Chapter Text
Nestled into the mountainside is a small village perpetually caught in winter's icy embrace: Pokke. Relatively off the map for the common folk, it has become a rather important checkpoint for hunters who are strong enough--or perhaps foolish enough--to weather the harsh conditions that batter the mountain's upper cliffs, and face the fearsome monsters that thrive in such hostile conditions. It's here that Runa has established what slowly became her permanent residence, thanks to rent skyrocketing in cities and villages closer to the guild's main hub. People were willing to pay thousands upon thousands of zenny for convenience, but it was Runa's wallet that was going to get the last laugh.
A strikingly elegant woman of porcelain complexion, short stature and a wire thin frame, the twenty year old Runa was raised to be a huntress. Unfortunately for her family, her painstaking daily beauty ritual and severe distaste for manual labor said she wanted to be anything but.
Her father swung a Hammer so hard each hit crackled like thunder, and her mother had unmatched aerial superiority with her Insect Glaive. Even her sister Tarja--the pride and joy of the family--hefted the massive hunk of steel and monster scraps that is a Great Sword with ease. But where they had the homicidal tendencies it took to kill monsters freely, Runa found herself enthralled with butterflies and chasing Kelbi. She picked up the Light Bowgun purely so she could observe nature from a distance, and scarcely pulled the trigger until she realized she needed to make a living for herself. Her family loved her all the same despite her peace-loving nature, but she couldn't lie to herself: she didn't fit in with them. When the time finally came, it was easy for her to take the first airship to anywhere that wasn't home.
Her lack of familial bonds did little to dent her overbearingly kind disposition, though. Wherever she goes she has a sprightly spring in her step, and a genuine smile brighter than a flash bomb. Her pack is often as full of flowers and herbs as it is of bullets, and she spends most of her days rummaging through berry bushes. That isn't to say that she lacks the skills to be a huntress-far from it, in fact. But when choosing between a monster that could kill her and a flower that won't, she tends to lean for the latter.
Clad in a set of floppy-eared Lagombi armor with a long-barreled sniper rifle slung over her shoulder, Runa emerges from her humble home to bathe the dawn's orange and yellow glow as it creeps over the tree line. All she could think about were the hardy snow herbs growing in concealed patches of living soil up on the Arctic Ridge, whose ice cold leaves were adorned with beautiful white streaks. She thought they would look simply stunning hanging from her ceiling, and was prepared to dedicate an entire day to tracking down the green and white streaked plants. If only being a plant hunter was an actual profession rather than a strangely obsessive hobby, Runa ponders with an amused chuckle. Then I'd make some real money.
With a short trip down the hill Runa reaches the town proper, where the fresh-faced villagers were also preparing themselves for another day of hard work. The blacksmith's chimney begins to churn out thick billows of black smoke as its forge awakens, ready for its next creation. The Felyne running the general store awoke from its store briefly, if only to turn its sign from 'Closed' to 'Open". However, the star of the morning was the salty, gamey smell of fresh Popo tongue being cooked. The morning simply wouldn't be complete without one of the iterant cook's made-to-order meals. Runa, being solely a huntress and having no early morning obligations to attend to, confidently struts past felynes and humans alike to claim her usual spot as the outdoor cafe's first customer.
The felyne cook's eyes light up as his first customer of the day approaches, setting the tray of food down as Runa took a seat on a tree stump seat. Villagers stole glances at the young woman's massive platter of food while attempting to ignore their own growling stomachs, the very sight of the steaming breakfast delights enough to hasten their work. Runa didn't blame them for staring; after all, not even she could cook a breakfast this good, and she had a few scorched pans that agreed with her.
"So tell me huntress," The felyne cook speaks from his perch on the edge of his large black cauldron, stirring up what Runa could only assume is some sort of stew. "Have you heard the news about the mountain? It's paws-itivly catastrophic!"
The dainty huntress briefly looks up from her platter--now half empty--to slightly shake her head and show her lack of knowledge. Runa hardly kept up with her own responsibilities, spending a majority of her time tending to her home garden and decorating her home with neat plants. She didn't exactly have time to keep up with the latest gossip around the village, nor did she seek it. Luckily for her the cook kept up with everything she needed to know, and whenever she sat down for a meal she got an earful of it.
"Well the word from the other felynes is that there's a monster up there, and it's not one of the normal ones either. They say it's big! Real big! Bigger than a whole pack of Blangongas stacked on top of each other!"
"What?" Runa gulps down the last of her meal before sitting back to process the cat's strange description. The size comparison was a little unorthodox, but something about it had to be true, didn't it? She breathes a lengthy sigh of contemplation, running through a mental encyclopedia of monsters. "Are you sure it isn't just a king-sized Gammoth? They're actually nothing to be afraid of as long as you don't walk into their territory. Otherwise, you're asking for trouble."
