt

‘What would the rules be?’ Hircine asked himself. He stood and leaned against the frame of the door leading out of his palace and into the Hunting Grounds. He needed to set boundaries. He didn’t want them getting a thousand miles out, that wouldn’t be fun, just tedious. “Fifty miles?” he asked out loud.

“Fifty miles for what?” Skjor asked as he walked up the steps. The Nord was bald with brilliant white eyes. He had been a member of the Companions, a member of the Circle. He had died at the hands of the Silver Hand and went to Hircine’s Hunting Grounds for eternity. Skjor loved it here. He couldn’t die because he was already dead. He transformed into his beastly side as many times a day that he wanted and was able to talk to the Prince of the Hunt.

Hircine liked Skjor. After he moved into the Hunting Grounds, he approached the Daedra. No fear, no hesitation, and asked if this was paradise. Hircine liked the audacity of the Nord. They formed a tight bond and hunted every day together.

“I am planning a massive hunt,” Hircine told his friend.

Skjor’s eyebrows raised, “What prey?”

Hircine smirked and replied, “Man.”

“To the death?” Skjor asked.

“No. When they are stabbed, or killed in general, they will be sent back to Nirn. Unharmed and restored,” Hircine replied. “They will be allowed to use weapons, magic, guile, and anything else they so choose. I am a bit worried of infighting though.”

“Will the Pack be allowed to hunt them?” Skjor asked.

“Of course. It would be no fun if it was only me doing the stalking. Besides who would flush them out?” Hircine joked. “Yes, the Pack will be allowed to hunt as they please.”

The Pack were the werewolves that dotted the Hunting Grounds. Being his creations, Hircine had a bond with them. At a moment’s notice, he could have every werewolf in his domain gathered around his palace. He wasn’t sure how many there were in the Hunting Grounds, but there had to be at least two hundred.

“Where would you get them from?” Skjor asked his master. “Hunting shop keepers and citizens won’t prove much of a challenge.”

“I plan to pull them from a few specific places. The Imperial City prison, Alik’r warriors from HammerFell, Shadowscale assassins from Black Marsh, and maybe a squad of Imperial City guards,” Hircine explained.

“It sounds like quite the hunt,” Skjor admitted. “When will it take place?”

“Tomorrow, I am going to set up a perimeter of fifty miles to keep them from getting too far. I’m also going to put weapons all around the area. Gather the Pack and tell them to prepare.”
Hircine sent Skjorn on his way and began to summon the walls around the area. He summoned axes, swords, bows, and shields in the air above the ground. There were scores of weapons dotting the air. With the drop of his hand, they fell to the ground. Thinking devilishly, he set traps all over the Hunting Grounds. Traps that would pull the prey into the air, pits to trap them, and logs that would swing down and demolish any in the path. Things were starting to come together.

Hircine used his power to leave his domain. He traveled to the Imperial City prison and walked right in. He shrouded himself from the eyes of the mortals and walked through the prison. He selected the criminals he thought would prove a challenge and sent them to an empty area of nothing. He traveled all across Nirn and gathered many different races. Pleased with himself, he traveled back to his Hunting Grounds and made the final preparations.

 

[punkin_head]

i'm sorry. Skjorn is supposed to be Skjor. i haven't done the companions quests in a while and forgot his name.

 

[punkin_head]

In the Void of Nothing

Drevis was confused. One second he was sitting in his prison cell, and the next he was bathed in a bright light. Now he was paralyzed from the neck down in a place of nothing. He looked around to find dozens of other people, all paralyzed and screaming. Some wondered where they were out loud, others simply screamed and cried. He tried to get the attention of the people around him, but to no avail.

At the Hunting Grounds

Hircine finally had all the preparations made. He sent out a mass thought to all the werewolves in his plane and brought them all to his palace. He gathered them into a semi-circle and told them to wait. The Pack had specific instructions to only start hunting on his command. In an instant he summoned all of the paralyzed people into the semi-circle.

Drevis was surrounded by another bright light and when his vision cleared, he was standing in a circle with the other people. He realized he could move again and began to walk; then froze. He was staring at the face of dozens of waiting men and some women. They stared hungrily at the scores of people standing in front of them.

“Welcome to the Hunting Grounds” Hircine’s voice boomed.

“By the Nine Divines, that Hircine!” one of the men yelled. The man was right. Drevis stared up to the top of the stairs. Standing at the top was the Prince of the Hunt, Hircine.

“You have been brought here for my entertainment. You will all be hunted down for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of my Pack,” he said.

A collective gasp rang out of the prisoners, followed by some cries of outrage.

“Be still!” his voice boomed across the land. “When you are killed, you will be sent back to where I gathered you, alive and unharmed. Now, go!”

Drevis watched as the men and women in front of him hunch over, making God awful noises. Their limbs elongated and their faces stretched. He began to run away, dozens of others followed suit as he ran into the woods.

