The Castellan of Castle Schrade looked up from the new report on his desk. It seemed too horrific to believe. Hunters faced death every day in their line of work, that was true. But this…

He shuddered. A retired Hunter himself, he had never felt such gratitude for having survived those perils as he did now. It also meant he would not have to face this… beast…

"Tell me everything," he rasped. "Starting from the first sighting."

A cry went up throughout the Jaggi nesting ground. Large female Jaggia previously napping now roused to lift serpentine necks, alert to any danger. Around them the juvenile Jaggi males snorted and reared up on their hind legs to screech at one another. High-pitched calls echoed back and forth from the high walls of this canyon, its bed littered with the bones of the bird wyverns' prey. To a trained ear their language held certain discernible utterances, allowing one to pick up that a situation had occurred which might spell trouble for this feral pack of hunters.

Moments later that suspicion was confirmed as a Great Jaggi came stumbling through the narrow canyon pass.

Jaggi streamed over to bounce about their leader, yipping in curiosity. Measuring nearly ten meters from snout to tail, the purple pack boss shook its ragged lizard frill to snarl in response at their entreaties. Drool dripped from fanged jaws and the beast's breathing sounded labored. It was clear that the monster was wounded, on the point of exhaustion and at the limits of its strength.

As the pack continued to mill about their alpha, the Great Jaggi shrugged off their clamor and began to lurch across the nesting site. It headed towards where a large pile of carrion rested among the sheltering Jaggia. Eager to replenish its strength, the battered raptor increased its speed, and its attendants moved swiftly to clear a path.

A hunting horn resounded throughout the dimly lit crevasse.

Almost as one the Jaggi perked up in search of where this noise might originate. The Great Jaggi froze. It craned its long neck about and hooted a complex series of notes at its packmates. With almost military precision, the smaller raptors streamed over to encircle the pass from which their leader had emerged. Jaggia arrayed behind their ranks in readiness to meet any opponent which might break through the lines.

Satisfied, the dominant predator turned back to its anticipated meal.

There came a clatter of small pebbles, the scrape of metal on stone. A mighty war cry came from overhead just as a Hunter cleared the top of the large boulder he had been hiding behind.

This lone figure sprang into the air, unslinging a club bigger than himself. Alerted by his shout the Jaggi pack turned in that direction, just as a Flash Bomb sailed over their leader's head to explode at the Great Jaggi's back, emitting a burst of light so great it left the lesser reptiles blinded and shaking their heads in confusion.

The Hunter came smashing to earth, bringing his Crimsonclout down as he did so. That enormous Warhammer hit the ground so hard it felt like a small earthquake, completely smashing the pile of carrion towards which his prey had been headed. The boss Jaggi stumbled back with an outraged roar. Desperately it turned to make its escape through a small crevice in the canyon wall, only to find the Hunter had already moved to intercept it. With a sharp snap of flint, a torch now blazed in his grip. Giving loud sharp cries the man waved his burning brand in the beast's face. Instinctively afraid of fire, the Great Jaggi reared back and hissed, uttering roars of its own in the hopes of scaring the intruder off.

When this failed the beast appeared to lose its nerve. The pack was not coming to its aid and danger lurked in front. Turning tail, it loped desperately towards the opposite end of the canyon where another opening beckoned towards freedom. It felt something light strike its flank, but the creature could spare no concern for anything not involved in escape.

As it took one step over a particular spot, a Pitfall trap opened up beneath it, and with a wail almost human in its consternation the Great Jaggi collapsed into a barrow of soft earth. It struggled futilely for a few seconds, moments before a second Tranquilizer bomb connected with its flank. This proved the final straw. The carnivorous lizard shuddered once before collapsing in an unconscious heap, its head resting on the lip of the pit while the net closed securely around it. Soft snores emerged from its throat as those slit eyes finally closed in soporific lassitude.

With that, the Quest was over.

By this point the Jaggi pack had recovered their senses. Doing so allowed them to perceive that their leader had been brought low, and the Hunter now stood before them waving a flaming torch. Predictably no attempt was made to avenge their loss. Instead the lesser monsters exercised nature's basic instinct and fled from the sight of their downfall.

The victorious Hunter, who went by the name of Scalp, removed his Barroth Helm and wiped sweat from his beetled brow. A stocky man in his mid-forties, he kept his gray-streaked hair cropped close. Two old scars from a long-ago hunt started in his temple and streaked down to the bridge of his squashed nose. With small squinty eyes and a weather-beaten face, many of his fellow hunters were wont to remark that Scalp looked perfectly suited for intimidating young hunters still trying to learn the ropes.

He laughed it off, having long ago decided to not only put that impression to good use, but also prove it wrong.

"All right!" the high-rank Guild member called aloud. "You can all come down now."

His students complied. Like a pack of timid Kelbi, the neophyte Hunters emerged from cover to clamber down the slopes of the canyon walls. They put away their binoculars and gathered round the slumbering Great Jaggi, excitedly pointing out its coloring and speculating on how long it might measure. For many this was their first time seeing a live large monster up close.

Approaching the cadets, Scalp took notice of how poorly equipped they all seemed, at least by comparison to himself. Many still wore their original Leather armor, while a few had built up enough funds and resources from low-rank Quests to earn a few pieces of Chainmail, or even Hunter's gear by the look of it. While offering higher defense overall, without a full suit of like-themed apparel there were no commensurate status bonuses as a result.

As an exception to this rule, Scalp himself boasted pieces of armor from various hunts. In addition to his bulky Barroth Helm there was also apparel earned by besting the mighty flying wyvern Rathalos, including crimson Mail, Faulds for his waist, and sculpted Greaves encasing his legs. A pair of Jaggi Vambraces offered arm protection. With a Might Jewel attached to them, these armguards endowed him with the same level of strength enhancement as actual Rathalos Vambraces. Naturally Scalp couldn't afford the real deal. Not for lack of money; after all, in over thirty years of hunting he had never once come across a Rathalos Plate necessary to forge such prestigious equipment. They were so rare as to be almost the stuff of legend. Only one person in his experience had ever chanced upon such a treasure on the hunt, and following a night of heroic drinking to celebrate this achievement, the poor fool had stumbled drunkenly into a Smithy and used his irreplaceable Plate to fashion a Rathling Gun… despite the fact that he was a Blademaster.

The authorities ruled his death to be a suicide. Whatever became of the Gun was not mentioned.

Regardless, this hodgepodge style of armor suited Scalp quite well. Along with a fine Knight Talisman, they increased his strength to a tremendous degree as well as offering a slight gain in expertise when equipped with a few Expert and Master Jewels. That and his awesome Crimsonclout mace allowed for swift subjugation of lesser threats like the Jaggi breed. As a young hunter, he had favored Blades and Spears so as to never miss the opportunity to carve a Plate off a severed monster's tail. With the passage of time, however, Scalp came to realize the futility in focusing solely on rare items. He realized that a variety of weapons offered a Hunter more versatility in their craft as well as greater enjoyment in the hunt itself. To which end he could now be described as a jack-of-all-trades, with a host of different weapons of all types and customized suits of armor to maximize their effectiveness. He had even instructed himself in the ways of the Gunner class, favoring a flattering ensemble of Diablos and Bone armor whilst sighting down the scope of a Jaggid Fire.

