A/N: Wazap.

This recent chapter was a little bit of a doozy, but not impossible to choreograph a fight in my head.

Anyway, to respond to the people I can't PM back for the last chapter:

Guest 1: They can try, but I have a feeling that of the Citadel races, it'd be the Salarians who'd try to do it (when will they learn their lesson and think of the long-term consequences of their actions!?) and then, it's going to be like "Jurassic Park." Batarians might try it, but they'll probably be more interested in enslaving the Hunters. Nobody will succeed on the Elder Dragon front however; they're too dangerous to even try.

Guest 2: Basically, Monster Hunter-verse will take the Alliance's place.

In any case, do read and review, would you kindly?

And keep it classy!

…

[Unknown Garden World]

Things were going well, all things considered.

Vetra hadn't expected that there would be any survivors after the crash, especially after the destruction of the Discovery. Adding to that was the fact that she was arming up at the armory, allowing her to get her power armor and her Cyclone on hand before they escaped; though being on the same pod as her sister was a surefire sign to her that the Spirits were watching out for them. Key to that was the fact that they'd landed in the sands of a desert near a river, allowing all eighteen survivors a chance.

Taking charge of the situation, she'd managed to get the survivors to start setting up camp almost as soon as they'd touched down; the only problem was that they were still in the process of assembling the rescue beacon, which had been damaged in the crash. Fortunately, the Asari mechanic that came with them was also a fairly competent telecoms technician, especially since her 'dad' was a Quarian engineer that drilled the art of improvisation into her. To that end, she worked with Sid and a Salarian comms officer to cannibalize salvageable parts from both the beacon and the escape pod to jury-rig a long-distance radio to get in contact with the Bravery, and potentially any other survivors they could find. It was a matter of time before they tested the thing to make sure it worked…longer if the spark and smoke she saw off the corner of her eye were any indication.

With the issue of their communications blackout in the process of getting resolved, that left stretching their rations; while everyone else was fine with whatever they could hunt, the problem was that there were Turians among the survivors of their pod, and so they could only safely eat the levo food-paste that were in the ration kits. The only problem was that it had been almost three days since they'd crashed, and they only had one more day of levo food left.

All thoughts on their dining situation had come to a halt when she noted a blue-green Drell walking from behind a rock with three of the large, flying reptiles in hand. The modular survivor's hardsuit he wore was stripped down, trading several plates for mobility, which was fine for him; the undersuit was still very protective as-is. To compensate for the lack of serious protection on his hardsuit, he wore a hooded cloak he'd made from spare thermoregulator blankets. The formerly-white fabric was stained after being swished around in the sandy water of the oasis, and colored carefully in a smattering of grays, tans, and a few patches of black and brown that blended well with the desert sand.

His rifle was a strange thing; evidently, the Discovery's late quartermaster and gunsmith Gaius Vespasian had upgraded it as a project to keep himself busy en route to Sector X, and had asked this particular Drell to try it out at the time the ship was sunk. It had the long and sleek profile of the Drell Parashu sniper rifle, with modifications on its design; a high-powered scope complemented its iron sights; the traditional polymer furniture was replaced by a lighter, all-metal chassis with a pistol grip and what looked like a recoil buffer in its telescoping stock; and it had a longer internal magazine than normal. Vetra had seen that it was still every bit as rugged and reliable as its hunting rifle ancestor, when she'd seen him use it to shoot down some very large, flying insects with pinpoint accuracy after picking it up from the oasis.

"How goes the hunt, Kolyat?" Vetra asked.

"Not too shabby," answered the Drell, sitting down as he took out his survival knife, "Any luck on that radio?"

Vetra sighed, nodding her head in disappointment. "They're still working on it; there is some progress, but it doesn't look like they're gonna be done anytime soon. I think they're gonna need more parts."

"Well then I've got some good news on that end," Kolyat continued, skinning one of the reptiles, "While I was hunting, I looked over a cliff and saw the Discovery; half of it at least."

"Really?" asked one of the Turian survivors, "Are we saved?"

"Not so fast, I only found the back of the ship," replied Kolyat, "Which means we're not gonna find a working radio there right off the bat…"

"…but we are gonna find the engineering bay," finished Vetra, "And on top of giving us better shelter, we'll find plenty of parts to help make that radio work if we're lucky. Only question is, when are we moving out?"

"Whenever we're ready," answered their erstwhile scout and hunter, "Wind's picking up, so there's probably gonna be a sandstorm coming, so we may as well pack everything up and go as soon as it clears out."

