They hunted at dawn. Sometimes at dusk. Even when their lord was Ill and on the mend.
The legend continues about those hounds of Baskerville. It better not be you they are sniffing for.
There is no mercy.
The longer you remain on the run means that there will be an unforgiving, bloody end.
The weather could be hot.
The weather could be cold.
You could be young.
Or, you could be old.
Another rag to sniff.
Off they go like a race.
This talented pack of floppy eared rascals pick up that « peculiar » scent, and find every single person without taking a glimpse of their face!
No specified time is given.
However, there is a set location to begin.
A meeting place.
When the hounds are after you, no one will ever wish you well.
You have committed an atrocious crime to have these fiends after your are!
They are rumored to have come from the very bowels of hell.
On your end there is no winning.
So, let me tell you about the hounds of Baskerville from the very beginning.
There once was a very kind, yet powerful monarch, who was cousin to Count Elfriede. He was a mere lord, who ruled over Mercia.
His name was Solveig Magni Dagrun East on Huxley Yngvildr Somerled.
His heart was pure. Chaste he was.
And, unmatched in wit, beauty, and of sound mind.
There existed the wildest rumor of an uncanny type of genius that remained veiled inside of this exquisite and beautifully made man, who was always kind.
He was also blessed to never be short of dime. He never seemed to age!
The sands of the hourglass favored him, for the glass never cracked.
So, he seemed to remain forever youthful through the passage of time.
Now came the tide.
On Lord Solveig’s behalf, people of the kingdom chose a bride.
His bride to be traveled from afar, from a place never ending and wide.
Even past places with swamps, quicksand, whirlpools, and areas that were murky.
Even past Delhi and much further than Turkey.
She was rumored to be from the place where one of the Greek gods came to have fun. The very place where people there were dubbed « the people of the sun. »
Finally, the time came to meet his bride to be. It was past noon.
Exactly at three. She was taken aback. Lord Solveig was so beautiful to gaze upon, so beautiful that his bride to be nearly fainted.
That was O.K., because the future husband and wife had exactly seven to get well acquainted .
During this time there were no rifts as the soon to be husband and wife exchanged personal gifts.
No longer shocked by Solveig’s beauty, every expected duty was completed by his bride to be.
Now, her name was no longer a mystery as she laid across both of her fiancées knees.
In between several smooches, the soon to be « Lady » gave Lord Solveig the best gift of all: a basket of ten tiny, long eared, and howling hound dog pooches!
« Now that I have claimed you as my dame, you have been given the honor of giving each pup a name, » explained Somerled.
Before she began, Lord Solveig renamed his wife. Her new name was now « Brynhildr ».
Everythiwas was now » crystal clear ».
« O.K. Ladi-dadi. Here care the names of each one: Bathilde, Beowolf, Maxton, Agnarr, Beckett, Bjorg, Bosse, Canute, Ulf, and Skadi. »
« I wish that you could meet my aunt Meshell. »
« Tis okay. She told me that these puppies are special. »
Like clockwork, the clouds shifted.
And, the seventh day came and went as predicted.
After becoming husband and wife, both had a lot of responsibilities to take over. A lot of things.
At the same time, there was an intruder waiting behind a set of giant gargoyle wings.
Festivities began and lasted until later on that night.
Midnight was approaching. The wedding was about to begin right under the moonlight.
Suddenly, the night began to turn eerie.
This made everyone, including the groom a little leerie.
It was the loud screaming sound of a do-do bird.
At that same moment the next sound heard was a twig that snapped.
By then it was too late. Brynhildr was kidnapped.
What is to become of the hound pups?
Is Brynhildr’s presence detrimental to their survival?
Her kidnapping was arranged by none other than Lord Solveig’s rival!
Nothing could prepare the twenty seven year-old lord for an incident like the kidnapping of such a remarkable dame.
Life without her will never be the same!
Eventhough her rose petals and edges he laid claim.
