The Scent of Prey - RPG

The balmy winds due to the warm climes of Khan billowed through the air. Strands of Lea Drago’s silverspun hair escaped the braid falling down her back, whipping around her face as she spurred her mare on.

Dust rose in a plume around her as she cut through the dusty and arid geographical region of Khan, the desert the last place she wanted to be at the moment. The animal whinnied slightly as Lea spurred her on, her destination the encampment where Ambrosius and his men had settled for the evening.

A nomadic people by nature, the Khanasian forces were very rarely stationary, and this was one of those occasions where they were constantly on the move. But there was something else that was on the move, something that was cutting through their men and terrorizing their citizens. Something that couldn’t be simply dispatched by her lonesome, however much that grated on her nerves.

One of the sentries on perimeter duty noted the impending arrival of the lauded Lea Drago and sounded off, relaying the message down the line, the information no doubt making its way to the centralized location of Haffajee’s tent in the midst of the group of them.

One of the soldiers came forward as she gracefully dismounted, taking the reins of the horse and whispering softly to the majestic white animal. Like all those of Khan, he held horses in high esteem, and due to the ownership of this particular creature, she would be in the best of hands.

Grains of sand shifted around the soles of her black boots, the sun beaming down and warming the lightly tanned skin of the formidable warrior as she strode through their men as if she owned the world. Shoulders straight, and head held high. Direct eye contact was made with numerous soldiers, all whom gave her a respectful inclined nod.

Soft murmurs followed, as it was the first time many of them had seen the much spoken about Lea Drago in person. The woman chosen to take her father’s place, younger than any before. What was said about her never escaped her, but the respect that was paid towards her more than made up the difference.

The flap of Ambrosius’s tent was moved aside by one of the guards, allowing her unfettered entrance. The low conversational murmur being exchanged by the high level officers in the enclosed area died out.

In the center of the spacious tented area was a scarred wooden table, laid out upon it maps and other tokens. Standing behind it was none other than Ambrosius himself, a man who she had not laid eyes on since their last joined battle, a defeat that had struck them both sorely, one that they had not been prepared for.

But there was always another battle, and there was something else in the air, a new fight awaiting the two legends. “Clear the room, please.”

It was all that needed to be said, and all of those aside from Ambrosius cleared out as Lea approached the table. Laying her palms flat on it, she studiously took in the map and the positioning of the tokens on it, before glancing up in Ambrosius’s direction, a captivatingly mischievous look on her face.

Tucking an errant strand of platinum silver hair off of her face and back into the braid, Lea pulled a slip of paper from her black leather belt and laid it before him on the table. It was the sprawlingly scribbled requests for help from a village.

“Fourth village in a fortnight that’s been aggressively attacked by a creature. All accounts point towards it being a Griffin. They’re saying the size of several horses put together, or a small dragon. All of the defining physical traits. Seventeen dead, and it’s beginning to hunt children. There hasn’t been a sighting in eleven years, so this is relatively unprecedented. Care to join me on a hunt?”

Straightening her posture, Lea sauntered over towards the side of the tent, knowing that the tempting offer of a hunt would be as much to take his mind off of their recent defeat as it was for her. Approaching a sidetable, she poured herself a small glass of water and took a languid sip, awaiting Ambrosius’s response.

Mere seconds following her ingress, Lea asserted her dominance and authority over the Great East Tiger's subordinates by commanding them, compelling them with her inherent ability to draw respect to depart. Quietly seated at the table's commencing edge, where the undisputed leader imposes his will over his soldiers, Ambrosius cast an almost approving smile in the Dragon of War's direction, as if to commend her for her ability to control a horde of strong-willed warriors with a cultural penchant for demeaning the fairer sex. The expression on her face carried notes of personable impishness, a cheekiness as if to indicate that whatever had motivated her to approach the Hadera Tiger would lift their spirits in a period marked by a grand military failure, his first defeat as a commander.

And so she began, speaking of legends and fables pertaining to the recent attacks suffered by various villages in the gargantuan Khan Region of Skellbrieg. It was under their rule, and in order to prevent a rebellion, to convince their people that they were well-equipped to protect them and take care of the situation, the source behind the attacks would have to be purged from the lands. But a Griffin? Skellbrieg was a continent populated by mythical creatures. Trolls, dragons, elemental spirits, the undead, vampires, rarely was there a being, a creature that one could not encounter in these uncharted terrains. Unfortunately, there had been no credible witness accounts of Griffins in eleven years. They were by the masses, believed to be extinct. Addressing Lea's claims of a Griffin with a plausible degree of skepticism, Ambrosius lightly stroked his raven beard.

