Chapter 2

- Into the Forest-

...Wache discarded the used whetstone and lifted the thin blade up to the light in order to better inspect the it's edge. Looks sharp enough. The hunter returned the sword to it's sleeve, careful to tighten the strings around the hilt. A necessary precaution, lest he lose another finger.

The poisoned blade could somehow incite decay in the flesh of whatever it cut, and in a matter of minutes, maybe less depending on what gets caught on it's edge. Wache wasn't sure how that made sense, since the Gigginox's poison didn't have that same effect, his best guess is that it had something to do with the forging process.

Having then strapped the shield to his gauntlet, he gives it an experimental tug, the straps staying firmly in place. Can't have that coming loose again.

Reaching behind himself, he fumbled a bit before he felt the straps around his waist, attaching the metal strap at the sword's hilt so that the blade would stay attached to his back. Reaching for the satchel atop his item box, he similarly attached the small clips and buttons to the belts and slings that poked from under his armor.

His armor's design wasn't one for practicality, it was based on ceremonial clothing after all. Without any pockets, belts or buttons for pouches and weapons, he had needed to get a discreet harness fashioned, allowing him to carry an item bag and extra pouches. The harness wasn't obtrusive or uncomfortable, in fact he barely felt it due to the tight-fitting hide that covered him. The harness even helped to fill out the chest plate, which meant getting caught up on spikes or branches less often, he just had to make sure not to put on any considerable weight.

Having tested the various straps and belts across his torso, he nodded, deeming his equipment reliable enough. Putting on his armor was a job all on it's own. It became habitual, sure, but it didn't make it any easier.

I'm still never sleeping in the darn thing, that's for sure. The hunter reminded himself, remembering some of his partners, who would pass out in their cumbersome equipment and would wake up the next morning, carrying on the day without a care.

The hunter stood up, the recently equipped items adding comforting weight. After taking a moment to stretch his arms, the sword user took a deep breath, steeling himself for the no doubt long day ahead of him.

His heavy breathing accentuated his dry mouth, prompting him to absentmindedly walk out of his room and over to the rickety dining table. He grabbed ahold of the metal pitcher, filling the sole cup on the table with water. After his drink, Wache saw himself on the pitcher's polished surface. Wiping his mouth, he lowers himself slightly, angling the pitcher so that the image looked less distorted.

The man looking back at him was much wider, and had a massive nose. Seal brown hair atop a massive forehead, with thin brows and deep bottle green eyes. His pointed chin, wide jaw, and thin pursed lips gave him a perpetual look of disapproval…

I'm looking better. He noted. The bags under his eyes had disappeared, he no longer looked pale from yesterday's lunch, and the scab on his right temple had fallen off, leaving the flesh a light pink.

The scratch would fully heal in a few day's time, it would have healed by now, had he brought himself to ingest the recommended amount of potions. Not like it's necessary, besides, a zeni saved is a zeni earned.

The hunter put down the pitcher before walking back into his room, picking up his spare key and blowing out the candle atop his item box.

With that he departed, locking the door with the spare to make sure it worked properly, then standing on his toes to place said spare key on top of the door's frame. Taking in the crisp morning air, the hunter sauntered off with renewed spirits.

The walk to the Guild hall was a short one, allowing the hunter to continue at a leisurely pace and take in his surroundings. Houses made up most of the buildings along the road, most of them empty and boring, much like his own, admittedly. But some seemed much more lively and welcoming, hopefully he could someday make his home look that lively—that is, when he had hunted enough to regain what he paid for it…

Now that he thought about it, it had been almost a full month since his last hunt, a rampaging Glacial Agnaktor over at Narshe. He had even put the leviathan's parts to use towards his Barioth sword.

Should be ready any day now. He remembered, maybe he'd get lucky and there would be a Wroggi to test it on…

The hunter let out a groan upon seeing the crowd that had gathered on the boardwalk, transforming the short distance to the other side of the path into an odyssey. Many people were generous enough to move slightly when asked to do so, but that wasn't helping much when the people had no space to move themselves. It seemed a performance was about to start, Wache for a moment thought he might have no choice but to see it through, but he was thankfully able to follow closely behind some workers who were delivering some crates to the hall.

