Blazing waves wet the ground with phantasmal moisture across the inland horizon, a golden mirror inverting the roiling ocean's splintering waters licking at the smooth, sloped sand on this serene coastline. Far East of Zienav City, where no hands of humanoids had molded sanctuary out of the terrain, the gorgeously unremarkable border of land and sea was a perfect place for the sableshell turtle to spawn.

    Of course, it would be, if not for what was an omen for their kind: the drake-pulled wagon of the Queen's Clubs. A small, but brutal gang that does cruel work, as long as it pays the wages of the heartless. They wandered south-bound at a steady pace, keeping watch for the telltale signs of their lucrative prey. The fertilized eggs of the sableshell turtle are loved for myriad reasons. Of what furtive contract can make it so worth this effort was for their interceptors to discover. After all, it would mean little to stop these acts if the investors of the project aren't rooted out.

    There was a poeticism to be found in the desert. The chimera constantly on the move had caught wind of this menace. There was pressing business to attend to, but Baird would be cold in the ground if he wouldn't make time to cleanse this manmade evil. Mors was practically vibrating with impatient delight at the fight making its way towards them. In their crouched position behind a rocky outcropping, Blithe stretched upwards to watch for the encroaching poachers.

    They were preparing with a meal. Baird had no time or ingredients to cook, so this was an indulgence for Mors. A fresh baked carcass of a lost gator dragged to their hidden position. In case any wanted to get in on the fun, and as a sign of growth against getting in over his head, Baird posted an invitation to join the stakeout. Perhaps someone would see it and join, or simply stumble upon them, who knows? A silent prayer to Ginma crossed Baird's mind to have someone strong appear to have their back.

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In The Bear Trap 

SPOILER: Click to show

Participants: Two or more

Location: Anywhere

Post Requirements: 6 post per person, 200 words per post

Reward: +1 Renown, Choice of 2 Common crafting materials

Description: Local authorities have been investigating an increase in poaching and sport hunting in areas around Charon, specifically targeting docile and harmless creatures vital to an environments ecosystem. The issue has become so bad that some pockets of creatures are now close to being completely wiped out. Help is being requested with finding and stopping those who are behind the increase in poaching. It is believed that not only are they hunting them for sport, but are also selling the animals on the black market. Bring them to justice and free any animals still captive.

For many people in Charon, hunting is a necessary part of life. While there are instances of it being for sport and celebration, those challenges usually have to do with dangerous beasts. Even where Das comes from, hunting as a group activity was common, but they always made use of whatever creature parts they gathered. If it was edible, they feasted. Hides were tanned for clothes, armor, saddles, or something of the like. Nothing went to waste when they could help it.

So, hearing that many harmless creatures have been hunted nearly to the point of extinction throughout the continent is cause for concern, for sure. Any number of people could be responsible for it, but the sudden uptick in the activity means that this isn’t necessarily normal. Granted, Das doesn’t know exactly what is normal for a lot of places in Charon, but if the authorities are worried, then he should be too by the sounds of it. Plenty of beautiful creatures have gone extinct because of overhunting, and losing them would be a shame above all.

On the coasts, researchers and activists have taken note that the turtle populations have been declining, so, being in the area, Das sets off to see if he can’t find the source. It seems like others might be doing the same based on the posting he saw in the city. Hopefully, he can find himself an ally before diving headfirst into a fight if it comes down to it. It isn’t that he minds fighting, but he is only one man, and armor repairs and medical costs add up.

With his one eye, Das spots a trail of smoke from a fire. That must be either someone out here doing the right thing or someone who deserves a good knock to the head. Regardless, Das makes his way there, preparing to throw down if need be.

He is, of course, not stealthy. His footfalls are heavy and slip on weather-worn rocks as he clambers up. “Excuse me!” he calls. “Hope I’m not intruding, but if you’ve got turtle soup on the fire, we’re going to have some words.”

    The eel stole away from his watch for a few seconds to register the fellblood's approach. Once the recognition reached them through their shared spine, the other two shot looks like they heard a cannon go off in that direction. Quickly, the surprise turned to relief as the boar and the vulture picked up on what they saw. They grabbed the haunch of meat they've been chewing through and tearing off another leg. Taking a bite of the meat, they'd offer the leg as they moved closer to their guest.

    It may have become clear the chimeric creature Das was addressing as it stood up. Some five feet taller, an amalgam of bird and boar, four arms, wings at the back (though these seem lethargic and weak), hooves, and that thick tail that was stretching straight up a moment ago had the head of a mean-looking eel. Aside from the grem-like bare skin of the limbs and the three-fingered hands, this would probably look like some heinous monster. However the adventurer would interpret all of that is certainly up to them to decide.

