Hellwalkers

Wild Imps

The forests in Wrath that are yet to be lumbered expand for miles away, sometimes as far as the eye can see. Unlike forests in the living world, every single creature inhabiting them is hostile to intruders, be it from a small spider to an angry hellvern. Not many demons are tough enough to live in Hell's wilderness for long, or so people say. Those foolish enough to try are rarely if ever, heard from again. 

And yet, even Hell is not without its own folklore. Hellborns native to Wrath speak of Imps that lived in the wilderness amongst the monsters that prowl amongst the woods. How do they do it? Nobody knows. Few people have seen them, and those who have claimed that those 'Wild Imps' lived amongst hellbeasts. The giant, lizard-like creatures were hostile to outsiders, and yet they accepted the wild imps like one of their own kind. 

A bull elk ran through the trees and bushes, its hooves pounding hardly on the ground while leaving behind tracks in the mud. 

But hellbeasts don't need tracks. The mere scent of their prey is enough for them to find it for as long as they could smell it. The pack moved as one through the forest, chasing the elk whenever it went. When it tried to move away, a hellbeast would spring forward and startle it into going back the way they wanted to, eventually leading it into a clearing with no cover. 

An arrow whizzed through the air and struck the elk's thigh. The animal shrieked in pain but tried its best to keep running, even with a limp. It wasn't until a second arrow pierced through its head that it collapsed to the ground, its blood spilling over the grass. The hellbeasts gathered around the carcass, their pupils narrowing into hungry slits. 

Two snake-like imps stepped out of the shadows: A man and a child, the both of them carrying crossbows. The little impling was happily wagging his tail as he hopped on top of the carcass.

"I hit it, dad! Did ya see?"

"Nice shot, my boy." Striker chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. "Yer aim still needs a lil' polishin', but yer gettin' there." 

The pack of hellbeasts gave way to the two Imps as they approached the carcass. Striker growled at them, warning them to stay back until he told them otherwise. The creatures obeyed, though their hungry eyes never wandered off the freshly-killed elk. Striker pulled out his knife to slice the edible parts of meat, which Jake would then put into a small bag.  His handling and cutting of the flesh would have made the best butchers in Wrath look like amateurs. 

Once the sac was full, Striker stepped back and gave a short whistle. The hellbeasts lunged forward and proceeded to devour what remained of the carcass.

Jake let out a whine. "Elk for dinner again? Can't we have a boar?" 

"There's no boars in the forest anymore, pup. We have to get by with whatever we can find." 

"It's not fair! If the town imps can come into our woods and take our food, why can't we go and take their animals too?" 

"We ain't like 'em, Jake. We never take more than what we require." 

Striker couldn't really blame his son for being that sore, though. The town imps had been depleting the food supplies for some time now. They'd been lucky to find a bull elk today. Most other times they had to live off of smaller prey like rabbits, squirrels and birds. He managed to keep the pack well-fed, but he wasn't sure of how long it would last.

Someone shouted in the distance. Alarmed, Striker looked in the direction it had come from and sniffed the air. Gunpowder, sweat, leather...

Town Imps. 

"Dad, what's wrong?" Jake asked curiously. 

"We have to get back to the den. Now."

Striker picked Jake up and ran back the way they'd come, calling the pack with a whistle. The hellbeasts abandoned what little remained of the elk and ran after him.