very spooky there are many tales of the dark hunt this is the most popular..check out the links to my friends site.

The Dark Huntsman

One dark night a moorman was riding his pony homewards from Widecombe fair. To say he was in good spirits was a slight understatement, he had taken some bullocks and made a fair price for them so there was coin in his pocket and whisky in his belly. A pale moon hung in the night sky and the cloud bank was building from the west. Silence engulfed the moor like a shroud, and not a breath of wind shook the tussock grasses. ''ead on pawny, a storm be on its way," he shouted at his horse. The animal's ear pricked and as if smelling the air it sniffed and snorted. This journey up over the mighty dome of Hameldon was well trod by the horse and so little direction was needed from the farmer. The slow swaying motion of the plodding pony gradually rocked the moorman to sleep. It was a good job nobody else was abroad because from a distance the form of slumped rider and mount accompanied by the hideous sound of snoring would have convinced them some ghoul was stalking the moor.

As the horse approached the old granite ring of the druids one of his hoofs clipped a boulder with a loud clonk, immediately waking the moorman with a snort. He gibbered and groaned as his whisky soaked brain tried to get its bearings. "Ah, the Druid's Circle already," the man slurred, "Gud job it 'ent Christmas or us 'ud see they awld stones a frolicking and dancin'," the farmer informed his mount. He was referring to the old legend that on Christmas Eve the stones came to life and danced frenetically.

Once past the circle they headed into open moor, suddenly the 'taller' ' taller' sound of a hunting horn wafted on the night air. In the distance a hunter and his pack of hounds appeared, they were coming full tilt towards the farmer. A maelstrom of big black dogs shot past, their jaws gnashing and snarling with blood red tongues lolling out. They seemed to be baying but no cry could be heard. Hot on their heels came a tall rider clad all in black, he was mounted on a huge blacker steed with eyes of fire. Sparks were flying from the horses hooves as it sped across the tussocks. The moorman watched the spectacle through clouds of whisky, "Hey, huntsman," he yelled "what be ee a chasin', give us zum of yer game." The dark rider slung him a bundle, "Take that and think yourself lucky," the hunter bellowed. A wrapped packet fell into the farmers lap, "why thank ee kindly," he slurred.

The pony's eyes were bulging out of their sockets and it danced and nervously pranced around. Once the hunt had gone the little horse began to calm down and carried on across the moor. By now the cloud had thickened and blocked the moonlight, the moor was now in total darkness. The surefooted pony stolidly picked its way through the clumps and tussocks.

The farmer began to wonder what tasty meal the hunter had given him, it was too small for a deer but too big for a hare. No matter how hard he squinted at his bundle could he work out what it was. Before long, horse and rider were clattering across the cobbles of the farmyard, the moorman called for his wife to bring a lantern. A few moments later the kitchen door was flung open and a glowing cow's horn lantern was bobbing down the path.  "Why what on earth be ee doin'," his wife enquired. "I met a huntsmen who gave me some game and I wants to zee what us got," the farmer excitedly exclaimed. His face took on a yellowy hue as the woman passed him the lantern. He held it high and peered into the bundle that was sat in his lap, with a shriek he leapt off the pony and a sad little form tumbled to the cobbles. The woman looked down and then too screamed and yelled, her face buried in her hands - the tasty 'game' was the tattered body of their baby.

The farmers neighbours soon got to hear the tragic news and out of earshot whispered that it was the Wisht hounds that the moorman had met and how they were hunting for un-baptised babies. For ages it had been remarked that it was about time the couple had their child christened and now they had paid the ultimate price. Everyone agreed that the Wisht Hounds normally didn't come this far north, mostly they hunted in the area around their kennels at Wistman's Wood or down south by the Dewerstone. The following weeks saw a spate of christenings at the local church - "jest to be sartin."

Oh, for a wild and starless night,

And a curtain o'er the white moon's face,

For the moor fiend hunts an infant sprite

At cock-crow over Parkham Chase.

Hark to the cracking of the whip!

A merry band are we, I ween;

List to the yeth-hounds yip! yip! yip!

Ha! Ha! tis thus we ride unseen.

Another tale concerning a black dog is the one about a farmer who was out on the moor one night when he heard a loud, rhythmic padding sound coming from behind him. When he turned around to see what was following him he saw a huge black dog. For a moorman he should have known better, but he put his hand out to smooth the approaching beast and as soon as he did the dog loped off leaving behind the acrid smell of its sulphurous breath. He watched the beast speed off across the moor and noticed that as it approached a nearby stream it exploded into a thick yellow cloud of sulphur.

There is also a story told on the southern moor of a group of rabbit poachers who were up on the Avon with their terriers. It was a Sunday night and all of a sudden the dogs came howling and yelping back to their masters. In the distance could be heard the baying of the Wisht hounds and so poachers and dogs sped off home. Within two weeks every single dog had died of unexplained illnesses.

