Mag walked into the lobby of the estate. On his face was a long and downwards frown while his fists dangled from down at his sides, swinging aggressively with each step he took. Evelyn stepped out of the kitchen with a worried look on her face. She stopped the man's progress, keeping her hands resting in front of her as the two made eye contact.

"Honey," the wife said, her words drawing out the last syllable. 

"Yes... dear?" Mag replied sternly.

"The other two are here."

"I know. That's why I'm like... this!" Mag tugged on the ruffled and wrinkled dress shirt. "I've got enough to worry about right now! And those two are here showing up an hour and a half late? What do they think this is? Some kind of low-tier Rumble Circuit fight?"

"No, dear. They both gave me excuses. Apparently their Transporter was running late."

"Oh yeah?" Mag raised an eyebrow. "They couldn't have come up with something more original, eh?"

"They said the Transporter company had to issue some new safety measures. You know. In preparation for any potential Essencima attacks. They specifically mentioned Sand Carvers."

Mag went silent, grumbling to himself as her turned away from the front door. "Fine!" Mag blurted out. "Let them in. I'm going to get into my hunting gear. How's our girl doing?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes before resting one hand on the cheek of her face. "Oh... she had a little spat with Bodahn. She went up to her room in a huff."

"What did Bodahn do? Am I going to have to discipline someone else's kid?" Mag wagged his finger in front of Evelyn's face. "You know I hate doing another man's job!"

"No, no. Not at all. You know how kids these days can be. Seems like the stress of the upcoming Hunt is getting to her. But from what I gather, they had some kind of disagreement about what to do with the audience up in the entertainment center. I'm sure she'll come around once the Hunt actually begins."

"She better. A lot of time, effort and money went into making sure this day goes by perfectly. And the next time you see Bodahn, tell him that he better get his act together! Unless he wants to take a trip back to the Outskirts of Sano Mosado in the gut of a Sand Carver!"

Evelyn nodded, giving the man a gentle bow with closed eyes and a soft smile. "Understood dear." An elegant chime echoed throughout the vast expanse of the estate's lobby. "That sounds like the remaining guests," the wife asked as her head turned to the front door.

"If I see those two goons I'm going to lose what little cool I have left. Just let them in. Feed 'em and send them down to the Eco-Dome as soon as possible!"

"Of course, sweetheart!" The couple went their separate ways, with Mag vanishing further into the main area of the estate. Evelyn let the front door open wide and greeted the two on the other side with the same courteous demeanor that she had shown the others. 

"Greetings, Willheim!" The woman held the door open wide, letting the chilled air of the building mix with the warm and dry winds of the outside. 

"Salutations, Lady Grani!" the tall man standing in front replied jovially. He wore a sleeveless beige vest with pockets on top of a puffy pair of matching pants. The bottoms of the pants were tucked into a pair knee-high leather boots. His hear was buzzed less than half an inch from his scalp while a beard and goatee covered his face. Despite coming in from a blistering sun, his skin was a pale hue. Slung over his back was a long black sack. "Apologies for the tardiness. But we've already told you about the little delay we had when getting on the Transporter." 

"No problem! Please, come in and make yourselves at home."

The first man stepped inside. Once he was in, the other person that stood behind him became more visible. A wolf-like Neo-Sapia brought himself closer to the entryway, pressing one hand on the doorframe. He jutted his head inside, his bright and yellow eyes scouring the place. Despite being covered in a shiny gray fur, the shape of his body closer resembled a human save for the way his legs bent. 

His upper body was bare save for the dark green military best that dangled from his shoulders while a pair of light brown pants covered his lower half. Around his legs and wrists, he wore long white bandages that wrapped tightly around his limbs. Once he stepped inside the room, he let out an angered growl. 

"Mag couldn't have sprung for one of those luxury carriers he's always yabberin' about?" the wolfman grumbled as he stepped inside. His short bushy tail scraped past Evelyn's dress as she closed the door behind him. 

"He was busy putting the plans for the Hunt in motion. Must have slipped his mind, Larson."

The wolfman growled once more. "Typical."

"Perhaps Mag wanted to get some more practice in. Seeing how he did at the last gathering, I wouldn't blame him!" Willheim said.

Larson flexed his fingers, extending a long set of sharp white claws from the tips of each digit. "Do you know how long it took to get the stains from my fur, teeth and claws? Only for you to score the kill from a cheap shot?"

With a swift heave his arm, Willheim swung the sack that dangled from behind his back to his front. He held it with both hands, angling it towards the wolf. He then gave it a pat towards the center. "That's what happens when you use long range weaponry! Keeps me safe and helps to ensure kills from a comfortable distance. No need to tear the prey to shreds like an animal when you've got quality craftmanship on your side."

"Bah, you, Mag and that kid can stick with your guns." Larson flicked his wrist in a dismissive manner. "I'll stick with my Natural Affinity. What would you do if you ever ran out of ammo or you lost your weapon?" 

Willheim remained silent.

"Exactly."

"Perhaps we should put you up to be hunted!" Willheim shot back, keeping a smile. "Since you claim to be so much more powerful than what we usually go after."

With a flash, Larson swung his claws mere inches away from his rival’s face. "Don't say that! You know how I get whenever people compare me to lesser Neo-Sapia's! Can you name another one that was even a fraction as clever as me? Let alone one that could even form a complete sentence?" He kept his hand hovering in front of the sniper’s face.

"Calm down, good man! It was just a joke!" Willheim put one hand Larson's wrist and slowly lowered it. The wolfman kept an angered snarl on his face as he retracted his claws. "You know we think of you as one of us."

Evelyn put herself between the two. "Please. I just cleaned the floor this morning. No need to spill any unnecessary blood on it. Instead of fighting, perhaps you could talk about your differences over some fresh sandwiches."

"That sounds lovely," Willheim replied. "What say you?"

Larson lifted his snout and began sniffing the air, angling his nose towards the kitchen. "I can smell them already. The food on the Transporter lacked protein. I could use a real meal before the main event begins."

"Oh joy! Here, let me take you two the kitchen then!" Evelyn clapped her hands together before leading the two guests through the lobby towards the kitchen. "And please, help yourselves. Our other guests didn't seem too hungry, so there are plenty of leftovers for you two to enjoy!"

Art Spotlight: Olav Willheim