Howls rang in the night air as the hounds tore through the streets and alleys of Rhydin, giving chase to anyone foolish enough to catch their masters' eyes. On this night, a small band of them were running down a shopkeep who had refused to sell a trinket to a faerie noble, claim it was a commission already paid for, and not his to sell. The noble had stormed off, giving dire warnings that there would be consequences....and now his words were coming true.

Though not, as it would turn out, in the manner he had intended.

Their prey rushed blindly through the back streets, calling for help to no avail. It was late in the evening, the moons were but slivers of light in the sky, and most people were huddled safely in their homes. He wished he could say the same, but the Hunt had caught up with him while he was out walking his own dog; the pup had valiantly tried to defend his dear friend, though it was not up to the task and failed miserably. Cut off from his home and finding only locked doors and shuttered windows, the man fled for his life.

When something moved out of the shadows in front of him, he screamed and fainted.

The hounds of the Hunt came snarling, the hunstmens' steeds pounding behind. There were a dozen or so beasts, and half as many riders, but the trio of cloaked and hooded figures that took up position in front of their quarry stood their ground calmly. The Master of this particular Hunt signaled a halt, then prodded his mount forward a few steps. "Who dares come between the Wild Hunt and its prey?"

Silence was his only answer.

For a long, tense moment the two groups faced each other, and then the tall faerie gestured to the three men. "Take them all!" With a raucous yowl, the lead hound surged forward, leaping at the middle figure.

For a moment something seemed to gleam within the shadows of the man's hood, and then a force caught the hound in mid-leap. As the Hunt watched in shock, unseen hands seemed to grab the beast's jaws and tear them apart, splitting it in two from chops to tail and leaving a ruined, bloody heap on the cobblestones.

The hooded men smiled, thin and vicious.

The faeries recovered from their shock quickly, raising their blades as the hounds bayed in rage. "You will die for this! Do you think a paltry three can stand against us?"

"Who said there were only three?" This came from above, where a woman stood on a rooftop, faintly outlined by starlight. Other figures, men and women, crouched silently on the roofs to either side of the alley, or stepped into view behind the Hunt. The women gave a sweeping gesture to the alley below, a signal to her compatriots, before repeating the Huntmaster's own words. "Take them."