Demona pasio

Self-Beta'ed, but if there's any misspelled words I missed or any sentences that don't sound right, please feel free to tell me.

Key-
"Talking"
/Thinking/
*emphasis*

The demon screeched as it died, pawing worthlessly at the blade thrust through it's stomach and pinning the writhing creature to the floor, it's body slick with blood from the other wounds it had recieved. The female was the last of it's pack, the only reason why it had survived as long as it did was because it was just a hair faster than the others, just slightly smarter; and yet like the others it, too, fell at a hunter's blade.


Kaelin gripped the sword, not letting the weapon go and giving the chance for the creature to attack until the female stopped moving, letting out a ragged bubbly breath as her struggles abruptly stopped and she collapsed bonelessly to the ground. He paused just a moment, checking to make sure she was well and truely dead before putting one foot on top of the body and yanking the sword out. Taking the time to wipe the gore from the blade on the demon's body, Kaelin looked up to see the others of his team had already began stripping the bodies of any goods and dragging the corpses into a pile to later burn.


Kaelin had been a hunter for years and, although the faces around him had changed, the tradition of slaughter, strip, and burn had remained constant. A comforting thought, that while politics and practices the world over were changing, that *something* in his life remained reliable.


With a sigh, trying to keep the unwanted thoughts out of his head, he turned to work on the body at his feet. The female's formerly gaudy clothes were no good, covered in blood as they were, but the horns were long and unbroken; he could get a good bit of gold for them. The lizardlike tail was pocked with scar tissue down over half of it's length, an old wound that must have healed wrong. The meat would have it's uses to those who think demon tails had esoteric usages, but the scaled skin, the only part of the demon that *did* have scales and thus were more expensive on the markets, was next to useless. He chopped the tail off near the base anyway, feeling he could still get *some* coin out of it.


"You need any help there, old man?" the lightly taunting voice made Kaelin look up, rolling his eyes at the kid sauntering towards him, spear resting on his shoulder. Phax was the new kid on the team. Stubborn, snide, and with absolutely no respect for authority. Kaelin liked him immediately. Though Kaelin was by no means an 'old man,' the Phax took every chance he could to call the older hunter that. Just like Kaelin responded with 'kid,' it was a longstanding joke between them.


"Sure, kid" Kaelin responded, tossing the the kid the stiped tail that was still dripping blood. "Catch."


Phax jumped back with a disgusted "Gyaa-ah!" His face turning red at the other hunters' laughter.


"Oh, just shut up! All of you!" he snapped, red-faced, and the men and women, still chuckling to themselves went back to work. Phax could hunt with the best of them, but the young man's squeemishness when it came to cleaning up after the kills was a longstanding joke.


"What'll you do if you ever have to do this yourself?" Kaelin wondered, grabbing the female by it's clawed foot and dragging the body to the pile, grabbing the tail and tucking it under his arm as he passed by Phax. "You can't rely on others to clean up your kills for you all the time."


"I'll take it to a butcher," was Phax's reply as he walked with the other man, his eyes tilted up so that he couldn't see any bodies or parts.


Kaelin snorted, not honoring that with a reply. One of the reasons hunters like them were so important was that most people refused to touch a demon's body. There was a superstitous notion that if someone touched a demon's body, other demons could smell the death on them and provoke an attack. Another rumor, a less popular but no less rediculous one said that a demon's blood was poisonous. Stupid, but nevertheless they passed some hunters who were bleeding Khourin into pans, which would later be separated into flasks that would be sold to the supersitious lot. What they did with the supposed poison was their own business.


It was a good hunt, Kaelin reflected, looking around him. Even though the pack was fairly large, the hunters managed to kill them all with no deaths, and the few injuries sustained were nothing serious.


A shame some high-and-mighty aristocrats were planning on putting an end to demon hunting.


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"So the demon was standing over Marc, right? And it had it's claws all set and ready to rip into him and it's lips were pulled back and shit, and it was just taking it's own sweet time and growling at him! And I'm thinking, 'Shit, Marc can take this guy, it ain't doing nothing!' But then I look down at Marc and he's just lookin' at the thing, crying for momma!"