"A Griffin? Heh...", a muffled chuckle escaping his herculean frame, "They are believed to be extinct, General Lea", he reminded. "But", genially meeting her eyes, the warlord continued, his resolute, gruff countenance softening subtly, "You have never been one to come to me with nonsense. So I ask you this, do you believe it to be a Griffin?". Moving to answer her inquiry regarding his willingness to partake in a hunt, a touch of fiery enthusiasm crept into his visage, he had never hunted a Griffin. Alongside his men he had slain mauled giants and trials, even slain a dragon, but a Griffin? The prospect of adding yet another trophy excited him. "I will hunt with you, General Lea".

The accounts were undeniable, the descriptions of the carnage left in the wake of this creature unlike that seen in over a decade. Lea was sure that a griffin was exactly what they were dealing with, and settled in the knowledge that a good hunt could do both of them well.

It had been his first defeat, their first defeat, and it was something they would move forward from, learn and apply in the future to prevent defeat in this particular manner from disgracing them again. But here, and now, there was other work to be done.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, surveying him from beneath naturally thickly fringed eyelashes. The way he moved was not unlike the tiger he was referred to as, all dangerously coiled muscle and lethal grace, even in mundane moments such as this.

“Haffajee, it’s real, and I’m most honored to have you ride by my side.” Placing the glass of water down on the sidebar, she slipped past him and approached the table, where the maps and tokens were laid out, strategy clearly being devised. Leaning over the side of the table, she slid her finger across the map, tracing out a small area. Her focus was intent as she used spare markers to map out the vicinity in which the griffin attacks had been reported.

This was for him as much as it was for those affected by the attacks. At times, there was nothing better than something that required intense focus to shake the mind from worries, and that was her goal here, for both of them.

Straightening her back, Lea looked over to Ambrosius, that small smile creeping back onto her face. “It’s approximately a three hour ride from here, we could make it there before the sunsets if we leave soon and take our best horses.”

Eager anticipation of the impending adrenaline rush coursed through her as she leaned her hip against the table. “No better time than the present, right?”

There was an element of absolute certainty in her tone, as if she had come to her decision not through credible witness accounts, but as an actual witness of the Griffin sighting. Almost absentmindedly sidestepping her voiced contentment at the prospect of taking part in a joint endeavor with him, the Great East Tiger's fragmented concentration had left him pensive regarding the potential political instability that could emerge should they not find this Griffin, as well his recent military defeat, as if both events symbolically heralded the collapse of Khan. Quickly retaining his focus and mental temperance, Ambrosius's sharp, hazel eyes met Lea's, a benign smile finally acknowledging her statement regarding the honor of riding alongside him.

She would be the first woman to do so. In a brutal, militaristic society, the Khanasians' fighting force was primarily comprised of males, there's was a male dominated collective. Women were valued more for their intellect, often employed as political advisers to Khan Chiefs. But as military officials? As warriors? Any prospective female warrior was often the subject of ridicule, even scorn. Lea however, the Dragon of War was a living, breathing rejection of the traditional Khanasian opinion of femininity, she lived exempt from social convention, abiding only by her own personal code. And for this, the Hadera Tiger admired and respected her. A three to four hour ride was of no concern to the Haffajee. "Ready your horse", he instructed, rising from his seat.

"There is no greater feeling and honor than to ride under the open night sky, watched and blessed by Aethra and our ancestors", an edge of brightness and resolute enthusiasm touching his voice as he highlights his people's religious and spiritual beliefs. "Choose your weapons, General Lea", though he himself would require none. So often reliant on the god-slaying power of his fists and the sheer brutality and ferocity of his fighting style, Ambrosius rarely found himself in a position requiring the assistance of weaponry. "We ride now", he smiled, exiting the tent to prepare his onyx war horse for the coming peregrination.

With a graceful yet determined stride, Lea exited the tent and approached her treasured horse. The pure white mare had a hint of silver to her coat, complimentary to the ethereal tones of Lea's hair. The two had formed an unbreakable bond over the two years that they had been partners, and Titania no longer needed any direction from Lea, the connection between the two allowing for a seamless fluidity in battle and in travel.

Running a hand over the flank of the animal, slowly smoothing up the side and across her neck, Lea brought her other hand forward, a fresh red apple held in the palm of her hand. Titania exhaled, her nostrils flaring in an indication of excitement as she took the offered treat, ingesting it whole.

Lea patted her affectionately and then proceeded to saddle her prior to gathering the weapons she would be bringing with her on their venture. Accustomed to traveling light, there were no provisions other than water and dried food, should the excursion take longer than planned.