The possession of Brynhilda was planned. Something special was in development.
Both were surrounded by nature and became one element.
With arms spread apart and each hand gripping a large rock, Brynhildr assumed the ancient position: the « Mound of Jupiter », where nature took its course.
This would be the last time that she and her groom would ever spend with one another.
Meanwhile, an hour went by before the ringing of the alarm bells within the kingdom. Solveig’s bride to be was snatched away, right under his nose!
He went from being shocked to now being in a state of panic. Anything could happen to Brynhildr!
It was now total chaos throughout the kingdom of Mercia. It was going to be a long day ahead for the twenty seven year-old monarch.
Fastforward to six months later:
Brynhildr remained clueless about the identity of her captor, who kept a very watchful eye on her from a great distance.
Fryre Baggi was convinced that the woman he captured was bewitched with some kind of spell, due to what his eyes continued to witness:
A giant belly with a multitude of foot imprints! Constant kicking! Yet, he could not fathom why this ebony tree hued woman with hair that touched her ankles and reminded him of soft clouds, seemed to not feel any type of pain. She laughed often.
And, he often witnessed her talking to her gigantic belly. This really caused the Fryre’s eyes to grow large like saucers.
Meanwhile, Lord Solveig remained beside himself. As a result, he distanced himself away from everyone by moving away from his main residence, to the outskirts of Mercia:
A place where he could brood in silence. He needed to think. It was here where he decided to take up residence: in the dark fortress that he had built after his fiancés kidnapping.
Although the place was dark and gloomy on the outside, it was warm, inviting, and a little on the « gaudy » side on the inside. Solveig named his fortress « Baskerville ». Most of his time was spent in the gray room.
Everything was pencil lead gray with bits of shiny silvercrystals covering this and that. This room was also the place he chose to brood and reveal his dark side. The genius side that no one seemed to witness.
The kidnapping of his woman transformed him from a kind and gentle creature, to a brooding and serious hard man.
He vowed to turn this very Earth upside down to find his woman and unborn children he suspected of siring. He knew he sired them the moment he split the diamonds, cascading into one million shards. Lord Solveig felt a small comfort having his hounds around.
Although he played with them like a child by day, they became his pupils by night. Each hound was blessed with special gifts. However, the darker and gloomier their master became, the more fierce looking their eyes became, appearing to have a certain « glow » at night.
A glow brighter than a torch. Some of the hounds’s eyes glowed yellow. Some red. And, the rest green. As Solveig began to brood for the very last time, Ulf, the youngest and runt of the ten hounds let out a howl so gloomy, that it made his siblings nervous.
The Rhyme Continues
« This time to begin our journey, » commanded Lord Solveig. Solveig and his hounds formed a complete circle and began to drift off into a deep slumber.
Off the « notorious eleven » went in a puff of black smoke.
What an interesting number.
The things that were about to go down were definitely not part of some joke.
Faster than you can snap a finger, I can end this rhyme.
« The Notorious Eleven » traveled through time.
It was through one of these trips of extreme madness when Solveig met an unusual man named Gunter.
Gunter talked in depth with the bloodthirsty lord. As a result, Gunter recruited Lord Solveig as his most prized bounty hunter.
« Your services are worth more than gold. You remind me of someone that I used to know very well. We worked together back in the days of old. Now it is time for me to retire to my bed. »
This is what Gunter said.
Like I said, this was no joke.
Gunter then disappeared after giving Solveig a gentle poke.
« I have to hurry and tend to my farm. Sorry I had to poke you in your arm. »
Solveig’s returning remark was a little snide. Not long after that, master and his pack of dogs prepared for one hellish ride through the foggy tide.
All of them tirelessly completed each and every duty that was near, far, and wide.
No task existed that was considered to be hard.
Lord Solveig and his notorious « hounds of Baskerville » even did assignments for the infamous Scotland Yard. So talented was he, this mixed Norseman.