…

[Korlus]

The winds howled outside the lab as the winter season set in on Korlus. While the world was still too hot for any non-Krogan species to thrive, it was still colder than usual. Besides the Krogan and Varren that had decided to call the ship's graveyard their home, Vorcha had been seen in significant numbers ever since the Blood Pack had chosen to use this planet as their new base of operations.

Okeer didn't care much where the Blood Pack decided to set up shop so long as he could work without distractions, though he could agree with their reasoning. The many ships that were scuttled on this rock would have their uses, and the number of Krogan looking for work made for a very viable source of new blood. And when his project became a success, he would use this planet as a staging ground for his new generation of Krogan.

The Krogan scientist watched with barely-suppressed glee as he watched his tanks bubbling with the life that was growing inside them. The Collectors had truly upheld their end of the bargain, giving him the data needed for his project; prior to his arrival, he'd already managed to get use out of the data to create several Krogan in his tanks. They were all failures, though he was able to make headway towards his goal with each iteration…enough that they were still viable enough footsoldiers to honor his agreement with the Blood Pack. The commander that took charge of the project was a competent leader who saw potential in his program, and was more than willing to overlook his reputation in exchange for an army of clones to lead in his own bid to provide Weyrloc Guld with the power to take over Tuchanka.

As he walked between the rows with his escort in tow, inspecting the tanks containing his cloned Krogan in white armor until he came to a halt in front of one Krogan, his blue eyes staring into nothingness. His head crest was still fragmented, having yet to fuse together as a result of being a young clone. Looking through the data from the tank on his omnitool, Okeer beamed with pride with what he read.

"This batch is ready," he finally said, gesturing to the tank in question, "But this one I would like to keep."

"You're certain on this?" asked one of the Krogan. This one was female, one of the rare ones who had chosen violence over motherhood…and she'd managed to claw her way into a command with Weyrloc Guld's express blessing using a combination of fear, respect, and competent leadership. And fortunately enough, she was brilliant enough to serve as an ad hoc lab assistant.

"He has potential, Besk," Okeer confirmed, turning off his omnitool.

"As long as Guld gets his army to take on Clan Urdnot, we'll do whatever you want," replied the female Krogan, eyeing the subject in question as two other Krogan lifted the tank carefully before transporting it, "But out of curiosity, what do you plan to do with this 'special' clone?"

"Every other clone I have managed to create are failures, but they will suffice for foot soldiers," answered Okeer, "This one has the potential to be a success, therefore I intend to see what I can do to improve upon him."

Besk looked at Okeer with no small amount of curiosity in her green eyes. "You're not telling me he's gonna be the answer to the Genophage, are you?"

"You assume that the supposed cure has always been the aim of this project," sniped the old warlord, following the escort, "It is not the deaths caused by the Genophage that have driven me to this end; it is the number of weak, mewling pups I see being treasured when they should be put down and made into food for the strong. My hope with this project is that this army of Krogan will inflict upon the Genophage the greatest insult of all; to be ignored. Soon, the galaxy will fear the lance over the horde."

"And your pet project's gonna be that 'lance?'"

"He would only be the first of many," Okeer confirmed, "But the experiments I perform on him will set the standard for the true Krogan warriors I plan to create."

"You ask me, it's a shame; he's actually quite handsome for a clone."

As the Blood Pack commander left, Okeer headed for his personal lab. Once he had upheld his end of the bargain with Guld, he planned to take his perfect specimen elsewhere and use him as a basis to create the lance with the best that money could buy. There were many places he could go in this galaxy, and all of them with their own challenges to put his future army to the test, but none of them were as challenging in his eyes. And barring that, he was just as curious as the rest of the galaxy as to what wonders lay behind Relay X…to see what world in Sector X could possibly serve as both cradle and crucible for his new brood.

…

[Wildspire Waste]

All was quiet as the winds died down in the dunes.

After a few minutes of silence, the sands shifted as two mounds rose from the sediment from behind a large rock, the particulates parting like water to allow both Shepard and Norma to breathe. The Huntress and her Palico trudged the sands of the Waste, having decided to drop their hunt for the Black Diablos in favor of investigating the falling stars that crashed into the New World.

"Nya! I think I got sand in my ear!" Norma complained, her armor rattling as she shook the sand out of her fur.

"Aren't you glad that I told you to put on your visor?" Maya countered.

"I hope we find the fallen star soon," replied the palico, "I can't wait till we get back to the shower."

The younger Shepard nodded in assent, before walking with her Palico through the dunes. "You and me both."