The legend of the Wisht hound is the one that Conan Doyle based his 'Hound of the Baskervilles on and this was the beast that used to haunt the great 'Grimpen Mire'. However, early in January 2006, it now seems that the folk of the Yorkshire Dales are trying to say that the Baskerville Hound was based on their 'Barguest' beast which stalks Trollers Gill. Mind you, Tyne Tees Television have made a series of programmes looking for Yorkshire links with Conan Doyle so they would say that wouldn't they. Hands off, the Baskerville Hound came from Dartmoor and after all, have Yorkshire got a 'Hound Tor' or a snack wagon called 'Hound of the Basket Meals' ? Next thing you know them 'Northerners' will be going around singing 'On Dartymoor by tat' and saying the Wisht Hounds are whippets - ee by gum!

here's other one it's not really got a title yet so i just shoved the first thing that occurred to me on top! it's sci/fi this time. the main character is also female for a change

After revelation

Sand in Chris's eyes, in her hair, her teeth making her itch and long for a bath. An unlikely prospect on this godforsaken planet. Wistfully she thought of the last campaign.Eight months of blissful sun and cool water. No fighting either the locals had given up and cheered their invaders. But that planet was literally light years away.

Sighing she forced herself to her feet and plodded wearily across the makeshift camp. The incessant wind made campfires splutter and spit. Men and women huddled round the meagre warmth watching her pass by with barely concealed contempt. the scent of rebellion was in the air. Chris ignored the accusing eyes and continued to walk at the same weary speed.

Half way to her destination she stopped to watch the bloated sun sink below the horizon, days here were short barely six hours of daylight. The temperature began to nose dive as the sun writhed on the horizon. The bloody red light dragged up images of flame, she pushed the memories away. Banished them back to her unconscious, unwilling to relive them.

Taking a deep breath she took a step towards her destination. The sudden intake of air triggered a coughing fit. Her breather was blocked, she ripped it off banging the hated thing against a rock to clear the filter's. Another thing she detested about this world, breathable atmosphere but dust so fine it would block your lungs and kill you in a few days. She strapped it back on cursing as the sand crunched against her skin.

She could see the tent now pitched in the lee of a large boulder. Two guards were supposedly on duty out side. They straightened up and saluted sloppily as she approached. Chris didn't bother to rebuke them, it was a symptom of the bad moral sweeping through the battalion. The shorter of the two tapped her on the shoulder as she passed.

"Medic's still in there ma'am"

"Really?"A frown creased Chris's forehead "how long has he been here"

"About half an hour ma'am" he stuttered, his senior officer's stare unnerved him.

"Have either of you been in there?"

"no, Commander."

Chris shook her head in disbelief "get out of here the pair of you". she didn't bother to watch them leave.

Inside of the tent was in its usual disarray. The only furniture a camp bed and chair, the latter piled high with stuff taken from the former. The bed's occupant was obscured by the bulky form of freeman the medic. Just the sight of him made Chris's lip curl in disgust. She could never work out how he managed to say so fat when everybody else was on starvation rations. She unfastened her breather, the air was still and relatively dust free here.

"How is he?"

Freeman jumped. He drew himself up turning his owlish face on her. "It was close but he will survive...probably. The concussion will be unpleasant"

Chris shoved the Medic out of the way. On the bed Saul slumbered, oblivious to their presence. His head wound had been cleaned but it still looked nasty, blood still matted his hair."he'll be awake soon" the medic was saying "Give him two of these painkillers. They won't help much but their all i have left" Freeman slapped the vial of pills into her hand.

"out" Chris told him without turning round, attention fixed on her superior.

"but he might need me!"

"I said out!" She thundered. The medic drew back looking at her with disdain.

"I'll call back later"

When she was sure he was gone Chris sat down beside the bed, her head hitting her drawn up knees in exhaustion. "i don't trust that deathmonger" she told the sleeping man. "That said i don't trust the troops either, it won't take much and the whole lot might just desert. Not that i'd blame them". She laughed at herself then, talking to someone who couldn't hear her.

Outside the troops were gathering for evening prayers. Their voices were loud in the desert night. Chris knew she should join them but the words always turned to ashes in her mouth, facing the charade to night was unappealing. She looked back at saul, deciding to use his injury as an excuse if anybody questioned her absence.

Father Edwin had begun the litany. His voice distorted by the breather was more like the gibbering of devils than the word of god. Chris had to grit her teeth to stop herself mouthing the familiar words. The ritual provoked a reaction in her captain as well. A soft moan escaped the dry lips, the smooth skin of his forehead creased with the sudden realisation of pain.

"best you lay still", her voice through quiet, startled him. He sat up, abruptly crashing back down clutching his head. Forcefully she pulled his hands away.