It was that very appreciation for all the vagaries of the Hunter lifestyle which made him suited to host training runs like this one. For the past twelve years Scalp had enthusiastically accepted any teaching assignments available. After all, he remembered how the capability of one's instructor could influence your early career in their dangerous job, and had the facial scars to prove it. Amongst his current group of students could be found Gunners with all kinds of firearms standing shoulder to shoulder with men hoisting Lances and girls wielding graceful Long Swords. Scalp enjoyed the variety involved in instructing a group of dynamic future comrades…

"Traps are dishonorable! They sap a Hunter's courage and determination! A true Hunter never lets up until his quarry is dead!"

… which wasn't to imply he ever wanted to work with some of them.

The one making all the noise was a black-haired young firebrand with a name like Rai-ga or Brag-ga. Something like that. The son of a famous retired Hunter, apparently. Unlike most of this crew, he stood out by wielding a fine Golem Blade + coupled with a full set of Kut-Ku armor, both of excellent quality and just as obviously inherited from his parent. No apprentice could have earned the materials necessary for such weaponry at this stage of their career. At least not honestly.

"I'm going to become a great Hunter and protect my home village!" the loudmouth boasted. "My name will be forever sung in the annals of Hunter history! HAH!" So saying he swung his Great Sword excitedly from side to side, causing his fellow acolytes to quickly put some space between them.

Now, Scalp didn't like to belittle a new trainee. He preferred to think he was better than that. But privately, in his head, he referred to this one as 'Dumbass'.

"All right, now, settle down." The grizzled tracker clapped his hands to get their attention. Over two dozen eager young faces now settled upon their leader. It was time to impart some wisdom. "You all saw how important it is to know your prey. Strength alone will not win you respect in the Hunter's Guild." He made it a point not to look at Dumbass when he said this. "Before initiating this quest I mapped the terrain, and thanks to that I was able to determine their nest was in Area 6, as well as where best to set up a Pitfall trap without alerting the pack. In addition I kept a torch handy, since as we all know, fire can confuse and frighten Jaggi. A solid grasp of the fundamentals is essential if you're aiming to be a pro."

"But the most important quality is to have a warrior's spirit!" Dumbass exclaimed, eyes glazed with vigor and no great amount of intelligence.

It irritated their instructor to note how many of his students nodded along with whatever that buffoon said. Probably too dazzled by his fancy armor to perceive nothing lay beneath. Regardless of what that moron thought, Hunters for the Guild did not simply charge into battle relying on heroics and fancy weapons to win the day.

Take this case, for example. The goal of his Quest had not been to beat the enemy into a pulp, but to capture it alive. Guild headquarters had accepted the request for a hunt from the owner of Joe's Aptonoth Steak House. Apparently the proprietor had lost quite a few of his tame stock to predators lately, far more than normal. This indicated a greater degree of daring and rapaciousness than one might expect from your average Jaggi crowd. So the Guild resolved to capture the head of the local pack alive in order to discern if it had any peculiar characteristics which might indicate an evolution in form or behavior that could explain it.

The terrain around these parts was not known for anything much more dangerous than Great Jaggi, which was why it had been deemed suitable to add a training party to the hunt. Who knows? A new sub-species of the breed might have cropped up without anyone noticing, which would require a reordering of current Hunter knowledge regarding their expeditions. There hadn't been anything particularly noteworthy about this specimen that Scalp could determine. But the world of monsters held the potential for something new every day. Heretofore unknown beasts could pop up at any moment, and gaining information on them might mean the difference between sharing a drink with your friends after a long day's work or pouring a libation over their graves.

Still, what mattered was that the Quest had ended successfully. "I hope you've all learned something useful from today," Scalp declared. "For now, let's all head back to home base. The Felyne overseers will come in to retrieve our friend here." He hiked a thumb at the slumbering prime Jaggi. Then, just to show he was not all business, he let a friendly smile split his face. "Tell you what, once the mop-up operations are finished, how about I put this Quest fee to good use and treat you all to dinner at Joe's. Sound good?"

Most of them cheered this offer with great gusto. "I only eat meat I myself kill on the hunt!" Dumbass could be heard declaring proudly. Well, you're not getting any of this one, so I guess you go hungry, Dumbass. The victorious veteran glanced over at his catch, frowning slightly. Come to think of it, why hadn't the Felyne crew already arrived to transport the beast yet? Usually you could count on them to keep well appraised of how authorized hunts were proceeding.

Oh, well. Not his concern really. Time to get moving. "Any questions before we go?"

One girl with a Sword and Shield immediately perked up and raised her hand.

"Yes, go ahead, young lady," he indicated towards her.

"Sir," and she pointed behind him. "What's that?"

Scalp looked where indicated…

… to find he had no answer.

There was something looming at the opposite end of the chasm in which they all stood. A monster; one whose like he had never encountered before in all his years. At first he thought it might be another Great Jaggi. It had roughly the same build: bipedal reptile with powerful hind legs, diminutive forelegs, and a long tail.

But the similarities ended there. This thing was huge! While he had assuredly seen larger monsters in his day, it was still big enough to immediately make you take notice. Even from a distance he judged it to be over twice the length of a Great Jaggi and three times its height at the shoulder. Speaking of shoulders, this thing's looked absolutely enormous, bulging with so much muscle it almost lent it the appearance of a hunchback. Its scales were a dull green, and the tail swinging restlessly about seemed abnormally long and thick, to say nothing of the fact that it was streaked with big green spines which reminded him of nothing so much as rows of teeth! As if to confirm this impression, the beast's skull, while proportionally small to its bloated body, boasted an outthrust jaw that seemed to take up most of its face. The lower mandible was studded all over with great spikes, almost like its mouth had proven insufficient space and it had grown further fangs on the outside. Its head boasted no horns or frills of any sort; just that mouth, gaping big and red with spittle glistening down its chin. A pair of small white eyes locked with those of the astonished Hunter.

It was not the appearance of this mystery beast that served to dismay Scalp. He had been in business for a long time and knew what a determined hunter could achieve in terms of improbable accomplishments. No, what really shocked the usually steely-nerved explorer, enough to send a shiver through his bones and make his innards clench, was the way it was looking at him.

As a lifelong member of the Hunter's Guild, Scalp had seen monsters react to his presence any number of ways. Some of them were surprised. A few regarded him in panic, or outright fear for their young. Most just got angry.

But throughout his career he had never seen a monster look… overjoyed to see him.

