The Curse of the Moonbound Hunt (closed for The Roleplayer007)

[DarkWarrioress]

Deep in a nation was a village called Eldermoor, which lived in fear every year of the Bloodmoon Hunt. It was a primal ritual that went back ages and was tied to a curse that awakened the feral instincts in a clan of male hunters called the Moonbound. The Moonbound were derived from an ancient line that went back so far that their beginnings were obscured by Time. They were both revered and feared for their supernatural strength, not to mention their primal allure.

Long ago, the scholars would say, a dark deity cursed the Moonbound clan to become beast-like under the Bloodmoon. They were driven by an insatiable need to bond with mates to continue their bloodline. The curse, over time, had twisted into something else. The hunters now sought willing partners to break the curse through a sacred, consensual ritual of passion and mutual connection. Failure to find a mate or willing partners under the Bloodmoon risked the hunters’ rapid descent into permanent savagery, dooming the village to their savage wrath.

As if this wasn’t enough to contend with, there was also the Blackveil. It is alive with things, spirits, the seek to interfere with the hunters and their mates and or partners. They could weave illusions and summon horrors to test the resolve of the hunters. Where did this curse stem from? Who was behind it? Someone or something lurked in the shadows, just out of sight, watching as every year unfolded in exactly the same way.

​

Riannon, was one of the females that lived in the village. Every year since she was old enough to understand, her mother told the story of the Bloodmoon Hunt. On those nights, Riannon was not allowed to leave their home. As she grew older, her parents still forbade her to leave the house during this time and yet, as each year passed, the urge, nay, the need, not to mention the curiosity, arose in Riannon to leave her home on those nights. It was only the stern warnings given by her father that kept her safe inside their home. Every night as the Bloodmoon rose in the starry, darkened sky, Riannon fought the urge to disobey her father. She felt the pull of the Bloodmoon. One year, when the urge was so bad and her father caught her trying to sneak out, he threatened to tie her to her bed until the Bloodmoon had passed. Both her parents were only trying to protect their only daughter. They had only forgotten one vital thing. The laws of their village demanded that all eligible women must be allowed to participate in the Bloodmoon Hunt and Riannon was now of that age. No longer could her parents forbid her to go outside. This thing, this urge, was now more than a possibility. It had become a fact and she didn’t know who was more frightened of it, herself or her parents.

​

Riannon awoke with her heartbeat thumping against her chest wall. She was now 18 and must be available for the Hunt. She swung herself from her bed and dressed hurriedly, braiding her long black hair in a braid before joining her parents in breaking their morning fast. All three sat at the wooden table, where food adorned it. There was little talk, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Mother,” Riannon began, “I am going to visit Magda this morning. Is there anything you wish me to bring back for you and Father?”

Her mother thought for a moment then shook her head. Her daughter was safe enough in the daylight hours.

“Nay, Daughter, there is nothing I need but will you take Magda those flowers over there? “

Riannon’s eyes went to the bright bundle resting at the opposite end of the table where they currently all sat.

“Of course, Mother. They’re beautiful.”

Riannon’s words made her mother smile for a moment. Her father remained silent and solemn throughout their meal and when it was over, he abruptly got up and left. Riannon’s eyes as well as her mother’s, followed him out of the door. When it closed behind him, her mother reached out, touching Riannon’s hand.

“He is just worried, my daughter.”

Riannon turned her hand and squeezed her mother’s gently.

“I know. I can’t blame him. This is my first Bloodmoon and I know he is worried. It’ll be fine.”

Her mother gently pulled her hand free and began clearing the remnants of their meal.

“Go on. I can take care of this, Riannon.”

The young woman took up the flowers and left with no further urging. She gladly made her way to Magda’s house and knocked softly on the door, only entering when bidden to do so. Riannon found Magda sitting in front of her own fire.

“Mother sent you flowers, Magda.”

“Put them by the sink, child.”

Riannon did as she was told and went to sit with Magda.

“Are you worried, Riannon?”

The younger woman turned her head and smiled slightly at Magda.

“Not worried, Magda. It’s more like frightened.”

The old woman nodded her head. She could remember her times with the Bloodmoon.

