July 10th
Who : Fredric Mekhal, Queen Sidonie, The Chaldean, Invited Fae nobles high and low When: Mid morning Where : The Norhlands, Wynter region, Foldmire, in the east
The hunstmen had begun to assemble at dawn outside of the sleep farming community of Foldmire. The locals didn’t give much mind to the minor nobles , real commotion didn’t occur until the big names of the land filtered in, and then the food lines came out as proud chefs or house cooks wanted to show off their culinary talents. How stews, moist bread, spreads of all kinds, grilled pork sausages and bacon slabs. It was a chance for the people to interact with their Lords and Ladies and show their pride in their own food culture, perhaps even make a deal or two concerning their crops currently stored in the granaries dotting the city. Besides the free food, merchants have also swarmed the area, heald back by elements of the Mekhal 1st Legion as to not disturb the gathering hunt party in attempts to sell their wares. Finally, the hunt organizer calls together the assorted partakers in today’s event to gather near a worn rectangular Menhir. The 10 meter free standing structure is situated on the outskirts of the city, about 500 yards from the road leading into town. Today is a fine day for some hunting in the harsh lands, a crisp wind blowing in from the northwest, biting deep into the layers of clothing worn by all. Most of Wynter’s tundra is devoid of snow, but the ground is hard and rime ice crisps the ground and the tough grasses that thrive on it’s plains.
Fredric Mekhal rides forward to the front of the group, wearing a fur ushanka and a thick padded coat. He clears his throat and sits higher on his Cleveland Bay, the intelligent, thick bodied horse snorts and looks out over the group in mimic of her rider. “Lords and Ladies of the Territories. Thank you for coming and sharing in this fantastic event. Most of you have never been in the Northlands before and are probably regretting your decision. “ He grins and turns his back toward the winds. “Believe it or not, this is a balmy day here on the tundra, which is perfect for the hunt, our prey should be active today and the forests will provide you cover from the howling, icy winds. “
Fredric points behind the group to an area of cages, where examples of their prey have been kept all morning, giving the huntsmen a view of what they’re to be after. The infamous Killycrow, sharp tusked, poisonous barbs along their bodies. The caged beasts are very restless, grunting and squealing as their noses twitch at the new and alarming scents posed by so many people around them. “the Master of the Hunt has been gracious enough to collect specimen for the uninitiated amongst us today. If you haven’t already taken the opportunity be sure to look these monsters over and note their strengths and weaknesses, the Killycrow is no laughing matter and there have been plenty of seasoned, tough warriors maimed or killed by this beast. The terms of the hunt are as follows. You have 10 hours to hunt, at that time, tallies will be taken of each groups accomplishments and the winner will be determined based on three categories. Average size, quantity, and success. The overall leader will win the grand prize, of the hunt, a magnificent hunting falcon which should serve for smaller prey, as well as one of the realm-famous Cleveland Bay Warhorses. Sired from the legendary Balrohm.” Fredric motions to the Hunt Master, who passes him a long spear. At the tip of the spear is a trailing green tassel that flits in the wind, it seems magically mated to the wood of the shaft, each huntsman has been given one of these weapons for the hunt.
“May I present, the shock spear. Some of you may be familiar with the operation of this weapon, for the rest, let me offer you instruction. The shock spear is a native weapon of the north used in instances where prisoners are desired, or when using non-lethal methods to take down dangerous beasts. It acts as any other spear a quick thrust.”Fredric displays the common maneuver on a wodden dummy before him, the spear impacts and the tassel wraps around the target, crackling as latent elemental sparks pass over the dummy. “and your spear will do the rest. At this time the hunt tally keepers will converge on your location and take note of your take. The spear takes a bit of finesse and can kill as easily as a blade, so I leave this up to you all, your skill will determine your success. Success as I mentioned before is a grading factor, We’re not here to slaughter these beasts, we’re here to round them up and return them to The Wilders, they’ll do more good there than our efforts to exterminate them here, would do. “
Fredric raises his hand over his head and addresses the gathered hunstmen once again. “ I again would like to welcome everyone here, to my lands to take part in this thrilling hunt. I advise you caution, for there are many beasts in these lands that can attack without warning and cause grievous injury and death. You’ve all been assigned your hunts group and will be accompanied by a native Legionary, experts in tracking all. Listen to their advice if given and I guarantee an experience like none had before. Hunt Master, sound the horn. 10 Hours to the feast!” The signal is given and the deep bellowing noise rumbles throughout the region.
((This thread is open to all Fae and Magic-side veil inhabitants. ))