Noct Yaegir The Remnant [Tundra Monster Hunt]

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Sigrith

Sigrith

Darkstride
Noct Yaegir
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Pandemonium Can't Stop! You dabbed :| Seriously Likeable II
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Frostpeak Keep
Eretejva Tundra
Frostpeak Mountains Southern Pass

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"It is a Tuskier" Warden Heragrim Froskir leaned over a map of the eastern mountains of Eretejva.

"One of the Tusk?" Darkstride asked, a curious hint of alarm in her tone, "are you certain?"

"I would not mistaken it for anything else," Froskir shook her head, the red ash over her eyes pinching in a furrowed brow, "there is nothing else up here like them."

"Aggression is not their nature," replied the direwolf, "I have known their kind well. Unless the victims threatened its herd circle, this is not normal."

"Then be it on your heads to find out why," the Warden grimaced, "something is wrong with it."

Darkstride issued a tense sigh, ears pressed back in thought before rising to all fours and turning to her party. It was one of the few times she was grateful not to be taking a mission as a lone-wolf, pun intended. "Those Of the Tusk are dangerous on a good day. We cannot hope to take it down with brute force. Gather supplies for distance. Their hides are too thick for normal bodkin arrowheads. We will need something...bigger."


Voe Marisa Thalren

OOC - For reference, Of the Tusk is a race developed IC several years ago. Here is an NPC example (not our target) formerly written by Vand : https://chroniclesrp.net/Folklore/Doggrave
It is perfectly normal for someone not from Eretejva to not know about this race. They only occur in the tundra, are fairly secluded and keep to themselves, and do not have a large population.

For the Keep aesthetic I use Castle Black from Game of Thrones. Google it to get an idea of what it looks like, there's no wiki for it yet.
 
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Marisa leaned forward, one hand braced on the edge of the map. The other idly adjusting the strap of her quiver.

She always spoke with a bright voice and a polite tone, but there was always a practical edge. Despite her smiles and pleasantries she didn't mess around with monsters. She always carried a heavy steel crossbow and a at least one spear and coatings for both that could put down monsters.

"A Tuskier? Not in the books but I do suppose that makes sense if they're not normally dangerous!" she declared. They had rules about harming sentient creatures.

She glanced over the marked attack sites, her smile softening into something more thoughtful.

"I wouldn't expect them to waste energy."

Her finger tapped the map once. She frowned.

"Unless it's...herd was under threat from all these settlements...or they were pushed to steal supplies to survive..."

Marisa straightened, rolling her shoulders as if the cold barely touched her.

A grin crept back onto her face, undeterred by the grim work ahead and the bite of the cold.

"Well I look forward to meeting one. So what's bigger than a bow? A catapult?"
 
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Hersh took turns feeding a piece of bread to their drake and to themself. They stared at the map, remembering the layout of their home country with a partial fondness. It had been years since they'd been here, but years couldn't make one forget the Tusk.

"Frightening" They said with a gentle smile . "I have only seen them through the haze of the blizzard."

Their miniature Kesh Drake settled down on Hersh's head, but they remained unaffected, simply looking up to their fellow Nord. Their eyes weren't quite all there.

"I have heard mixed tidings on their disposition. Do they even speak Fiirevik? Or should we forego diplomacy to have the element of surprise for a trap instead?"

Their gaze dropped slowly back onto the map, light of the candles in Frostpeak dancing in their eyes.

"I would certainly like some of that strong hide, but we're not to hunt those with a conscience..."

They sighed

"Apparently"
 
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Voe had listened and waited until he had something to add, he did not like to waste time with idle words. He had let Otho loose to get him warmed up and the Drake Hound bounded about them, pretending not to want to play with Sigrith and instead be interested in smelling a patch of nothing near her. Swinging his legs off the table onto the straw covered stone floor Voe hunched his sitting posture.

"I don't like it."

Opening his hand he toyed with his whistle, a tool for calling and instructing Otho, which had become a nervous habit of his lately. Yellow eyes tracked the room as if following some invisible prey he was about to pounce on but in reality he was thinking about how they did not yet know the why of the attacks.

"If they aren't normally aggressive then something is wrong."

He'd tracked with Sigrid before and found her to be honest if a bit guarded at times.

"And Marisa proposes some viable answers. This might not be our business. We are here to hunt monsters, not settle land disputes or local feuds."

He ruffled his cloak and had the thought that perhaps he had better not be too hard set against this adventure.

"I'd go for a long spear personally but I recommend we try to lure it into a pit if we can. If they are as big as I've heard then it should break its legs with even a ten foot drop. Then we can finish it off in whatever way is best."

