Location: Division 5, Hightop
Division Years since the Arrival: 1447
“Hey Haunch!” Winter shouts out, skipping on over to slam the Chimera head on a table. It startles the Murkatic trophy taker and makes him lose his cool. Haunch falls over from Winter’s outburst, her forwardness and audacity to just slam a specimen’s head on the table like that.
“What the hell, Winter?!” He’s obviously aggravated. Haunch’s glasses had flown off, causing the man in robes to look around on dirty cobblestone until his hand finally felt the wiring of his glasses. He picks it up, brushing off the dirt and putting it back on his face.
“We completed the Chimera posting. Easy, no sweat n’ I even got it as clean as I could in terms of cutting it. Should be even good enough to make it a trophy mount for the halls. Yeah?” Her hands go to rest on her hips, feeling her big brother’s towering figure loom over. The icy huntress hasn’t bothered to flicker her eyes back to him quite yet, trying to see how Haunch will conduct his inspection.
Winter suddenly hears her brother whisper to her.
“I don’t trust him.” His experience tells him that usually trophy takers only take advantage of hunters, of how many gems they’re willing to hand out. And this one? Haunch? He’s heard how tough it is to wrangle out gems from four-eyes. The older hunter watches as Haunch mewls over a few bottles of unknown liquids on a table, having tools ready at the side to dissect parts of the freshly killed Chimera on the table.
“Don’t worry. We can totally trust Haunch. He’s been taking trophies for years now.” Winter attempts to reassure her suspecting big brother, not wanting the trophy taker to hear her. Sure, Haunch may act shady, may do things in an odd way, but Winter doesn’t mind it in the least! She’s had interesting short conversations with the guy before, more or so because she can easily tame him into giving her gems despite the resistance on his end.
“You might trust him, but I don’t. He’s a bit of a…weirdo. Look at him.”
Haunch hums out an audible ‘hmmm.’ His fingers go to rub under his chin, his eyes behind thick glasses analyzing every aspect and inch of the creature before him. It is a clean cut. So clean that even the most renowned hunter’s would struggle with it. Certainly, it has to do with the abilities of a Winterlance, making a blade of ice with such a salient edge.
The Hunter’s Code really had one hell of an asset, didn’t they? Regardless, there’s disappointment hidden behind the glasses of Haunch. The head they brought of this Chimera was a rather small one–a baby. It wasn’t as big as he anticipated.
“So Haunch…How much are we gettin’?” Winter smirks, still retaining a hopeful confidence whilst her big brother crosses arms behind her.
“Well…” The trophy taker begins, scratching the green scales on his cheek. He claps his hands together after adjusting his glasses one last time, ready to give his full in-depth analysis of what the duo of hunters have presented. “The color of its feathers is quite vibrant! In fact, I’d say it’s one of the best I have ever seen on a Chimera! I can easily mount this for preparation from how it is cut as well! Surely, there will be a seller who’d love to prize this. However…It’s a baby.”
There’s a brief pause in his words, making Winter and Neil nervous.
“One hundred gems…” Haunch manages to muddle out under his breath.
“One hundred…?!” Even Neil thinks he’s really being done dirty.
“Only…a hundred?!” Winter bursts out, her face in utter disbelief and shock. They were getting absolutely robbed for only getting that much! That’s way too dirt cheap for her tastes. They could afford maybe a few meals, and maybe, two nights at an inn with that. No–she definitely feels she deserves more than that. The Winterlance swings her arm and grabs a fistful of Haunch’s garments, pulling him up off the ground a bit. She wouldn’t let this short stuff try to give her too little of what her payment really should be, and she doesn’t care if the Hunter’s Code is short on gems to give out. She’s twenty-five and experienced, a skilled hunter, and most of all–she’s hungry. This won’t do.
“C’mon! You damn well know we deserve more than that!” Winter shouts out at the man, her teeth gritting, fuchsia eyes glaring right into the man’s soul.
“Winter, what the fuck?!” Neil isn’t happy with Winter’s impulsive actions, trying to calm her down. As much as the arrangement upset him, his young sister’s display of behavior was no way to treat trophy takers of the Code.
“O-Okay! Five hundred! I give!” Haunch yells out, panicking as he feels some relief ooze into his mind once the Winterlance lets go of his clothing.