It'd been a few days since they'd left camp, and they had yet to find the fallen star. To be sure, they hadn't given up on the hunt, but she was taught that sometimes life had a strange way of granting one's wishes. For that reason, she'd chosen to forgo her beloved Insect Glaive in favor of a Sword and Shield pair; it wasn't a weapon she'd preferred to use, but it was versatile enough to use in the event she wound up walking into tight spaces. The blue and bone-white leathery material that covered both, and the slender, double-edged blade with integrated knuckle-bow identified the set as a Rimespire. Instead of her normal bone scythe, Norma chose a Rathian rapier to help her master along with a Vigorwasp spray.

With their preparations made and Miranda's help, both headed in the general direction of where the star fell after sending word to Astera. It was an estimated three days by foot, but the sandstorm had extended their travel time by a day. Luckily enough, they'd packed for a four-day trip; enough jerky to last them for the duration, a Vitality Mantle for extra protection, and all the potions and dust they could carry. And for emergencies, Shepard kept a flash bomb ready to load into her slinger.

The duo had come to a stop when they noted a deep gash in the sand trailing across the sands of the desert in lines of broken rock and clay, some kind of metal fragments, and glassed sediment. Following the trail of devastation, they found a massive hulk buried in the sands, peeking out from the dirt just a few kilometers away. The stubby fins gave the impression of a Grandfather Mantagrell that had been bitten in half by a particularly hungry Legiana.

"Looks like we found what we were looking for, Meowster."

Shepard said nothing as they walked closer towards the hulk, taking in the details as they inspected the damage. The compartments that were exposed looked a lot like that of a ship that had been torn in half; a thought that brought back memories of how she and the rest of the Fifth Fleet had arrived at the New World. A look at the walls of the vessel, and an experimental tap revealed that this thing was made of metal, and along the outer walls of the structure, gigantic tubes and large holes could be seen that gave the impression of ballistae and cannons, though far larger and more complicated than what she was used to. Whatever this thing was, it looked to be built for fighting…but to fight what?

"Mark this place on the map, then go bring Miranda back," Shepard commanded, loading a flash bomb into her slinger, "I'll explore this place."

Norma nodded, marking the spot on the map as commanded before running back to the camp on all fours, leaving Shepard to her own devices as she began to explore the lower levels of the ship. In her investigation, the Huntress quickly noted a large hole that took up much of the lower deck. Inspecting the damage, she could see that it started with this hole that was punched all the way through the bottom, shortly before it was torn apart by the violent explosion that followed. Looking at all the evidence, she could only surmise that the destruction of the ship happened in the span of no more than a minute…and that whatever did this could only be an Elder Dragon. As she continued to look around, Maya found herself in an odd compartment somewhere near the back dedicated to housing a giant, metal orb mounted on a pedestal. She could see a large number of strange things lining the walls of the chamber; some intact, some devastated from whatever sank this ship.

Continuing on with her investigation deeper into the lower deck, Shepard found herself surrounded by an unpleasant smell she knew all too well, and yet was somehow different. Looking through the halls of the ship from the stars, she found a few bodies that didn't make it: a blue woman with a cartilaginous crest on her head instead of hair, impaled through the chest on a broken pipe; a horn-headed amphibian with big eyes crushed below the waist under a large wheeled vehicle of some sort; even a strange, lithe being in a form-fitting suit with her visor shattered and her -unless the slight bust on her chest was something else entirely!- neck broken. Whoever they were, they deserved to have a proper burial…and as soon as Norma and Miranda arrived, she would see to it that the higher-ups in Astera would grant her request to, at the very least, cremate their bodies with dignity.

Walking by one particular compartment, Shepard found another corpse in it; the being in question was covered head to toe in a metallic carapace with a fringe upon its head, its face having very avian features somewhat like a miniature Rathalos. The strange, armored being was lying in a pool of dark blue fluid she could only surmise was its own blood, given how much of it leaked from the cracks on its body; and the fact that it was found in a chamber filled with weapons, gave her the idea that this was the ship's quartermaster, meaning she was in the armory.

Looking at the weapons that were in the room, she noted their similarities to Bowguns, although they were much smaller than even a Light Bowgun, and seemed even more advanced…like the sort of thing the Ancient Civilization would likely have fielded in their military. While some of them were still stacked neatly in their shelves, most were shaken out of place, and littering the ground; they came in many shapes and sizes, as if they were designed for use by several different militaries. The fact that she saw many of the same guns scattered about, she could tell that they had to have a strong industry to be able to make the same model of weapon consistently. Looking around the armory, Shepard's eye was caught by a weapon smaller than all the others that stood out from the others in the mess by virtue of its white coloration.