He spoke casually, as if recommending spices for a cooked ham and Voe had another thought that perhaps he was being a bit too cool about speaking of ending an intelligent creatures life.
 
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The great wolf sat in silence while the others debated. In her time living and traveling across the tundras, she'd given the Tuskiers a respectable berth, as did the Nordenfiir and others who called the frozen lands home. The Tusks, to their credit, made rather little trouble of their own. Aside from the rare dispute between males during mating season, even the separate herds would come together peacefully.

Hunting these tundra kin did not sit well with her either and the wolf's mismatched eyes settled on Voe as he voiced a similar opinion.

"I only know of one that spoke Fiirevik," Darkstride replied to Hersh Mento, her skull turning toward them, "and it was two words: eat and shit. Usually before he threw his boulder at you."

Doggrave had not been a particularly ornery Tusk, but he had his opinions and made them pointedly. Or roundly, as the case were.

"They have their own language but all those I have met spoke enough trade tongue to get by. Language will not be among our main concerns..."

Back to Marisa Thalren with a shake of her head, "Catapults will not work in that territory...several spears may be enough to get its attention. We will not be able to dig a pit deep enough this time of year."

"The ground is stubborn," the Warden nodded as she glanced across the group, "but the snow is not." She moved her hand to point to the main pass through which they would need to travel to get to the epicenter of attacks, "you could lure it to a false shelf and collapse the snow beneath it."

"Or on top of it," Darkstride offered, though warily, "there is great risk in that. For everyone."
 
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Sigrith said:
Back to @Marisa Thalren with a shake of her head, "Catapults will not work in that territory
Click to expand...

"Well, I didn't..."

One glance and Marisa realised that taking the time to explain that she hadn't been entirely serious would just be a waste of time.

Perhaps they were so large that a catapult was a valid strategy.

Despite her plucky attitude, Marisa had still listened, really listened, head tilted slightly as everyone spoke.

"Alright," she said, hands lifting in a small, placating gesture. "So no pits, no catapults, and we should all assume it can talk well enough to tell us exactly how much it hates us."

She paced a slow half circle around the map. She stopped and rested her fingers on the edge of the table.

"So try and communicate first, then spears, worst case collapse a shelf of snow on it."

Her gaze flicked briefly to Darkstride in acknowledgement.

"But we plan for it to go wrong. Because if something has driven a Tuskier this far out of its nature, talking might not reach it."

Marisa straightened, her smile returning, smaller now but steady.

"I'll make a batch of Deepfall Oil. I'll make the antidote too. Made strong enough for a creature that big, if anyone nicks a coated blade or arrowhead they'll be sent into a fatal coma."
 
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Sigrith said:
and it was two words: eat and shit.
Click to expand...
Hersh giggled at the profanity

"Ahh, the common tongue, even better. I thought they'd be too isolated for that."

Hersh clapped their hands together lightly at the mention of pits and snow shelves, though they knew the ground would be too solid for a pit. Deepfall oil truly caught their attention, causing their blue eyes to settle past Marisa

"Mmm this is a most excellent idea."

Hersh spoke to Marisa, then the group in their thick Nordic accent.

"A concentration that high may put it to sleep for long enough to bring back to a proper prison here in the keep. We will be needing a large sleigh to take it back, and something strong enough to pierce its hide to deliver the poison in the first place."

The blonde hoarder took to turning with intention to Darkstride, as Dea'roh, their little drake crawled up their arm and onto their shoulder.

"Unless we can convince or trick it to drink of its own will? You know those Of The Tusk best, I believe you should talk to them in the first place given your knowing of their...uhm...aggressive proclivities. Your wolfy appearance may put them less on guard than we, as well."

Dea'Roh bounded off their shoulder to hop and fly around Otho, sniffing at him, jumping toward and away from him, seeing if he wanted to play.
 
Otho indeed wants to play and give a very encouraging *garuff* at his new playmate, nipping widely and going tail up head low to give chase.

Voe's eyes followed the conversation and tried to come up with something solid in his mind, something he could work with. Hopes and dreams and the kindness of others was all good and well but he was not happy to set off before he had better to work on.

"First we need to find them. It's deep winter out there, snow covers all track and trace of anything. Before we decide what to do we'll need to meet the Herd Circle."

Standing up he leaned over the map on the table.

"Warden Froskir, are these lines their known migration routes?"

Much of the map was a mystery to him, he was used to looking at the Spine and it's topography leaped out at him from the page but this white sleet landscape told him little. He could not even trust the elevation lines in such deep drifts as were outside.

