-Conrad-
The Hellboar closed the gap between them in but a few short moments, leaving Conrad with no time to process. He only had instinct and reflexes to rely on.
Thankfully, both of those continued served him well.
Even caught flatfooted Conrad was able to instinctively gauge the timing required to avoid his attacker. His muscles twitched in response while his mind continued to disjointedly catch up to the matters at hand. His body shifted to load his weight on one foot to pull the boars' attention to that side, then launched himself in the opposite direction at the last possible moment. The boar tried to catch him with an upswing of its head, but he had gotten out of the way just in time.
The Hellboar skidded to a stop and spun, single-mindedly focused on its target. Conrad's mind had caught up, and now he weighed his non-existent options. He was too far away to tree himself, had no spear, and the boar wouldn't miss him a second time, not this close and at a slower speed. The others weren't armed yet and he had no fancy tricks to rely on now, only the blade at his hip and lady luck, whom he appeared to be rapidly running out of favor with.
With a tempered sigh, he drew his boar knife and waited for the inevitable.
The Hellboar was only too happy to oblige.
The enraged creature stomped its feet to charge forward again, at this range it would close the distance between them in a single second. Conrad set himself to try and sidestep again and make a strike on the side of the thing's neck, but it never arrived. A Rust and Black colored form slammed into the Hellboar from the side with a deep throated roar that shook his bones. The form's impact left deep slashes in the the boar's belly and neck before rebounding off and setting up again as it squealed in pain.
Ruufarrl had struck first.
Now, the boar had a new target, and it advanced on them with a vengeance.
__________________________________________________________________________
-Ruufarrl-
He had reacted to the new threat without thinking, calling out his warning in his native Ruulothi rather than GalStan. But it appeared that effort itself was enough. Both Conrad and Greg reacted to the warning. Conrad had turned towards the new Hellboar in time to avoid its first attack, and Greg had scrambled to get his rifle out and prepped from where he had slung it on his back. Greg had been unable to get his weapon active in time to stop the attack, and now he had no shot without risking the round striking his own son.
Conrad, though he had avoided the first charge, would be unable to continue to do so again and appeared to know it. He was preparing to die with Honor, a weapon in his hand and defiance on his lips.
Ruufarrl smiled in spite of himself, "Not today, Youngblood. There is still much that we must do."
He didn't bother to grab for the knife at his side, it had been too long since he had felt his claws do their bloody work, and he wanted to relish the sensation again.
He darted in the moment the creature focused all its attention on Conrad. Roaring a Battle Cry as he ran in on all fours and impacted with his lower shoulders and chest, placing his claws in the perfect position to rip at the Hellboar's neck and belly. He pulled away, mindful of the creature's spurs and tusks. His movement made his claws rip long, bloody furrows into the softer and unarmored under-flesh of the embattled creature.
"Not enough. Grievous wounds, but nothing that will disable it without infection. Its hide is thick and blood vessels deep. That would have disemboweled a lesser creature and left them gasping for air from a rent throat. These...!?"
His appraisal of the creature was cut short as it spun in place and leaped forward to attack, catching even him off guard. "So quick and agile!"
He scrambled backward, pulling the pig away from Conrad and desperately trying to stay ahead of its tusks. For each step he swiped at the creature's snout and face, hoping to keep it at bay and fearful of damage. Its face was being torn to bloody ribbons, but still it came on. Then, the creature changed tactics.
Rather than continue trying to rip at its target with its tusks, the Hellboar surged forward while Ruufarrl was mid step. It shoved its bristly, armored shoulder into Ruufarrl's ankle, off balancing him, and then caught the reinforced footwear of his grounded foot with an ankle spur as it twisted, spun about and kicked.
Ruufarrl found himself crashing to the ground, with the angry and wounded boar now facing him head on to his own gut from a mere arm's length away, head lowered and beginning its charge.
___________________________________________________________________
-Gregor Mclaughlin-
He had been busy dismantling the Camouflage Netting that they had used for their hide when Ruufarrl gave out a sharp growl of warning. It appeared to him in that brief moment that regardless of what species you came from, the tone and inflections of warnings against danger bridged the communications gap.
He was already trying to pull his rifle around when the Hellboar breached the underbrush, headed straight for his son, but he wouldn't be fast enough. "Conrad, MOVE!!"
Whether through psychic intervention or his own instincts, Conrad somehow jumped out of the way, reminding Gregor of the ancient Matadors. His rifle was ready now, but he had no safe shot. He began to stalk to one side in an attempt to clear the line of fire, but Ruufarrl beat him to the punch.
