The Hunter's Guide to Monsters

Still day 11 (in-game)

Definitely in the draculkar lowlands

Still mostly lost in the Urla Mountains

Status: trying to hide his bafflement that there were people who didn't do due diligence on their quests

*

What the hell.

Krow tried not to gape at the speaker.

The Silver Phoenix Guild party had just packed up and left them here?

What the hell.

Why--?

Krow cut off the question, reminded himself that the majority of players viewed NPCs as mostly background.

But didn't they know at least that acts of goodwill had a greater chance of upping the RP on their quest rewards?

What did they think the word 'reputation' in Reputation Points meant?

If they took the people to at least the nearest village, their quest completion rating would likely have been increased by a grade.

"That was…shortsighted of them." Krow shook his head. This would affect the reputation of the Silver Phoenix Guild in the area, both in Redlands and Zushkenar. "Are they based nearby?"

He triggered Firecoil again, upping the intensity of the string of flame to melt through metal.

Talan, carefully supervising the removal of chains from the fifty or so people waiting in the clearing, shrugged. "They said they were from a town in the lowlands. I took it to mean the vargvir woods."

Right.

What the draculkar called the 'lowlands' were regular highlands for everyone else.

The foothills and plains that others named the lowlands in Alliance territory were called the 'vargvir lands', with requisite scorn. Talan hadn't even cared to remember the name of the town.

The chains fell away, with the newly freed man heaving a sigh of relief. Krow had a feeling it was equally from being free as being able to back away from a superheated metal-melting ribbon of flame.

He stepped back to allow Talan to take the next in line.

He could only use Firecoil twice within two minutes, before he needed eighteen and a half minutes to recover completely.

Her MP recovery was slower than his, but alternating got the chains broken faster. She'd already freed about half of the people before he got here, having been doing it since the guild left.

According the people, Silver Phoenix party only opened the cells before leaving, because taking the slaves with them would have slowed them down. They had quests to do to keep their quota.

Apt name for the guild. Their hearts were full of silver, not gold.

It's not like he wasn't similar, he mused. His altruism had goals in mind. There was none of them pure-hearted.

"How long before everyone is ready to leave?"

Talan straightened, considered. "I don't suppose you can lend your weapon for hunting?"

Krow eyed the group. They'd been worked hard and half-starved, it seemed, as servants to the bandits. Even with a couple days of rest, they looked exhausted.

The ones that looked the best were those expected to fetch higher prices, those that had various combinations of skill, beauty, and novelty. There were only a dozen.

They needed more food, more rest, before they could walk even the twenty kilometers Talan said was the distance to the closest village.

"There is a big flock of redcrest pheasant some ways to the west," Talan tilted her head, silver hair fell loose around her face instead of placed in the ornamented styles of the draculkar women he'd met. "If you give us some portion of the meat, we can help with the butchering."

Oh good. He came across the group before Ghostcaller had discovered any monster nests, so that information was welcome.

He was about to decline the assistance, when others chimed in.

"We're used to the work."

"It'd be nice to actually eat something we hunted for once."

"Oh, yes! I can't hunt, but I can carry baskets."

The enthusiasm from the group withered his protest. He lifted his brows at them. "I won't take the injured, just the experienced and strongest."

The notification on his quest page sounded, for the first time since he 'left' the travel caravan.

|:Redcrest Harvest:|

[Category: Common]

[The former slaves of the Bloodcrow Bandit Camp have asked you to assist them with alleviating their hunger. Hunt enough Redcrest Pheasants to feed 103 hungry stomachs. 0/25 Redcrest Pheasants]

[Reward: +7 Experience Points, +5 Silver Serpens.]

The average redcrest pheasant rarely grew above Lvl 7, with Lvl 10-12 for their flock-leaders. They laired in woodland, thirty to seventy beasts in the largest flocks.

They had sharp beaks and even sharper talons on their strong legs.

After all the chains were broken, Krow had the group making nets from vines and the local grasses. Of the group, only fourteen managed to pass his requirements to help the hunt.

Redcrest pheasants formed close communities, and if even one of them sounded the alarm, the whole of the flock would disappear in a massive flutter.

The Bloodcrow bandits apparently hunted the pheasants by sending the slaves they deemed had less value to fight with the flock with only a knife, while they made wagers.

Krow had a headache when he realized his fourteen helpers thought that was the way to hunt the birds.