It's the felyne's turn to shake its head now, halting its stirring as it tugs at its whiskers nervously. Its brown-and-white spotted fur bristles, the bipedal cat's little body visibly shaking.
"It was even larger than a Gammoth, and its hide was disgusting. Covered in awful glowing scars, they say. That's the most the Dragonwatchers could see before..."
"Before...?" Runa's on the edge of her seat now, eyes as wide as dinner saucers as she waits desperately for the end of the cook's story. Surely they didn't die, did they? She nervously ponders as she chews on the inside of her cheek like a piece of Mosswine Jerky. But the cat's story trails off without a happy ending, and the normally cheerful huntress is left with a sullen reminder of how dangerous of a profession hunting could be. Everyone's luck had to run out sometime, and Runa had no idea how much she had left...
With her mood thoroughly cut down to size, Runa slides off of the tree stump with a heavy groan, holding her light bowgun a little tighter to her body. The sturdy metal frame pressed against her back gave her a smidgen of comfort, but it wasn't nearly enough. She had yet to find a monster she couldn't slay with a barrage of bullets, but something about the cook's story dug deep under her skin. What if that beast is still up on the mountain?
She clutches her midsection, anxiety upsetting her stomach as her amber eyes scan over the icy white peaks, the lingering gray clouds churning about like the remains of her breakfast. Her rumbling gut told her to stay in and spend the day taking care of little chores around the house, but those snow herbs wouldn't gather themselves. Against her better judgment, Runa finds herself approaching the sharply dressed guild representative, a woman who seemed more out of place than a Plesioth swimming around in Ingle Isle.
"Good morning!" Shirley, Pokke's hunter's guild representative, greets Runa through chattering teeth, her smile frozen onto her face. The outfit the guild required was nothing if it wasn't stylish; the guild receptionists always had to look good, even if the wide-bottomed skirt and Qurupeco yellow top did little to fight the biting cold. Her shivering hands fumble with a small black notebook stamped with the guild's insignia hanging on her hip before she extends it out to Runa. "Is there a p-particular quest you're looking for today?"
Runa always feels a twinge of sympathy for the poor woman, forced to stand out in the cold and accommodate the often erratic flow of hunters to the mountain village at all times of the day. Surely she's being paid well, she thinks. Why else would anyone take such a raw deal? The young huntress plucks the notebook from Shirley's trembling hands, skipping multiple pages at a time until she finds the list of high rank quests, eyes glossing over the stars that denoted difficulty with indecision. She wasn't looking for any particular target, but the guild couldn't allow her to enter a hunting ground unless it was on official business. It's a frustrating rule, but she understands the need to keep the regular citizens safe.
Suddenly, a quest catches her eye-or rather, the reward does. A whopping 12000z just to hunt a Gammoth? I'd be able to buy all the snow herbs I wanted with that kind of zenny! Her finger taps excitedly against the quest, placing the little notebook back in Shirley's waiting palm.
"I'm gonna be hunting a Gammoth!" Runa declares proudly, hand instinctively reaching up to adjust the strap to her long necked rifle. "How long would it take for you to arrange a carriage up there?"
Shirley's smile drops like an icicle; Runa swears the woman's eye twitches, but it happens too fast for her to be sure. The guild rep's head shakes violently, tucking the notebook under her arm tightly. She even takes a step away from the requesting huntress, as though Runa had contracted the frenzy virus.
"Th...that area of the mountain is off limits, as of two days ago. I'm afraid I can't request a transport." Shirley murmurs, her normally unwavering eye contact now locked onto the snow she's shuffling her boots in. Runa's eyes narrow, her lips pursing tightly together as she scrunches her nose. She's never been denied the ability to hunt before, and by a guild representative no less!
"What? Why? I'm an experienced huntress, I have my high rank permit ri-" Runa reaches for her bag to retrieve the neatly folded card but Shirley's icy, ungloved hand shoots like a bullet and holds Runa's wrist in a death vice. Runa flinches, unable to draw her trembling hand back and break free. That's when she sees it: the pure, unadulterated fear in her eyes, like a wounded animal backed into a corner. Shirley's desperate to keep the huntress here in the village.
"I-I sent three hunters and a Palico to do this quest. To hunt this Gammoth." Her rushed words tumble like an avalanche from between her iced lips, yanking Runa in uncomfortably close. "I didn't do the research before I sent them out, and now...now-" Her grip goes limp, tearless sobs choking up her speech. Runa simply frowns; it's a little overwhelming to see the normally unnervingly happy woman breaking down in such an embarrassing manner.
She draws the hysteric woman into a hesitant embrace, gently patting her back as her sobbing evolves into full-blown wailing that's loud enough to draw the attention of a few villagers.
