Oh, Hunters of the Valley

Amidst the icy grip of winter in the Polar Sound, Aresenn stood tall against the rugged terrain- his crimson coat standing out against the frosted landscape. The valley was a canvas of white and gray, with ridgelines capped in snow towering in the distance and frosty trees lining the horizon. The air was sharp and biting, carrying the scent of pine and snow, while the distant sound of flowing water echoed through the valley. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground, Aresenn's voice rang out through the frigid air. His summons carried with the breeze to any of those who might be nearby, beckoning the Syndicate hunters to gather around him. With determination etched onto his features, Aresenn stood with purpose as he scanned the surroundings with a sharp gaze. Watching. Waiting to see just who would show.

"Aresenn Praetor"