"What did you think the nets were for?" he asked, pressing his temples.

A teenaged siren shrugged. "So the birds won't be able to get away? The Bloodcrows didn't give nets."

A knife and no nets?

"That is," Krow muttered, appalled, "the stupidest way to hunt a bird that can poke your eyes out, fly, and run very fast."

Another skeptical human girl asked, "What are the nets for then?"

"To create a trap."

He laid out the plan.

Redcrest pheasants nested in the tall red grass that grew everywhere, generally in the center of clearings, where snakes couldn't drop down and eat the eggs.

It was before mid-afternoon, when the sun was hot and high in the sky. The pheasants, at that time would install the clearings with lookouts and go hunt in the shady woodland.

Krow and the hunters would look for a suitable place to install a dome of nets, overwhelm the lookouts, and then nab the eggs to lure the rest of the flock into the trap.

Then stun them with Mist vials to make them easier to kill.

The nets would make sure they got a sufficient number without the pheasants flying or running away.

Also, to protect the hunters. Everyone was under Lvl 10, barring the older people and even they were under Lvl 20.

There would be a feathery riot before the Mist vials did what they were supposed to do.

A single attack from the bigger pheasants could result in serious injuries.

Apart from Krow, no one had armor.

A sufficiently large grove of trees was found and draped with hidden nets.

Krow and a teenager named Felia, who was apparently voted the sneakiest, headed into the grass to knock out the redcrest pheasant lookouts.

"See the one that looks like a feathery flower stalk?" he quietly pointed out the hidden lookout, only the crest seen above the grass. Excellent camouflage. "That's one."

She nodded, then lit up, pointing and whispered, "There's another!"

Krow nodded, with a quick grin. "A large flock usually has two or three lookouts in a clearing."

There might be no other, or it might be hidden in the trees. "You have your vials?"

Felia nodded, determinedly keeping her eyes on one of the swaying tufted crests.

"Let's go then." He glanced at the other six, who on the signal would grab as many eggs as they could find. They nodded and hid. The other seven had minor injuries and were standing by at the trap.

Krow and Felia crawled toward their respective targets.

[Redcrest Pheasant Lvl 6]

[HP: 200]

[MP: 12]

It was laying down, body as large as a king penguin he saw in the zoo once, crest up and eyes sharp.

With the Mist vials, it didn't take three minutes before two lookouts were down. The hunters stayed still and silent, looking for another.

None made itself known.

Krow sliced the bird's throat open, placed it in his Inventory.

[You've gained one (1) silver serpens from a monster!]

Redcrest pheasant didn't give any notable materials other than its meat. The small red feathers dotting the birds' white chest were often used in common jewelry though.

He stood, waved at the others.

Felia jumped up and waded immediately into the grass, searching. The others did the same, one of them tossing a vinewoven basket at Felia.

The pheasant eggs were the size of an elongated softball, an earthy russet color speckled with grey. Four to ten in a nest.

Krow started tossing eggs into his Inventory.

Then one of the chosen hunters stopped and stood, looking a little wary. "Er?"

The man beside him glanced up from where he was filling his basket, whispered, "What is it?"

The other bent down, scooped up something in his hands, coming up with a just-hatched chick.

Oh no.

Their rustling steps must have hidden the faint sounds of egg cracking.

The chick, eyes still closed, let out a searching chirpy sound.

Everyone froze.

The chicks still in the nest started chirping as well.

It would be cutely melodious, had Krow not in mind the carnage it would bring.

"Run!"

The group hitched their baskets up to their shoulders and ran, not caring about noise anymore.

Screeches sounded in the woodland, followed by fluttering wings as the hunting redcrest pheasants were alerted to the intrusion into their clearing.

One of the hunters stumbled, several eggs breaking on the ground.

Ah, shkav.

Krow hauled the hunter up, pushed him on. "Go! Faster! Get ready!"

He drew his revolver.

Several of the large birds came out of the trees, feathers fluttering, crests high in alarm. Seeing Krow, with broken eggs at his feet, they screeched into frenzy and charged.

A darkspear had one tumbling into the others.

Not that it helped, with a mass of feathered furies pouring out of the trees toward Krow. He emptied the cylinder into the screeching fluttering mass of parental rage and sprinted toward the trapped grove.

He dashed past the opening. "Ready!"

