Hircine stood before the lycanthropes he called his Hounds. Each of them being a werewolf in life, by choice or accident, now resided within his Hunting Grounds in death. “As all of you know, my prey escaped my blade during my previous Hunt. Once more, you know that I recently met with my fellow Princes, and I am pleased to inform you that I have come to a decision.” The lycans were relieved, happy their master was over his gloomy mood. “I have decided to send one of my Hounds that still reside on Nirn to a realm that was brought to my attention.” While none of them were going, the lycans felt joy for their brother and the honor he would have, and they showed it, their cheers and shouts could be heard throughout the Hunting Grounds

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The Winter Solstice Festival, while usually a small affair, attended only by the social elite, was to be a truly grand celebration. Princess Luna was planning to publicly raise the moon, just as her sister did at the Summer Sun Celebration with the celebration's namesake. Luna had been encouraged by her sister, and by her recent trip to Ponyville on Nightmare Night, to introduce herself to her subjects, having been rather introverted since her return. Celestia even made arrangements for the Elements of Harmony to attend, giving Luna no small amount of comfort at the thought of seeing familiar faces.

The Princess of Night was lost in thought, planning the longest night of the year, both for her, and Equestria. She was both nervous, and excited at the prospect of being the center of attention tonight. Luna looked out her window, silently noting the time she had until the Festival began. She only had fifteen hours left to prepare, this was going to be perfect, and Luna hoped it would be nights like these that would define her rule. A tap on her side roused her from her daydreaming. She whirled around, only to see Celestia standing there, a smile gracing her face.

“Nervous?”

She gave a huff, trying to act annoyed by her sister even considering such a thing. “You know me better than that, Tia.” Trying, being the operative word.

“You shouldn't be nervous, they're going to love you.” Celestia bent down and nuzzled her sister, “You really should ease up.”

“I know I should,” Luna sighed. “But I've just got a feeling in the pit of my stomach.” It was true, a feeling of unease had been settled in for the past few days.

“I'm sorry to hear that, but look on the bright side, it can't go any worse than the Gala.” The Princesses shared a laugh. “But I do hope you get to feeling better, I'm sure nothing will happen to ruin the Festival. Besides, with the Element of Laughter here, nopony would try to ruin the party.”

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The young lycan bit into his dinner, Masser and Secunda bathing the coastline in pale light. Ever since he was afflicted by the curse of lycanthropy, he knew he would have to leave home. A fact that only upset him at the time, but gave him freedom to move around as he pleased. He paused his recollection to tear into the horker once more, a nice chunk from its side. Oh, how he loved his transformed state, it was the only time his body didn't feel slow and weak. The only drawback was that he was unable to control himself during his required monthly transformation, but thanks to ring he wore on a chain around his neck, he wouldn't need to worry about it.

He had obtained the ring from an adventurer, saying she no longer had a use for it. It was silver, with a wolf's head sticking out from the front, nothing too special about it. It was difficult to explain, but he just felt more awake, if that made any sense. Even now, a night when his transformation was required, he remained in command of his body, not succumbing to the blood lust that was a part of lycanthropy. He took another bite, using his clawed hands(?) for leverage, he chewed and swallowed quickly, eager to get on the move once more.

He searched the air for any scent that caught interest, and took off. Using all four of his limbs, he tore across the frozen ground, drawn to the scent of a campfire, and the meat it was roasting. He ran just over a mile before he saw the campsite, eight figures standing around, drinking. Glinting swords hung at their waists, most likely polished iron, or steel. He quickly scanned the campsite for anything that stood out. At the edge of the camp lay an unmoving form of that could only belong to a lycan, there was now no doubt in his mind who these people were: the Silver Hand.

They were a branch of werewolf hunters that operated throughout High Rock and Skyrim, using silver swords and claymores as rather effective weapons. The order had a very low failure rate, making them the best hunters of the unnatural. It was unfortunate that the werewolf observing them was also rather skilled, and felt it was time for these hunters to become the quarry.

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Only five hours remained until the Festival began, and the Princess of Night was finally feeling at ease. Luna was currently enjoying a small salad, and reading a book on appropriate modern behavior in a formal setting. This was just what she needed to get her stomach settled, a comfort she enjoyed as long as she remembered. The Princess could hear the band rehearsing outside, their cellist sounding particularly skillful. Luna closed her book and decided to finally begin working on her part of the Festival, she'd put it off as long as she could.

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He'd set upon the hunters in a flash, slashing and clawing, he'd killed two before they could respond. A slash across his back turned the assault into true combat, the burning wound proved the blade wasn't one of steel, but silver. The werewolf jumped forward, spun around with claws extended, and caught the one who injured him across the gut. The lycan roared, eager for more, and the hunter he slashed obliged.

The werewolf tackled the Silver Hand member to the ground and would have mauled the man, had an arrow not have caught his arm. On his feet once more, the lycan snarled, the single archer amongst them had another arrow notched, ready to fire. The four others had war axes drawn, all steel, all of them angry. He grabbed the Nord woman who stood in nearest to him, putting her in the arrow's path just after the archers had released his grip, poor dear was struck through the heart.

He tossed the corpse towards the other axemen, and tackled the archer, holding him down and biting out his throat. Another burning slash across the back, and a clawed slash towards the hunter. He gave a kick to an axeman, knocking the wind from him, and dove forward, biting out another throat. The one with the silver blade and two of the axemen were all that remained. He shouldered the swordsman out of the way, focusing instead on the would-be lumberjacks. He tossed one in front of the other's axe, a tactic that probably shouldn't have worked a second time, but was still effective. A spearing with his claws made short work of the final axe wielder.

He turned towards the swordsman, still sprawled on the ground, as a familiar pain lanced through his body. He fell to his knees as he felt his muzzle compress itself back into his skull, arms shorten and pop back into place. His growls turned to quiet groans as his tail receded into his spine, feet shortening to their normal length. The process lasted only a single minute, but felt as though it lasted several. The lycan rose to his feet, and began to make his way the the sprawled swordsman. Using one hand to hold the breastplate, he removed the Silver Hand member's full face helmet.

Now, it should be stressed that he had expected to find a Nord or maybe an Orc under that helmet, but certainly not a Breton, and definitely not a woman. The brunette woman looked at him with fear in her eyes, as the reality of her situation set in. Here she was, wounded, barely able to move, wearing steel plate armor, being held up by the lycan she had tried to kill moments earlier, who holding said armor up with one hand, who looked shocked and still angry.

One this was abundantly clear in this: he was very, very naked, save for a silver chain.

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Well, that was my first attempt at scene transition, and my first attempt at a combat scene.