“So you should be. Go home, Child. Be with your parents. Tonight, what will be, will be. No one can change your destiny, but you.”

That was only partly true the old woman knew, but she would not enlighten Riannon more. There were some things the young woman needed to learn on her own. With a soft kiss to a weathered cheek, Riannon left, but she wasn’t ready to go home. Instead, she felt a tug toward the forest…. and its secrets.

 

[TheRoleplayer007]

The air grew heavy as Riannon stepped closer to the edge of Eldermoor, where the gnarled trees of the Blackveil loomed like silent sentinels. The forest’s edge was forbidden during the Bloodmoon, yet its shadows seemed to beckon her, curling around her heart like tendrils of smoke. The bouquet of flowers for Magda had been a simple errand, but now, with the sun still high, Riannon felt the forest’s pull stronger than ever—a primal, unspoken promise that both thrilled and terrified her. Her father’s warnings echoed in her mind, yet her feet carried her forward, as if drawn by an unseen hand.


The Blackveil was unnaturally quiet, the usual birdsong silenced by the weight of the coming night. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves filled her lungs, tinged with something sharper—something metallic, like blood. Riannon’s braid swung against her back as she hesitated at the forest’s threshold, her green eyes scanning the darkness between the trees. She should turn back. She knew she should. But the urge—the same one that had haunted her every Bloodmoon since girlhood—was no longer a whisper. It was a roar.
A low, guttural sound broke the silence, not quite a growl, but something alive, primal. Riannon froze, her heart slamming against her ribs. The sound came again, closer now, from the shadows to her left. She clutched the hem of her cloak, her breath shallow, and took a step back. That’s when she saw him.

He emerged from the Blackveil like a specter forged from the forest itself. Tall and broad-shouldered, his presence was overwhelming, his leather-clad form moving with a predator’s grace. His hair, dark as the night, fell in wild strands across a face both rugged and hauntingly beautiful, with sharp cheekbones and a jaw shadowed by stubble. But it was his eyes that pinned her in place—amber, glowing faintly in the dim light, like a wolf’s under moonlight. A Moonbound hunter. One of them.

“Lost, are you?” His voice was low, rough, like gravel underfoot, yet it carried a strange warmth that sent a shiver down her spine. He stepped closer, and Riannon caught the scent of pine and something wilder, like the musk of a beast. “Or is it the forest that calls you, girl?”
Riannon’s mouth went dry, but she lifted her chin, refusing to cower. “I’m not lost,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “And I’m not a girl. I’m Riannon of Eldermoor.”
His lips twitched, a hint of a smile that was both amused and dangerous. “Riannon,” he repeated, as if tasting her name. “I’m Torin, of the Moonbound. And you’re far from home, Riannon of Eldermoor, with the Bloodmoon rising tonight.” His eyes flicked over her, not with malice, but with an intensity that made her skin prickle. “Do you know what hunts in these woods when the moon bleeds?”
Her pulse quickened, but she held his gaze. “I know the stories.

The Moonbound. The curse. The… ritual.” The last word came out quieter, laced with a mix of fear and curiosity. She’d heard whispers of the sacred bonding, the passion that could break the curse—or doom those who failed. Her parents had shielded her from the details, but the village gossip was vivid enough.

Torin’s smile faded, replaced by something darker, more serious. “Stories don’t do it justice,” he said, stepping closer still. He was near enough now that she could see the faint scars crisscrossing his forearms, the tension in his frame as if he were holding himself back. “The Blackveil hungers, Riannon. It tests us—hunters and chosen alike. And tonight, you’re one of the chosen, aren’t you?”

Her breath caught. The village law had marked her as eligible, but hearing it from him made it real. She wanted to deny it, to run back to the safety of her parents’ home, but the pull of the forest—and of Torin’s amber eyes—held her rooted. “I… I haven’t decided,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Torin tilted his head, studying her. “The forest decides for you,” he said softly. “It’s already in you. I can feel it.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of her cloak, not touching her but close enough to make her heart race. “You feel it too, don’t you? The call.”
Before she could answer, a chilling wail echoed through the Blackveil, sharp and unnatural, like a woman’s scream twisted by something otherworldly. The air grew colder, and the shadows between the trees seemed to writhe. Torin’s hand dropped, his body tensing as he turned toward the sound, his posture shifting to that of a hunter ready to strike.