The gigantic interloper pawed the ground with earth-rending strokes, panting and shifting its bulk from side to side. Its heavy belly swung about and thick strands of saliva splattered the soil. Scalp's eyes widened, and his heart began to beat double-time. To his horror the Hunter perceived what looked to be a Jaggia tail hanging from one corner of its mouth. Somehow he knew that newly leaderless pack would never kill another Aptonoth again.

No, wait… could it be that this was the real culprit behind…?!

Just as this realization dawned on him, the toothy titan threw back its head, opened its jaws impossibly wide and ROARED!

Everyone present clutched their ears in overwhelming pain. When they looked up it was to find the behemoth gamboling straight at them, maw agape and feet making the earth tremble. The students screamed in fresh terror.

Scalp unslung his weapon before shouting…

"RUN!"

The Castellan shuddered. "Scalp was a fine hunter. He knew the game like few others did. Yet this thing ate him in under two minutes?"

"Bingo!" The Quest Counter Gal smiled precociously, a cute young thing in a red outfit. "If it hadn't stopped to eat that poor sleeping Great Jaggi, I doubt any of his students would have gotten away. In fact," and here she checked her notes to be sure, "at least half of that time was spent trying to choke down his big ol' Crimsonclout. Got stuck in its throat, apparently. Y'know, come to think of it, I've always thought that weapon looked like a big turkey drumstick. I mean, it had a pretty green patina, but other than that…"

"And why didn't the Felyne overseers inform them of the monster's approach?" he interrupted her.

His liaison to the Guild pursed her lips and laid a finger aside one cheek. "Well, sir, our best guess is that the creature ate the Felyne beforehand without anyone noticing! Which is why they couldn't give any warnings and why we never found them cuz, well, y'know… monster kibble."

With a tired groan the old man collapsed back into his seat. He rubbed his eyes before wearily looking back at her. "And afterwards?"

The cheerful pixie beamed. "Afterwards is when things got weird."

Having finally stopped running in the forested Area 2 of this region, the newbie Hunters stood hunched over panting or lay collapsed on the ground giving intermittent shivers. Some splashed cold water from the stream on their ashen faces. They avoided looking one another in the eye, afraid of seeing the same loathing reflected there that they already felt for themselves.

"We have to go back!"

All heads turned to find Dumbass with feet pla…

"Excuse me…" The Castellan looked perplexed. "'Dumbass'?"

The Quest Gal flipped through her notebook once more. "According to the messages Scalp sent back prior to his consumption… yes! Now where was I? Oh, right!"

All heads turned to find Dumbass with feet planted and Golem Blade + draped over his shoulder.

"This is our chance," he declared in grandiose tones. "Our chance to prove ourselves as Hunters!"

Several of them exchanged skeptical glances. "Dude, are you serious?" one of them asked.

"We just watched a man get ripped limb from limb and eaten alive," another declared while hunched shuddering by the small brook. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm done with this Hunter gig. After we make it back home I'm going to quit."

A few echoed this sentiment. "There's no way we can beat that thing."

"Seriously, let's just get back to base camp where we'll be safe."

"I can't die out here in the woods!"

A Great Sword came slamming to the ground, interrupting any further protests.

"Is that how you intend to honor our fallen sensei?!"

Glowering at his astonished cohorts, Dumbass kept his weapon buried in the soft turf, angry eyes scanning their faces. "Why do you think the master sacrificed himself today?"

A few uncertain turns of the head, but no one volunteered a response.

"It was so we could avenge him!" Dumbass bellowed, shocking all present with the volume and intensity of his cry. "He knew that as we were, we could not hope to achieve victory! Look at the way you all ran! If I hadn't thought you were just putting some distance between it in order to build up ramming speed, I never would have come with you! I would have stayed back there and fought that thing by the old man's side, to our everlasting glory!"

Now several of them ducked their heads in embarrassment and shame.

"But he recognized your weakness," their proud colleague continued. "And the only thing that could possibly motivate you cowards to triumph was the chance to redeem your lost honor! Otherwise our sensei's spirit will never rest in peace! That's why he chose to die!"

"Excuse me," a male Gunner raised a hand from his position leaning coolly against a tree. "Notwithstanding how stupid that sounds, wouldn't you agree this monster is a little out of our league at the moment?"

Dumbass rounded on him. "If we don't surpass our limits today, how can we ever achieve our goals tomorrow?"

"If you surpass some limits you don't get to tomorrow," the Gunner replied. "Like how much blood you can safely lose. See, that's why they're called 'limits', genius."

"I don't recognize any limits to the human spirit!" Dumbass drew himself up boldly, then turned to face the huddled mob of uncertain stragglers. "Listen to me! I know why you're all here. It's the same for me. You want to do your families and villages proud! You want to prove to yourselves that you're not going to let fear rule your lives! Hunters are the greatest people to walk this earth. They protect us from the monsters! We all look up to them! But if a Hunter falls, who is there to step up and take his place? Us, that's who!"

There were tears streaming down his cheeks, and many of those viewing this display found themselves unaccountably moved by such pure undaunted courage. His words were like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, warming their waning determination and endowing them all with a burning sense of confidence where moments ago there had been only confusion and hopelessness.

"Together we are strong! If we unite, there's nothing we can't accomplish! I swear to you I will not stop fighting until that devil lies dead at my feet! As long as we work together victory will certainly be ours! We came to this island as mere children looking to learn at the feet of the adults. But if you seize this chance for glory, the only thing that will die today is your childhood! Don't be afraid of that! Grab hold of the opportunity! Step forth and claim your place as bold men and women who do not fear death, but instead seek out any challenge, no matter how perilous!"

Several of the fledgling fighters had flung an arm over their eyes to hide the tears they sought valiantly not to shed, teeth gritted and bodies trembling with ardor. A few wept openly, gripping one another by the shoulders to show their support. Even the skeptical Gunner from before seemed a little impressed in spite of himself.

Dumbass hoisted his weapon to one shoulder again and swept a hand out at his allies. "Look around you at the faces of your new brothers and sisters! Regardless of where you came from or whether you be man or woman, human or Wyverian, young or old, by the end of this day, if you choose to follow me, we will all truly be… HUNTERS!"

The small crowd erupted in cheers. Wild cries of support went up at this oratory.

"Yeah!" someone shouted.

"He's right!" another proclaimed.

"Let's go get that thing! What's the plan, boss?"

They all turned hopefully to Dumbass, whose chest seemed to swell at the adulation. "Right. Here's the deal." He crouched down on his haunches and drew an 'X' in the dirt. "That's our target. And here…" a bunch of small circles, "… is us. Now, once we get back to Area 6, I'll take point, and then…" He sketched an arrow leading from the circles towards the 'X' and jabbed it triumphantly. "We charge straight at the beast, and take it down!"

At this statement several of the onlookers, including the Gunner from before, blinked as though waking from a daydream. These glanced around to determine how many had responded the same as them.

"All right!" Dumbass looked up and grinned with utmost confidence. "Who's with me?!"

"HUZZAAAH!" the large part of the group declared.

