Surviving The Wild Hunt

By Ardriel Pinethorn of Haven, 1E372

It’s been 3 years since the ritual. I regret it even to this day. The Wild Hunt may give you great power, but at what cost? No one deserves to be destroyed by The Wild Hunt. Not the poor Bosmer that think themselves to be “sacrifices for the greater good”, nor the victim, whoever it might be, does not deserve a fate so horrific as being devoured by The Wild Hunt, nor the innocents that stand in its way. So, for the sake of future lives being saved, I write this text, in hopes that whenever a Bosmer thinks that someone is worth dying in such a horrific and profane way, they might remember me and what happened to the final survivor of The Wild Hunt of 1E369. Bosmer, although they do not admit it, wonder what it feel like to be part of The Wild Hunt. They think it some kind of great power that allows them to bring a means to an end and destroy their enemies. What they don’t realize is how painful it feels, not only physically, but emotionally.

Have you even shaken a closed pot full of liquid? Well, that’s what happens to your body during The Wild Hunt. You can still feel, but you cannot express pain or resist it in any way, but you can still see everything that is going on. You can feel all of your fellow Bosmer around you, with only one goal to accomplish. Kill High King Borgas. Nothing stands in your way. Nothing. You cannot resist while you watch hundreds of people die while The Wild Hunt travels to find Borgas. You can’t hear their screams of agony, but you feel their bones and flesh get eaten and destroyed by The Wild Hunt. Sometimes it’s you who is eating the innocents. You are part of a giant killing machine that is going to stop at only Y’ffre’s will. But it is even worse when The Wild Hunt is young and has just formed. Not all who want to take part in The Wild Hunt become part of it. Y’ffre choses those who he thinks are not worthy and keeps them in their places, and lets The Wild Hunt devour them. Imagine yourself watching your family, your wife, daughter, and your parents being crushed in a split second, but being able to distinguish their broken bones as they are crushed and devoured by your friend, or even by you.

Some think that The Wild Hunt is just a way to describe hundreds of forever-transforming creatures that are on a rampage. This is false. The Wild Hunt is one single being. Living, breathing, and able to distinguish the most capable Bosmer to survive its wrath. That Bosmer, it would seem, is me.

So beware, my fellow Bosmer, and heed these words: No matter how bad, no one deserves to be the victim of The Wild Hunt.