The old War Cat ran in on all fours, heedless of the risk and slammed himself into the Hellboar, seeming to envelop it in a kind of hug. Then the Ruulothi jumped back out of range, slicing the pig open in multiple places. Unfortunately, all this did was piss the thing off even more and draw its wrath.
Behind them, Conrad threw himself to the left of the fight, going for where they had tied the dead pig to their spears.
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Gregor read the flow of the fight now and moved to the position he would soon need.
As Ruufarrl pulled the pig away from the others, he prepared his shot. Suddenly, the boar got the better of the hunter. It swung itself into Ruufarrl's legs and knocked them clean out from under him, then lined up the killing blow.
"Not this time you bastard."
VSSSSTTT-CRACK!
Gregor's efforts paid off as he took his shot at the now clear broadside of the Hellboar. The pig, which had been ready to gore Ruufarrl, jumped in place and spun about, squealing in pain and limping on the right front leg. "Too far forward, shattered the shoulder. One more."
He lined up a second shot, then lowered his rifle in a rush.
__________________________________________________________________________
-Conrad-
Ruufarrl's attack had bought him some time, but this was going to be over in seconds, one way or another.
Conrad rushed back over to the boar that they had tied to the spears and began slicing at the ropes. "Rope is cheap. We can replace it later. I need this spear, NOW!"
A few short seconds later and he had secured his prize. He turned around to see Ruufarrl thrown to the ground.
"Shit! I won't make it in time!"
He ran forward anyway, but his father hadn't been idle. He heard the hissing crack of the rail round being fired and saw the spark trail terminate in the boar.
The boar jumped and spun, landing hard and favoring a leg. This slowed it just enough for Conard to line up his attack, spear still trailing severed scraps of rope.
He drove the spear into the left flank of the boar with every ounce of power he could muster and cranked his end of the shaft up. This put extreme pressure on the shattered leg, which gave out. The pig collapsed onto its wounded side with a grunt and a wheeze. He looked to Ruufarrl, who had managed to get up by this point, "The knife! Take its throat!"
Ruufarrl nodded and pulled the knife he had been given, stepped to the back of the creature's head, and drove the knife home with both hands. He pushed as he pulled the blade back out to create a draw cut, and the boar's blood sprayed out onto the forest floor.
The pig's struggling weakened as its squeals turned to gargles, then faded entirely.
Conrad waited a good twenty seconds after the animal went still, just to be sure, then twisted the spear just before he pulled it out. If there was any fight left in the animal, it would have tried something then.
It was finally, well and truly, dead.
Conrad stepped back with a sigh, "Everyone alright?"
Ruufarrl growled a quiet contemplation while checking over his legs, "I appear to be in one piece, despite my best efforts."
His father gave a wry chuckle as he cleared and stowed his rifle again, "Clear here. Damn that got hairy quick."
Greg paused a moment as something seemed to occur to him, then looked over at the hanging pigs in curiosity. He walked over to them and spun one while poking and squeezing at its belly, then shook his head and turned to do the same to the other and nodded in satisfaction.
"Yeah, that would explain it. This one is pregnant. I am willing to bet this is the one that came second and just ran in to feed. Left her sire behind in her rush for food. What we thought was one sire and two sows breaking off the rest of the Infernum was actually two sires and their sows starting a whole new one. Looks like these guys were following the Ridgeback method of starting new packs. I would be willing to bet anything that this one is pregnant too, just hasn't started to develop or show yet."
He rejoined the group at the stretcher, and helped to reattach the ropes to the spear, "That will be the last of them, thank God. Let’s tie this one up too and get back. We don't have much time left before dark."
They tied up the last boar, then field dressed all their kills to allow them to cool. The remains that they would not be keeping they left next to the bait pile. The local animals would sort out what they wanted from there.
With those tasks completed they broke camp and made the trek back home. Greg went in to inform Dianna that they were back and safe, while Conrad and Ruufarrl went to stow their gear and prep the sleds. The pig they placed whole into a freezer. They were back out into the woods in minutes, with their spears and rifle... just in case.
Their kills had been left alone, and it appeared that the bait pile had been ignored as well. The remnants from the field dressing had been scattered though, it seemed whatever had taken them had left at the first sign of the group returning.
They laid out a tarp and field butchered the boar they had left behind, placing the harvested meat into cloth sacks and leaving the carcasses in the piles with the other remains. This kept their load a little lighter than it would have been and allowed them to place more piled into a smaller area. There was no need to officially claim the kills due to the Hellboar's K.O.S. status, but they would still at least report their harvesting and extermination to Wildlife Management.