The interior of Dert's Guild hall was just as one would expect. Clean stone walls, plenty of space, and a high ceiling with skylights that gave the hall a nice open feel. All manner of Guild propaganda and warm lanterns kept the walls from looking bare, tables were placed unobtrusively for groups of hunters to sit, and a barrel was placed in the middle of it all, obviously for arm wrestling. To his immediate left was a counter with seating, a thick curtain hanging over it. There was probably a kitchen or assortment of liquors behind it, however, considering the curtain, the canteen didn't seem to be open for business. On the wall opposite to the canteen was the quest counter, beside it the quest board, mostly devoid of quest slips. On the other end of the building was the departure gate, which likely lead out to the piers, where one would catch a boat to one of the many base camps dotted around the hunting grounds.

He was, rather surprisingly, not the only hunter there. One such hunter was sitting on one of the tables nearest him, tinkering with a heavy bowgun. There were other two at the counter, speaking with the hall's guildie.

Thinking he could make his way over to the counter without drawing any attention to himself if as long as he was quiet and unassuming, he hesitantly looked through the people present before taking a step. Not a heartbeat after he took that first step, a scraping sound met his ears. He whipped his head to the side, seeing the barrel of a bowgun aimed straight at him.

Wache froze where he stood, eyes widening in fear, throat beginning to constrict painfully and chest tightening. He stared at the gun, waiting in despair for his sentence.

You insolent cur…

He waited what felt like an eternity, stood there, out of air, out of luck, and out of hope.

Then it moved.

The bowgun shifted to the side with a groan, then it was turned and dropped with a loud thud. The gun's owner examined his weapon, wiping at it with a cloth and then picking at the artifact with a comically large screwdriver.

It... it was nothing... I'm fine…

The hunter forced himself to exhale, the air whistling through clenched teeth in a low hiss. He grabbed at his chest plate, desperate to release the hold on his chest, and feel his heartbeat once more. He gulped, the action feeling like it tore him open.

Wache scanned the hall, everything was just as he'd seen it a moment ago, and it didn't look like anybody had noticed. He straightened up and forced down his shoulders —a near-fruitless effort in trying to relax. Just carry on Wache. Nothing happened here, just move along... He took that second step, then quickly followed with a third, and fourth…

The pair of hunters were still busying the guildie, so he had a few more moments to regain his composure. When he stopped behind them, and one watched him over his shoulder. Wache tried his best to ignore the hunter's scrutiny, but was unable to calm down, instead growing more uneasy by the second. The sword-wielder prayed that he wasn't asked about his armor, it was a story he didn't feel like telling again at the moment.

The young hunter eventually turned his attention back to the attendant's explication, allowing Wache the space to finally relax.

Good job, Wache! You nearly had another breakdown over nothing, and almost made another scene…

The two hunters took a while longer to settle on a quest, conveniently allowing the distraught hunter just enough time for him to calm down completely. They both left rather quickly, the attendant waving goodbye as they ran through the departure gate. The hunter was about to step forward before he took a good look at the person in front of him.

Wache tried his best to mask his surprise at seeing a male guildie, probably the rarest of sights.

"It's nice to see a new face once in awhile!" He greeted, with a bright, cheery smile. "How can I help you?... Sir." The sword wielder just nodded at the... quest attendant, thinking back on how obvious it would have been if he'd payed some attention.

The smiling youth was taller than himself. He had a thin face, yet relatively wide cheeks that gave way to a welcoming smile. Below thin eyebrows sat soft, wide-set eyes, followed by a small rounded nose. His blond hair was short, barely noticeable under the hat he wore, along with a typical indigo-colored Guild uniform.

Wache handed over his guild card wordlessly, looking over the counter at the detailed map that covered the majority of the wall. The map was of the surrounding hunting grounds, with the shaded area at the center of it all likely being Dert. It had everything on it, any type of topographical features, campsites, outposts, some overlapping trade routes, and even migratory paths for Ludroth and Qurupecos.

"Wow, 52! You're probably the highest ranked hunter to come here in months." The young man remarked, seeming to grow more content. The hunter didn't reply, and turned his gaze back on the expansive map.

There were few hunting areas in the surrounding mountains, and there were no trails through the forest, hunting skiffs appear to be the only way to get there. The forests nearby where famous for the Ludroth migration, hundreds of Ludroth and their harem traveling in-land to make nests, only possible when the winter humidity turned the lush forests into murky swamps.

"The Well-Done Hunter?" Asked the attendant dubiously, "Are they running out of titles where you're from?" THe guildie said jokingly. Wache wasn't too keen on the title himself, not only was it a ridiculous name, it also lent itself easily to quips and jeers.

