The cold agreed with Genthus in a way he wouldn't have predicted it would. He'd experience chills in the Free Marches, certainly, but the Korcari Wilds were proving to be a different animal altogether; the air never stopped nipping, the nights were just as likely to frost as not, and even on sunny days, one could find slush and ice amongst the swamps and bogs. It was dismal land, no doubt about it, but despite that and their many stops to rest the horses and unlodge the wagon from mud, he felt like he could travel through its treacherous terrain for a century.
Then again, the thought of getting to fight a wyvern might have been doing most of the heavy lifting. At least, it had been ever since their ship had come in to Gwaren on Ferelden's southern coast and they'd confirmed the job posted all the way to the Free Marches; the House of Merah wanted a wyvern for its adornments. Genthus could only guess as to why they had found so few people locally willing that they'd needed to send posters across the sea. Were Fereldans simply that unwilling to take such a risk? Or had everyone else that had been willing simply never returned?
He wasn't sure which option thrilled him more.
"Y'know, I have to say, I've never minded nobles much. But these Gwarenites? Them, I like." Looking around from his reclined position in the back of the wagon toward the rest of the House of Salamander, a smile on his face as he continued to glide a whetstone over the edge of his axe, the blade already plenty sharp, the entire exercise wistful and absent-minded.
"To not only tell us where the beast is to be found, but to pay us to hunt it? Ha! I wish I'd visited Ferelden sooner." Leaning forward, he'd finally set the stone back down in his pack and test the edge of the axe against a finger, tapping gently, rubbing the nearly-scored digit against his thumb in approval afterwards. Setting the blade carefully down to his side, he'd recline, hands behind his head, horns settling against the wood behind them.
"Do you think they'll be mad if we keep the claws?"
She hadn't thought she'd come back to Ferelden. Granted, she'd never been to this part of Ferelden. This boggy terrain was nothing like the wide, open grasslands of The Bannorn. Nor was it much like the forests of the Free Marches. It seemed that every step took her somewhere new these days.
Rabbit didn't much care for the swampy Korcari Wilds, it seemed. She was on foot as much as in the saddle as they made their way toward the wyvern so desperately wanted by their employer. Rabbit grumbled and whined as his steps kept finding uneven, sinking earth. That the wagon carrying Genthus was doing so well right now was a marvel, she thought.
"Strange that they couldn't handle it themselves." she grumbled, more to herself than in response, but still loud enough to hear. Wasn't that the point of a trophy? That YOU earned it? Then again, maybe the true point of the trophy was to show off their wealth.
Behold! I can afford to pay a bunch of idiots to risk their lives in some backwater swamp to bring me the carcass of a great, dangerous beast!
Luckily, it seemed they were finally coming through the other side of the swamp. The ground was rising, becoming slightly rocky. Sludge filled bogs still plagued the low dips and hollows, but there was more opportunity to navigate between the most treacherous looking parts. Seeing a goo tree, Ceren left Rabbit to continue walking alongside the wagon. With a step up from his stirrup, to the wall of the wagon, and then a quick hop up, she was in the branches and climbing.
Up near where the branches would no longer support her weight, Ceren spied around. This intersection of the Korcari Wilds, Brecilian Passage, and rocky coastline made for an almost comical mismatch of vegetation and topography. A wind pushed the tree and Ceren swayed with it. A moment later she heard Andor's call as he circled overhead then landed on a neighboring branch.
Much easier to navigate with these updrafts. A wyvern, catching the right wind, could drop into any of the surrounding clearings or hollows, then climb up and glide right back out again, avoiding getting mired in the mud altogether. As she looked westward, she saw where the ground rose even more, rocky outcroppings looking over the surrounding area.
"If I were a wyvern," she said petting Andor's back, "that's where I'd be."
It was still a while off. They might be able to climb to it by nightfall, but she was unsure if that was wise. With a gesture as she began to climb back down, she commanded Andor down to the wagon. She didn't think a single eagle would be enough to tempt their quarry out, but there was no need to risk it. Better to catch the creature groggy with sleep than roused and ready to hunt.
"Further west, there's an area that could be a den." she said, jog-hopping over the driest looking patches of ground as she caught up to the wagon. "We should be careful now. If they're nocturnal hunters, we'll be at a disadvantage if we don't set up somewhere."
Hunting animals and fighting men were drastically different. Cunning replaced with instinct, claws and talons replacing steel. He had been arguing if there was truly valor in killing beasts. Victor said yes, Caro thought not. Still with or without valor, it was a task needing doing. A perfect world would let beasts and man keep separate space, but if you drag a couple farmers into the mountains someone will put up the money to make that go away. Can't have have the farmers put their tools up and stay inside, the world might end if they did that. Caro watched the swamp slowly turn into stone under his feet. His boots thanked him, but his heart caught in his chest a moment. Could be any moment in theory.