"Oh, fuck you, Bukke, I was not crying."


"Oh, *no*, you were being a man and staring up at the guy going 'momma, momma, save me!' Anyways, I saw Marc and he wasn't gonna do nothin', so I raised by bow and just about to send an arrow through the thing's eye then WHAM! It falls over dead!"


"What happened?" Phax asked.


Bukke grinned and settled back against the tree he was resting against, enjoying the young man's attention. "I couldn't see, but there was a damn-good-sized strike right behind it's left horn. It wasn't attackin' because it *couldn't* attack, but it was scarin' the hell outta Marc!"


The group started rolling with laughter, every one of them knowing that once the bundle of nerves behind even one of the horns were cut, the demon was paralyzed. They called it the 'statue spot' because the demon was frozen in whatever position it was in when the nerves were cut.


Night had fallen, and the men in women in the team were sitting around a large fire, warming the wheat cakes that tasted like sand but were nonetheless filling and sharing tales of the hunt from earlier in the day. There was an air of good-feeling about them that was suddenly ruined when Taron, a grizzled old man who'd seen his fair share of hunts, threw the papery wrapping from the wheat cakes into the fire with more force than necessary.


"Bah!" he spat. "Damn that Delacroix! Damn him and his bleeding heart!" He had no need to explain his outburst; all knew and sympathized.


Prince Delacroix Karsimon had started a quest to outlaw demon hunting outside of the execution of individual law-breakers. He'd shown no interest in the creatures before an incident where the crown prince had been missing and presumed dead for months, but when he came back he'd started a crusade for the demon's 'rights.' Not only that, but he'd returned *with* a Khourin; an odd event considering the creatures never leave their territories. Rumors flew about what might have sparked this turn of thought, from the benign (he lived among them and found them to be peaceable) to the outrageous (he had a sexual relation with a demon; possibly his 'pet' that lived with him). Kaelin shuddered at the thought of making love to one of the creatures. It was on par with fucking a horse, or a sheep in his eyes. Demons were animals that aped human ways as far as clothing and tools went, but where nonetheless beastial and stupid. There was no reason to treat them as equal to a human.


If Delacroix's plan went through, that meant that hunters would have no more work for them. With a sigh, Kaelin ran a hand through his short-cropped hair and wondered what he would do should demon hunting become illegal. His father was a farmer, and Kaelin had no wish to live that sort of lifestyle. He had no experiance in anything other than the farmwork he did as a boy, and not many would hire a grown man with no experiance for anything but doing grunt work, which was almost as bad as being a farmer.


"There's nothing to worry about," he said, trying to soothe the oldster. "Delacroix would never get his foolish plan passed by the council. He may be prince, but if he gets enough of the council against him he can't do a thing. We'll be able to hunt for as long as we want to."


Empty words, he knew. Delacroix was slowly but surely getting more and more support from the Council, his pet demon doing his bit to pretend to be a civilized creature. The prince had his pet trained well.


Standing up, Kaelin announced he was going to sleep and headed towards his pallet. It was a warm enough night that he didn't need to set up a tent. A warm hand on his wrist stopped him, and Kaelin looked down to see Phax looking up at him, a sly smile on his face. "Want some company?" he asked.


Kaelin shook his head and took the younger man's hand off his wrist, smiling softly in apology. "Tempting, but not tonight."


Phax pouted slightly and shrugged. Kaelin didn't worry about the kid's feelings, he was sure he could find another place to sleep that night, with someone else. The kid was by no means in a relationship with any of the hunters, though he shared his body freely. Kaelin himself spent a few nights with the kid, and while he felt a good deal of affection towards the youngster, his feelings didn't run any deeper.


Collapsing onto his pallet, Kaelin fell into a troubled sleep; wondering about what the future would hold for him and his fellow hunters.


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Authors note: More action next chapter, with the introduction of our other main character. Remember, comments let me know that people are reading this and helps me to write faster. I can try to promise one chapter a week, but that depends on my schedual.