“Much better. Glad you understand.” She smiles with a few pats of her hand to his clothing. She easily swipes the bag of gems, giving it a few firm shakes to confirm that it was full. She doesn’t necessarily count it, but she takes a peek in the inside of the bag, nodding to herself that Haunch is a man of his word. A wide grin decorates the huntress’s expression, followed by a firm wave to the trophy taker. “Pleasure doing business with you!”
“Let’s go, Winter.” Neil just wants to leave, considering he’s mostly a man of honor. Haggling like this wasn’t something that aligned with his morals; this was one of the benefits of having his Winterlance sister around, someone who would do her best to get her way.
Yellow eyes peer over to his sister who walks beside him, her attention glancing around in delight as he can easily notice her expression gleaming everytime her sight lands on a restaurant or bar: anywhere that screams food. His stomach rumbles, knowing he’s also in the same boat. When was the last time they ate? Yesterday? They were trying to space out their rations, and be as resourceful as they could, considering that they’re not exactly able to eat out every night with their lifestyle.
Not too far ahead, there’s a man who walks out of a restaurant, looking absolutely intoxicated. He hunches over, nearly puking out whatever it was he drank, his hand at the door. He wipes himself, stumbling out from a building called The Good Stuff. Winter blinks a few times whilst shaking around the bag of gems, debating whether or not to vocalize her thoughts to her brother. The huntress didn’t want to walk much further, feeling her own stomach begin to scream at her, gnawing and twirling as it demanded some type of sustenance. Her head turns to the lights by the window, finally spitting out her desire.
“Wanna stop here, big bro?”
“Sure, why not?” Neil nods, walking in with the huntress.
The restaurant was lively, and the sun was setting to give a nice tinge of orange to reflect along the old rustic floor. This place was old, considering the decrepit ceiling. The two finally approach one of the empty wooden tables. Winter adjusts her lengthy teal scarf, scooting the chair in as a waitress comes over. Neil sits down, both of the experienced hunters ordering an entree and drink. The siblings don’t make much small talk, only that they were exhausted after their long travels.
Eventually the two receive their meals, Neil digging in as Winter clasps her hands together in what looked like a state of prayer. She always does this, leaving Neil inquisitive as to why his adopted little sister continues to believe in some faith he thinks is fake. The male Treetop takes the spoon out of his mouth, placing it down on the plate in front of him.
“I’ll never understand why you’re so faithful to that.” Neil comments, eyebrows raising in response. His hand reached down for the metal spoon again, taking a large scoop of the berry-based meal. Winter’s eyes stay closed, her hands still clasped together as she continues whatever belief she’s following.
“You could say Nanan taught me well…” Winter pauses.
She’s referring to the Arrival, the very event that brought humans to their world of Divon. At least, it’s what she believed brought everyone to their world, that there were these ancient gods who watched over them. It was common belief, and it was the only thing Winter would pray to in hopes that it would help her find her real tribe one day.
“You know…We had to come from somewhere other than from some fire in the sky. Or else I think we’d all be from the Blazerock Tribe,” Neil explains.
“Well, maybe it was a different kind of fire.” Winter takes a spoonful of her meal and shoves it in her mouth.
There’s a silence that follows the two of them, only switching to the clinks and clanks of silverware and dishes in the vicinity. Winter doesn’t notice it, but while she’s preoccupied munching away, a figure approaches from behind her. Neil’s yellow eyes follow the gold armor, instantly recognizing what tribe this person hailed from.
Cloaks.
“Winter Huntress.”
Winter nearly chokes on her food, allowing a single fuck to exhaust past her lips as she hears her name called out from a deep and demanding voice. She hits her chest a few times, ready to let loose a barrage of curses that she uses in her daily vocabulary. She finally turns around, looking at how the man is decorated, from a gold helmet to a red capelet in a gold trim. It’s almost nauseating seeing how elaborate and ornate his get up was, the very mark of the materialistic Cloaks tribe.
Great. It’s a messenger. Winter wonders if her brother has the same thought as her.
“Gods. Don’t do that!” Winter exasperates, finally composing herself.
“Apologies, my King Uthar has asked that you assist us.” At least he’s being polite. Neil finally speaks up, pointing his index finger at the Cloaks messenger whilst annoyance plasters his expression.
“Royalty doesn’t come to us unless it’s a real royal pain.” Neil catches Winter laughing next to him at his pun.
“Good one, big bro!” Winter chuckles.
“One of our princesses was kidnapped. We’ve managed to track her down to the continent of Daggermouth as her last location. We have reason to believe that a group known as the Prayers kidnapped her.”
