FA+
Shop
156 submissions
Welcome to the Prologue of "Legend of the Hunter." Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!
-
Prologue
-
Footsteps echoed through the silent streets and empty alleys.
Frantic in their pace, urgent in their beat, they sounded a hurried retreat through the night, splashing through puddles from the earlier rain without care. Her white toga billowed behind her like an unrelenting ghost, filthy though it had become. Her breath came short and choked by terrified exertion. Though her lungs burned, she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she was sure that easing her retreat would not mean her demise.
Legal Beagle ducked into the alcove of a closed coffee shop, giving her tired legs some respite as her heart pounded in her chest. She peeked out, daring a look behind her. Nothing. No sign of her pursuer, not a hint of a shadow out of place. It may as well have been a calm, peaceful night, like any other patrol.
But the heroine knew better.
She touched her communicator earpiece and let out a desperate whine when all she heard, once more, was sharp, hissing interference. She opened a pouch on her belt and a felt a swell of hope; the signal booster she’d bought from Decker Security Innovations just a few days prior showed a single yellow bar rather than the flat red of a total jam. It may be just enough to get a message out.
“This is Legal Beagle…calling…any BOS agent…” She didn’t realize how exhausted she was until she tried to speak, her chest still heaving from the harrowing pursuit. “I’m being…chased. She’s…a bloody ghost. Anticipates every move…counters every attack. Sandstalker…I know it…has to be her…”
The heroine waited, praying for any kind of response, receiving only the cold indifference of the night breeze in her ears.
“Please…anyone…she’s right on top of me.”
A burst of static erupted in her ear and her eyes widened, eagerly awaiting the response from the external signal. But the hushed, ominous voice only sent a chill up her spine.
“I see you.”
Legal Beagle swallowed rising panic as she pulled her sword from its sheath. Her eyes darted around the street and the fact that she couldn’t spot her pursuer only fed her terror. She felt claustrophobic in the little alcove and tried to keep her mind from envisioning every horrible way she could be attacked at any moment. She couldn’t stay here. She had to run. Somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was a step ahead of the hunter.
But the hunter, Legal Beagle realized the moment she bolted from the alcove, was already a step ahead of her.
No sooner had the heroine cleared the sidewalk than a sharp pain bore into her shoulder, tugging a yelp from her muzzle. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the pavement, but not before thrusting her sword in the direction of the attack and letting loose an energy burst from the silver blade. The blast tore a chunk from the precipice of the building across the street, raining dust and rubble as Legal Beagle pulled the dart from her shoulder. Her vision blurred and she shook her head, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness. She dropped it and heaved herself to her feet, fighting to maintain her balance.
The fact that the pain in her shoulder had disappeared allayed Legal Beagle’s worries of poison, though the growing certainty that she’d been hit with some kind of tranquilizer or muscle relaxant was only a slight comfort. If she couldn’t get away from the hunter, and quick, she’d be helpless to fight back. Though she’d avoided taking to the skies thus far, knowing that her stalker had been prowling the rooftops, the clear, starry night above seemed her only hope of escape, no matter how desperate.
Mustering her strength, Legal Beagle leapt and took flight, thrusting her weapon skyward. She rose like a rocket, reaching for the freedom of open sky far away from the predator that hunted her. Even with the tranquilizer coursing through her, the promise of escape so close invigorated her to keep going, keep flying, no matter what.
So loud was the wind in her ears that she didn’t hear the shot from the rooftop.
The round expanded shortly after leaving the rifle, bursting into a wide, wire-enforced net. The trajectory and angle, so perfectly calculated, ensured that Legal Beagle suffered the full brunt of the net, the interlaced tendrils wrapping around her and binding her as she cried out in surprise. Jerked from her flight path so violently, her sword left her grasp as she struck the side of a building and plummeted under the weight of the pain and persistent tranquilizer toxin. The heroine crashed onto the windshield of a parked car and bounced off onto the road, groaning. Her sword clattered beside her.
The net creaked against Legal Beagle’s weakened struggles, holding her firmly from head to toe. Cold sweat matted her fur not so much from the exertion of her flight, but the rising fear of the encroaching footsteps upon the road. She desperately bucked against the net, trying to cry out but finding nothing in her tight throat. The footsteps closed in – slow, confident, deliberate.
Through her blurred vision, Legal Beagle could only see the silhouette of a figure towering above her, a gun in her hand.
“No…” she managed to whisper, a barely audible plea.
The last thing she heard before feeling the sting of another dart and succumbing to the darkness was the same cold, cruel voice that taunted her on the radio.
“Today, the heroine Legal Beagle belonged to Colmaton. Tonight, she belongs to me.”
-
Chapter 1 coming soon
-
Sandstalker is a joint creation of myself and
WolfRider
Legal Beagle belongs to
MojoRover
Colmaton belongs to
TRAIN
Cover art belongs to
JaiJai
Comic cover modification done by
BadBeepBoy
-
Prologue
-
Footsteps echoed through the silent streets and empty alleys.
