(Noble Barding)

It was hot, even a mere 18 suns past Heavensturn, on the day we gathered in Southern Thanalan to award an errant tiger to one of our most devoted Hunters. It was hot, yet it was a momentous day for The Clan Centurio, and the whole of the land was there.

There were delegates from Ala Mhigo, once exiled nearby, stoic Hingans, and we Ishgardians, wilting under the sun in our Coerthan robes. The Mythril Eye, Harbor Herald, and Raven had sent their reporters, delivering blow-by-blow accounts of the scene into their linkshells. On the southern slopes a few curious Amal’ja eyed the event, keeping their distance to avoid provoking the crowd.

And a crowd it was! Even on a normal day an S Rank attracts dozens of the realm’s finest warriors, and this occasion had doubled its size. The golem Nunyunuwi idled at the fore, its disinterest a stark contrast to the buzz of excitement around it.

“Is Kage here? Is this his 2000th S Rank?” a Hunter shouted.

“So the legends say,” another replied.

“Let’s let him pull!”

And so they did – the crowd parted, and the miqote-of-the-hour, in his trademark red crown, strode forward and began to cast.

Adventurers themselves drive the Hunt, without the militant prodding of Grand Company orders, or the urgency of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn missions. Those thrillseekers who labor to draw out the most dangerous of Rank S marks do so of their own desire, as do those who trek the realm bell after bell battling even the smallest of Rank As. For many moons they, not we, had counted down in anticipation of one of their own reaching the goal we had set, and today rallied about him.

A flash of frenetic activity, and in an instant the rocks that made up the terrific golem faded into the landscape. Silence fell and the Hunters looked about to see what came next. The Chairman wove through the crowd, stopped before Kage, and proffered a summoning horn. With a broad smile, he loudly pronounced, “Adventurer… You Got Game!”

Cheers and {Congratulations!} erupted. Fireworks and chimes echoed through the arid canyon. Though blushing, the wag in the miqote’s tail betrayed his joy – surely this would become one of his fondest memories. The Hunt may rival Ishgardian lawn tennis for its petty politics and competing factions, but today he had united it in celebration.

Kage kept his remarks brief, for it was a hot day. He thanked those who lured the marks from hiding, those who ran the Hunt linkshells, and most of all those who had hunted alongside him on his long road.

We wish here to echo these sentiments. The Hunt is not something that can be done alone, but nor is cooperation the natural state. Thank you, adventurers, for overcoming differences, for working together. Your camaraderie has taken The Hunt to places we never imagined it could go.

With humblest sincerity,
The Clan Centurio