Renowned for her light and graceful fighting style integrating preternatural abilities, Lea brought minimal weapons with her, securing two curved blades on her belt and knowing that anything else could be handled via her own particular abilities.

Mounting the horse, Lea squeezed her knees lightly against the flanks, indicating that it was time for them to move out. Clad in supple black leather that conformed to her body, she wore a covering over her head in order to protect from the brunt of sand and the heavy beaming rays of the sun.

Momentary eye contact was made with Ambrosius as the two simultaneously spurred horses forward, taking off into the arid desert climate on the beginning of a hunt.

---

Just under three hours, and the sun was at its peak in the sky, the steady heat having less effect on the two tried and true warriors than it would on the common man. Used to sustained heat in the worst of conditions, the heady heat was more like a balmy breeze to them.

Titania whinnied softly as they approached one of the towns that had been erected at the edge of the region, bordering the desert and the sweeping grasslands. It was the sight of the most recent death, a young boy the age of seven claimed by the griffin while playfighting with his friends; boys playing at a war that they were not yet ready for.

Dismounting the horse in a flowing sweep of liquid grace, the Dragon of War secured her reins to a fencepost, awaiting Ambrosius to do the same. Removing the covering from her head, her trademark silver hair fell down around her shoulders and down her back, contained in a thick braid in order to allow her better freedom of movement without the distraction of disheveled hair.

Taking a moment to brush the travel dust from her person, Lea took stock of their location. Her general’s mind was never at ease, and she used her enhanced senses to reach out and create a visual and olfactory map of the area, rooting out escape routes, possible avenues of attack and vantage points as the deadly duo approached the hut that belonged to the mother of the fallen boy. They would begin with speaking to her, and from there follow the literal trail of blood as they began tracking down the creature that was wreaking havoc.

Replacing the usual auroral ferocity in his eyes was a character of temperance. Riding under the warming desert sun in the serene terrain cultivated an atmospheric serenity for the veteran warlord. It was a stark difference from the harsher climate of Khan's North. A region dominated by unrelenting snowstorms, blizzards, frozen wastelands, laborious topography, and the fabled tiger-dragons of the northern mountains, the Khan North was an inhospitable land. Few settlements, if any festoon the land. Having recently regressed from there following a succinct excursion with Orc Chief Rogash, baking in the desert heart proved a more favorable alternative. Conditioned and genetically constructed to thrive in the unrelenting heat, Ambrosius was at ease.

Silence characterized his desert peregrination in Lea's company. Not stemming from misinterpreted rudeness or a lack of conversational desire or nonexistent social incentive, but stemming from their mutual appreciation of the warm, dry climate. Their captivation with the open terrain, scarce with vegetation, it was as per Khanasian tradition, where all children are taught to ride, to learn how to dominate and master the most common topography of their encompassment. Soon however, the desert's edge was upon them, ending to give way to the emergence of lush greenery, the forested regions of Khan. The Hadera Tiger opted not to follow his general's hasty dismount. As a Haffajee, he prized among all else, his ability to ride his stallion, to assert his authority over it. For without the horse, the backbone of the Khan Army's potency as a military unit, to which they owed a majority of their military success, they would be a civilization of geographic irrelevance.

The sight of the child's corpse did little to shift his resolute facial expression. The Great East Tiger was not an unsympathetic man, he did not lack empathy, he simply exercised control over it, over his emotional faculties. It was only in the field of battle where he yields to their influence and unleashes himself. "Speak with the boy's mother. I will remain here, in case whatever took that child's life comes to take hers". With patience unexpected from a warrior of his reputed brutality, Ambrosius waited for his general's emergence, his sharp, perceptive eyes surveying his floral encompassment, his attention constantly returning to the trail of dried blood across the verdant grass. Casting his gaze towards the hut's shadowed entrance, Ambrosius waited with an expectant edge in his eyes for the silver-haired Lea's emergence.

Lea nodded in his direction, affirming that she would be the one to speak with the bereft mother as Ambrosius kept watch. There was no other person in the world who she would rather have at her side, or guarding her back. “This should be quick.”

There was no harder part of her job than facing the fallout of war. Lea stood side by side with the best and fought better than the majority of them, but it was what happened at home that struck her hardest. Grieving widows, childless parents, it was the ugly side of the life that she lived, and the greatest tragedy of all was watching a parent outlive their child. But this, this was not war. This was not an expected outcome for any child, making the sudden loss all the more unbearable.

She stepped in and was immediately assailed by the scent of hearty food cooking, the immediate assumption that Talinsia, the mother of the deceased child. As soon as Lea stepped into the small hut, the petite woman appeared.