"What's this?" she asked herself, astonished.

It had a strange thumbhole grip like a rifle, and a pair of large, blue lights near the muzzle that gave the impression of some small fire-breathing creature; by its very design, it looked like a pistol that military officers would have used for self-defense. Curious, she decided to pick one up, sighted it with both hands. She and her brother had handled pistols before for defense against bandits and smaller monsters back in the Old World; none of them were as bulky or heavy as this miniature cannon.

As she turned around, Maya was about to put the strange pistol into her satchel and continue her search when she found herself on the business end of a strange-looking rifle from a good distance away, her eyes widened with shock upon seeing its owner. The rifleman was a reptilian creature with big, black eyes in some kind of cloak; it had a patch of red on its throat, under the chin, and a little along the jawline, and was covered in teal and green scales. The rifleman barked out an order in a strange language that seemed to reverberate in its throat, in a masculine voice…and while she had yet to have a full grasp on the language herself, it sounded vaguely like the First Wyverians' tongue.

There wasn't much for Shepard to do, though the brief look he had at the pistol told her what he wanted; without preamble, she dropped the pistol, and raised her hands slowly while analyzing the rifleman. The frame under his form-fitting suit was lithe, built for speed and stealth if he was able to get behind her without a sound, though there was no doubt in her mind that there was a lot of power in those slender muscles despite his form. She knew monster-enhanced armor and weapons could withstand significant punishment from gunfire, but she wasn't going to take the chance that a well-placed shot wasn't going to penetrate her visor; neither was she going to risk a shot to the chinks in her armor hitting a vital artery.

The rifleman took careful steps towards her, possibly intimidated by her faceless visor…her muscles tensing in preparation for fighting her way out of this situation. As soon as the muzzle of his rifle came within centimeters of her face, Maya quickly batted the rifle out of his hands with one swipe, and followed through with a backhand to the face. The rifleman recovered quickly enough to duck under a second punch before answering with a punch under her armpit, before moving behind and snaking his lithe arms under her chin and squeezing with his elbow joint and forearm. To be sure, the lizard-man's chokehold wasn't strong enough to overcome her arm strength and snap her neck, but he was strong enough that she was having a hard time pulling him off, and she was tiring out a little faster than normal. Thinking quickly, Shepard released her grip with one hand to jab her elbow into his side several times in an attempt to break out of his grip; unsuccessful after three strikes, she smashed her back against a nearby wall, feeling the rifleman's grip around her neck slackening upon impact. After slamming him into the wall one more time, Maya used the opportunity to wrench one arm off her neck, grab onto his wrist and elbow, and use his armpit as a lever to toss him over her shoulder and onto his back. With a fist clenched, and her punch pulled to avoid killing him, she punched in an attempt to knock him out only to wind up punching the ground as he spun on his back to kick her in the helmet, creating distance between them. Just as she'd gotten her bearings back, the rifleman quickly kneed her in the side, then punched at her armpit before punching her on the side of the head, and following through with a backhand that broke the strap and threw off her helmet.

As she recovered, Shepard briefly noted the look of shock on the lizard-man's face, and took advantage of his momentary stupor to sucker-punch him, only to wind up hitting air as he ducked under the punch, tripped her up with a leg sweep while drawing a large knife, and pounced on top of her in an attempt to sit astride her shoulders and threaten her with it. Shepard kicked him in the chest with enough force to throw him back out of the hall and into the wide space before flipping back up while readying herself for the next round.

The two of them circled each other, taking the opportunity to catch their breath as they studied each other. Shepard had been in enough bar fights to know that her opponent was a slightly better and faster fighter than her, though she was still strong and experienced enough to be able to fight him on an even footing. Having a good look at his blade, she could tell that while the recurve made it very good as a slasher and chopper, the clip point made it viable as a stabber; meanwhile, she had the defensive advantage with her shield, which meant she and the lizard-man were evenly-matched. As much as she'd like to take him up on a knife-fight, she wanted to avoid killing her opponent if at all possible.