"lie still you idiot."

"it hurts" he whimpered

"What do you expect the bullet grazed your skull. Your lucky to be here." She slapped to pills in his hand and passed him her canteen. "Painkillers she explained curtly, then turned away.

Saul swallowed the pills and watched her in silence. She was reading a discarded report, slapping the pages over with obvious fury. "Your angry with me" he observed.

" State the obvious. Why did you take such a stupid risk?"

"Don't blasheme, would you rather i'd let them shoot you!" Saul replied tersely.

"Just try not to die, i haven't forgiven you for dragging me to this hellhole in the first place."

"What was i supposed to do leave you on the Archangel, Admiral Bathory is already suspicious of you." He paused looking her straight in the eye " One more slip up like the last time and it will be the inquisition, and i will not be able to save you"

Chris sat back down heavily anger cooling at the concern in his tone. "I'm sorry you scared me this time" Awkwardly Saul patted her shoulder.

"Your right i should have got you a different posting"

"It doesn't matter where i end up Saul, not with my background you know that..."

"Lets forget it then ok?" he sat up painfully, trying to at least look in charge."How many people did we lose"

"Yesterday too many. This mission stinks!" Chris was on her feet again, she paced frustration radiating from every pore. "What are we even doing here!"

"This is a strategically important planet-"

"WHY we're miles from anywhere, theres no sign of that alleged Denier base. we should pull out before its too late."

"Not possible"Saul snapped.

"Why not? let Bathory pummel them from space a few more nukes and no more problem" Chris was nearly shouting now.

"For Gods sake sit down commander, and be quiet" Chris obeyed quelling her anger with difficulty, Saul waited until she was back in control. "We will win Commander,it might just take a little longer . Gods on our side"

"is he?,doesn't feel like it" Chris ignored the pained look on Sauls face. "Some thing isn't right here" .Her superior said nothing his own unease was stirring. She stood looking down on him with a wry smile, they had this argument at least once a day. "Get some sleep" She muttered strapping her breather back on.

"You should rest too". He called after her, she didn't hear him.

Back out side the cursed wind was rising again, the dusty sand obscured everything as far as the eye could see. with difficulty Chris  made her wat to the perimeter. She walked along the low barbed wire fence checking the sentries were in position, making sure that the gun placements were manned and supplied with what little ammunition was left. As she walked, she spread the word about the captain's recovery. It was hard to tell if the news heartened the troops at all. Their eyes reflected her own hopelessness more than one greeted her with barly masked aggression.

Rounds finished she turned in to the camp. She headed for Father Edwins tent. Deliberately she slowed her pace, making sure as many people as possible marked her passage. There was no way she could put this off any longer, earlier the word heretic had been whispered within earshot. A show of devotion was needed; Chris had no intention of becoming a scape goat for the disaffected.

Still she hesitated at the tents flap, could she leave this a little longer? No she told herself firmly, "Father are you in" she called. Seconds ticked by with no response, maybe he had gone on some errand. Feeling relieved Chris started to retreat.

"Commander Garrick" the priest's voice rang out, dashing her hopes of escape.

"Yes Father" She answered reluctantly, pulling aside the flap and stepping inside.

It was darker than Saul's tent, there was none of the cheerful mess.Precious little at all, besides the priests blanket on the floor and the alter with its golden crucifix.. The priest was no more than a darker shadow by the alter. As Chris waited for him to finish his prayers she noticed a familiar sour smell hanging in the air. Recognising it instantly, her unease turned to real fear as the priest rose from his knees.

The Father approached slowly, fastidiously crossing himself with his unnaturally white hands. "Commander i feared you had forgotten me, i take it you are here for confession..." Fighting the urge to run Chris nodded. Even in the half light she could see the priests eyes, rendered black on black by the drug racing through his system.

He took her hand in a limp grip, his eyes looking right through her. Chris forced herself to concentrate on her minor sins. Distracting the tendril's of alien thought, keeping them away from her bigger secrets. After an eternity he released her. The black started to fade from his eyes, he stepped back to pronounce judgement. "You should not feel guilty about dealing death to the enemy, that is the fate decreed for them by god." He paused a moment considering. "As for the other. That is a demon you have carried a long time." He strode over to a rack on the wall, returning with a three tailed whip. "Ten lashes as penance remove your shirt."

By the next morning the wind had died once again. Saul woke to sunshine albeit the sickly light of a dying star. It buoyed him a little, until he tried to rise. Dizzy and weak he sat back down trying hard not to throw up. Some one, Garrick probably had left a clean uniform for him. The vial of pills was balanced on top. He snagged them, dry swallowing two then started to struggle in to the uniform.

Garrick strode in, not bothering with the formalities. "Are you alright?" she demanded.

