The Hunt

You are unmatched. You rest at the apex of existence, secure in the holding of your vast territories, unchallenged by even the hungriest beasts or the boldest predators, ruler of all that you survey. You roam as you please, unchecked and uncontained, across hill and vale. The sweetest springs are yours to drink from, the warmest plateaus are yours to bask on, and every other creature in the region respectfully gives you a wide berth to do as you please.

And on this day, it pleases you to meander idly along in the shadow of the soaring peaks and sheer cliff faces of the high mountain valleys, where the air is thin and the sunlight especially clear. The hillside you are wandering across is quiet, tranquil. A few birds whistle and chirp, a herd of alpaca moves slowly away to find other grazing.

The breeze brings to you the faint notes of some disturbance, perhaps coyotes skirmishing over carrion or some such ruckus. Nothing that requires any attention from the likes of you, scavengers won't bother you for any amount of carrion.

The noise grows in volume, drawing closer with speed.

The sunlight dims, and a great shadow falls over the hillside.

You look up, startled, to see an amorphous cloud of...of things approaching rapidly. Some of them are big, some small, some drab and others glowing with luminescence of all variety of colours. They move as one vast form, hundreds of individual parts moving within, jostling for position. Their collective mass blocks out the light of the sun shining from beyond and leaves you in darkness - illuminated only by the ones with glowing forms.

The cloud disintegrates at the leading edge, the front flyers touching down a ways distance from you. Then as you watch, the greater part of each individual departs again, leaving behind a smaller shape. These also vary in size from small to miniscule, and these new forms proffer pointed adornments towards you.

A challenge for territory? You do not understand how these little things might harm you but they display their malformed antlers anyway. Some have two antlers, others just one. Some of the antlers are as long as the being wearing them, some short. Some glow like the larger forms had, others float, or shift, or remain motionless upon the appendages of the little beings.

It feels like an age, watching the entire flock descend upon you like a storm front, it takes only heartbeats though, until you are facing an entire horde of the little challengers. They are noisy, a cacophony of tiny roars rising and falling and they dart to and fro within the mass of their group like fish in a stream. The last stragglers land and finally the cloud has become whole once more, gathered just a short distance from you.

Even the largest of them is far too small to hurt you though, you could sweep them aside with one lash of your tail, one surge of your power. You do not think you need fear these little beasts. They will die as easily as would coyotes.

For one instant, the horde falls silent and motionless.

Then the front ranks dart in like lightning to strike you. The blows barely sting but they are strangely irritating and you cannot ignore them. Then there are more, more, more of the little things trying to hurt you. They can barely break through your hide, but they are everywhere, underfoot, all around you, stood back and pelting you with their own power from just beyond your immediate reach.

Sting.

Sting.

Stingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingsting stingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingsting stingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingstingsting.

It takes but moments before you are weakening drastically, before the ground is stained deep with your blow. You lash out, you bite and claw and you knock some of them down but it is not enough. They get back to their feet, and all the while the rest are gnawing away. You are surrounded and overwhelmed, like a wasp trapped by ants. The undeniable conqueror of the valleys and you are brought low by such minute things. You ruled all you set your eyes upon. You were unbeaten, unbowed, the only authority throughout the mountains that any beast had to fear.

The sun has not moved even a little across the sky. The alpaca are still drifting down slope, as you lay down in the dirt, last breaths rattling in your lungs.

You fought for so long, you are drained and empty of power, your body aches with the extertion under the sting of the innumerable bites.

It was over in heartbeats.

The swarm withdraws in an instant, some unseen and unheard signal prompting their departure. They raise another cacophony with whistling and bellowing cries, turning away from you to witness their larger parts returning. The tiny and the large halves join together once more and the swarm takes to the skies as quickly as they descended. Your eyes glaze over. None of them look back.

Your body stills, the dregs of your life slip out of your grasp. The horde is already a fading into the distance, the sunlight dimming with them, or is that because you are de-

You have wandered through snowy mountain passes, up and down verdant valley sides and around soaring cliff faces of ageless stone. You are bigger, stronger, more dangerous than almost any other beast, but there are a select few wo could match you. You have searched for a territory away from these others, where you might rule unbothered by them and instead be given the deference and respect you are due. The place you have found, where the mountains rise from the hills, where there is grazing and hunting, where you can ramble and roam freely, is unclaimed. You can see no trace of another beast of your ilk. You shall stay here, you think, you shall make this your territory and claim it as your own. None here would dare challenge you.

Written after one hunt train too many. Gameplay wise, A-rank hunt marks are designed to be tackled by a large number of players at once, they have to be big so you can see them through all the VFX and the other players and they have to be tough to last for than one second. But when you start thinking about how it must appear in-universe, well...

The biggest, baddest critters and beasties and eldritch abominations just minding their own business and suddenly two hundred adventurers on all sorts of mounts just drop out of the skies on their heads, butcher them in about two minutes - max - only to turn face, remount and book it away (to the next mark, of course) without a thought for the massive carcass they leave behind. Eureka's Notorious Beasts get it even worse, but the underlying weirdness is the same. Bizarre, flying hordes  big enough to blot out the sun (ever been gathering under the flight path of a big hunt train?) just falling out of the sky to curb stomp one dude and then they're gone again faster than you can blink. Even weirder, there's another big beastie there again within a day to get obliterated all over again. A never-ending cycle of slaughter.

Gameplay: fun. In-universe implications: mildly disturbing, I reckon.