"THEN LET'S GO GET 'IM!"

With that they all rocketed to their feet and went howling back the way they came, waving their weapons and shouting mighty oaths, some not even bothering to sharpen their blades first, the most basic of Hunter lore.

All except for a few. This small group, led by the Gunner, had drawn away and begun conversing quietly, listing their current set of supplies and examining weapons. After a few minutes they sketched out a concrete plan. Three with Sword and Shield or Long Sword began cutting and carrying vines and ivy harvested from the forest, while two wielding Great Swords got to work chopping at the base of a suitable tree. The rest started working effectively to use these materials in their design.

Striding through the halls of Castle Schrade, the Castellan drew to a halt at this recitation. "So you're telling me he just…?"

"Went straight at it," the Guild liaison smiled. "No Flash Bombs, no traps, no Barrel Bombs. Just boom! Right at the sucker. Apparently Dumbass believed attacking from the front is a surefire way to confuse large monsters. Like they're not used to head-on assault since they're so big, y'know? Although truthfully, from my own research it seems like standing directly in front of them is the absolute worst place to be! What's your opinion, sir?"

It took him a few seconds to regain his equilibrium. Once the sense of dizziness at so much rank stupidity had passed, he once more resumed his trek without bothering to answer.

His companion didn't mind. "So anyway, the ones who made it out alive got to the grotto in Area 7, and that's where they found…"

The Gunner looked up. "Hey. You made it. Welcome back."

Haggard and shaken, the remaining members of the attack party numbered no more than six. They all sported wounds of varying severity. A few had left pieces of armor somewhere behind them, and in several cases even the appendages that armor belonged to as well. Some had lost their weapons altogether. All kept glancing fearfully over their shoulders in dread of what might be pursuing them.

"Relax, we're safe for the time being," the Gunner reassured them. "Two of us here have the Detect ability activated, so we know that thing's where you left it in Area 5. Good job on keeping it occupied, by the way. Gave us time to work and… oh."

By this point he had noticed Dumbass. Two of the men had hooked a hand each under their leader's armpits and were dragging him along behind them. Dumbass remained staring back the way they came, breathing heavily and still clutching his Golem Blade + in one hand to trail through the dirt. His eyes were wild, face sweaty and pale. This last was no doubt at least partially attributable to the blood loss. And that resulted almost entirely from the fact that he was missing his right leg from halfway down the thigh.

"Gonna get 'im," the fallen hero rasped, blinking and twitching, his breath coming in short pants. "Lemme go. Gotta go back… get that devil! Show him he can't… do that… to me!"

"I'd rather you didn't." The Gunner stood up and dusted off his knees. By this point his overzealous classmate had been deposited on the ground, where he awkwardly managed to lever himself upright using his big blade as a crutch. "See, while you were off doing some damage, a few of the guys and I hashed out a plan."

"A true Hunter needs no plan other than victory!" Dumbass proclaimed.

"So I see." The marksman then turned and walked towards the large lagoon that dominated this shadowy canyon with Dumbass stumbling behind him, a tourniquet the only thing keeping him from bleeding out. Huge rock walls encircled this area. Carved into these peaks were holes for what might have been ancient structures from some long-vanished civilization. Soaring pillars of stone rose across from one another on this side of the lagoon like twin gateposts. Far over that tranquil body of water they could spy a shaft of bright light where the chasm walls split, allowing the narrowest possible glimpse of blue sky to emerge.

In this twilit preserve, industrious men and women labored. The branch-stripped trunk of a tremendous tree was dangling some thirty feet in the air and rising by the second. This mighty forest giant had ropes woven from vines and ivy tied to either end of it, and was being hoisted up the side of the canyon that led back to the woodland. Half a dozen young hunters strained on either side of the pass with all their might to haul this heavy burden. Amidst some of the weathered cliffside dwellings were solid granite columns, and the inventive workers used these as pulleys by looping the vines around them. Two groups of three people labored on either side; two stood near the ledge and heaved backwards, while one grasped the end of the rope and pulled by bracing their feet against the rock for greater leverage. Hand over hand and inch by inch the tree trunk climbed. The work went even swifter when a few of the less heavily injured survivors managed to scale the cliff and offer a hand.

"Let me clue you all in." The Gunner now stepped before the battered remnants of their crew. "But first I'd like to hear from you. What can you tell me about this monster?"

After a few seconds of silence, one survivor offered, "Can't get close. It stomps the ground and… you can't stay on your feet. Then it pins you down with its foot and starts… eating you…"

"Keeping your distance doesn't help either." Another Gunner class had yet to lower his weapon, feverish eyes darting from one end of the grotto to the other in search of incoming threats. "Me and a couple of Bowmen scaled a cliff, thinking we could stay out of range and pick it off easy as pie. But that monster just uprooted a boulder with its chin and chucked it at us! They got squashed… we were sitting ducks up there."

"The drool… burns… stings and burns… won't come off." This from a girl rocking back and forth with knees tucked against her chest.

The Gunner listened to a few more stories of traumatized horror and nodded. "All right. That about fits what we surmised. I'm guessing this thing, whatever it might be, is your basic Brute Wyvern. It relies mainly on strength and doesn't go in for breath attacks of any sort. Some projectile capability, but nothing that can't be worked around. Which brings us to our plan."

With a sweep of his arm he indicated the glistening lagoon. All now stared at that bright blue pond as though there could be nothing more important. "Judging by physical makeup, what with those tiny little arms, it's a fairly good bet that beast can't swim. Brute Wyverns are usually just too heavy to be amphibious, and this one looks pretty damn solid. So here's what we're going to do. See these big pillars?"

Their new tactician drew everyone's attention to the sky-high columns flanking the lip of the lagoon. Only now did some of them notice more vines strung out from high atop these structures, along with a big fellow atop one wielding a Hammer to the sound of wooden stakes being pounded into stone.

"As you can see, that tree we cut down is also attached to the ropes atop those pillars." Closer inspection revealed two sets of cords did indeed stretch out above the whole length of the canyon base to wrap around the tips of the trunk as it was being hoisted up. "Together they form your basic wooden swing, the type we all used to play on as kids. Except this version is only good for one ride. We've calculated the arc of the swing and the length of the ropes precisely. I hunted in this region before, and know the layout well. This pool here actually has a very deep bottom. Dived a few times in the past to explore, and so I learned it's really an extension of the ocean out past those rocks."

"Once we lure the target into position at the edge of the lagoon, we'll use that swing," he pointed to where his comrades had finally lugged the log to rest on a natural archway of rock connecting both sides of the pass, "to knock it into the water, where it's sure to drown. That big Brute clearly has an even bigger appetite, so we're going to set up as much raw meat as we can in a pile for bait. I know it's a one-shot deal, but considering our options, it might be our only shot."

The remaining Hunters looked askance at one another, each silently wondering if this plan really stood a chance at success. Any faint hope they all felt could not nearly overcome that heart-stopping terror so recently driven into their souls to settle in their stomachs like lead.