"Might we find them if we follow those?"

Gently his finger traced the faint dotted line.
 
At Hersh's suggestion, the wolf snorted, "Only Nordengaard has cells that can hold one Of The Tusk. It would tear this place apart. But yes...I can try to establish contact to learn what is wrong."

"The herd has abandoned it," the Warden waved Voe's notion away, "it has probably brought them harm."

Darkstride looked to Voe with understanding, "They will not help us hunt their own kind but..." the wolf's head turned to look at the others as they moved to prepare. Poisoned tipped spears. Rope. Showshoes. Dried meat and rations. Salted water to keep it from freezing. Kindling, tinder, and slow-burning cuts of wood.

The journey alone to find their quarry could kill every single one of them. Eretejva's greatest threat was not its beasts, but its weather.

"It would be good to find the herd after and bring them remains." Tuskier herds were strongly knit. To push a member out was not an easy choice and allowing them some peace of mind may help forge better ties to the Noct Yaegir.

"I will send Ranger Guthrik with you," said the Warden, "he is the last scout to see the creature and can help you carry supplies. He knows these mountains well... almost as well as you, wolf."

Darkstride made no comment in return.
 
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By the time they were properly underway, Frostpeak was already far behind them, swallowed by the white spine of the mountains. The wind had teeth out here. It crept under her collars, no matter what she did.

Marisa trudged on with stubborn cheer, snowshoes crunching in steady rhythm as she adjusted the strap of her pack for what felt like the hundredth time. She had a bundle of spears to carry.

She was not one of those hunters that liked to test her skills unnecessarily. This was not her usual hunting ground. She made preparations instead.

"Alright," she said brightly, breath fogging the air, "I will admit it. This place is bloody cold."

She squinted into the distance, eyes watering as the wind shifted.

She glanced sideways toward Darkstride padding along with effortless grace, ears twitching as she scanned the horizon. Marisa’s gloved hand twitched at her side.

She did not reach out.

She absolutely wanted to.

She cleared her throat louder and focused ahead.

"Deepfall Oil is stable in this cold," she added, voice turning practical again. "I reinforced it with a binding agent so it does not crystallize. Delivery is still the trick. Thick hide means no glancing hits."

Her gaze flicked to the empty white stretches ahead.

She paused, planting her spears briefly to adjust her footing. She smiled despite herself.

"No signs yet?"

Her eyes flicked to Darkstride again. She managed not to pet her.

Barely.
 
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Hersh trudged across the snow with their hood above their head. It had been a long time since they had been to this frozen waste, but home is home, and they still remembered well how to walk over the snow.

Nord blood helped, though, as their cold blooded drake peeked out from under the front of their thick coat. The snow was a blinding white, forcing Hersh to pull out a pair of goggles with small slits just to see anything ahead.

"The Tuskier like to sharpen their tusks on the stone of the mountains! We should stick to the rocks to find spoor!"

Hersh shouted above the howling wind due to how far back they were, jogging to catch up again, having gotten distracted by some vole bones. They returned to a normal-ish volume once they were fully with the others.

"I am knowing my suggestion earlier may have sounded silly, but we should consider what non-lethal options we can. The area we are operating in is as gray as the sky here."

Turning to Marisa, Hersh smiled as bright as her, and offered a woven bag of herbs that would heat up when rubbed in one's hands.

"You have quite the nice disposition, you may have the first one for free."
 
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Warmer blood was both blessing and curse in the cold.
Voe was as wrapped as any of them and in it all he was at risk of overheating but that was better than freezing, much better and Otho looked fetching in his tight wrapped scarf. The Drake-hound did not strictly need it but he jumped a bit easier and his tail wagged a bit faster whenever he wore it.
Even beasts might like to look their best from time to time he supposed.

As Otho bounded in and out of the snow something of his nature took him and Voe had to employ the whistle to keep him from losing his way in his play.

*Cold* Marisha called it. Voe had harsher words in his mind for this white, featureless hell.

"I agree with Hersh." He found himself shouting over the wind.

"I still don't think this is as straightforward as we have been told."

Otho brought him something he had scrounged from the snowdrifts and he stopped to retrieve it from the drakes large jaws giving a pat on the head before he raised his snow goggles to inspect it.

Chipped flint, from a tool perhaps and a scrap of chord tied to it, just barely.

"Looks like we're getting close to someone."
Voe brought it to the others. It was small and easily missed but certainly not naturally occuring. Not this high up.

