Thread: The Legend of Wyrmrock (Major Mario x Driven to drift)

Within the village square of Raspbrook, quite a crowd had gathered to listen to the village chief's request. Much of the people were locals, whispering and chattering amongst themselves as they looked to one another for a volunteer. It had not been the first time the plea had been made and most had little hope that it would be the last. Too many had failed or cowered back and away from the task without bothering to chance it. Why should they? Dragons were creatures of legend the average hunter had not and would never face something as magnificently treacherous as the great scaled beasts. They certainly could not be blamed for their hesitance. Despite what scholars had documented of them, the records of dragons in battle were not nearly enough to tip the scales of risk and reward in favor of the latter. Why would a well-fed hunter stick out his neck when far-simpler work could be found elsewhere? This fine year, however, there was an intrigued party. On the fringe of the square, a head of fiery hair had stopped to listen to the announcement. The apple in her right hand lifted to her lips as she absently bit into the sweet, juicy fruit, attention held rapt by the speaker. Her head tilted in intrigue as she stood, the sunlight glinting faintly off of the well-fitted chest plate as green eyes scanned the crowd for any signs of interest in the job. A dragon? she mused to herself with another bite out of the apple. It had been some time since she'd found any sort of well-paying work. One-too many times she had just missed the call to arms or had a job swiped bt some smooth-talking man who insisted he could do much better. The next bite of the apple was a bit more aggressive with the thought. She'd had enough of that. Hm, what do you think, Zane? she spoke aloud softly. You think we can handle a big, nasty dragon? In answer to her question, the velvet lips of the black stallion at her side flipped outward over her shoulder in a reach towards the apple still held in front of her face. A quiet nicker accented his play towards the half-eaten fruit and the hunter rolled her eyes and used her free hand to pat the horse's cheek. Oh, fine, fine, she huffed, taking one final bite from the apple before offering it up to the probing muzzle that accepted the treat with a sloppy few crunches. She wiped her hands on her form-fitted brown trousers before retaking her grasp on the reins and tossing the end of her long, wavy red ponytail over her shoulder. I suppose we'll do it, then, she nodded to her companion before leading the temporarily contented stallion forward into the crowd. She walked with purpose, brown boots picking her path as the people she politely excused themselves around seemed to realize her intent and parted for horse and dismounted rider. With head held high and a confident smile upon full pink lips, she halted only at the foot of the square the village chief stood upon. Her free hand dropped to rest comfortably on the hilt of the sword on her hip. It appears today is your lucky day, sir. My name is Roslyn Weiss, and I believe I am the hunter that will be up to the task of solving your dragon problem. -- If she was entirely honest with herself, Roslyn was a fair bit surprised at how quickly they had accepted her assistance. After overcoming the initial surprise, the mustachioed chief had only asked her a bare few questions before whisking her off to point out the dragon's home with the additional help of a map he held within his office quarters. Tavish, as he had introduced himself, had even ensured she have access to any supplies she might need before setting off. And so she'd had her blades sharpened, resupplied her quiver of arrows, fed, watered and groomed Zane and taken the night to rest them both. She wasn't surprised to find the warhorse impatient to get on with the hunt the following morning. He was accustomed to frequent travel and action. The forest surrounding Raspbrook made for an easy-enough ride for the pair. They had started early, and she made sure to pick their paths carefully and dismount to lead the horse on foot where she thought necessary. The map she'd been given was marked with the dragon's cave due north of the village and forest, and so that was where she had pointed them. She found herself fairly calm for most of the ride, alert to the chattering of birds and rustle of plants and bushes surrounding them but otherwise no more disturbed than if she were hunting a troll just before sunrise. The things were typically as stupid as they were large, and luring one into the early morning sun was an excellent way of incapacitating them for an easy bounty. While she was not foolish enough to believe that killing a dragon would be so easy, she found herself in that comfortable peace of mind and acceptance that what would happen, would happen. And she expected to, at the very least, survive. It wasn't until they came upon downed trees and a smattering of bones that Roslyn found that anxious tension settling in her belly. Her posture on the horse straightened while her grip on the reins tightened just a fraction. Beneath her, Zane's head tossed and his ears flickered. The rider shushed him gently and drew her sword. Easy, Zane... she soothed gently, just in time for the trees to give way to the maw of a cave. Her knees tightened around the stallion's girth, his hooves coming to a halt. The hunter's eyes narrowed, grip on rein and hilt tight and prepared for any move that might be necessary. She held them both still, all senses trained on any sign that the dragon would be there to strike and the horse beneath her ever-ready to move in an instant. They had both been trained well, and if she had confidence in anything, it was that, alone.