The Gunner picked up on their trepidation and chose to address it. "We're all in the same boat, guys. Whatever happens, we're going to fight by your sides this time. To the death if need be. There's only one real issue." Here his voice grew subdued. "In order to get the beast's attention, someone is going to have to lead it all the way up to the trap so we can be certain the meat won't be overlooked. I'd do it myself, but I'm arguably the best Gunner in class, or at least that we have left, and that's essential for the final element of our plan. Guys, I realize it's incredibly dangerous, but if anyone is willing to volunteer…"

Dumbass shoved his way through the crowd. "ME!"

Twenty minutes later, their preparations were complete. Hidden behind rocks or up on the slopes, the determined hunting party stayed attuned to the slightest change in their environment. They could hear the rustle and shift of each other's armor, smell the scent of sweat mixed in with the odors of the forest and a slight tang of the sea. Hardly daring to breathe for fear of ruining their last best hope, they waited.

A slight tremble shook the earth to alert them. Swallowing in mouths that had suddenly gone bone dry, the ones on the ground exchanged silent gestures with those waiting higher up to make sure they knew. Once this was complete everyone remained hunkered down in anxiety, perspiration running down their spines and legs trembling without stop. Please let it work. Please let it work!

The thudding of heavy footsteps drawing closer. The sound of inhuman breathing like a mighty bellows. Memories of swift moving death, jaws clashing and closing on their screaming friends.

And then their nightmare became real, as the Mouth Monster bounded into the grotto.

For some it looked even bigger than they remembered, enough to cause them to sob in despair. How could they possibly win against such a force of devastation? What in their puny homemade arsenal might possibly lay such a horror low?

As if to highlight the sheer implausibility of it all, in front of the devil there came running, or rather hopping, the form of Dumbass. Faster than anyone could have believed possible he gamboled across the base of the canyon, using his sword as a crutch and heading in a beeline towards the lagoon. That valiant soul had demonstrated remarkable proficiency with his improvised walking stick, enough to even convince their leader that he was the man for the job. And it was true that Dumbass had managed to elude his pursuer admirably up until now.

But that clearly could not last. The kid wasn't looking back, powering on ahead with what might be all the strength he could lay claim to in this world, but everyone else watching saw just how close the predator really was. Streaking along like some colossal green arrow, the bulbous Brute Wyvern's jaws were gaping wide less than two meters behind his back. With every footstep it came within a hand's-breadth of devouring him. It left a trail of drool behind it, causing some to whimper at the memory of that painful touch. Would they be forced to watch as yet another human being got beaten down and eaten? Run! they all silently urged him. Run for your life!

Dumbass could hear death closing in behind him. Not far ahead lay his salvation, a collection of bloody meat carved from the fresh carcass of a slain Aptonoth. That sight filled up his entire vision. His pulse was pounding so fiercely he couldn't hear the panting snorts of the devil at his back. Though his limbs were on fire with exhaustion, Dumbass refused to let this deter him.

They were all counting on him! He had to be the one to save them! For sensei! For their lost comrades! For his father and all the people waiting to welcome him cheering home! He had to move! He had to bring it home!

And then he was stumbling over fresh-killed meat. Falling to one knee in utmost weariness, Dumbass let go of his sword and gripped the length of rope at the pile's edge to give it a yank. At the same time he turned his head to see what lay behind him.

Gigantic dripping fangs and a slobbering red tongue filled his vision. The boy roared his defiance at the same time the line went taut!

The killer animal's jaws drove downwards, scooping up a mouthful of delicious meat. Its nostrils flared and it snorted in delight upon finding even more than it had been expecting. Hardly bothering to chew at all, the Mouth Monster glutted itself wholeheartedly on this heaven-sent feast!

In doing so, it snapped up a carefully positioned piece of Tinged Meat.

The moment those mandibles closed over it however briefly, it was in for a shock. Literally. Neurotoxins carefully seeded into the meat's tissues were released in a chemical attack. Harvested from some of the world's deadliest sea beasts, this virulent poison reacted immediately, coursing through the unsuspecting beast's nervous system in a cascade of sensory blockage.

The Mouth Monster gagged. It jittered and shook where it stood as though lightning were coursing through every nerve ending, unable to take so much as a single step away from that spot.

Their trap was sprung.

A dozen voices screamed in righteous fury and exuberance, as high overhead, the tree trunk was shoved off its base to fall down before being caught in the pull of those meticulously woven ivy vines. There was a great rush of air as it swung, a roar equal to that of the monster towards which it was aimed. Fibers in the vines creaked and strained in protest. Some snapped altogether, causing the great missile to veer off slightly.

But by some divine miracle, the ropes held. And its course remained true. Standing right by the edge of the lagoon, the voracious monster was helpless to react as that ruinous amount of mass and force flew in like an avenging angel to slam into its unprotected side and lift it free of the earth.

"Auf Wiedersehen," the Gunner breathed, and fired.

A single round of Normal Shot-3 ammo sped from the barrel of his customized Bowgun to strike the center of a line of six Barrel Bomb L+'s that had been strapped to the back of the log.

It blew, with such light and force that those watching could have sworn the whole canyon would be ripped apart. Instead only the two stone pillars were destroyed, leaving just a shortened smoking nub of one on the right. Their darkened environment lit up from this explosion. The detonation was so loud it could be heard from one end of the island to the other, a truly breathtaking display of pyro-kinetic force.

But none of this could make the Hunters' hearts soar as did the sight of the horrible green monster flying through the air, burning and smoking, to land right in the center of the lagoon and disappear without a trace. Only a cannonball of foam and spray marked its passing.

Cheers erupted now full force. Or rather just screams of unadulterated ecstasy. Men and women hugged and kissed one another without regard for propriety or any such trivial concerns. They were alive! And they had WON!

Streaming down to regroup on solid ground, the excited youngsters clustered around their hero. The Gunner slumped tiredly, exhilaration and adrenaline causing his limbs to shake. Still he couldn't help but grin. Everyone was talking at once and he had never felt so tired in his life. Yet when Dumbass came hobbling up between his two rescuers that had pulled him to safety, the Gunner made a point to stand upright and offer him his hand in gratitude.

Beaming and nodding his head, Dumbass accepted the handshake. Once more the crowd burst into loud cries. "HUZZAH!" "WE DID IT! WE DID IT" "I TOLD YOU WE COULD!" "HURRAY FOR THE HUNTERS… THAT'S US!"

After about a minute, the clamor died down. Then the survivors of this legendary battle trooped silently over to form up by the edge of the lagoon. Those blue depths were so deep as to be impenetrable to the human eye. Only a few dwindling bubbles farther out told of the extraordinary deed done this day. Other than that the pool's surface bore no trace of disturbance, flat and still as the sky.

Gazing upon that pristine expanse, the Gunner felt a swelling of pride. "Rest in peace, Master Scalp." So saying, he bowed his head in prayer. The others followed suit in testament to all their lost friends.