"There, there. It's not your fault..." Runa murmurs, head swiveling about and meeting the eyes of whispering villagers that were watching them like hungry scavengers. All I wanted was a hunt, not this sob story... She nibbles at her bottom lip anxiously, impatiently waiting for Shirley to calm down enough to be coherent. It takes a solid few minutes of muffled grieving for Pokke's rep to finally pull herself away, wiping away hot tears of guilt from her bloodshot eyes.
"I think the worst part is that no one's even seen the bodies! A storm kicked up as they got ambushed, and when it finally ended...the Dragonwatchers could only see one body. And not even a full body, just the torso! Felynes won't go near the place to find and carry the bodies back..."
"If the Palicos won't...I will. Someone's got to bring them home, even if they're..." Runa is cut off as Shirley gasps, furiously shaking her head once more.
"You're out of your mind! Please, think about what you're saying!" She pleads with Runa fervently, but the huntress holds her hand out to silence the quest giver. Runa had made up her mind, and didn't want to waste any more daylight than she needed to. The quicker she could get out there, the sooner she could come home-alive, hopefully.
"I'll at least bring back their weapons, if nothing else. Their families deserve to have some way to remember the dead. Just sign me up for the Gammoth hunt and I'll bring back one of its tusks so we don't end up in hot water with the Guild."
Shirley's eyes fill with blissful tears as Runa offers her a cautious smile as a show of understanding. It's a suicide mission, but...aren't most hunts? There's never been a guarantee that I'd come back. It's just the right thing to do... Runa's thoughts, while morbid, do more to build her confidence than any pep talk ever could. She's used to tackling every hunt like it could be her last, but being faced with an unknown threat leaves a sour taste in her mouth.
"I'll arrange for the transport, miss...?" The guild rep speaks between sniffles.
"Runa. Please, just call me Runa." The young huntress replies as she reassuringly pats the woman on the shoulder.
She stands with Shirley for a moment longer to make sure she'd be alright on her own before trotting back to her small cottage to double check her item stores. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was already loaded on bullets, but between the cook and the guild rep, she was her shaken down to her core.
Can I do this? Sure I've got a high rank license, but it's just a piece of paper. Monsters aren't going to be scared of a piece of paper. How am I going to kill something that three people couldn't? Fearful thoughts swirl through her mind as she sifts through the contents of her item box, absently plucking bundles of bullets that she had purposely left behind to make room for snow herbs. Normal, pierce, crag, pellet...the list seems endless to the anxious huntress, and every bullet feels like it weighs a ton in her shoulder bag.
Her pounding heart and trembling legs beg her to reconsider. A mission like this is probably better left to the Ace Hunters, she feels. The Ace Hunters are a collection of the guild's finest, dispatched to every corner of the globe for the quests that were just too far out of a high rank hunter's pay grade. But they were busy killing elder dragons in far off lands, according to the tidbits of news Pokke got from time to time. They wouldn't waste their time traveling all the way up here for a small village in the mountains. If she didn't do this, no one would...
As Runa returns to Shirley down the hill, she finds the guild rep hard at work packing boxes of rations and first aid medicines into a covered wagon. To have travel arrangements sorted out this fast is a rarity, and only served to underline the urgency of Runa's mission.
"Are you even allowed to put things in the wagon? I thought you were only supposed to hand out the quests!" Runa jokingly calls out with a small smile, watching the fluorescent colored woman dart back and forth with frosty boxes in her arms.
"I'm not," Her simple words hang in the air as she passes the huntress by, setting a final crate labeled as 'Hot Drinks' inside of the wagon before brushing her hands off with a satisfied sigh. "I'm also not supposed to be accompanying you to the hunting grounds either, and yet here we are."
"Hold on, you're steering the wagon?" The huntress asks incredulously. "Have you ever led Popo before? Or...anything? Anything at all? Have you even touched a wild animal?"
"Word's spread about the beast on the ridge, Runa." Shirley replied, hoisting herself into the driver's seat with a considerable amount of effort. She takes the reins into her hands, thumbs brushing back and forth against the rough leather strips that held the Popos in line. "No one wants to set foot up there. So I...I have to do it myself. If you're dedicated to this, then so am I."
So she's only escorting me up there. I'm still gonna be alone on the ridge. Should've seen that coming... Exhaling her disappointment through her nostrils, Runa climbs up next to the emboldened guild rep, ignoring the pit feeling in her stomach.
The two women exchange uneasy glances in silence; the fearful tension shared between them was palpable. But there's no turning back for either one of them now. Shirley cracks the reins and destroys the silence, the Popos groaning to life and beginning the slow ascent to the Arctic Ridge base camp.
They were heading right into the belly of the beast, and neither one couldn't even say what they were about to be digested by.