"All done, Mister... Wake," He said, giving the hunter his card back.

"It's Wache"

"Varquet?"

"Wa-che"

"Nevermind that... Are you interested in accepting a quest?" The attendant offered, motioning to the smaller quest board beside him. Wache got closer to inspect the colorful slips of paper that were tacked onto the board.

All of this sounds tedious. The only quest that involved hunting had the familiar icon of a Jaggia stamped on it, the others were either gathering quests or the tedious egg-carrying variety. I don't think I could take back-pain like that again, especially not doing the task alone…

"Say..." The young attendant started, "You interested in hunting a flying wyvern?" He asked vaguely, wringing his hands nervously. "You're qualified..." The sword-wielder raised a brow at the man's strange change in demeanor... Though, it was piquing his curiosity.

"Flying wyvern?"

"Yes. It's urgent. No one else had a high enough ranking, so my friend had to accept it. It's her first time attempting a high ranked quest. She only hit Rank Thirty-first a short while ago and... well, last time she was up against a Rath, she got roughed up pretty bad." He explained, muttering the last part mostly to himself. "I'm worried for her."

It's just a Rath, but it'll probably pay more than anything else on offer. Though I only brought ten potions with me, no flash bombs either…

"Can I see it?" The attendant leaned over the counter, stretching his arm to point at the pending quest board next to the counter. Wache walked over, the only quest on it was a red slip, which the hunter removed to examine. He let out a groan upon seeing the familiar rosy-colored image.

A dammed Pink Rathian, and I only get around a thousand…

The hunter scratched the back of his head, debating on whether to help, suffer badly and get little compensation, or go collect eggs, suffer mildly and get a considerable compensation. The knowledge of current Melynx activity would have made the hunter's decision much easier... Maybe I can get the girl to give me her share?

Wache sighed, handing the red slips of paper over to the relieved attendant, who stamped it and handed it back to the hunter.

"Thanks, Mr. Well-done, she'll certainly appreciate your help." The sword-wielder grimaced at the name, a reaction which did not go unnoticed by the attendant. "I'll just call you Ed then."

"No thanks"

"Then what about-"

"Look, don't call me anything, okay? Hunter, or sir, nothing else." He rectified, to which the attendant nodded.

"Of course, sir."

"Where is this huntress you were talking about?"

"She went back to get some things, should be here any moment."

Great. No time to go get some more potions or bombs, and I don't see a sales stand in here…

"Do you sell any antidotes here?"

"Yes, they're sixty each." The youth answered automatically.

"Give me four." The attendant wasted no time in wandering off to look for the antidotes somewhere out of sight. He returned soon-after, holding four bottles, each filled with the off-putting blue concoction. Wache paid for, and took, the bottles, fitting them snugly into his bag. The short hunter saw no other option but to wait, and so he sat at one of the tables, waiting for the huntress who he was currently helping.

Not a second after he'd sat down, the gunner that had caused him to nearly lose it approached the quest counter. He either dislikes waiting in line, or he noticed…

After choosing to ignore the matter completely, the sword-wielder occupied himself by going over the quest details. It seemed like your run-of-the-mill quest when it came to minimum requirements, objective, and reward, but the eye-catching 'URGENT' stamp and client's message were indicative of the situation at hand.

- Melynx Chief

"Just our luck! A pink Rathian

just up and decided to make

our home it's nest! Take care

of it hunter, and you will be

rewarded handsomely, Nya!"

Wache wasn't sure of a felyne's pay, but his and the client's definition of 'handsome reward' differed greatly…

The hunter didn't have to wait long, as the sound of hasty footsteps and clanking armor soon met his ears. However, the huntress that came rushing into the hall was not what he expected. Tall, well-built and carrying a huge metal... thing on her back, this girl seemed like she could easily give him a run for his money.

I guess it's better than having to babysit a rookie, at least. The hunter admitted, thinking back on how insufferable he must have been. After dwelling on his thoughts a moment longer, he begrudgingly got up just as he heard a shout of 'Mr. Hunter!'. The amicable attendant chatted animatedly with the huntress, and upon seeing the short hunter approaching instantly turned her forcibly to face him.

"This here is the nice hunter that offered his help!" He exclaimed excitedly, though his huntress friend seemed much less thrilled.

"Wache" The hunter offered a hand to shake, which the huntress eyed apprehensively before silently extending her own. Despite her height, posture, and muscles, the girl had an air of fragility to her. Her skin was pale —like it better suited a sickly child— her big eyes looked tired, and her long black hair looked clean yet unkempt.

