SKT - Follow The Cleric

Epilogue: Lords of the Hunt

<After the events of Bloodlines and Riches>

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The tattered armor of the undead Lord of the Hunt clinked against his skeletal warhorse as he crested the ridge next to his companion. In life, they had been dignified looking gentlemen. Now he couldn’t tell his compatriot’s horrid face from his own. He looked away towards their castle keep which was now burning in the distance. “We should have spread them out more. Letting Korotir and Atarah regroup was a mistake.”

Lord Crannon shook his head, leathery skin rasping against old armor. “No we should have drug them farther. Let the prey tire itself out first. I didn’t expect the monk to be right on my tail after covering so much ground.”

Lord Savann tightened his grip on the reigns. “No, we should have focused harder on Natalia. Killing her would have crippled their morale.”

“We couldn’t very well do that and man the rock slide at the same time.” There was a prolonged silence as they watched a great billow of smoke come pouring out of their former home. A section of the roof collapsed in.

“No… we couldn’t. We needed reinforcements. We should regroup with the rest of the Left Hand.”

Crannon made a spitting sound, a hollow gesture when his body no longer produced spit. “We’ll have our revenge, sycophants or no. A huntsman’s pride in single combat is not foolishness. Still, this is a setback. We need to move on more bloodlines lest Orcus become displeased with us.”

“What more can we lose?” Crannon’s face stretched back as he watched the burning castle. “What of House Daerivoss?”

Lord Savann cocked his head as if listening to the wind. “The deed is done. One more House has fallen to the Left Hand. Now we can focus on Auraest, Cuvelier, and the Ulgen bloodlines. I honestly thought we were going to get the Warlock. I lined him up perfectly for you.”

Crannon goaded his horse in a circle, leaning back in the supple leather saddle. “Where’s the new saddle I bought for you?” He treated him with a rotted, pointy toothed grin. The Hunt Lord hefted his bag of gems in his hand. “Raise the Bounty. Add the whole sorry lot of them. We want our prey run ragged when we finally slit their throats.”

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