He was so gifted and mysterious that no one ever considered him teaming up with another human partner.
There was no one to meet his match. Oh, well.
Especially, since he always seemed like he was on a mission.
One that made people think that he had journeyed from some type of torment, maybe even hell.
The gossiping stopped. Every tongue that wagged was right. There were times that the Earth shook at night.
During these times, the guilty voluntarily turned themselves in. Everyone was accounted for. Not a soul was on the run.
Lord Solveig and his part-time partner had a lot of bad fun.
This very being caused more than a remnant of a smile in this hellbound Norseman.
As strange as it was, his bad arse sidekick was none other than « The Headless Horseman!
It was more than an advantage to have such a force around. With » The Headless Horseman around, there was no reason to stop and quench Solveig’s hunger needs.
All he had to do was dig inside of his partner’s jack o’ latern head, and toast a desired amount of pumpkin seeds.
At the strike of twelve, both of their tasks ended. The thunderous hooves of the Clydesdales seemed to be powerful enough to resurrect the dead.
« Until next time! Off with you!, » thundered » The Headless Horseman.
Solveig answered in return, « And I bid you adieu. »
To continue, like I said, this situation was definitely not a joke. The Headless Horseman’s jack o’ lantern mouth magically changed shape.
Watching Lord Solveig and his Baskerville hounds disappear in a puff of smoke caused his jack o’ lantern mouth drop open, remaining agape.
Every task was completed. It seemed like there was nothing else to do.
Now it approached thirty minutes past two.
The night was a total smash. What a cliffhanger.
Upon returning home Solveig decided to finish his tasty meal of Scotch eggs and one last banger.
Next, he decided to write something about his lost love. So, he decided to write a few couplets.
It was right at this very moment that Brynhildr gave birth to septuplets.
For a woman this was compared to a litter. This was a large number.
Oddly enough and unbeknownst to him at this very moment, Solveig became a new father.
He felt everything that his mate went through. After her ordeal, he drifted off into a very deep slumber.
Then, he began to dream a wonderful dream. And, so it went:
There he sat beside his his former bride to be, now his wife.
All of his children were there. No longer was he consumed with fire and rage.
He was now enjoying his new life.
Including himself, were they all in Heaven?
Fastforward up until now, all of these events happened more than twenty seven centuries ago.
The subject at hand is about you, Johnny!
I’ll have you know!
The Hounds of Baskerville are coming for you!
Hell hath no fury!
Especially, when a fire will continue to burn right through the snow.
You decided not to show.
What you did is unforgivable. There will be no mercy for you. In this case, there will not be a death row.
You are a heartless bastard. Guiltless. A coward. You may be a citizen. You can run and you can hide.
But, the law and honor you did not abide.
Because of what you did, the best bounty hunter in the world has been hired to find your ass. And, he is the best!
You’ll never know who he is. He comes from another world: a trip from « the far side ».
However, someone wants you alive.
It is quite shocking that you are not dead.
I cannot believe that you were not shot with bullets riddled with lead!
You can scream. And you can shout.
The secret to where you have been hiding is now out!
Your punishment will be shared with others. No time to debate.
The hounds of Baskerville will decide what to do to those who chose to help to keep you hidden.
When it is all over, every one of you may be a tasty morsel in someone’s plate.
Yeah, this may be a little bold. I may as well warn you now, all of you may be deboned and placed in tiny pieces along with beans in bowls of chili.
Unlike divorce, if this is done, you will be served as the third course. If you will not be consumed by other humans this way, you will be like a snack leftover, like a box of Triscuits.
However, the hounds will start to slowly nibble on your toes and finish you off with a side of their master’s bloody biscuits.
So, get ready Johnny! For you there will be no mercy! You know the deal.
Your head is on a bounty. Now, it is way past time to find you by Solveig Magni Dagrun Easton Huxley Yngvildr Somerled, and his Hounds of Baskerville!