Hircine held his minions back, watching their mouths drip with spit. He watched as the last of the one hundred and seventeen scared men entered the woods. He telepathically told all of his werewolves to begin. He grabbed his bow, strung it and grabbed his spear. He bolted out the door and down the steps, taking them two at a time as the arrows on his back jingled with the motion of his body.

He landed and made for the edge of the woods. The werewolves were long gone, hunting down the fearful people. He entered and dodged a log trap that had been tripped. He heard fighting to the right, pulled an arrow and slowly approached. A Nord was in combat with a werewolf, Hircine couldn’t tell who though.

The man clubbed the beast with a giant stick and he went still, knocked out cold. He slowly reverted back to his normal self. Hircine aimed at the man’s chest and let the arrow go. The man erupted in a shower of light and was sent back to Skyrim. The prince smiled and nocked another arrow.

His golden bow glinting in the sunlight, he walked through the woods. A breaking branch to his left caught his attention. He turned sharply and saw the bushes shake, followed by the sound of running. Hircine gave chase, crashing through the bushes and running flat out. He saw his quarry, a lean Bosmer, climbing a tree. He pulled back the golden string and let the arrow fly. It connected with the elf, and he fell; just before he hit the ground he was send back to Vvardenfell in a burst of light.

He heard a werewolf howl and knew it was Skjor. He ran to his friend and was blown back. Flames erupted all around him, followed by a deafening explosion. He slammed against a tree and it cracked from the collision. He laughed like a madman. Some clever soul placed a fire rune along the trail. He stood and brushed himself off, putting out the flames that caught his Savior’s Hide on fire. Still giggling to himself he resumed the chase.

A werewolf lunged through the bushes to his right, followed by many screams. Hircine followed suit. He saw five people huddled together, fighting as one. He nocked an arrow and sent it on its way to his prey. It connected with an Orc in his forehead. Head snapping back, the light enveloped him and he was gone.

Seeing an opening, one werewolf lunged forward and landed on an Imperial’s back. They crashed to the ground as the man desperately fought back. It was futile though; the beast wrapped his jaws around the man’s throat and bit down. The man erupted in light and was gone.

Hircine let loose three more arrows, hitting two elves but the third was stopped by a Redguard’s shield. Hircine pulled his spear out of it’s sheathe on his back and slung his bow in its place. He charged the man and crouched low, swiping the man’s feet out from under him. The prince then brought the tip of the spear down into the man’s chest and sent him home.

He focused of the Pack’s thoughts. They were excited. He focused on Skjor and located him. He dove into the woods once more, on his way to find his friend. He skipped over a pit and kept running. He heard footsteps to his left, turned and hurled the spear into the bushes. Light flooded the area behind the bush and Hircine heard his spear hit the ground. He jumped through the thicket and retrieved his weapon.

He met up with Skjor in the middle of a battle. Thirty or so men had gathered in a circle and were fighting tooth and nail against their werewolf attackers. Hircine threw his spear and in one fluid motion, slid the bow off his back. He already had an arrow nocked and the string drew by the time the spear hit. It connected with an Altmer, sending him reeling. To the elf’s right, an Orc bellowed. He was clad in plate steel armor with a giant Orcish warhammer. Hircine remembered taking him from one of the Orc strongholds in Skyrim. He charged the Daedra and Hircine fired. The arrow bounced against the armor. He drew again and sent the arrow to the man’s head. He ducked and swiped his warhammer towards the prince. Hircine jumped back, barely dodging the head. He dropped his bow and came in close to the Orc. He punched the man in the throat and kicked in his knee. The Orsimer dropped down and Hircine snapped his neck.

Retrieving the bow he fired into the mass of people. Hitting three more elves and eight men. A gout of frost hit him from behind. He reeled forward and turned around. A Dunmer was standing there, a spell of icy spear in both hands. He let them go and Hircine ducked. He followed them with his eyes and watched them land in the middle of the group. Two men flew through the air with spears of ice embedded in their chests. The Dunmer back peddled as the Daedra turned and drew an arrow. The elf tried to send a blast of fire toward him, but the arrow stuck in his heart before he had the chance.

Hircine turned and emptied half of his quiver into the mass of people. When no one was left he sat on the grass. Knowing that there had to be at least fifty more people running through the woods, he sent out a massive thought to the Pack. He told them to hunt them down and drive them towards the clearing. Hircine climbed the biggest tree near him and leaned against the trunk. He heard snarling and readied his bow. A young Imperial burst into the clearing and received an arrow in his heart. As he vanished another ran out of the woods.

After ten minutes Hircine ran out of arrows. He sat on the branch and sent all the rest of the men back to their respective places. He climbed down and began the walk home. Skjorn approached him and transformed into his human body.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked grinning.

A smile crept across Hircine’s lips as they entered the woods.