As you step off the starskiff, a tall foxian woman with white, teal-tipped hair tied into a high ponytail greets you. Her teal eyes lock onto yours, fierce yet calculating, and her fox ears twitch. "You've come at an interesting time," she says, her voice steady, carrying authority. "I hope you're prepared. The Hunt waits for no one." Her golden ornaments glint in the starlight as she turns, leading the way.