"Slightly concussed, but still alive" The joke made her smile, she hovered a couple of feet away watching him fumble with the buttons on his jacket. After a while she darted forward with an exasperated curse.

"Let me help you"

"I can manage!"

Chris ignored his protest"Sit up straight", As she pushed the buttons through the too tight holes, she felt Saul leaning against her. The contact lasted a fraction to long, he jerked away guiltily.

"Sorry" Saul muttered

"Don't start apologising, you just leaned on me"

Saul sighed and hauled himself up, as he did he patted Chris on the shoulder. The gesture was supposed to be friendly, but it elicited a pained yelp. "When did you get hurt"

"Its nothing" she shrugged and turned away, Saul reached out and touched her back again. light through the touch was her skin screamed in protest. She couldn't hide the wince.

"What happened?"

" I went to confession. He had some seed, got whipped." She admitted grudgingly.

"I told you not to go until we get back to the ship"

"I had too, there have been whispers."

"And you tell me off for taking stupid risk's!"

"Its done ok, forget it." Chris kicked a chair to vent her annoyance. "Do you think you can face the troops? most of them think your dead, morals at rock bottom."

"Yeah i can manage that." Saul strapped on his breather.

With Chris walking at his elbow in case he stumbled he surveyed the camp. There didn't seem to be many troops left. "Orders, captain?" Chris asked formally.

"Have them fall in full inspection five minutes, i want a report from the quartermaster too"

"That might present a problem, hes dead" Chris informed him before jogging off. Gratefully Saul leaned against a handy tent post. Every step had worsened his headache; the scab over the wound itched horribly. He closed his eyes until the pain subsided a bit; when he opened them again Chris was rousing the men. He watched her wake a couple of late sleepers, he could hear her bellowing at them, through the actual words were lost on the already returning wind. She made an exceptional sight he admitted to himself. Standing there with her short hair blowing around her face like a dark halo, he permitted himself a moment of indulgence then stamped on it hard. "Sin" he murmured softly.

Garrick had harried the troops into two lines now; she was looking at him expectantly. Saul took the hint and ambled across to her, hoping he wouldn't fall over or pass out.

"Think you can do this?" She asked him softly.

"I'm fine lets just get this over with." He turned his attention to the gathered troops. A woeful lot they were, he mused as he progressed along the lines. Fatigue and exposure had etched premature lines on their young faces. More than a few had healing scars, others carried open wounds crusted with sand- grim testament to being on the losing side. Shocked saul turned to Chris. "This is it?" he whispered, Chris just shrugged. He took a few steps away gesturing for her to join him. "You were right, for what its worth." he sighed, "There's no way we can win this campaign not with these losses. You had better send a message to Bathory."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, just do it will you!, and get Father edwin up here. He'll want to know whats going on."

Chris hesitated not liking the expression on his face. "maybe" she started, Saul silenced her with a warning look.

Chris ran to Father Edwin. she spoke quickly not giving him time to question why he was being summoned. before dashing off to the command centre to send the message, it took less than a minute. Then she was speeding back across the camp.  She slowed to a jog as she crested the rise before the depression which served as a parade ground. Some thing felt wrong. She scanned the camp unable to pin point the source of her unease. Saul was in sight now. He and the troops were kneeling on the sand while Father Edwin recited the Pater Noster.

She couldn't see the sentries, the realisation hit her hard she stopped. A body indistinct  against the sand suddenly resolved itself. She screamed a warning. Too late- a flash of blue light smashed in to a female trooper in the front row, the girl fell to the ground jerking in her death throes. For a moment nobody moved, then it was chaos.

Instinctively Chris ran for the place she had last seen Saul. The troops were running in disarray. "Arm your selves you morons!" she yelled at them. She looked round the Denier solder's had surrounded them firing indiscriminately. The strange and deadly blue lights were everywhere. She couldn't see Saul any where. Irrationally, She stopped and lowered her weapon searching for her friend among the carnage. Something knocked her to the ground. She struggled then realised it was Saul , dispite the situation she grinned. "I take it you just saved me?"

"Yes"

"Thanks." she managed as they both jumped back up. "we can't stay here, suggest we retreat and regroup" Saul nodded reluctantly he hated the thought of running from a fight. They ran for it, yelling to the troops to follow not registering if any did or not. At some point in their head long fight the noise of battle decreased. Saul risked a look behind them there was no sign of pursuit, no trace either of any of their people. They stopped when the distance had become a mile. Saul pulled off his breather, Chris did like wise.

"We shouldn't have run..."He said, voice thick with shame.

"Don't give me that death before dishonour crap" She fixed him with a steely gaze. "Besides if we'd stayed i would be dead and you would be paraded on their propaganda channel like some kind of prize"

"I know i just don't like running..." he paused looking at the surrounding desert. "We should head for those hills, find some cover. We can decide what to do then."