Her appearance was bedraggled, to put it kindly. Her clothes hung off her frame, which, despite the smell of the hearty meal, was unnaturally lean. She hadn’t been able to stomach a full meal since the passing of her son. Noting who Lea was, she immediately bowed deeply in a sign of respect, only to be pulled out of it.

Lea gently gripped Tally’s shoulders, pulling her up out of the bow. Silent tears fell down her cheeks, and Lea intuitively stepped forward, bringing her close in a warm hug. It was an outwardly emotional display that was at odds with Lea’s naturally closed-down demeanor. She had learned the lesson long ago that to show displays of strong emotion outwardly would do nothing than give her enemies, and those who would discredit her, ample material. Her emotions were displayed coldly, on the field of war, and in times of sharp and calculated anger. Never like this, never like love.

Stroking her hair in an instinctively soothing manner, Lea gently lead her over to the spartan table set near the kitchen. Sitting across from one another, Tally pulled herself together, resigning herself to grim determination. Lea couldn’t have had more respect for it.

“Talinsia, I’m so sorry, but I need you to tell me everything that you remember about that day.” Her voice was intentionally soft, not commanding the respect and awe of masses, but connecting, woman to woman, on an emotional level.

It was a painfully heartfelt fifteen minutes as Tally struggled through her accounts of the day, giving Lea all the information that she could need. She may have been a brokenhearted mother, her husband off at war and her eldest son dead, but she was still a soldiers wife, with apt attention to details and a head for staying calm under pressure.

She emerged from the hut a half hour later, almost visibly weary. There was a purpose to her stride as her eyes met Ambrosius’s, but there was also an exhaustion about her, one that tended to shine through after bouts of opening herself up to the emotions of others.

“It came in from the west, circled overhead as he was playing with his siblings.” She recited the words almost mechanically, but there was an undeniable underlying fervor of precise anger. “Swooped down and targeted his three-year-old sister. He shoved her down to the ground, and covered her with his own body. The griffin sunk its talons into him, latching on, and took off. Carried him away, heading off towards the east. There’s a small slightly hilly region about twenty miles off in that direction, the overall conclusion is that its roosting there.”

Lea looked down at the ground and shook her head lightly, as if to shake away the resonating emotions, a physical solution to an unfortunately mental problem. Seemingly snapping out of it, she steeled herself, once again adapting the mannerisms of the Dragon of War, wiping away the last vestiges of emotional vulnerability.

Fluidly mounting Titania, Lea shot Ambrosius a silent look, her oddly hued eyes broadcasting the innate and tactically fueled need to clear their world of this deadly threat.

Quietly mounted atop his herculean war horse, Ambrosius found entertainment in an otherwise tedious affair by mentally formulating various hypothetical encounters with the Griffin. Rethinking and revising the most appropriate combat approach, all the while, the focus from his eyes never wavered as they remained irreversibly transfixed on the trail of dried, dark blood across the grass. Curiously, though he recognized the sheer brutality and violence brought forth by the Griffin's supposed attacks on the neighboring villages and settlements, the Haffajee harbored no true ill-will towards the beast. There was no indignation that motivated some sort of fiery desire to put the creature down.

And though he acknowledged the gravity and seriousness of the situation, the political consequences that Khan will suffer should they fail to hunt and kill the beast, he hosted no emotional incentive for the endeavor. The Griffin was an animal, a creature. It's attacks were not motivated by malice or sadistic intent. It stemmed perhaps from instinct. Long thought to be extinct, it's devouring of defenseless villagers implied perhaps that it's diet experienced some sort of adaptive shift, necessary for it's survival. Needless to say, Ambrosius did not share his general's ire. He, in a hypothetical sense, understood the Griffin's actions, or the reasons behind them. And strangely, in a way, he lamented having to kill the creature for it.

Lea's voice however, was quick to attract his attention as she emerged, his eyes finally breaking contact with the trail of blood. "The woman's story touched you", he remarked, "I know you well, General Lea. These unfortunate circumstances, they have angered you". Pressuring his horse to begin it's majestic gallop towards the intended hilly region in the west, Ambrosius continued, gesturing for the platinum-haired military commander to follow. "I hope that you can channel that anger productively when we find the beast. I cannot have you, in battle, being distracted, having your concentration and focus broken by it. Can you promise your Haffajee that you will be able to think clearly?", he inquired, "That you will not die?".

"Because the Khan Army cannot suffer two tragedies. Our soldiers will never admit it to you, but they begrudgingly acknowledge your talent as a tactician and strategist... if you die, this Hydra will lose a head that it cannot re-grow". And though he would not confess it, and his resolute, firm voice would not express it, he harbored concern for her safety beyond merely valuing her as a military asset.

