There had been a horrible baying, a warbled sound, before the hounds were on them.

Phantasm's axe was in his teeth a moment later, bounding to try and loop around, so they were in the front to take the brunt of whatever assault was to come. Farsight swooped, pestering at one of the hellhounds as they surged into view, talons catching at their tails, before swooping back upwards, away from snapping, hungry mouths.

Dolly stayed put on the crest of the hill, not visibly concerned with the happenstance. Crispin was somewhere behind them, they knew, as they drove their axe towards the front most snarling beast.

There was a sharp cry off to the left, and they spun - a flash of crimson, teeth sunk into Crispin's ankle. One or two of the damned things had clearly split off and gone for the gray courser.

When one of the creatures would make it past, it stopped short of Dolly, staring, panting. Then it would turn about, and lunge for the melee, ignoring the odd, calm courser entirely.