    The boar spoke first with a scaled hunk of meat outstretched in offering, "Baird Sickleclaw, glad you found my post." 

    Then the vulture, "Mors. Sorry for the reaction, we just got through some lethal Oniwanban business, so 'fellblood approaching' has us on edge. Don't worry, we are on the hunt for the turtle-hunters ourselves!" 

    Baird would add on, "Ah, and the skittish fella is Blithe. He doesn't talk," indicating the eel. "Trouble will be coming to us. If you're interested in getting into a scrap for justice, shouldn't be longer than a couple hours. Cutting the fire soon." He'd point with a thumb at the rock cover they were huddled behind earlier.

Das is rather used to being the tallest person in the room since setting off on his own. Before that, his band of Red Riders were often one of the tallest bunches. Running into a creature-person-thing(?) like Baird catches him off guard. At first, he wonders if this guy ate the person with the posting. But then Baird offers him a leg of meat and an introduction. Das immediately relaxes, his mouth pulling wide to reveal a bright smile.

“Ah! So you made the post!” he says, fully emerging from the brush. With no hesitation, Das grabs the haunch, graciously accepting this gift of food (which one should never turn down. Usually.) with a nod of thanks. “Good to meet you Baird, Mors, and Blithe. My name is Kar’Das’Dun. Das for short.” He offers up his free hand to shake as an introduction. Das has run into Grem before, so he’s not unfamiliar with them. The last one he ran into was out for his blood, but a skilled warrior took it out in a one-sided fight. Das isn’t so sure this amalgrem would be taken down so easily though. He– They? –looks tough.

“Understandable. There’s a lot to be jumpy about these days,” he adds, turning the haunch over in his hand to inspect it before going in for a bite, making absolutely no consideration that the meat could be poisoned. Why would it be? “This is well-cooked! Thank you!” Taking another bite, he looks around the camp. “Are we staking out, waiting on these poacher types to show their faces?”

    "You got it. Here's what is going on, as far as we know..." Mors and Baird would go on to fill Das in on the Queen's Clubs. "We'll likely be out-numbered, and for sure the drake wouldn't just be for show. The objective is to capture or disperse each member, hopefully rescuing any eggs already stolen. Of course, any thoughts/advice/complaints are welcome." The vulture would stretch and wave his wings lethargically at finishing a big exposition. The giant would listen gladly if there was any feedback.

    Shortly after their conversation, Blithe's pectoral fins would instinctively vibrate erratically. Baird and Mors would once again shoot looks towards the direction of the warning. Peeking slightly over the edge of stones, sure enough, a drake-pulled wagon came into view. Baird would think aloud at what he sees, "There are at least two members visible on the driver's seat. The cover of the vehicle hides anything within the cart, naturally more of them are riding in there. The drake is seemingly of lightning element? I am no expert, just guessing." 
    
    The wagon drew closer and closer. Then it stopped just before the ambush site. A couple people hopped out from behind the wagon and walked over to the beach with a small chest carried between them. The vulture nodded, "Collectors!" 
    
    Baird looked to the comrade in imminent combat, "Now's a good chance. We can take care of a reduced force while they are split, then clean up as they regroup. You ready?" The hybrid would wait for confirmation, just in case they were being too gung-ho.

“Fight the poachers, get the eggs. Easy enough,” Das says with a nod. He’s not really one for complicated plans. As long as he knows who to aim his strikes at and what the ultimate goal is, he doesn’t need much more than that. “Capturing would probably be better though,” he notes. It’s harder to do, but they don’t need to paint the sand red with blood. Killing the poachers won’t have them face proper justice, and given how people view him as the giant of a humanoid he is, he imagines Baird et al probably get similar treatment. Subverting expectations is always nice.

Luckily, they don’t have to wait too long before the culprits make themselves busy on the beach below. “If you’re positive those are the guys, getting them while they’re split makes the most sense. I’m not sneaky, so this is going to be pretty messy, admittedly.” Despite this, Das doesn’t seem the least bit deterred. A bit of chaos makes things more fun. Setting what’s left of his haunch aside for later, Das unsheathes his greatsword. The blade glows white hot,^[1] so he’s careful not to accidentally bump his new companion with it.

“Let’s go!” he says, hopping over the rocks and rushing down the hill toward the presumed poachers. This can only go well considering the clanking of his armor announcing his approach.