"We should dive down there!" Dumbass gabbled in high animation from between his two supports. "I want to carve a chunk off that devil's jaw! We all need something to commemorate this day!" He looked around for support. A few people laughed nervously, but no one made any move to follow his suggestion. "Come on, guys! We defeated a whole new species of monster! When the Guild learns of this, we'll all be legends! Maybe they'll even name the devil after us. Or me! How does that sound? They can call it, 'The Devil of Ra–' wait, that sounds stupid. Oh! I know! How about just 'Devilrai–"

Something exploded out of the lagoon to pass right over their heads.

The whole thing seemed to proceed rather slowly. Still, those who looked up only caught the gleam of light off a long silvery underbelly. Droplets of water cascaded down to pelt their upturned faces, gentle as a soft rain. The crackle of ozone filled all their nostrils like after a lightning strike.

Moments later, a mighty Lagiacrus hit the ground behind them and slid to a halt.

The Lord of the Seas reared its sinuous neck about, roaring in frustration. Mightiest of sea serpents known to modern man, this fearsome ocean-dweller dug all four claws into dry land and swung its hooded head around, deep blue scales flashing and fanged snout crackling with lightning.

None of the juvenile explorers watching had ever imagined they might face such an incredible adversary so early in their careers. Even without the excuse of being exhausted from their previous insurmountable ordeal, it would have been impossible to consider they might give battle to this legendary sailor's bane and prevail.

But what really tore their hearts out was to see the Mouth Monster hanging on to the Lagiacrus' tail by its teeth.

A few low moans and sobs were heard, drowned out by the sea drake's furious bellowing. Right then the devil-beast found its feet. It let go of its unwilling ride's tail to take in a hugely audible gasp of air. The Lagiacrus took this opportunity to scamper a few paces off, swinging smoothly about to regard its passenger with shock and outrage.

The green horror did not acknowledge this. Instead it turned to face the cowering collection of children behind it. All noticed then that something was different about their enemy. Namely, its hump back was throbbing red, all aglow with some inner fire. In addition scarlet streaks now glowed over practically every inch of its body. These lurid scars told of countless savage battles that had been waged in the name of sating this beast's hunger.

That, combined with the look it now gave them, told the neophyte Hunters they were as good as digested.

While everyone else stood paralyzed with disbelief, Dumbass did a diving roll to scoop up his Golem Blade + from where it had fallen. Coming upright on his one remaining unsteady leg, he drew a deep breath and screamed, "CHARGE!"

At this, the man-eating tyrant opened its own mouth to send black and red lightning spewing forth.

With a heart-breaking groan, the Castellan stopped right outside the door to the hospital trauma ward and let his forehead slowly sink against the wood.

"It breathes lightning now?"

"Not so much lightning." His unflappable tagalong seemed as determined to remain undeterred as he was to be overwhelmed. "From what we can gather based off the eyewitness testimony, we conjecture it's more like pure condensed Dragonblight! Wow!" The girl scribbled away in her notebook with professional zeal. "Who knew such an ability even existed in this world? Dragonblight isn't something just any old monster can afflict on you! To say nothing of the fact that Brute Wyverns don't generally have anything resembling breath weapons to begin with. What a hoot!"

"Yes. A hoot," he concurred glumly. And pushed open the ward doors.

The Counter Gal followed him in. "Now who would have guessed a Lagiacrus might have staked out those waters for its hunting ground? Our analysts posit it came to inspect whatever got dumped into its territory so abruptly and got a faceful of that Dragonblight breath for its troubles. Then while it was stunned the sucker grabbed hold of its tail with the intention of letting the Lagiacrus pull it back onto land. And unfortunately the poor beastie was so shocked at getting its tushie chomped that's exactly what happened! Do you suppose that's how the monster got onto the island in the first place? Like maybe it grabbed a flying Wyvern's tail in the same way and hitched a ride all the way out to…?"

"Stop speculating and finish the report," the castle administrator groused as he stalked down the rows of beds in that brightly lit hospital ward.

"Hmph," she shrugged good-naturedly. "I'd say if it weren't for that Lagiacrus duking it out with its passenger, nobody would have gotten away. Poor fella lost his tail. But he did make it back into the water before the big bozo could take any more off. Okay, so, getting to Round Three…"

A Guild flat-bottomed landing craft chugged across the waves towards the island in question. Equipped with a Melynx-powered paddle engine and custom-made for transporting mass amounts of personnel, this particular carrier's hold was stuffed with about one hundred heavily armed high-rank Hunters. They had been recruited from every corner of the hunting world in response to the situation reported on that normally tranquil isle. The Guild was offering a staggeringly high bounty to bring low this unknown monster, officially referred to as 'The Devil of Joe's Steak House,' or 'Joe's Devil' for short. Many had responded for the chance to stalk a quarry no one had ever hunted before. A few came for the prospect of wealth and fame.

But there was one man aboard that vessel whose heart burned only for revenge.

Dumbass stood fidgeting restlessly at the very front of the ship's hold, right before the ramp which would drop and allow them to storm the beach. He stared at that blank metal surface as though able to pierce its hull with his vision and see their destination clearly. Out of the three people who came away alive from that doomed expedition, he alone had opted to join this mission. Ostensibly one might think him ill-suited despite his prior experience. After all, in addition to his leg Dumbass was now down his left arm as well. Prostheses and an iron will allowed him to stand upright, but there were few who considered him of any practical use on this or any future hunt.

But if it was to be the end of this young man's ambitions so soon in his career, the Guild had generously decided to let him go out with dignity. They approved his petition for membership in the hunt and even conveyed an honorary Guild license on him out of respect for the tragedies he had suffered. None of which mattered to Dumbass now. His only goal, his very reason for being at this point, was to bury his precious Golem Blade + in that infernal demon's heart and thereby redeem his honor. Gripping that cherished family heirloom in his remaining hand, the furious vengeance-seeker ignored all of the strategy sessions and disparaging sidelong looks happening behind him. Today it would end. This he swore.

"Attention, attention. We are within 1 kilometer of our landing point," the navigator's voice announced over a speaking tube overhead. "All personnel prepare for departure."

Gunners and Blademasters alike took note of this and went about checking their gear beforehand. Once they had collected the necessary provisions and settled all equipment to their satisfaction, the massive hunting party drew up in organized rows before the loading ramp. Dumbass took no notice of this. Instead he grasped his blade's handle with eager sweating fingers, a glint of madness causing his eyes to shine. Naturally he considered himself the leader of this expedition. No one knew the enemy quite like him. In fact, he felt certain there was a connection between them now, a mystical confluence which bound hunter and monster in the ineluctable bonds of destiny. Man against nature. Spirit against savagery. Only one would be permitted to triumph.

