It was as the midnight bell struck the 1st of Valnuary that will-o-wisps stirred within the Aureliana Forest, the fulfillment of a promise and realisation of a wish cleaving the planar divide for but one ephemeral moment. Onward they came 'pon Midsummer's Eve, a bewitching host of the glimmering Fae to bestride the skies of Sapience in exultant splendour. At their head rode Oberion, the Lord of the Hunt, his mantle of royal indulgence cast aside for this single night to reveal what lurks at the savage heart of Sidhe. Amidst the baying of hounds and the calling of horns, the Erl-King rides anew.

The Wild Hunt traversed the continent of Sapience, galloping north to the sacred places of the fallen God Lupus. It was here that Oberion inclined his head at last to Penelope, the Hunter's Fang, acknowledgement given of hunts long past and hunts yet to come. The finest of hunters had come in answer to her call, and it was a feral smile that the weretigress bestowed upon mortal and Fae alike. Yet as the Sidhe Lord's eyes swept the gathering for prey, she beseeched him for but one favour before the hunt began in earnest. A tale of long ago: a tale of the First Predator.

Magnanimous in his exalted freedom, the Erlking's crystalline voice rang clarion across those who stood in the sanctuary of the Wildfather. He spoke of a time before the world was formed, of a pursuit spanning life and death and life again in the span of a wish. In the end, he spoke of a White Wolf triumphant, of a Hunter neither he nor any other could match, and an agreement made in blood between Fae and Elder Divine.

A feral grin marked the ending of Oberion's tale, and a challenge to the hunters of Sapience. In remembrance of the Savage Beast, a plethora of offerings. The most deadly foes of the known planes, brought low by daring hands. So did the stalwart adventurers go forth with blade and arcana to wreak havoc among the high and the low. Titans of Earth and Water and Fire expired as brutality sought the Elemental Planes, while the piercing screams of an embattled secretary were cut short within the Elemental Embassy itself. Upon the prime Zsarachnor, the Vampire Lord's chuckle of amusement at Belladona's demise was abruptly cut short as he too fell in his turn, drowned nearly to irrelevance by the enraged shrieks and shattering crystal of Auntie Maim's party being rudely disrupted. In memory did the adventurers venture forth to slay the shades of Reckoning, while within the bowels of the Underworld the Ur-Vampire Asztrik howled his last fit of dying rage at an uncaring sky.

With each and every victory the hunters returned to place the fallen within the jaws of the sleeping statue of the White Wolf, all and sundry turned to ash and consumed by an insatiable hunger writ upon that quiescent stone. Fifteen foes from far and wide, hunters in their own right made little more than prey before the demands of crimson pilgrimage, and sated at last did the sleeping wolf open its eyes. A savage cacophony arose, spilling forth across Sapience in a call to hunt. To die. To bleed. The weretigress bared her fangs and turned to face those who had once more gathered before her, and with a languid hand she waved them onward into the Lupine Hunting Grounds to earn their place as predator or prey.

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Summary: Penelope, the Hunter's Fang welcomed all the greatest hunters to join her in a hunt to remember the fallen Wildfather. After two days of brutal slaughter, the corpses of many fierce foes sated the appetite of the sleeping wolf altar, and the Lupine Hunting Grounds opened their jaws to Sapience once more.

Penned by My hand on the 20th of Valnuary, in the year 882 AF.