Hounds From Hell の小説・ストーリー

Burned meat and blood are so old that they don’t belong to anything natural. There is only one thing it can be. A name whispered in the Pit’s dark corners when the guards thought we were too broken to listen. Bloodborne Hounds. Bred in the dark and stitched together from dead wolves and dead men. Made for one purpose: to tear the right out of anything too stupid to run.

The dark hair on his chest was matted with the dirt of the ridge, his claws extending from his knuckles with a wet, heavy click. From the dense spruce forest behind the split boundary stone, the first of the invaders appeared. They were massive, twice the size of Silas’s timber wolves, their bodies wrapped in thick plates of dark iron that had been bolted directly into their flesh. These were the Iron Hounds, the selective breed of the Southern Council, raised in dark caves and fed on nothing but raw meat and sulfur to make them hate their own kind. Their eyes were bloodshot and wild, their jaws fitted with steel muzzle guards that had been sharpened to razor edges.

“I’m not going anywhere with you until you explain.” He swallowed hard, like the truth itself had weighed his tongue down. “Those things were werewolves. The ones you saw today; we call them hellhounds. They’re sent to the human world to destroy their target. And right now, you, Joyce, are that target. I swear I’ll answer all your questions, but not here. Now is not the time.” Hellhounds? The word alone chilled me. The beasts that attacked my car were obviously too huge to be dogs and too terrifying to be wolves. All four of them were at least five feet tall. It gave me chills to even think they could come back.

And Zane had no idea who he was really up against. Later, Zane was in his study, pouring over ancient texts on hellhounds, trying to piece together any information that might help him track them. The hellhounds were creatures of the underworld, summoned only by a powerful ritual, one that required blood—specifically, the blood of the intended target. Someone close to Cana had set this in motion, someone who had betrayed them

I’m about to ask what is wrong when I hear several growls from one direction and a stomping sounds like hoofs from the other. “Mathias?” I question nervously and bring Seneca against me, protectively cradling her. “Hellhounds.” He growls, and turns the other way, “Nightmare horses.” He hisses. Bright red beady eyes peer from behind trees and bushes, the menacing growls and snarls of the hellhounds echo around us. I knew what these creatures could do. They were different looking from the demon dogs, but still just as dangerous and their pheromones could send even the strongest foggy in the brain.

This will be at the top of the report to the Federation when I return home. If I return. King has found a way to capture the monsters and study them. Even if I don't agree, I need to pull my big girl panties up and discover everything I can about them. I walk closer almost mesmerized and for some reason my fear recedes. We call them hounds because they run on all fours. That's the only resemblance these creatures have to any type of canine. Their jaws are enormous, the teeth made for biting and shredding, the jaw itself made for pulverizing bone, wood, and even concrete. Our only protection has been steel sheets welded into the walls and floors of our compounds. With enough hellhounds they c

I look up and smile. The closer we get, I hear a growl and stop in my tracks. Holding my hands out, stopping everyone behind me. “What is it Rosa.” Charlie asks. “Don’t fucking move.” I say as I straighten and whistle. “What are you doing?” Charlie panics, but I ignore him. When from the right of us I see them. I smile as four of them run towards me. Their fur is deep grey, their fangs are on display. Their heads large the giant hounds of Hell. I drop to my knees the closer they get. They snarl, bark, and snap their jaws, feeling the icy bite of death as they circle the group.

Haunted woods Golden Summit Pack "In the thick Culloden woods, where the trees stretch high in the sky, blocking out all sunlight, There is a pack of demon wolves who are direct descendants of Hades. They are known as hellhounds. Said to be the fallen soldiers of the goddess brought back to life by the eternal flame to do his bidding. They catch fire when awakened and will burn anything in their wake. It is said that the dense fog is not a fog at all but a thick layer of smoke that hangs low in the forest, making it even more dangerous to venture in. The woods are said to catch fire in the center and never stop burning, but from the outside, you see nothing. The portal to hell is in the cent

“The one who conquered half of the world. Well, right now, when it comes to werewolves, the closest thing we have to Genghis Khan is the Hellhound. Granted before the Mongols finished their conquering spree.” “What?” That guy was definitely not the brightest bulb in the box. “The hellhound has conquered a bunch of packs already, but not half of the world.” Ethan explained. “Yet,” I interjected. He eyed me but continued. “He’s also reputed to answer to challenges pretty brutally.” “You don’t know how brutal he can get,” Hellhound Girl said to the guys. There was a fire in those eyes that I liked. She was probably imagining them burning at the stake and she enjoyed the idea.

“They walk in shadow, cloaked not in fur but in malice woven. Their eyes are voids, deeper than tombs, and their breath withers hope. They need no pack, yet oft they come as one—five, ten, more—like the black wind before the storm.” “Beware, oh kin of claw and fang. When the woods fall still and the birds forget their songs; when the moon hides her face and the beasts of field flee in silence—then they are near. Bolt thy den and speak not their name, for to name them aloud is to draw their gaze.” “Let this be writ in claw and ash: the houndras cometh not for meat nor mirth, but for the ending of all things forgotten.” “That's it?” Rune asked, frustrated as he flipped through the pages hoping