“Stay close,” he growled, his voice all command now. “The Blackveil’s waking early this year. Something’s wrong.”
Riannon’s fear surged, but so did her curiosity. The wail came again, closer, and with it, a faint whisper in her mind—her name, spoken by a voice that was not Torin’s. The sorceress, perhaps? Or the forest itself? She glanced at Torin, his amber eyes scanning the darkness, and made her choice.
“I’m coming with you,” she said, stepping forward despite the tremor in her limbs. “I need to know what’s out there.”
Torin’s gaze snapped back to her, a flicker of surprise giving way to something like respect. “Brave,” he murmured. “Or foolish. We’ll see.” He extended a hand, not to take hers, but as an offer. “Stay near me, Riannon. The Blackveil doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

 

[DarkWarrioress]

He came out of the Blackveil. He was… intimidating. As he strode toward her, she took a few steps back, away from him.

“Lost, are you? Or is it the forest that calls you, girl?”

Her heart was beating fast, as if she had been caught doing something wrong, yet, she hadn’t. She could feel the pull of the forest, tugging at her. Calling to her to come closer.

“I am neither,” her chin notched up a level, “And don’t call me a girl. I turned 18 today. My name is Riannon.”

“Riannon.”

Her name on his lips pulled her eyes back to his face.

“I’m Torin, of the Moonbound. And you’re far from home, Riannon of Eldermoor, with the Bloodmoon rising tonight.”

Her eyes widened. He was Moonbound. A hunter. One of the men who would claim a mate tonight to keep from descending into madness. Her amethyst eyes darkened as she silently studied him.

“Do you know what hunts in these woods when the moon bleeds?”

She knew. She, like all the other girls of the village, had heard the stories and she told him so. He told her that the stories didn’t do it justice and then asks if she was one of the Chosen. She wanted to shake her head in readily denial, but before she could speak, he spoke for her.

“The forest decides for you. It’s already in you, I can feel it.”

His hand came out, causing her to step back in fear but all he did was brush his hand against the edge of her cloak. What if he had reached for her? Riannon didn’t know what to say.

“You feel it too, don’t you? The Call.”

She neither had the opportunity to affirm or deny as a nerve-wracking wail resonated in the Blackveil.

“What was that?”

She asked as she clutched at her cloak.

“Stay close. The Blackveil’s waking early this tear. Something’s wrong.”

It was a command that expected obedience. Riannon wanted to tell him what he could do with his command, but her attention was on the forest itself and what had made that wail. She glanced at him, determination in her eyes and a warning that she wouldn’t be deterred.

“I’m coming with you. I need to know what’s in there.”

His gaze snapped back to her face. In his eyes there was a flicker of surprise that gave way to something like respect. Riannon drew herself up to stand as tall as she could. Their eyes locked.

“Brave,” he murmured, “or foolish. We’ll see.”

Her hand went to the dagger in her waistband, tightening around the hilt. Torin extended a hand, but he didn’t reach for hers, thankfully.

“Stay near me, Riannon. The Blackveil doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

As much as something inside her wanted to deny him, she wasn’t foolish. She didn’t know the Blackveil, He did. Instead, she nodded her head and stood beside him just a little behind. Hopefully, neither one of them made a mistake.

The wailing in the depth of the forest continued. Riannon felt and heard the leaves under her feet as she moved into the forest. The place was dark and foreboding. Tree trunks rose majestically and ominously from the ground. The trunks were thick, so thick that Riannon couldn’t have wrapped her arms around one. The branches above them, thick with leaves, formed a canopy that whispered around them. Because of the thick foliage from above, it turned away sunlight, making not only the forest floor but the interior of the forest itself, dark.

“Where is that wailing coming from, Torin?”

She whispered as she walked cautiously deeper into the forest at his side.

Brave or foolish. His words echoed in her mind. She was neither of those things. Someone might need help or if they weren’t hurt, why were they weeping like that? There was no place she rather be right now then home with her family.