The fight resumed when Maya and the lizard-man charged each other, the former opening with a punch with her shield that he sidestepped, shortly before using it to parry a stab to her throat and reaching for the collar of his suit. After dodging the attempted grab, the rifleman stabbed at her forearm only for the tip of the knife to glance off the gauntlet; however, he wasn't about to waste his movement, as he stomped on her instep, causing enough pain to slacken the grip on her shield and allowing him to rip it off her forearm and toss it aside. In response, Shepard attempted to punch her enemy with her free hand, only for him to duck and weave under her punch, before attempting to stab her in the armpit; surprisingly enough for the Huntress, while she felt a small prick, the knife didn't penetrate the chainmail. She took advantage of her opponent's momentary shock to wrap her arm around the scruff of his neck in a headlock before punching him just below where the sternum would be, causing him to drop his knife after the second punch. Before she could land a third punch, the lizard-man swept one leg behind her ankle, and tripped her up, throwing both of them to the ground; Shepard was able to shake off her disorientation quickly enough to slug her opponent across the face as he pounced on her, using the momentum of the punch to flip herself over.

As she got back up on her feet, Maya moved quickly to get behind her staggered opponent, wrapping her arms around his neck, and watching as he struggled to get out of her grip; unlike his earlier attempt to choke her out, the lizard-man was having trouble trying to break out of her chokehold. As she applied a little more pressure to her choke, she could feel something hard and sturdy in his neck that made her attempt at a blood choke easier; she still took care to not squeeze too hard too fast, or else she'd snap his neck like a twig…after all, she was trying to knock him out long enough to restrain him so that she could interrogate him with a First Wyverian present.

All thoughts had come to a halt when she heard a click and a shrill whine next to her head. Shepard looked to the side, and found herself face-to-face with another being threatening her with what looked like a pistol in its three-fingered hands. It looked a lot like the avian quartermaster she'd run into, only with softer features that reminded Maya of a very slender woman, and missing the head fringe. What truly differentiated the living being from the quartermaster was that it had a purple, wedge-shaped facial marking on its face, while the quartermaster had two white bands framing its chin.

Looking around, Shepard saw more beings coming out of hiding, some of them armed and surrounding her, and all of them looking a lot like the corpses she'd found so far…some of them were hesitant to fire. She didn't need to understand the bird-lady's language to figure out what she wanted; her body language was enough to convince Maya to let go of its friend or else.

There was nothing else for Shepard to do as she released her sleeper hold on the lizard-man, and knelt to the ground while slowly putting her hands over her head.

…

[Unknown Location]

Jondum Bau and the survivors he landed with sat at an open plain in the midst of the labyrinthine corridors they'd been running through, catching a breath after the chase they'd had to endure while keeping an eye out for their pursuers. They knew that if they wanted any chance of escaping this deadly land of toxic bacteria, they would have to eventually set up the beacon to call down for the gunships. It was fortunate then that they'd put on their helmets, as he'd seen three of the survivors choking to death upon setting foot outside the boat without them; they wouldn't have been able to get this far breathing in the deadly air.

"Thank Goddess, we've made it!" said the Asari survivor in between breaths.

"Do we have the beacon?" asked Bau, his eyes open for the pack.

"We do, but now's not the time to use it," answered a Turian survivor, "Wherever we are, we don't have any reception. If I had to guess, it's because we're underground."

The SPECTRE sighed in frustration. They had started with twelve survivors that managed to make it to their lifeboat, losing three to whatever contaminants were in the air; and after a quick headcount, Bau found that they'd lost four more to the animals that pursued them.

Everyone tensed upon hearing a loud snarl nearby, followed by a hissing roar and the sounds of the animals were coming from all directions. Bau could feel the fear in everyone as the roar was closer than normal.

"Everyone, we're surrounded!" ordered the Asari survivor, "Back up against the wall! Overlapping fields of fire! Cover each other!"

Upon hearing her command, everyone rallied to the Asari in question, their backs to the wall. Another small blessing in Bau's mind was that the Discovery's resident Matriarch was with them, and able to keep up and fight alongside them. Not a surprise, given that she grew up in a farming colony before becoming a Huntress in the Krogan Rebellions. Though her responsibilities as a leader had taken their toll on her body, Matriarch I'taka was still very fit for a politician known for her stance on creating more jobs to drill responsibility into the average Asari Maiden; and she still had her commander skills. Evidently, she'd found a kindred spirit in Matriarch Aethyta on the subject of having Maidens serving in the military for longer…with rumors that a real spark had started between the two of them upon their first meeting.