There was no answer, but he knew the hunters in the trees acknowledged. The baskets were gathered at the far end of the grove. He raced toward them, the vehement wrath behind him rising at the sight of the eggs.

A beak snagged at his coat.

He dove and rolled.

"Drop!" roared someone in the tree above him.

A heavy vine net cascaded between him and the redcrest pheasants at his back. Krow still had to scramble back from the beaks and the talons straining at the nets.

Similarly woven nets around the grove dropped simultaneously, circling the pheasants.

There was a long moment.

"Last drop!" came a yell from the opening of the trap. The last net fell into place with a weighty thud.

"Vials!" came the answer. Mist vials hurled into the mass of frothing feathery madness broke to create a cloud of paralyzing smoky air.

Krow smiled. Flawless.

A pair of worn-through boots dropped down beside him from a branch. "They almost got you there."

He grinned up at the siren wearing the old boots. "Not today."

With so many hands, butchering the mass of unconscious birds went fast.

[You've finished the quest |:Redcrest Harvest:| with 31/25 Redcrest Pheasants hunted, gaining +7 Experience Points, +5 Silver Serpens!]

[You've finished the Hidden Sub-objective: Egg Hunt with 46/25 Redcrest Eggs hunted, gaining +3 Experience Points, +2 Silver Serpens!]

[You've finished the Hidden Sub-objective: Teach a Hunter, Feed Him Forever, gaining +1 Reputation in Guinsant Alliance Territory!]

[Quest Completion: A+]

Krow handed some of the spices he'd bought in Gremut to one of the draculkar cooks, who looked at the spices like he'd seen the holy grail, with nearly blubbering awe.

How long had that guy been without draculkar-brand grilled meat skewers, he wondered as he escaped before they both got embarrassed more.

Scaling the cliff, he brought out the Bones again.

Laying back on a high ledge in the warm afternoon, with the scent of cooking meat in his nose and fair breezes keeping the temperature just right, he relaxed.

When Liwi scrambled up the rock face to loom over him, he was almost dozing.

"We're eating! Are you eating with us?"

He yawned and nodded.

A glance at the Map told him his ghostly scouts had found two monster nests.

Talan met them at the edge of the clearing, gave Krow a familiar yellow marble. "You'll have more use for this, likely."

Huh.

That wasn't true.

A [Lesser Orb of Air] went for about 200 drax on the Bourse right now. Prices would only rise.

"This is too much," he informed her.

The pheasants wouldn't even sell for a tenth of the Orb's worth.

"Do you refuse it?"

Krow knew better than to do something so impolite.

"I will make fair exchange," he refuted. He removed a crate from his Inventory. One hundred vials of Low Heal.

Low Heal outside the beginner villages cost thirty-six serpens a vial. A hundred vials cost 144 drax.

"The Orb is still worth more." He added. "Therefore, I'll escort your group to the nearest town, as a guard. With this, we'll be able to head out tomorrow morning."

Talan opened the crate, blinked. After a moment, she nodded. "Agreed."

The quest notice pinged for the second time this day.

|:Guarded Escort to Karukorm Town:|

[Category: Common]

[You've proposed to escort 103 people to the town of Karukorm, twenty and a half kilometers to the southwest. Get them to the town's First Tower safe and sound!]

[You will gain: +7 Experience Points, +5 Silver Serpens]

Krow sat down beside Liwi, who beamed at him and handed him a crudely carved wooden bowl full of meaty stew.

He sipped the liquid, thickened by roots some of the others dug up in the forest. With the spices, pretty good flavor.

"Why?"

He looked up.

An older siren met his eyes with a calm gaze, a bowl of stew on his knees. "Why do you do this?"

Krow sipped from his bowl again, considering. He sighed inwardly, and stated. "Once, I was freed."

The sirens who heard glanced over, but didn't do anything else. There was a gesture to go with the words, but that wasn't something he was supposed to know in this time.

A draculkar, from a traditionally slave-owning race, saying those words would give not nearly the same impact, but it was enough.

To anyone else, the words would just be Krow saying he was paying kindness forward.

Something like that.

In the language of Sirens, there were different implications.

It wasn't even suspicious.

Krow had read a story in a craftmaster forum last month that used those words, though with less importance than the words had in Zushkenar.

The old siren nodded, and went back to his stew.

Krow did the same.