With their haul retrieved, they arrived home just as the sun was setting. They set about cleaning up and placing their harvest in a second freezer.
There had been surprisingly little talk outside of mechanical directions during the field butchering. They had each taken a pig to butcher, and Conrad's father had directed the others in how to best harvest it. The task had gone smoothly, as each involved was experienced with the process in their own way.
Finally, after a warm dinner and relaxing showers, they all said their goodnights and headed to bed.
_______________________________________________________________________________
-Ruufarrl-
He lay on his borrowed bed with a small light on, one hand holding one of his purchased books, and the other idly stroking the contentedly purring Solais. He sighed at himself in frustration and put 'Great Hunts in Space' down on the bedside table before turning off the light.
"For all my years and hard-earned wisdoms, I am still too arrogant by far. That hunt was thrilling, far more than I had expected. These Hellboar were simply full of surprises. A wildly successful hunt... but only by the closest shave of a whisker." He popped the claws of one hand out to look at them before retracting them again, "I still have much to learn about self-control."
He replayed the hunt in his mind, then again came to the part where he charged at the Hellboar, eager to rip into it with his claws, "That there, could have cost us everything. I was too focused on my desire to feel the hunt again, to feel my target open itself to me. It nearly got me killed, nearly got everyone killed. I had misjudged the humans and their intent. This was not simply an extermination hunt, they still played it by their own rules of the sport. I failed to recognize that until it was too late."
He looked again at the book and thought again about the information that it had imparted. "Humans hunt for sport, yes, but they do not hunt for personal glory in the act, like we do. That comes later after a successful hunt, with trophies and proof. Humans hunt with an ingrained respect for their quarry. Whether this comes from them not truly being an Apex predator and knowing that anything they hunt is just as likely to kill them, I do not know. Likely neither do they, that would be an answer lost to the winds of time. They take their pride in the stalk, the successful regard of their prey, in knowing that they have beaten them. Knowing that they have out skilled, outsmarted and out played their prey, basking in the entire experience of it. When the time comes to claim that prey, their ultimate gesture of respect for it is to kill it as quickly and cleanly as possible. Minimal suffering, minimal pain, no matter the difficulty of the kill."
The hunt played over in his mind yet again. From Greg's first killing shot to the two boars immediately after that had been killed quickly by well-placed thrusts of their spears. Those had been in keeping with their Code of the Hunt. But the last kill... the last kill was the problem.
Taken by surprise as they were, they still managed to hold a commanding position by surrounding the creature and having weapons available to them. Weapons that Ruufarrl had ignored in favor of his own claws. True, he did not know that they would be as ineffective as they were, but that is merely a poor excuse when he had been provided with a tool specifically for the job at hand. Yes, he had done it to protect Conrad, but he had not done so efficiently, had thought only of himself. Had he attacked with the knife, rather than with his claws, he could easily have struck a mortal blow against the creature. It would have quickly weakened and died, becoming easier to manage as it did so. Instead, he mauled it repeatedly until it looked as though it had been covered in straws of Bloodgrass. He did little more than extend the creature's suffering and anger and, by association, risked the welfare of all those with him. He had even been admonished by the youngblood himself... after a fashion. He doubted Conrad telling him to use his knife had been in any way meant as a rebuke, but he had taken it as a much needed one anyway.
"The youngblood had needed to tell me how to kill the animal. That is my shame to bear."
He thought even further back, to the pirate attack, and realized that even then, Conrad had displayed this Human Code of the Hunt. Each kill had been fast, and clean. Even the Matriarch had died quickly, even if in an unorthodox manner. Had that been a Ruulothi Battlemaster, the enemies’ bellies, throats, tendons and blood vessels would have been rent open to spill their contents on the floor, their owners left heaving and clinging to life as they slowly perished. They favored the glory of their conquest, of their physical victory. Human's glory was in coming home again, quickly and safely. Ruulothi glory...
"We become lost in the procedure, rather than refining it."
If, as his experience and reminiscing now seemed to indicate, this Code of the Hunt pervaded the Human culture, how then would their military fight? He turned to look at the book that contained the examination of their Titan Accords, their Rules of Engagement. This would have to be his next read.
Today had been humbling in many ways. From their cooking to Master Silva, to the bookstore and its mysteries, and then the Hunt. Each had shown him a facet of these people that had taken him by surprise. Each had taught him a valuable lesson about his pride, about his arrogance, about his misplaced confidence.
He finally closed his eyes to sleep.
He still had much to learn.