There often by him he would see,
when noon was hot on leaf and tree,
the king of Faerie with his rout
came hunting in the woods about,
with blowing far and crying dim,
and barking hounds that were with him;
yet never a beast they took nor slew,
and where they went he never knew.
when noon was hot on leaf and tree,
the king of Faerie with his rout
came hunting in the woods about,
with blowing far and crying dim,
and barking hounds that were with him;
yet never a beast they took nor slew,
and where they went he never knew.
—from Sir Orfeo, as translated by J. R. R. Tolkien
Join, hide, or die. That's all you can do when the Wild Hunt comes to call.
—Harry, The Dresden Files
Join, hide, or die. Those are your options when the Wild Hunt comes for you.. Well tonight, the Hunt is joining me.
—Harry, The Dresden Files (when the Hunt catches up with him)
"Riders of the Hunt," I called out. All fifty of them turned to me as one with unatural smoothness.
"Follow," I laughed. "Tonight we ride."
(...) Banners were raised, not of silk or cloth but crow's feathers and shadow. Shining coldly like a raven's eye. A fae with hair like spun gold touched the horn to her lips and doom screamed across the night.
An old cowboy went riding out one dark and windy day,
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way,
When all at once a mighty herd of red-eyed cows he saw,
Plowin' through the ragged skies and up the cloudy draw.
Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel;
Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky,
He saw the riders come in hard, and he heard their mournful cry:
Yippie-yi-yo! Yippie-yi-yay!
Ghost riders in the sky...
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way,
When all at once a mighty herd of red-eyed cows he saw,
Plowin' through the ragged skies and up the cloudy draw.
Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel;
Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky,
He saw the riders come in hard, and he heard their mournful cry:
Yippie-yi-yo! Yippie-yi-yay!
Ghost riders in the sky...
Ghost Riders in the Sky, Johnny Cash
WILD HUNT. This crosses the paths of Tourists scarily at unpredictable intervals, often through the sky and nearly always at night. It is very numinous (OMT) and also doom-laden (OMT). Otherwise no one knows quite what to make of it. Normally all that can be distinguished of it is the barking of many hounds, the galloping of many HORSES, and the one rider, horned and masked, at its head. Possibly none of it is fully within the control of the Management, since its appearances often occur arbitrarily, and perfectly well-conducted Tourists who witness it tend thereafter to become numinous and doom-laden themselves.