“Ceren, Find me a goat up here.” He said seemingly out of nowhere. “I've seen the tracks so shouldn't take too long.” He kept walking forward, keeping his voice level but not loud. “Genthus, go ahead and scout, I need to find a decent crevasse wide enough to camp in.” They would have to get ready before they went too far. Too many moving pieces to not start right now. “Esme, I need you see if you can make something that will soften stone a bit, I need to plant some stakes in a wall.” To his end, he drew a heavy wood axe from his cart and stepped back toward the swamp. “Let's meet back up here in a couple hours.” He made a straight arm gesture at the sun, then let the point drop down the western sky two ticks.
Back toward the swamp was all the springy logs he could need. All he needed to do was find a good narrow ravine, lure in the beast and tangle the flight in with stakes. The approach from both ends and try not to get stung. If it came in from one end, half goes around the top and flanks, if it came from the top hopefully it hits a stake and gets flanked on the spot. The echo of the goat should bring in just about any hungry predator in theory. If it didn't come, well at least they had goat to eat.
Despite being a Ferelden native, Esme had never been this far south. (Never been much of anywhere at all, if she were being honest.) Wrapped in her cloak, she drove the wagon over the marshy roads, wondering about the job. The pay had to be good to bring them here – though not so good as to cut in their friends, the Red Dogs.
“Yeah, I do think they’d be mad, actually.” Presumably they wanted the whole carcass. Otherwise this endeavor was even more wasteful than it seemed. Why couldn’t they just leave the wyverns alone? If people wandered into wyvern territory it was really their own fault if they got eaten. A thousand-pound lizard was not a subtle creature.
Ceren called a halt and Byrne handed out orders.
“Soften stone just a bit? Can’t you do that better with your magic?” She’d seen him heave up a picnic table from the earth, among other things— but whatever. Fine. It was an interesting problem. Esme retreated into the wagon and got to work. She had three ideas.
First, something that wasn’t what Caro asked for at all but seemed most likely to serve his purpose – a large batch of the substance she used for her tangle bolts. It expanded on contact with air and cured hard as cement. In theory, it could anchor stakes or pitons. Second, an acid that would turn even solid stone soft and spongy if left to set over the course of a few minutes. Third, several dual flasks that contained elemental essences and a catalyst. When splattered over a surface, the contrasting hot and cold would be enough to crack stone through sheer thermal shock. Scales too, in theory.
Soon after that, it was time to meet back up. Esme sat with her creations, unsure if they’d be of immediate use.
"Bahhhh..." Waving a hand in dismissal, Genthus bit back a retort that they could try and take it from him if they wished. That would cause trouble, and... oh, what was it that Caro had said on the boat... "if you make trouble, you had better finish it?" Er, maybe that had been Magnus so long ago. Or maybe he'd imagined it...
... bahhhhhhh. Little did it matter, but he'd digress. A dragon claw would be a better prize anyway.
Caro's instructions would be heeded with an affirmative grunt and a crack of the reigns on the wagon's horse, Genthus driving it onward as the party split. Driving it further up shaky shale terrain, he would grunt as it halted suddenly, horse whineying, contents shaking. Peering around the wagon, he'd spot the trouble; one of the wheels stuck in a divet between two stones, the ground beneath it getting craggier with every bit of ascending altitude. Hopping off, it would be a few moment's work to find the right position, then with a loud yell at the horse and two massive hands to lift the wagon's weight off the wheel, it would be freed, its lesson taken to heart:
Whatever crevasse they camped in needed to be relatively low, or the wagon would never reach it.
Patting the horse, Genthus would work it forward much more slowly from the ground, scanning the crags as they took a circuitous route. It would take a few detours, burning plenty of time but little distance, before he'd spot a viable crevasse, water running off the edges of the rocks and scattering on the stones below, just wide enough to where that idle run-off left dry space in the middle, just narrow enough to where something the size of a cart itself couldn't swoop down at them and spread its wings to fly back up. Negotiating the cart thence, Genthus would take stock of it from the opening; ragged walls, sheer faces 20 feet up on either side, and a depth of maybe 100 feet, narrowing as it went, ending in a dark joint.
Picking up a melon-sized stone, he would chuck it into the darkness, hollering again, more aggressively this time. When the stone crashed against more stones and nothing so fearsome as a few rats came scurrying out, he would roll his shoulders, satisfied that it would be a safe campsite indeed.
And so he would depart the campsite to the wagon being turned out, the horse hitched to the side with a bit of water, a fire pit dug out in the gravel below, scavenged and sodden wood split fine already piled in the pit and left to dry, a pot atop with water from the cliffsides beginning ready to steam, and earthenware with cheap coffee peaking out of crates from the wagons distributed in a make-shift circle as seats. Greataxe slung across his shoulder, armor being tied knot by knot, he would return to their rendevous point finishing a piece of jerky, pointing over his shoulder with it before shoving the final piece in his mouth, speaking between the chews. "Home for the night is a good 30 minutes yonder, in a crevasse, as expected." Wiping his mouth, he would peer over at Esme's concoctions, humming with approval.