"I'm June... It's nice to meet you, a-and, um, thanks for the help."

"It's nothing, miss." He tried his best to assure, even when his mind told him he was wasting his day. Too late for that now... mate.

"Hey, you two should get moving, you only have until today to kill this thing." The attendant urged, "The boat's waiting and- You both ate, right?" He suddenly questioned, leaning forward and looking on at the hunters with raised eyebrows.

"You already asked me earlier." June quickly reminded him, to which he responded by training his gaze on Wache instead.

"I ate already." He lied, uncomfortable eating so soon after his disastrous lunch the day before. The attendant seemed to believe him, no longer gazing into the hunter's soul, and leaned away from the counter.

"That's a shame. I have some vouchers here no one has used yet. Be sure to pick one up next time!"

"Will do." The huntress spoke, nodding at the attendant before leaving for the departure gate. The short hunter offered a nod at the young guild worker, who was currently spouting various farewells, as he trailed behind the huntress.

The exit led to an isolated section of the boardwalk, where there were a set of piers that stood parallel to each other. Docked along the sides where various hunting skiffs, long, light boats built for speed and efficiency. Not directly used in any hunting, but for transporting hunters, cargo, and giant carcasses.

Only two men were there, along with their respective skiffs. One of them waved the hunters over, and greeted them with a 'Good morning'. He appeared like the usual tall, burly, and under-dressed sailors he was all too familiar with. June handed the red slip over to the sailor, who nodded and motioned for them to board...

Wache lazily swatted at another bug, watching with mild amusement as it buzzed around in the air uselessly before falling on the water's surface, it's final moments unheard below the river's unstoppable current.

Indeed, he was bored.

The trip has until now been unbearably quiet, since neither of the other two people aboard made for good conversation. Any attempt to initiate a conversation with the huntress was met with a short response and little room nor reason to continue. He'd asked their navigator about the area, but he explained how he knew little more than how to get there by water. The sailor had gone on for a while about how most of the hunting grounds east of Dert connected via the same river they were now traveling traveling on, mentioned how difficult it was to traverse during and after heavy rain, and even pointed out specific places where the river branched out and led to a different areas of the hunting grounds. The hunter appreciated the sailor's attempt at providing interesting facts despite being constantly moving around and doing one thing or the other, but he understood little of sailing or fishing, and so his interest waned.

The hunter yawned deeply and leaned back to hang lazily over the edge, the subtle sound of flowing water now mere inches from his ears. He momentarily entertained the idea of a Ludroth suddenly coming up to bite his head off, but the sailor's earlier mention of the water being too shallow for monsters eased his concern.

The hunter gazed up at the sky, it's infinite vastness looked all the more evident when it was as barren as it was now. No clouds to comprehend and describe, even the sun was currently out of sight thanks to the trees. The little canopies that hung over them framed the empty picture, an invisible mass of nothing, that somehow still managed to look beautiful…

I got deep there, didn't I? The hunter thought, then vowed to discard all the pointless books his friend had gifted him, they were filled with nothing but flowery nonsense anyway.

"Look out, hunter." He heard the sailor warn him. Turning his head he saw a branch, on course towards his face, and sat back up as the dried wood passed by harmlessly.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

The hunter sat straight now, not wanting to deal with any more obstacles. He knew he wasn't in any real danger, but the small event reminded him of two simple yet important pointers for hunting.

The first one was to pay attention, both at the monster and your surroundings. Daydreaming like that could spell failure, or worse. The other one was being mindful and concerned for your partners. A simple warning like the one his transporter had given could save someone, if necessary attracting the beast's attention, pushing a person out of the way, or blocking an incoming projectile to protect someone where a clear priority.

His... mentor, had taught him these and many other valuable skills, even if he had chosen rather unorthodox ways, at least they were hard to forget. The hunter subconsciously smiled, recalling some of the many phrases or quips he still remembered.

Better a failure than a memory! You'll never out-drink a monster. The harder the shell, the mushier the entrails. I'd choose a plan over-

...We still need a plan, don't we? Jason would be disappointed.

Wache glanced at the huntress, who was currently staring straight ahead. Since they had departed from Dert she had only grown more and more restless, the hunter found the sight of such a large person hug her knees close and bite her lips in worry so odd. I guess the guild- the quest attendant was right in worrying about her.

