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To the Pagans of [[Logres]] hunting is not just a way to put food on the table, it is also a sacred act from time to time. One must take care to honor ones prey and make sacrifices to appease the spirits of the [[forest]] in order to ensure continued good fortune. It is said that every boy is blooded on their first hunt and not until you have brought down your first prey can you truly be considered a man. | To the Pagans of [[Logres]] hunting is not just a way to put food on the table, it is also a sacred act from time to time. One must take care to honor ones prey and make sacrifices to appease the spirits of the [[forest]] in order to ensure continued good fortune. It is said that every boy is blooded on their first hunt and not until you have brought down your first prey can you truly be considered a man. | ||
Latest revision as of 19:29, 18 August 2017
The Hunt is on
To the Pagans of Logres hunting is not just a way to put food on the table, it is also a sacred act from time to time. One must take care to honor ones prey and make sacrifices to appease the spirits of the forest in order to ensure continued good fortune. It is said that every boy is blooded on their first hunt and not until you have brought down your first prey can you truly be considered a man.
Below is a song sometimes heard sung in the Cellydon house when autumn approaches.
Sound the horn loudly, call the hounds!
We will ride proudly through hunting grounds
Who shall win?
Blessed stag, or mortal kin?
Fast through the winding woods we go
Flash of a tail within the wood
For the stag is swift and the stag is fleet
And he hears the sound of thundering feet
Here then gone, clansmen cry,
“The hunt is on!”
It is more than sport ‘tween beast and man,
For the stag is sacred to our clan
And we dare not risk the forest’s ire
For if we can’t kill then We’d best not fire
Here then gone, clansmen cry,
“The hunt is on!”
Sound the horn loudly, call the hounds!
We will ride proudly through hunting grounds
Who shall win?
Blessed stag, or mortal kin?
Let the death be clean as life’s released
So we show our honor to the beast
For your own death you will understand,
When you hold life’s blood within your hand
Here then gone, clansmen cry,
“The hunt is on!”
Though we draw a bow and we wield a blade
We respect the code that nature made
For we know not when the shadows fall
And the huntsmen comes to take us all
Here then gone, clansmen cry,
“The hunt is on!”
Sound the horn loudly, call the hounds!
We will ride proudly through hunting grounds
Who shall win?
Blessed stag, or mortal kin?
We are born, then gone
Clansmen cry, “The hunt is on!
The hunt is on!
The hunt is on!”