Bait was the right idea. Ceren nodded her head at Caro and turned to the wagon. Esme was soon there was well, climbing in. Ceren gave her a smile, recognizing the look on her friend's face. She was puzzling out a solution to the problem Caro had given her.
"Back in a flash." she said, shouldering a coil of rope and hopping back down.
Andor was preening himself, perched on Rabbit's saddle. Ceren pulled a sugar cube from a pouch on her belt and fed it to the horse. When Andor cocked his head to gaze at her with one of his large eyes, she shook her head at him. He'd not want the sugar anyway. When Rabbit finished, she gave him a few firm pats on his neck and encouraged him toward the wagon while holding her other arm out. The eagle stepped sideways along the saddle before hopping off and landing on her arm. She let the limb lower with his weight until his head was level with her own, then allowed him to fuss at her own short hair for a moment with his beak.
"Enough of that. I had a bath just a few days ago, didn't I?" she grumbled, leaning her head away from him. "You heard the boss. Go find us some goats."
She gave him a boost to his lift off by pushing her arm upward against his weight and Andor let out a cry as he pushed skyward. Caro was right, it wouldn't take long, but she was still wary of Andor flying too much right now. Better to get the job done as fast as possible. So she set off as well, disappearing quickly into the brush.
Within minutes, she'd found a trail and began to follow. Above her, she could feel Andor's gaze as he spied through the canopy. She heard his cry a few minutes later, ahead and a bit south. Picking up her pace, she was rewarded by the bleating of goats. She gave a sharp whistle and Andor's shadow settled onto a branch far overhead. Slowing, Ceren took the coil of rope in hand, tying a lasso as she stepped silently over rocks and through brush.
Just ahead of her, the ground dipped down slightly toward what appeared to be a trickle of a stream. By it, a billy and two nannies were idling, two kids hopping around them. Ceren crouched, studying them for a few minutes before deciding on her move. One goat would maybe do. But a few? That just might be irresistible.
Tying the back end of her rope to a sturdy, but small tree, Ceren took the lasso end in hand. She moved in, feet making no sound at all as she swung the lasso to gain momentum. At just the right moment, she let it loose and it landed around the billy's neck. He startled and made to bolt, but the lasso tightened and his legs flew out from under him when his slack ran out.
The other goats were running and bleating now, confused and scared as their protector flailed. Ceren sprinted and jumped onto one of the nannies, grabbing it by its small horns and wrestling it to the ground. They splashed into the stream, the nanny kicking and wild eyed as Ceren got her arm around its neck. Not far away, Andor had downed one of the kids, but was shrieking as he was menaced by the other nanny. She pulled the smaller bit of rope she sometimes used to hobble Rabbit and deftly wrapped the nanny's legs, leaving her unable to run. She then jumped up and chased down the other nanny, allowing Andor to stand guard over the exhausted kid. Its fellow bleated, too terrified to even run.
When Ceren returned to the group, she was wet, muddy, and sporting several bruises and a cut on her left cheekbone. With her, were five goats in various stages of anger and exhaustion.
"Genthus!" she called out as the wagon came into sight. "I think this one's horns rival yours!"
Everyone took to their tasks admirably even if they questioned the use of their time. The truth was Caro could do some of these tasks himself, but he was saving his stamina for the proper moment. A lighter alchemical touch on the cliff edge would probably be safer overall. A tracker for a beast and a lightly armoured scout for the scouting. All without a drop of mana spent. Lovely start over all. When Ceren brought back the animal and compared horns with Genthus and made Caro take a speculative glance at the goat's undercarriage for a moment before dismissing the idea. To the plan at hand.
“When we are ready Ceren and Genthus will take the goat to about halfway through the cleft and stake him to something sturdy. He should be loud enough in that echo chamber to draw whatever predator thinks it can get down the cliffs easily.” Caro drew a knife from his belt and began sawing savagely at a dark brown sausage from his pack. “I'll stay at this end with Esme. We get a good solid swooping in, I'll cause a landslide that should knock the wyvren into the stakes and hopefully ground it. Then Genthus and I go in on either side and hopefully Ceren and Esme can shoot around us.” He brought the uneven sausage circle to his mouth and smiled, “If the goat lives you guys can name it.” he smiled as he ate.
