I am most pleased. Tonight's hunt was by far the best I've had in all my years of hunting. But I get ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.
Today, the hunters chose the Persian Ahura Mazda as the most likely to be working with me. It was to great pleasure that I took a hunting knife, and handed it to the Hunter of Desert beasts. Known throughout the Near East as the king of the desert, I had much hope in an excellent hunt. Tonight, however, was the night to excersice the hounds. With the dogs following the most faint trail left by the Persian, I arrived at the Western Swamplands. I had previously warned the persian not to attempt to escape to the swamplands, for they were ridden with a plethora of quicksand which would swallow a man whole in less time than it takes to bring down a wild rabbit.
It was here that I began to tread carefully. Unfortunately, Igor lost control of the hounds and they became most wild. They had caught a fresh scent of the persian, and followed wildly into the swamp. It was an unfortunate turn of events, for they quickly were devoured by the earth. We could but observe as my trained dogs became casualties of the Most Dangerous Game.
We headed back to the hills, when a sudden sound of a mass crashing to the earth caught my ear. Immediately behind us, the persian lay. His body mutilated by a fall of great height. Blast!
I had hoped better of him, but it would have appeared he lost his nerve. My next victim would not be quite as dim. For the next hunt, I had the honour of confronting Sanger Rainsford himself. The experienced hunter of New York posed just the challenge I needed. With his hunting knife in hand, he leapt away with such agility as I had not seen before. Having read Mr. Rainsford's books on his hunts in Tibet, I could only assume Rainsford would head for the cliffs. His trail, even fainter than the persian's, was most intricate. Loops and false ends throughout. However, upon coming to the end of one, as I searched for my game, I saw him. Perched on the seventh branch of the tallest tree, Mr. Rainsford tried a bit too hard to not catch my eye. Not having had enough entertainment for the night, I merely smiled and retreated.
After walking for a bit, I and Ivan walked back to the tree. Mr. Rainsford had not lost his nerve. We followed the new trail to the end of the cliffs, where the dutchman had hung himself, and the sea pounded against my island. Had we lost the trace of his scent? No, we had merely ended in one of Mr. Rainsford's intricate traps. As we headed back, a most unfortunate event occured, for the second time in one night. Ivan, as always the deaf and dumb brute he is, became frustrated and started a run ahead of me. Had
I come upon the place where Ivan was struck with the hunting knife given Mr. Rainsford, I would have immediately recognised the Malay Mancatcher. Unfortunately, the brute would see nothing and perish in the place.
"Rainsford," I called, "if you are within sound of my voice, as I suppose you are, let me congratulate you. Not many men know how to make a Malay mancatcher. Luckily for me I, too, have hunted in Malacca."
It was at this moment that I was struck on the side of the head with what I can only describe as the hardest object known to my cranium. As I descended to the ground, I was ambushed by Rainsford. To my advantage, I landed on the side of Igor, and retrieved his killer, and used it for the last time.
I salute Sanger Rainsford for the most entertaining night of my life.
With thrill running through my veins,
General Zaroff
). I suspect The_Split of being a wolf and if he is, most likely Ahura Mazda is his packmate or perhaps Lemeard, but I think that less likely.
