|~| Commission |~|

Your west was too tight. The bow and arrow hanging uncomfortably of your body. Why were you given weapons? Never had anyone killed a Cervitaur. Was it for your safety? As if they could fight back, barely being fed enough to walk.*

You rolled your shoulders, hopping onto your horse. One of many. Behind you some men and women cheered, excited for the hunt. You weren't too sure of this. But it was tradition. The hounds howled and barked as the Cervitaur was led out of the gates. It struggled, trashing it's human like head, hooves dancing nervously across the ground. It's upper body was dressed with a cheap piece of cloth. You got ready as the blindfold was taken off the creature and the red band that identified it as a hunting attraction was tightened. You could see it's ears twitch nervously on its head, the yellow tag with a number on it hitting his pathetically small antlers. The a low bass was played. Every second one tone. At the seventh 'dong' the Cervitaur was let go, darting off into the forest. At the tenth the hunting party went after it.