The landing craft bobbed up and down a little from one breaker to the next. Its heading remained true. Once again the navigator addressed them. "We have received a report from the Guild observation balloon overhead. Our target has been spotted on a high cliff overlooking the beach. Judging by the terrain, they estimate it would take the monster at least half an hour to reach the seashore from that position. This should give you plenty of time to prepare your first response. Previous intel purports that the island's animal population has been reduced to practically nothing, and Joe's Aptonoth Steak House is long gone. If you want meat, be prepared to fish before this is all over."

Dumbass felt his heartbeat quicken. He licked his lips and smiled in anticipation. No paltry fish or other unsatisfying flesh would grace his tongue. Soon his nemesis would fall. Soon he would gain recompense for his lost limbs by chopping off two of its own and roasting them over a slow spit! The Guild had given him top carving rights out of consideration for his invaluable firsthand information. The aspiring hero already knew exactly where he was going to mount that devil's head in his family lodge.

A sense of decreasing speed impressed upon them as the boat moved towards the shore. Ammo was checked and armor adjusted one final time. A few moments later they all felt a jarring bump as the craft slid up onto the beach.

"Good hunt, all," the captain's voice was heard.

With that, the front of the ship swung open. Chains rattled as its ramp landed in the surf with a splash. Dazzling bright light came pouring in, briefly blinding that century of intrepid adventurers.

Dumbass squinted against the glare. When at last his vision cleared he gazed firmly straight ahead…

… to find the Devil charging at him with mouth gaping wide as could be.

Shrieks erupted as everyone got a good look at this insatiable juggernaut lurching at top speed towards them. The knot of men and women struggled to break free and gain the beach, but packed in together and encumbered with bulky armor they only managed to jostle against one another like sardines stuffed inside a tin. Guns fired wildly in every direction, shots of all types ricocheting from the walls to explode or zing off armor, adding to the confusion. Panicked cries signaled the breakdown of all previous discipline, and the beast came on.

At the front of this pack, Dumbass got knocked into hard from behind. He lurched forward a few steps, losing his balance on the prosthetic leg and falling to land flat on his face. Sprawled in the wet sand, he angrily lifted his head.

With an enthusiastic roar Joe's Devil ran right over him straight into the ship's hold, plowing through the mass of Hunters like a hot knife through butter. The huge landing craft rocked from side to side as it entered fully. In the ensuing pandemonium, a lever was thrown, causing the ramp to retract and seal the ship up. After that, together in the dark, the feast continued.

Alone on the shore, Dumbass lay where he had fallen. A seagull dropped down to alight on his head long enough to take a particularly greasy and satisfying dump in his hair before winging away once more.

"Yeah, so turns out the thing can jump too! Really far. Spotted our transport coming in and vaulted from that cliff down to the shore lickety-split. The guys up in the balloon couldn't believe it. Go figure."

Castellan and Quest Gal finally drew to a halt before the right bed. "This is him," she supplied for his consideration.

The old man didn't need her to tell him that. This pitiful wreck could only be one person, a heretofore unfamiliar soul now permanently labeled in his mind as Dumbass. The kid lay abed covered in bandages. He now had no legs and only one arm to speak of. The lone eye not covered by gauze roamed about, and his lips twitched while muttering feverishly, "Devil… not me… gimme back… spirit… give it here devil… give it… not me…"

"They couldn't save the leg after that thing stepped on him," the Guild's representative declared brightly while examining their luckless colleague. "Fortunately for our champion here the personnel on the observation balloon saw what was happening and came down to rescue as many people as they could. Cut his leg off right there so he wouldn't go into shock from the pain. The beast was busy eating all the hunters for quite a while, and by the time it broke out, they had already evacuated him and the crew. Castle Schrade was the nearest available center with appropriate medical capabilities, which is why this mess got dumped in your lap."

"Unbelievable," the Castellan shook his head to express his profound disbelief. "What kind of ill-omened stars was this sad boy born under, I wonder?"

While he continued to stare at this living harbinger of misfortune, a furry Felyne came scampering into the room. It headed straight for the Quest Gal and proffered a small sheet of folded paper. This she accepted, "Thanks!" and the messenger gave a meow of welcome before bounding off on all fours. She then opened the missive and read its contents. "Sir?"

"Hmm?" The Castellan was still engrossed in trying to visually pinpoint the cause of this patient's malediction.

"It's here."

A pause. Then that silver head turned to regard her in puzzlement. "What is?"

"Joe's Devil. Or Devil Joe, that's what some of the guys are calling it. Anyway… it's at the front gate."

He stared uncomprehendingly at her for a few seconds. Then…

"WHAT?!"

Ten minutes later saw them both standing on the parapet above Castle Schrade's main entrance. Frightened guardsmen kept a respectful distance, but they too could not resist peeking through crenellations and arrow slits to catch a glimpse of this living legend.

A hungry roar sounded. Looking up at them, Devil Joe swung its fat tail irritably from side to side. It pawed the road a few times before ducking its head and ramming one enormous shoulder into the thick wooden gate. The whole wall quaked and everyone staggered where they stood. Clambering upright, the Castellan gazed despairingly down at the brutish beast. The gate had held, but who knows how long until it just decided to jump the wall? Could it do that? Who knows!

With surprising dexterity he sped across the ramparts and grasped a horn hanging from a peg to give a mighty blast. "FIRE THE BALLISTAE! THE DRAGONATOR! EVERYTHING!"

"It's no good, milord!" a Hunter atop a gate tower called back.

"What do you mean, no good?!" the fort's overseer shouted desperately back. "They're built to damage a Lao-Shan Lung and even Fatalis!"

"Yes, but… those monsters are all so big! This one's relatively small. The castle's weaponry isn't positioned properly to draw a bead on it! We can't get a clear shot!"

The entire bulwark shook once again from another massive blow. Horrified, the Castellan found himself staring down at that aggressive carnivore. How did the monster even get here?!

"Y'know, coming back to my theory from before," the Quest Counter Gal drawled a bit accusingly from beside him, "It occurs to me that we got a report about an hour ago of a tailless Ratholos being spotted flying overhead. The thing seemed pretty irate from all accounts. So maybe our friend down there hitched another ride in order to get off that island."

"But why is it here?" the Castellan rounded on her to beg imploringly for an answer.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "But the observation balloon folk said it did eat that kid's severed leg after they were airborne. Maybe it likes the taste of him so much it came to get the rest."

The girl stopped then upon seeing the expression that came over the old man's face. She did not like that look.

"I was kidding, sir. You know that, right… sir?"

Twenty minutes later…

"NOT! NOT! NOT! NOT!"

Poor Dumbass could apparently find nothing more to say. The Quest Gal couldn't blame him. That truncated tracker now lay screaming at the base of a large metal cage which was being lowered from a winch set up on the walls of Castle Schrade. The cage swung on its chain, and below, the Devil Joe stood eagerly hopping up and down, panting and slavering so hard that a river of jellied saliva was pouring down its scarred chest.

She turned to address her benefactor. "Castellan, I recognize none of the Hunters hereabouts have spoken up against this plan of yours, but I just want you to know that I've submitted official charges against you to the Guild. And I will not be satisfied until you're swingin' from a rope."