The sword-wielder debated leaving her be, as he personally did not like being approached when in such a state, but convinced himself making a plan would actually benefit her state of mind.

"Hey, kid- oh, um... Miss June, right?" The alloy-clad huntress turned toward him, observing him for a while before nodding slowly. "We need to think up a plan." The huntress was quick to shift her attention, sitting upright and putting down her feet, looking more like the composed hunter he had seen at the hall.

"That axe of yours do anything special?" He began, pointing at the huge felyne themed weapon, which the huntress carried with ease.

"It can morph into its more powerful sword form." She stated matter-of-factly. Wache was about to question further before he analyzed that statement.

"No, I mean. Any elemental or utility properties?" The huntress blinked, staring blankly at the hunter for a few seconds before a blush spread across her face.

"I'm sorry. I-I thought..."She stammered out in her embarrassment, her blush contrasting so sharply with her skin that it likened to a nasty sunburn. "...It can paralyze." She mumbled, only barely audibly.

"Don't worry about it. Tell me, how potent is the paralyzing agent? Around how many times does the effect usually kick in during a hunt?"

"Only once or twice." Wache hummed in thought. If they took advantage of the paralysis to deliver a lethal blow they could end it easily, but he didn't know a Rathian's biology, and his sword certainly couldn't pierce through that thing's skull.

"Would you feel safe being near the Rathian's head?" The huntress lapsed back into concern, taking a moment to think it through before shaking her head. "Okay."

Cleaving it's head wide open is out of the question. Death by a thousand cuts it is then.

"How long is your switch-axe?"

"Oh gee, um... Five and a half... feet?" She offered, holding her hand around her shoulders.

"That'll do... I'll try my best to scratch its face and cripple its leg. You aim for the tail, the faster we get that thing off, the better. And try to tear its wings, if it can't fly it can't flee." The hunter explained. He hoped that keeping her to the beast's sides and back will minimize the danger she's in, at least until she gets more comfortable attacking the thing. "But we can't keep that up the whole time, after a while she'll start seeing a pattern in our attacks, and retaliate. Whenever I yell 'Switch', we're going to mix it up a little. I'll take on the tail and you try to get some hits on it's chest, that way we'll keep the Rathian on it's toes, we cannot become predictable."

June simply nodded at every order, seemingly focused on the shorter hunter's words. The hunter waited for any kind of question or opinion from her, and at one point it seemed like she would speak, but promptly closed her mouth. With no luck, the hunter continued the discussion himself.

"We have to wear it down before it tires us, normally a trap or bomb helps with that, but I didn't bring much with me. I would have liked to have some flash bombs at least." The hunter confessed. Maybe the guild supplied some?

"Did you happen to bring anything that might helps us?" Wache said. The huntress reached for her bag, checking her items.

"Just some dung and sonic bombs."

No good then…

"Here we are." The sailor announced, just as he lassoed a small post that jutted out from the water.

Wache didn't see anything of notice, that was until the rope tightened, making the boat lurch slightly to the right with the current. The action placed them right next to a small break in the foliage, a path that most likely lead to the camp. June got up and took her things, the sailor finished tying the knot for a second rope and grabbed a small chest.

"Welcome to the middle-eastern Bimofingu Forest." The man exclaimed as he stepped off the boat, the hunters following close behind. The small path seemed to turn smaller as they traversed, at one point June and the sailor had to duck in order to avoid the branches above, Wache had no need to.

"Um, Mr. Bake?" Wache heard the huntress' voice call from behind. He almost corrected her, but decided he had done that enough for the day.

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?" The huntress asked. The hunter didn't look back to check, but he was sure he heard hesitation in her tone.

"...Go ahead."

"Um... Why aren't you wearing male armor?"

AN: Thanks for reading!

What do ya'll think so far? Do you like it? Hate it? Seriously, I'm starving for feedback here.

So... a male Gildie. Any of you expected that? I had a lot of fun writing him, and I know I'll enjoy writing him in future chapters. I glossed over a lot of how the guild works, but not to worry, more on that will come soon. What of our new huntress, what did you think of her? Seems like nobody can get Wache's name right, I wouldn't blame them, as it took me over a year to find out how it was pronounced.

And what of Wache's equipment? Can any of you guess what set he's wearing? I'm aware some of you already know.

Next chapter is the hunt. When our characters take on (And hopefully defeat!) a Pink Rathian!

Thanks again for reading! Please review!