Our Story Starts In Quama, A City On The Border of Arides and Verdentia...
From the Dregs
Growing up in Qama, Drillani Zenjubo knew little in the way of comfort. his family were the rats that scurried in the dark and the crows he beckoned to his side. He was always picking up strays with his first pet being a young mastiff pup he named Hugon. he never knew his family, and had to learn his way by running with another band of street kids. they cut purses and picked pockets. sometimes they'd corner a particularly lost merchant and shake him down for his worth. these were small time crimes but many of this group would go on to have long, extensive careers in the kapiri underworld. drill however saw this as merely survival. it gave him no pleasure extorting those less capable, but when its that or starvation your hunger can be very convincing. He admired the Fanguard that he would hear stories about and dreamed of becoming one. His first lesson was when he showed kindness to an urchan by sharing some food scraps. the urchan, seeing that Drill gave up his own food to feed his dog assumed he was stockpiling and holding back. he came upon drill in the night and tried robbing him Hugon defended Drill and got a shiv in the leg for his trouble. this gave drill the chance to escape with his pet, but over the folowwing days the leg became infected. his one friend died a slow agonising death in his arms. That day Drill learned that charity and good deeds are prescious and should not be given lightly. no one is deserving of what you have, and you'd better mean it if you want to share.
The Fanguard
his luck turned around when he was 20 and he applied to join the Fanguard. the Glorious monster hunters guild that keep all of kapir safe from the Fauna that calls the forrests and desserts home. this was his chance to socially advance. this was his dream. admission required bringing a trophy from at least a class O Creature. anything of a class G or higher generally requires use of a VineHold to take down. class O are large enough that your standard hunter, even a kapiri one, would stand very little chance. the worst of them hunt in packs.
his second lesson was on the 4th day of his hunt. he had tracked a Monitere to a den, think a large broad-snouted lizard the size of a horse, known for the quills on their forelimbs. one quill was all he needed, with the barb still intact. they are used extensively by the guild for harpoons and it would surely guarantee his place in the fanguard. he had came alone, told know one where he was. he thought he had the drop on the lone sickly monietere. he was wrong on 3 counts. it wasnt sickly, merely acting. it wasnt on its own, it's pack was nearby. and he definetly didnt have the drop on it. he crawled out of that den with barely enough blood to keep him consious, and he had to hide high up for the pack had heard their fight. the injury would have been managable if he could have gotten medical attention quickly. instead, he sat in one branch for 3 days motionless before the pack moved on to knew hunting grounds. he was neary dead by the time he reached Qama again. the barb was still in his abdomen. if he had said where he was to anyone, they would have found him and prevented the infection from worsening to the point he lost half his liver. that day he learned that no hunter hunts alone for long. if you stay in the chase, you need a pack. a fammily. a party...
The Hunt Ends, and Begins Anew
Drill had some measure of success in the Fanguard. he gained a reputation for understanding what beasts where going to do before they did it. although, he had some issues with their command structure. he didnt like taking orders from those who were ultimately too cowardly for true hunts. over the years administrators who may have been fierce once grew fattened on the success of their subordinates. they sought to maintain the reputation and revenue of the fanguard over actually protecting people; they shrunk coverage regions to leave more and more communities exposed. they increasingly sold off monster spoils with less regard for who they sold too. Drills third lesson was an epiphany. he had been called to hunt down a Tatzelwurm, a Q-class monster, barely worth the arrows used to pierce its hide or the oil spent cleaning blades of its blood. it wasnt a real danger to anyone. there was no honour or glory to be had in slaying it. but outside interests demanded it slain, it had been hunting in lands owned by a particularly influential VineBaron and the toxins left in its trail had been corroding the verdant supply he made money off of. it wasnt hard to find this beast, but when Drill had her in his sights something stirred in him. this was not what he signted up for, slaughtering a majestic creature whos only crime was harming the bottom line of a beaurocrat he had no connection to. drill laid down his bow and blade.
just then the tatzelwurm looked to him. there was a moment of conection. an understanding. however Drill was not the only Vanguard sent on this contract. a barbed net fell upon the beast, crying out in pain it squirmed and only succeeded in rakeing its flesh on the thorns. this was not just. Drill ran to the Katra who had threw it, now descending from their canopy. with bare fang and claw Drill severed the cats head from its shoulders and ran to the poor creature. pulling it free and in the processing, earning a loyal friend and lifelong companion. it was then he learned that whilst ones word is strong, no deal made can continue past the point of ones convictions. dont heed the instruction or command of self interested fools who only care for their own hide. he decided if man was going to hunt beasts with no care for what was right, perhaps there should be a beast that hunted man...
A Spark of Something Strange...
He'd been working on his own for 4 months and straits were dire. that Tatzelwurm had not left his side since he spared it. it was pretty useful in his new line of work, clients are less likely to reneg on payment when theres burning venom dripping on their carpet. the creasture was smarter than Drill had expected, it already had an understading of various commands and kept trying to join him on hunts. he didnt let it out of fear for it's safety. he alway had a soft spot for things that could take a swig of poison with their whiskey. he was closing in on his latest quarrey now. the terrible beast was hiding out in an abandoned dockhouse to the east. finding jobs had been harder since drill... narrowed down his focus. with the war over however, old grudges were coming back to attention. now people didnt worry about a passing army turning their back yard into a battleground, it made sense to splurge to make thikngs a bit safer. this monster had a price it's head for killing a local child that had gone missing. drill had been hired by the family, who wanted it's tooth as proof of the kill.
drill came in through the back. he entered the beasts lair undetected. he had been getting better at going unnoticed recently. the more time he spent on his own, the more he felt like he was connected to nature. like he was part of it, of the very air around him. there were two mice under the floorboards and a hornets nest out front. he couldnt decribe how he knew this, he just did. he was coming upon the creature now. a dwarf, ugly as he was large sat at a table, spinning a knife between his fingers. his golden tooth glinted in the candle light. the floor creaked. the motion of the knife's spinning morphed fluidly into a flying trajectory, it missed Drill by a breath's width. drill bolted for the door. his target had been a reputed killer, thrown out of the lionteeth for killing too many marks. he would easily win a straight fight. drill had to get out. he stumbled onto the jetty, cold ocean breeze spray a salty mist over the beach below. he had to get distance between him and the dwarf. but he was too slow. a heavy body collided with drill from behind. he was pushed to the sand, facedown into the shore. the dwarf was ontop, forcing his head into the water. he was drowning. spending half his life in a dessert and he was going to die by drowning? something stirred in drill. suddenly the darkness of his vision receded. he could breath again. and he felt himself lifting past - no - lifting Through the dwarf. he felt his form shift and ebb. the dwarf looked up confused, perhaps moreso than drill. drill could act first. he felt a tug in his gut cried out for help in his mind. the wasps came to his aid, swarming out of their hive and enclosing the dwarf. drill felt his anger burning within him, anger at the yelling dwarf. for what he did to the child, what he could have done to him. he felt steam burning off of him, and then saw as the beach below him lit up. the wasps began to glow. the dwarf's yells became screams, as the wasps burst into flames and melted his flesh. by the time the fire went down, all that was left of him was a pile of ash and a glistening golden tooth. drill fell to the ground feeling feverish.
when he woke it was morning. the tide had mercifully stayed low in the time he was out. the tatzelwurm was curled up at his feet and looked up concerned as he lifted his head. he knew not what had happened to him that day. this would require some research.