For his own efforts he had spent the last hour or two collecting a thick and dewy moss scraped from underneath damp rocks. Mixed with a bit of dried offal a touch of accelerant it made a just an unholy stink. The stink however smelled mostly like goat and bit like wyvren. The final touch on the bait cake. He gathered what he had to a tall enough rock at the mouth of the cleft and molded a bowl out of the top with his handy alchemical solution. Within the bowl he put his awful concoction into the basin and with a flick of the wrist lit the damp awful offal. Thick acrid smoke rose into the sky, luckily above their camp enough that it wouldn't waft too far down. If so, it was an occupational hazard I suppose. “Alright” he announced, looking down at his nearly terminally soiled hands, “Let's eat something while we wait.”
The wagon rattled her around terribly, but thankfully Esme was used to working in such conditions. She walked back to the others with Genthus, pack on her shoulders.
“I didn’t sign on to torture goats, big guy.” Really, none of these substances should be ingested by anyone or anything. She didn’t want to consider the effects – and shot the qunari a sour look for forcing her to do so. Dreadful.
She passed over her creations to Byrne and listened to his plan. It seemed sound enough. Kill the big, dangerous animal in a way that put all of them in as little danger as possible. Yet, it seemed an awful way to die. Trapped, poked full of holes. Genthus and Caro were sure to get a face full of poison spit as they hacked at the poor creature – and they’d pretty much deserve it, too.
Esme set a little apart from the others, picking at her food. The stink of the trap was a real appetite killer.
“What if we found a way to lure it away from their lands, somehow? Killing an animal just for being itself doesn't sit right with me.” She looked to Ceren for support.
Head snapping toward Ceren as she approached, her taunt would make Genthus’s ears perk lightly in offense, a proud brow raising in doubt. As she brought the goat in question near, he’d eye it suspiciously, leaning in. For a moment, the exhausted creature would just stare at him in fright. Then it would end with a pathetic bleat, Genthus leaning back and shaking his head, making sure to make a show of his own horns. ”Fat chance…”
As they sat to eat, Genthus would regret not grabbing more jerky, his snack already enjoyed. He’d settle for his wineskin as Caro laid bare a solid plan; bait, let swoop, barrage with earthworks, impale, and batter to death. Genthus was almost tempted to complain that it didn’t sound sporting, but then again, he thought, this was a wyvern; if it couldn’t surprise them despite all that, why did it have a reputation at all?
At Esme’s suggestion, he’d pause, wineskin still in hand, and point with a finger at her. ”If we want to string it along elsewhere, we could fling the goat on me.” Motioning over his shoulder at his back with a thumb, he’d finish his swig of booze before wiping his mouth with the wineskin itself. ”Tie it to my back, I’ll keep us both alive and moving.” The trap would be the better way to kill the wyvern, but the chase would be the better way to fight the wyvern. With the handicap of the goat, it was not only a better story to tell, but a greater test of prowess; how many people could say they’d bested a beast like the Fereldan wyverns handicapped with a bleating knapsack?
Grinning a little at the thought, Genthus would huff a chuckle. ”Although if we lure it away, we will need a way to make it lose interest. Else we’ll need to batter it enough to make it run, and then we risk it dying slowly in its den.”
Ceren gave the Qunari a playful punch to his shoulder, then tied the goats up near the wagon. She gave them enough slack that they could graze at the clumps of grass nearby and returned to the group. She picked here and there at what food was available. The stink of Caro's concoction only a minor deterrent compared to the grumbles in her stomach. She nodded along to the plan, understanding her part in it well enough. The burning stink would double the beast's desire to investigate. Food was one thing, but with a whiff of a fellow wyvern in the air, their quarry would be eager to defend its territory. They were setting themselves up for a proper fight, she imagined.
Emmi's words caught her ear and the two women met eyes for a moment. There was a question in Esme's gaze. Ceren furrowed her brow at the thought. Esme wasn't a hunter. All animals were killed for what they were. Some were furs, some food, others were threats. But, Ceren could see her point. Threat though the wyvern was, there was no doubt that a great deal of the need behind its killing had more to do with a lord's ego than the safety of his people. That much was plain just by the state of the small folk he was meant to be protecting.
Genthus, maker bless him, was already concocting the most ridiculous alternative option imaginable. He too was led by his ego in this, desiring a good story, if not a legendary fight. But his ego at least was sporting. Ceren gave a sign, scratching the short hairs at the back of her head.
"Them nobles will be wanting proof." she finally said, shrugging her shoulders. "Doubt they'll pay for just our word on it. And besides, it might chase, but not forever. If it's established enough to have a den 'n all, it won't risk straying too far from its territory." she looked over at Genthus. "No matter how tempting the snack."
Giving Genthus a smile, Ceren paced around the group. She stooped, snatching a long piece of grass from the ground and popped one end of it into her mouth and chewed as she thought. "Depending on its size... we might could trap it though. Get it bound up good, we could take it far enough it won't know how to get back. Loosin' it would be a whole ordeal, and it might just end up being a problem to someone new..." she trailed off, turning back to Esme and shrugging again. It could work. But Ceren wasn't all that sure it was worth it.
