5 Years after Fatalithe's Death

Author's Note

I happened to be glancing over at this when I realized how shittily written it was. I'm going to begin rewriting it now, in third person. Please enjoy.

How do you pick up the threads of an old life?

How does one go on, with the knowing that nothing can ever be the same?"

Five years ago today, the great Scourge of the free peoples of Moga was defeated. His essence was exorcised into the world, and his body burned in a great pyre, to which thousands came to watch the burning. Life was peaceful, and prosperous. Everything in the lives of the heroes had returned to a state of comparable normalcy, with the three Warriors having moved into the grand city built upon the old prison fortress.

It had only been five years, but in those years, every skilled laborer to be found was busy with reconstruction efforts. Hunters hunted constantly to provide them with materials; a dedicated defense team defended the new citizens from attack; all the prisoners and equipment had been moved to a newer, better, onshore facility. Great towers had been erected using all of the best technology. New defenses had been placed in anticipation of a repeat attack. The city was always buzzing with activity.

Now that the isle was once again populated, it had been built upon by many skilled men and women. The walls which had once held in prisoners and held out monsters had been reduced and remade into a grand fortification, with flying buttresses and towers adorning the in and outsides of the wall, whose sides were taller than houses. Inside the wall, many shops and guard stations had been erected, providing the citizens with food and protection.

A banner of good hope and fortune flew over the citadel's primary tower, located in the middle of the island. Its lookout branches stretched in the cardinal directions, sentries of the City, keeping watch to alert the City guard when new ships came in with trade goods or tourists. A budding industry in Fort Stadmaur, people from distant lands and outlandish cultures would adventure here to see what they could see. Many of Fort Stadmaur's people had immigrated to the island when it was incorporated as a Guild Outpost, giving the area a very diverse population. They had ever been tolerant of newcomers -- especially when they brought new and exciting goods with them.

On a corner of the residential section of the island, there was a hole. Not a large hole, and not a small hole. Not a wet, grimy, nasty, and muddy hole; this was a habitable hole, a comfortable little place. Holes like this were made all over the island when it was inhabited the first time hundreds of years ago, but during the prison's tenure, they had all been covered over. As new citizens and the descendants of old came back, they had seen a rise in popularity -- with those who could afford the land and labor.

In this particular hole, at 1 Greenview Boulevard, lived one of the three mighty Warriors of This Age. Leon was his name. He lived in peace, having saved the world from a certain death at the hands of evil. With his hunting and romantic partner Talia, he hunted huge Elder Dragons and brought the spoils home to share among all. The citizens of the town loved him and praised him as their town's founder; his house was constantly adorned with the flowers that grew wild on the banks of the small stream running through the town.

Leon was sitting outside, smiling and looking towards the ocean. There was but a rocky, sharp bank on this side of the town, the side that faced away from the most common monster attack locations. Several iron bars could be raised to prevent access at night or by monsters.

The ocean was calm and quiet tonight, and far in the distance, Leon saw a large ship traversing the water. He mused quickly upon the notion that it may be coming, but he did not think for long. In a few minutes, Talia had walked up to him with a hunting contract.

"Good morning," She began, "I managed to procure an important contract for us. It's a Black Rathalos. Have you ever even heard of such a thing?"

"I've heard of it, yes. What's the location?" Leon responded, turning away from the sea and leaning against a lightpost.

"It's at Dragon Mountain, somewhere in... er...." Talia began again, before Leon finished the sentence.

"It's in Moga, but it's Central Moga and it's dangerous. Huge peaks; lots of cliffs. Rathaloses love it. They can hide and push prey off of the sides, sending them to their deaths. It's a terrible, but infinitely beautiful place. You sure you're alright with it?" He asked her.

She smiled and looked at him from under her eyebrows. "I've hunted Alatreon and Fatalis... I've got a feeling this is going to be just as easy," She said.

"Well, alright, but this is not a quest you can abandon just anytime. They have special requirements for this one. It's all or nothing... We better go get prepared." Leon sighed heavily.

"I guess I'll head to the Guild Store. The artisan wanted to see you in the business and materiel section of town, so I'd go do that if I were you." Talia walked off with her zenny and hunting pack in tow; Leon headed out on their horse to the other side of the island.

As he dismounted, he was greeted by the incredibly short Wyverian Artisan. His green forging glove shown in the sunlight, and he carried several loads of material on his back. It was a laughable sight. Leon picked up the heavy extra pack for the artisan, who thanked him in silence. They walked back to the forge and sat the materials down. Leon went into the waiting room and the artisan began forging the weapon.

Leon stood outside and waited what seemed like an hour or more for Talia. After a short nap, however, she was there, handing him a canteen and giving him his weapon. He shook his head groggily and propped himself up.

"Ugh," Leon muttered. "I hate sleeping by accident," he continued.

"You're silly. Come on, get up, we have to go." Talia responded, reaching out a hand to help me up.

Leon smiled gratefully as she helped pull him to his feet. He put his weapon over his back, and tightened his armor.

"Let's go, then,"

To be continued in: Fanfic:Conclusion of the Warriors/Chapter 2 - Black Rathalos

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