Frantic in their pace, urgent in their beat, they sounded a hurried retreat through the night, splashing through puddles from the earlier rain without care. Her white toga billowed behind her like an unrelenting ghost, filthy though it had become. Her breath came short and choked by terrified exertion. Though her lungs burned, she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she was sure that easing her retreat would not mean her demise.
Legal Beagle ducked into the alcove of a closed coffee shop, giving her tired legs some respite as her heart pounded in her chest. She peeked out, daring a look behind her. Nothing. No sign of her pursuer, not a hint of a shadow out of place. It may as well have been a calm, peaceful night, like any other patrol.
But the heroine knew better.
She touched her communicator earpiece and let out a desperate whine when all she heard, once more, was sharp, hissing interference. She opened a pouch on her belt and a felt a swell of hope; the signal booster she’d bought from Decker Security Innovations just a few days prior showed a single yellow bar rather than the flat red of a total jam. It may be just enough to get a message out.
“This is Legal Beagle…calling…any BOS agent…” She didn’t realize how exhausted she was until she tried to speak, her chest still heaving from the harrowing pursuit. “I’m being…chased. She’s…a bloody ghost. Anticipates every move…counters every attack. Sandstalker…I know it…has to be her…”
The heroine waited, praying for any kind of response, receiving only the cold indifference of the night breeze in her ears.
“Please…anyone…she’s right on top of me.”
A burst of static erupted in her ear and her eyes widened, eagerly awaiting the response from the external signal. But the hushed, ominous voice only sent a chill up her spine.
“I see you.”
Legal Beagle swallowed rising panic as she pulled her sword from its sheath. Her eyes darted around the street and the fact that she couldn’t spot her pursuer only fed her terror. She felt claustrophobic in the little alcove and tried to keep her mind from envisioning every horrible way she could be attacked at any moment. She couldn’t stay here. She had to run. Somewhere, anywhere, as long as it was a step ahead of the hunter.
But the hunter, Legal Beagle realized the moment she bolted from the alcove, was already a step ahead of her.
No sooner had the heroine cleared the sidewalk than a sharp pain bore into her shoulder, tugging a yelp from her muzzle. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the pavement, but not before thrusting her sword in the direction of the attack and letting loose an energy burst from the silver blade. The blast tore a chunk from the precipice of the building across the street, raining dust and rubble as Legal Beagle pulled the dart from her shoulder. Her vision blurred and she shook her head, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness. She dropped it and heaved herself to her feet, fighting to maintain her balance.
The fact that the pain in her shoulder had disappeared allayed Legal Beagle’s worries of poison, though the growing certainty that she’d been hit with some kind of tranquilizer or muscle relaxant was only a slight comfort. If she couldn’t get away from the hunter, and quick, she’d be helpless to fight back. Though she’d avoided taking to the skies thus far, knowing that her stalker had been prowling the rooftops, the clear, starry night above seemed her only hope of escape, no matter how desperate.
Mustering her strength, Legal Beagle leapt and took flight, thrusting her weapon skyward. She rose like a rocket, reaching for the freedom of open sky far away from the predator that hunted her. Even with the tranquilizer coursing through her, the promise of escape so close invigorated her to keep going, keep flying, no matter what.
So loud was the wind in her ears that she didn’t hear the shot from the rooftop.
The round expanded shortly after leaving the rifle, bursting into a wide, wire-enforced net. The trajectory and angle, so perfectly calculated, ensured that Legal Beagle suffered the full brunt of the net, the interlaced tendrils wrapping around her and binding her as she cried out in surprise. Jerked from her flight path so violently, her sword left her grasp as she struck the side of a building and plummeted under the weight of the pain and persistent tranquilizer toxin. The heroine crashed onto the windshield of a parked car and bounced off onto the road, groaning. Her sword clattered beside her.
The net creaked against Legal Beagle’s weakened struggles, holding her firmly from head to toe. Cold sweat matted her fur not so much from the exertion of her flight, but the rising fear of the encroaching footsteps upon the road. She desperately bucked against the net, trying to cry out but finding nothing in her tight throat. The footsteps closed in – slow, confident, deliberate.
Through her blurred vision, Legal Beagle could only see the silhouette of a figure towering above her, a gun in her hand.
“No…” she managed to whisper, a barely audible plea.
The last thing she heard before feeling the sting of another dart and succumbing to the darkness was the same cold, cruel voice that taunted her on the radio.
“Today, the heroine Legal Beagle belonged to Colmaton. Tonight, she belongs to me.”
-
Chapter 1 coming soon
-
Sandstalker is a joint creation of myself and
WolfRiderLegal Beagle belongs to
MojoRoverColmaton belongs to
TRAINCover art belongs to
JaiJaiComic cover modification done by
BadBeepBoyCategory All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 883 x 1280px
File Size 1.06 MB
Listed in Folders
Comments