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by By Artemis, this could not be happening. Herakleia jumped behind a tree and rummaged through her backpack with her uninjured hand, tossing aside knives and hunting traps in her search. Where on Zeus' green earth was her pack of ambrosia? She had made sure it was in the side pocket before leaving her tent! Oh, wait... She turned her backpack to the left and saw the gaping, bite-shaped hole where the side pocket would've been.
"Eaten by hellhounds, fantastic." She let out a string of ancient Greek insults that would certainly have made her father Ares proud. "I hope you enjoyed that! Bon appétit, motherf*ckers!" she barked over her shoulder.
Grunts and howls echoed from the bushes. She may have killed most of them but the last one was closing in on her, and it was one of the biggest hellhounds she'd ever seen. As large as a truck, it had paws the size of garbage can lids and fangs as long as her arm. And now, without ambrosia there was no way she could heal her sword hand. Which meant she could not use her blade, or her spear, or any of her knives. Sometimes she wished she had been born ambidextrous, like her sister Laonike.
She glanced at her injury. Large claw marks had ripped her arm open from shoulder to wrist. Her skin was caked with blood, and dark scarlett droplets fell from her fingers. She knew she was bound to start getting lightheaded soon, with all the blood she was losing which meant she was fighting against the clock as well as against the hound.
"Let's get going," she muttered to herself. Injured or not she still had cards to play. The hellhound pushed its repulsive snout through the bushes, thick ropes of saliva dripping from its bared fangs. Herakleia could see her own reflection in its large red eye. She raised her uninjured arm and the silver hunting knives she had dropped from her backpack levitated up, circling around her protectively. The hellhound grunted and lunged forward, maw open, and Herakleia reacted in a split second. The knives lodged themselves in his palate, tongue and gums. Green monster blood spurted from the wounds, and the hellhound retreated with a yowl. But it would not be for long. Spitting blood, it swiped at her with a paw, almost knocking her backwards. She jumped to the side just in time but still got a nice dent in her breastplate. Suddenly, she started seeing stars. Her vision got pale and the daughter of Ares dropped to one knee. No! Pulling herself together with all her willpower, she looked up at the hellhound - and blew at him. Deep purple mist flowed from her lips like wine, engulfing the hellhound. She was unsure if it was going to work, many Underworld creatures were resistant to sleep spells, but it was her best bet. Already feeling herself slipping, she put all her energy into it until her breath ran out. The hellhound shook its large head, decapitating a bush in the process, and tripped on its own paw. She knew it wasn't going to fall asleep so this was her shot: with a snap of her fingers, one of the hunting knives slipped out of its gums and sunk into its eye as deeply as possible. The hound shrieked and fell, and Herakleia rolled onto her back.
"Eaten by hellhounds, fantastic." She let out a string of ancient Greek insults that would certainly have made her father Ares proud. "I hope you enjoyed that! Bon appétit, motherf*ckers!" she barked over her shoulder.
Grunts and howls echoed from the bushes. She may have killed most of them but the last one was closing in on her, and it was one of the biggest hellhounds she'd ever seen. As large as a truck, it had paws the size of garbage can lids and fangs as long as her arm. And now, without ambrosia there was no way she could heal her sword hand. Which meant she could not use her blade, or her spear, or any of her knives. Sometimes she wished she had been born ambidextrous, like her sister Laonike.
She glanced at her injury. Large claw marks had ripped her arm open from shoulder to wrist. Her skin was caked with blood, and dark scarlett droplets fell from her fingers. She knew she was bound to start getting lightheaded soon, with all the blood she was losing which meant she was fighting against the clock as well as against the hound.
"Let's get going," she muttered to herself. Injured or not she still had cards to play. The hellhound pushed its repulsive snout through the bushes, thick ropes of saliva dripping from its bared fangs. Herakleia could see her own reflection in its large red eye. She raised her uninjured arm and the silver hunting knives she had dropped from her backpack levitated up, circling around her protectively. The hellhound grunted and lunged forward, maw open, and Herakleia reacted in a split second. The knives lodged themselves in his palate, tongue and gums. Green monster blood spurted from the wounds, and the hellhound retreated with a yowl. But it would not be for long. Spitting blood, it swiped at her with a paw, almost knocking her backwards. She jumped to the side just in time but still got a nice dent in her breastplate. Suddenly, she started seeing stars. Her vision got pale and the daughter of Ares dropped to one knee. No! Pulling herself together with all her willpower, she looked up at the hellhound - and blew at him. Deep purple mist flowed from her lips like wine, engulfing the hellhound. She was unsure if it was going to work, many Underworld creatures were resistant to sleep spells, but it was her best bet. Already feeling herself slipping, she put all her energy into it until her breath ran out. The hellhound shook its large head, decapitating a bush in the process, and tripped on its own paw. She knew it wasn't going to fall asleep so this was her shot: with a snap of her fingers, one of the hunting knives slipped out of its gums and sunk into its eye as deeply as possible. The hound shrieked and fell, and Herakleia rolled onto her back.