"Good boy Otho."
He tossed his companion a wad of red clay mixed with ground lamb which Otho munched on happily, wagging his tail with gusto.
 
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Under normal circumstances, she would have deployed her herrevan familiar to seek out the trail ahead. Voe had seen her use this method before, but the squall that moved in while they prepared at the Keep had taken them all by surprise. This high up in the mountains, the weather was as predictable as the locals.

One minute they might welcome you to their fire, the next they might be tying you to their spit to roast.

Survival was an unforgiving Mistress.

The snow was deep, but Darkstride's limbs were tall, allowing her ease of passage in comparison to her fellow travelers. She'd taken up the lead, ahead of Guthrik, and paused as they reached the crest of a rise within the mountain pass to let the others catch up. Guthrik was a Nordenfiir Ranger in his svalen form; a great bear as large as herself, so white of fur he disappeared in the squall if you blinked too much. His bulky form plowed through the snowdrifts to create a channel for the others to follow in.

Darkstride moved off to the side as the winds died for a brief moment, turning her nose to the air, and paused to let the others catch up.

Marisa Thalren said:
"Deepfall Oil is stable in this cold," she added, voice turning practical again. "I reinforced it with a binding agent so it does not crystallize. Delivery is still the trick. Thick hide means no glancing hits."
Click to expand...

"Then we best not waste them," the wolf replied, her eyes casting over to their Nordenfiir guide presently outfitted like a pack mule with their supplies. The spears were lashed to one side over the main pack bags, pointed tips covered in thick leather.

Marisa Thalren said:
She paused, planting her spears briefly to adjust her footing. She smiled despite herself.

"No signs yet?"

Her eyes flicked to Darkstride again. She managed not to pet her.

Barely.
Click to expand...

"Not yet," she replied, voice picking up as the wind did once more, "how much farther, Guthrik?"

"Just beyond the next rise-" rumbled the Nordenfiir.

Hersh Mento said:
"I am knowing my suggestion earlier may have sounded silly, but we should consider what non-lethal options we can. The area we are operating in is as gray as the sky here."
Click to expand...

Voe said:
"I agree with Hersh." He found himself shouting over the wind.

"I still don't think this is as straightforward as we have been told."

Otho brought him something he had scrounged from the snowdrifts and he stopped to retrieve it from the drakes large jaws giving a pat on the head before he raised his snow goggles to inspect it.

Chipped flint, from a tool perhaps and a scrap of chord tied to it, just barely.

"Looks like we're getting close to someone."
Voe brought it to the others. It was small and easily missed but certainly not naturally occuring. Not this high up.
Click to expand...

The wolf's ears pinned back as their concerns flew free once more. She was no more eager to kill a Tuskier than she was to return home, and she was about as close to both as she never planned to be. There were certain things a tundra witch simply did not do.

Except when they had to.

Those same ears pricked forward again as Voe stepped up with an item in his mitts. Darkstride leaned in to sniff at it, but the scent of its former owner was long gone with the cold.

"Hmmm," rumbled the bear as he turned to eye the piece, "that is much too small to belong to a Tusk. More likely one of its victims. Keep it with you," Guthrik nodded his massive skull, "if that is all we can find of the fallen then it will be given a proper burial. Come... just beyond this rise we will get a good look of the pass below."

If this squall would pass, anyway.

The bear turned and pushed off through the snow with the wolf following suit, completely unaware of the internal war of to-pet-or-not-to-pet waging within Marisa.
 
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Marisa squinted at the scrap in Voe’s hand, snow collecting on her lashes as she leaned in for a better look. She did not touch it, only nodded once, expression thoughtful.

Hersh Mento said:
"You have quite the nice disposition, you may have the first one for free."
Click to expand...

"Why thank you," she replied politely.

She straightened and pulled her scarf higher over her mouth as the wind rose again, cheeks already flushed from the cold. She started to squeeze the bag within a pocket.

Sigrith said:
Guthrik nodded his massive skull, "if that is all we can find of the fallen then it will be given a proper burial. Come... just beyond this rise we will get a good look of the pass below."
Click to expand...


Her gaze followed Guthrik and Darkstride as they started onward, then lingered on the wolf for half a second longer than strictly necessary.

She clenched her hands together inside her gloves.

Do not pet the wolf.
Do not pet the wolf.
You are a professional.

Marisa exhaled slowly and forced her attention back to the terrain ahead.

She trudged on, boots crunching as she adjusted her grip on her spear. The squall closed in around them.

One moment she could see the others, then she could not. She tried not to let any panic set in.

"You all there?" she called out, but the wind stole her words too.
 
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