Their pursuers crawled from all directions, hunger in their red eyes as they stalked out from every corridor, keeping an eye open for any opportunity to attack; their quadrupedal stance, and pack mentality reminded Bau of a species of larger, more dangerous varren. Their blue-green and gray scales provided decent protection against firearms, but they still went down after a good amount of sustained fire. Bau had seen their overdeveloped fangs impale survivors in the neck shortly before allowing the rest of the pack to move in and tear their prey apart; and after seeing a survivor collapse to the ground after surviving a bite, he surmised that they paralyzed by a venom in the varren-thing's mouth. From what the SPECTRE could tell, nothing less than Krogan weapons would suffice for these beasts, but they had to work with what they had.

However, all hopes of surviving the encounter dropped when a larger one appeared, directing the smaller ones with loud roars; it was larger, with saber-like fangs larger than its pack in relation to its body. Bau and the other survivors had tried to focus fire on the thing, only to find that their weapons only caused discomfort to the creature…and it was capable of spitting its venom at survivors at high speeds.

Before they could move any closer, the alpha paused momentarily before letting out a roar that ordered its pack to retreat. Whatever thoughts were on mind had come to a halt when a set of heavy, thumping footfalls could be heard from the alcove, gradually getting louder as whatever it was got closer. Within seconds, a large, red blur leaped from the alcove, re-oriented itself in midair, and landed on all fours, facing the survivors before throwing its head up to let out a shrill, ear-piercing howl…

…

Codex

Parashu Sniper Rifle

While assault weapons had already been developed on Rakhana, many Drell riflemen favored the Naashak, a top-loading, bolt-action rifle that fired up to five high-powered rounds loaded from a stripper clip at a long range. Prior to the event that led to the collapse of the Drell society, the weapon was created by Greyon Naashak to be a rugged weapon that was reliable even in the harshest of conditions and abuse. These qualities enabled the Naashak hunting rifle to be used as a highly effective sniper weapon, which was little wonder when some were taken with their owners when they were uplifted by the Hanar; the few that remain become intricately-decorated family heirlooms. Eventually, the Naashak would evolve with the times to become the Parashu.

Its descendant the Parashu has largely remained the same with more modern conveniences added over the years to turn it into a mass accelerator: it was made slightly shorter, and thus lighter with a polymer furniture; the internal magazine was converted into a container for the metal ammo block; the barrel incorporates a series of magnetic coils connected to the heat sink that increases the velocity of the fired round; and the turn-pull bolt action was converted into an ambidextrous, straight-pull cooling mechanism that forcefully vents heat from the rifle after up to five rounds of continuous fire. And to appeal to Drell that still favored the original weapon, the Parashu's mechanisms were so simple and robust that it could be left in an active latrine for days without maintenance, and could still fire with reasonable accuracy.

…

A/N: And it's done, with a cliffhanger. In a way, as of this writing, finishing this chapter is an early birthday present to myself (it's October 16th).

And before people question me on my choice of having revolvers in MH-verse, my view is that if you have the technology to make gunpowder weapons like Gunlances, cannons, and Bowguns, then you definitely have the technology to make handguns. Besides, the revolvers are black powder weapons, meaning percussion caps, putting in powder, and metal balls.

For the next few chapters, I will be putting heavier focus on where the other escape pods went, but suffice it to say they will all be mixed once they're all established. That's not to say that there won't be other viewpoints, because I will need to cover them.

Also, give a warm round of applause to ravenking64 for being the beta-reader for this story.

Please PM or review to me if you have a character you want to show up with the following info:

Name:

Race: Human or Wyverian (They're the only races we see doing any active hunting)

Gender: No transgenders, please! I doubt Monster Hunter-verse has the materials necessary to even have transgenders.

Sexual Identity: Gay? Straight? Bi? Omni?

Age:

Height: In centimeters (please make it believable)

Weight: In kilograms

Body Type: Slim, Muscular?

Skin Color:

Eye Color:

Hair Color:

Notable Features: Tattoos, scars, amputations, etc.

Personality:

History: Just a little of what they've done before going to the New World, like what was the biggest monster they killed, or where they come from. That, and what they've been doing while in the New World.

Guild Status: Are they still active? If not, then what do they do now? Are they Guild Knights?

Handler: Do they answer to a Handler, or to a receptionist? If they answer to a Handler, give a brief description of them; name, gender, personality.

Hunter Rank: Are they Low- or High-ranked?

Equipment: Just what weapon they normally use, and the armor they're wearing

Knife: Describe the knife they carry (this is optional)

Palico Name: Name your Hunter's Palico

Palico Description: Describe the physical appearance; tail length, fur thickness, eye color, etc.

Palico Equipment: Describe the Palico's weapon, gear, and armor

Palico Personality: Describe the Palico's demeanor