Noct Yaegir The Remnant [Tundra Monster Hunt]

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?"

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"

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.

Sigrith said:

Back to @Marisa Thalren with a shake of her head, "Catapults will not work in that territory

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"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."

Sigrith said:

and it was two words: eat and shit.

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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.

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.

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."