"I do what must be done," he pronounced with weariness, head resolutely down so as not to look at her or what was transpiring below them. It was true the girl had never seen this once proud defender of their city look so crestfallen. But that didn't make this any less reprehensible.

Still, there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Everything just seemed to have gone coo-coo. With a disparaging sigh she then turned and peered through a set of binoculars to get a better look. "Well, it's within about ten feet of him now."

The Castellan gave a groan and turned away, wrapping his fur-trimmed cloak around him as if to dispel a chill.

"Oh look, now it's standing on its tippy-toes." The Quest Gal let a certain acerbic bite flavor her words. She focused in on the Devil Joe, intrigued in spite of herself at getting a close-up view. There had never been a monster like this in her experience. Just look at all those… teeth… huh…

"Hey, check it out," she said with mild surprise. "Looks like bits of Rathalos tail stuck between its teeth. Guess I was right about it bumming a ride, huh, sir?"

Her companion only groaned in response. The monster was starting to butt the bottom of the cage, and Dumbass still hadn't stopped screaming. But the Quest Gal could not pay attention to this now, for something else had caught her eye. "Hey, that's weird. There's something shiny red in its teeth."

"Eh?" The Castellan turned around.

"See for yourself." She held out the binoculars, and he came over to take them. The disgraced former Hunter focused in on that hideous gobbling maw, flinching as he did so. Then he noticed what she had been referring to.

A quick gasp left his throat.

The Quest Gal tilted her head to one side. "You know, call me crazy, but I could swear that looks a lot like drawings I've seen of the…"

"Rathalos Plate!" the Castellan whispered.

His whispy-haired head came up, eyes wide with awe. Without speaking a word, he handed the binoculars back to her.

"Yeah, exactly. Can you believe something like that would show up now? Most people go their whole lives without finding… sir, where are you going?"

He passed by her like a man sleepwalking. Coming upon one of the guard posts, he noticed a ceremonial but no less fine Wyvern Jawblade hanging on the wall. This he reached for and took down, getting a feel for that enormous weapon again. The weight of his disgrace and even intervening years seemed to fall from the old man's body, and when he turned around, it was as a Hunter once more. Only one phrase now ran through his mind.

Rathalos Plate…

With a small, eerie smile, he then slung the great Blade up on his shoulder like it was nothing and proceeded down the steps.

It spread from there.

Some Hunters were dicing in a tavern unaware of the scene taking place at the castle gates, when suddenly…

Rathalos Plate…

They all left off their excited gambling. Grabbing weapons kept close at hand, the party stalked towards the town's main entrance.

Rathalos Plate…

Enjoying a hearty meal at the inn, every Hunter abruptly stood up and flung down coins on the table to pay for their fare. They then collected Swords, Spears, Bowguns and Hammers. Once equipped, all headed out into the street, joining an ever-increasing flow of their counterparts headed in the same direction.

Rathalos Plate…

Wounded men and women in the hospital rose off their beds, injuries forgotten. Limping in some cases, dragging in others, they ignored the protests of the staff and moved down the hall to where their weapons were stored. All manner of death-dealing instruments were distributed then. Once armed and in most cases still only garbed in hospital gowns, they proceeded to march out the doors.

Back at the gates of Castle Schrade, the Devil Joe stopped straining for its squealing prey upon hearing a strange sound. Looking behind it, the beast was surprised to notice the wall was opening! The scent of further prey rushed out to greet it. Already forgetting its dangling delicacy, the rapacious glutton spun about and trod eagerly forward.

Then it stopped.

The Devil Joe stared. Before it now was assembled every last Hunter in Castle Schrade, numbering in the hundreds. Young, old, retired, just started, high rank, low rank; every single person who had ever followed spoor or faced down a Jaggi stood arrayed in front of it.

Now, in most situations the Devil Joe would have known precisely what to do here. Eat. Eat and don't stop eating. Eat until you had to sleep and keep on eating while you did then wake up and eat some more. It was basic instinct for this breed.

But there was something different now. A premonition, you might call it, one that had flowed out and into that gargantuan reptile's tiny brain with the certainty of higher thought. It was the way they were all looking at it right now, like no prey in its experience had ever looked before. You might say it recognized a higher greed than its own. Vaster, older, and infinitely more frustrated. This impression was pouring off every single one of those little creatures. And words seemed to come with it, the first to ever penetrate the Devil's head. They said…

Rathalos Plate…

A hunger of a different sort was staring down the insatiable eating machine. And the Devil Joe… took an uncertain step back, tiny forelimbs curling against its chest defensively.

Then its stomach growled, and the moment had passed. Coming back to itself, the Devil Joe roared out its hunger for all to hear.

An answering shout came in response from several hundred throats. The army of greedy Hunters stampeded forth, and battle began.

Bombs. Traps. Exploding Shot. Poison. Blades of every kind. They all came into play.

When it was over, the forces of Castle Schrade lay fallen at the sight of their most desperate stand.

The exhausted Devil Joe remained swaying upright, in victory of a sort. Its tail had been cut off. That trademark jaw was cracked, bones broken, internal injuries weeping blood in addition to the countless major and minor ones newly carved into its body that left it more red than green. Broken blades and spears stuck out of its hide. Blinking and wheezing, the Brute Wyvern could hardly breathe. Even the saliva had run out.

But starvation still remained. And a feast lay all around it, promising health and renewed vigor. Choking, aching, battered and on the brink of death, the mighty conqueror bent haltingly down to take its first well-deserved bite.

A shot rang out, moments before the great steel cage holding Dumbass came plummeting down and brained the Devil Joe right between its eyes.

The beast reared up. A look of profound astonishment came over its face. With a last expiring breath, the monster sagged and collapsed over to one side, its head bouncing a few times and feet twitching vainly before coming to rest on a pile of its final victims. At long last, the Devil Joe had been slain.

A severed winch chain blew gently in the breeze. Looking up from the sights of her borrowed Bowgun, the Quest Counter Gal gave a satisfied nod.

"Always wanted to be a Hunter," the young woman grinned before skipping off to collect her reward.

This was the first recorded sighting of the monster that would come to be known as the Deviljho. Now their breed ranks among some of the deadliest in existence, known for destroying whole ecosystems singlehandedly. But wherever their bottomless hunger rises, courageous Hunters will be there to take up the defense of both man and nature.

According to legend, the Quest Gal claimed not only the Rathalos Plate, but also a new husband, whom she affectionately called Dumbass. The newlyweds went into business together, him retiring from the Hunter life to start a very successful tavern, while she took up the call and became one of the greatest Hunters the world had ever known. Her Rathling Gun can be viewed in their hometown to this day… but don't touch. Generations later, a descendant of theirs would return to that same small island where this all began to save a tiny fishing village from ruin at the horns of a mighty Elder Dragon.

Main Quest Achieved. Hunt on!

FIN.