“The Prayers?! Those psychos?” Neil nearly leaps out of his chair, scooting it back as he stands up with an index still pointing. His other hand grasps at the table, eyebrows furrowing down, his stance filled with the aura of disapproval. There’s no way they could take this, Daggermouth is hostile for a reason. “We’re not taking some job that deals with them. Forget it.”
“We can always ask other hunters. Our payment is worth one hundred and fifty thousand ge–”
“We’ll take the job!” Winter cuts off the Cloaks and whirls herself up violently. Her hands slam with such sheer force into the table that her plate of food flies up, her dinner hits the floor into an absolute jelly-splattered mess. The female Winterlance reaches for the scroll being offered out of the Cloaks messenger, grasping it hurriedly and looking at the contents of what the contract entails. Neil is obviously angered at his sister’s brash behavior, how she was so easily persuaded into this unnecessary contract through the power of money. It was one of her weaknesses after all: gems.
“Sis?! Are you nuts?!” Neil’s expression is in utter disbelief. “We’re not doing it for one hundred and fifty thousand gems. No way–”
“That’s enough food for life with that amount of gems. We’re doing it.” There’s no way she’d toss this job up, not when the reward was so great. She could use that money to get herself settled somewhere, never having to worry about another hunter’s contract ever again. She could figure out how to avoid the Hunter’s Code, and maybe one day, achieve her dreams of writing stories to tell. Her eyes blink a few times as she looks over the ink, obviously handwritten by a higher up from the Cloaks tribe.
“Some religious lunatic cult who worships some Demi-God. Huh…?” Winter murmurs out.
“Yes. You’ll be heading out at sundown then. All the instructions are in that scroll.” With that, the Cloaks tribe member walks out the tavern door, disappearing into the night.
Neil snatches the scroll from Winter, still obviously pissed at the transaction that occurred. He doesn’t enjoy Winter’s impulsiveness, how she’ll sometimes make decisions for the both of them without thinking through. If Nanan had never placed him in the care of Winter, he knows he wouldn’t run into these situations. However, his little sister has possibly placed them in one of the most politically treacherous positions.
“So, we’ll just be grabbing a princess from Daggermouth, taking her back to Lyke and then we get paid a house-size worth of gems! This is the contract of a lifetime! No more petty bartering or trying to shake gems out of Haunch like a fruit tree. We’ll be set for years, Neil!”
“No. You don’t know how dangerous it’ll be. At least, some of the rumors of the Prayers I’ve heard.” Neil bites his tongue, suppressing his anger. He’s quite blessed with the patience of a saint at times.
“Speaking of…What are the Prayers?” Winter sits back down in the chair, arms cross, having a leg cross over her other as her head cocks, awaiting a response. “I’ve never actually heard of them. I know they must be non-tribe.”
“The Prayers are a cult in Daggermouth. They’re mostly known for poaching Featherdusters and taking their fur. I’ve heard they also kill or capture people, and do some type of rituals with them for their made-up gods. They’re called Prayers, because you’ll be the last one they pray they can offer you up. Besides that, I don’t know anything else about them.” Neil looks down at Winter’s previously spilled mess, kneeling down to pick up the plate. Somehow, it’s not shattered.
“Huh…I’m always impressed at how much you know, Neil. Guess you can thank Nanan for that. Ya know, for teaching you so well, too.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. Anyways, let’s find a place to stay for the night and get the Featherdusters ready. It’s going to be a long trip, I’d say about two months? Just riding there, setting sail there...We’ll have to probably take some contracts on the way just to support ourselves. Would have been nice if your new Cloaks best friend gave up at least some type of upfront pay.”
“It says in the contract that the payment would be after we bring Princess Aress back. Here, read it for yourself.” Winter tosses the scroll towards Neil. The male Treetop takes a hard look.
“You’re lucky you’re family, little sis, because I would have absolutely thrown a punch at you for making a shit decision for us. If I die on this contract, I’m going to find out if I can haunt your ass for life while you’re eating your food.” Neil jabs at her. They can’t just back out of it, considering that it’s a royal contract from King Uthar, and it’s being privately handled. Most likely, this is news that hasn’t gotten out and is trying to be held discreetly.
“Heh. Anyways, let’s get out of here. I’m sure we could try to squeeze a few more gems out of Haunch tomorrow,” Winter smirks.
“Yeah. Let’s go then.”
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