The people of Khan came before everything. That was a lesson that Lea had learned early in life, driven into her over and over by her father. Solidified when he had given his life for them on the battlefield, in a situation that had never sat quite right with his daughter. They would have to come first today, as always.

“I am angry, yes.” Angry and heartbroken. Heartbroken that she would be forced to hunt and kill this creature. Angry that the cost of keeping her people safe was this. Lea enjoyed a good hunt, and there was nothing that she or Ambrosius needed more right now than a win in some form, but the longer she was out in the wilds, the longer it sat poorly with her.

There was an inner nature that Lea had, the nature of the shapeshifting that the Drago line had been blessed with, a nature that had reared its abilities after generations of laying dormant, the stories of old drifting off into legend. It was a nature that allowed her empathy with the creature they were setting out to hunt, but one that was at cold opposites with the calculating and tactical nature of her mind.

He knew her perhaps too well. It was something that unsettled her slightly. Lea was used to being in control of perception, and often encountered false perceptions of herself, both from her men and those she fought. It was something she had become accustomed to. What she was not accustomed to however, was somebody other than Sergius seeing her right down to the core, deciphering what she was feeling, what she was thinking.

She remained silent as he spoke, their two horses galloping tandem, keeping perfect pace with each other as their riders partook in a serious conversation. Lea kept her eyes focused forward, only taking a singular moment to peek out of her periphery and focus on the majestic grace that was Ambrosius as he effortlessly seated his horse.

His words moved her, although she refused to show it aside from the slightest furrowing of her brows. Nobody aside from her closest companions within the army had ever voiced anything remotely resembling the praise that he had just bestowed upon her. The highest of praise, coming from none other than the Haffajee himself. She was honorbound to promise him, but it was clear that this was a request, not a demand, and one not entirely of an honor-bound nature.

“You know me perhaps too well.” The corners of her lush mouth turned up in a slight smile as her eyes shone vibrantly. Titania whinnied lightly, and Lea ran a hand across her neck out of instinct, gently glancing along the mane. “I’m afraid that I’ve mastered quelling and channeling emotions into productive outlets.” It was instinct at this point, ingrained in her since she was a child. Harness the anger, the sadness, the happiness. Don’t allow it to show, for your enemies will do anything that they can to take you down pegs, to discredit you, even moreso as a female. Give them no inch with which to gain a mile.

“Haffajee, I promise that I shall make it through this hunt alive and well,” she swore. There was a slight laughing cadence to her voice, as she spoke. “Our army is very strong, our soldiers very stoic. I never expected to have such praise bestowed upon me, that was never why I did this. You honor me with your words, I’m very grateful.” Pride swelled in her chest, pride and something else that she refused to give name to at this point in time.

The Dragon of War paused for a moment, weighing her next words carefully, casting a mysterious look in his direction. “You are very important, as well. I would request a similar promise from my Haffajee. No needless risks.” They would be bereft without him, lost. He had taken injuries that would end the life of one lesser than him and recovered as if it were nothing, but this was something that could not be calculated, could not be predicted. It was a creature of myth, one long thought to have passed from this world. Lea was still trying to work out what it meant that it had not, what that could hold in store for her future, for Khans. Were they re-entering another age of old?

She spurred Titania forward, the horse maintaining an even gallop across the terrain, their intended goal approaching quicker and quicker. Lea was calling upon all knowledge she had of the mythical creature in order to aid them, but also utilizing her own animal nature to track it.

They had approached the hilly region, littered with valleys, hills and caves, all the prime locations of a Griffin. It would have chosen either a cave of a perch, depending on its age and whether or not there were any young around, something that Lea had all but discounted. If there were more than one, it would spell trouble, but also open the door to possibilities that she had not pondered since she was a child.

Titania’s gums pulled back as she exhaled in rapid succession through her nostrils, the reaction of an untrained horse to danger. Coming from such a tried and true companion, Lea knew full well that she was sensing the danger in the air, the mythical creature that resided somewhere near their location.

Fluidly dismounting as Titania came to a slow walking stop, Lea came forward, brushing her hand along the long nose of the creature prior to whispering something to the horse in words of a forgotten language.

Gazing over the back of her horse in the direction of Titania, Lea met Ambrosius’s eyes momentarily. “Do you wish to continue on foot?” The horses could trek over any of the terrain on display here, but there was no telling what their reaction would be to the sighting of a griffin. They were the two best horses in the army, appropriate for their riders, but even the most steeled and well-trained horse could still exhibit a hearty fear response when face to face with a creature such as a griffin. And the hunt before them was still just beginning.