Monster Hunter 1. The Icy Cliff Hanger

Disclaimer: I don't own Monster Hunter. But I wish I did.

The hunter stepped out of the frozen cave and into the open air. All around him the cold expanse stared back at him blankly. This was the High Mountain. A mount which bore no true name but was perhaps as famous as any landmark or hunting ground known to man. Or perhaps "infamous" would be a better term to describe this frozen peak. For there were few humans who dared to scale its icy summit, and even fewer to return home alive.

The mountain stood as an obstacle for man; a giant taunt in the face of all, holding its own against even the fiercest of adventurers. On this mountain, survival was one's primary goal. Little more than life itself mattered to most who found themselves in its cold, petrified clutches.

Yet this one man stood looking at the snow as if it were his friend. The scowling face of this atrocity to man smiled only at him, it seemed. The biting wind formed a cool blanket of comfort to this lone hunter; it had, he thought, almost a kind, fatherly embrace.

Nevertheless, he shook these ponderings out of his head and took off at full sprint. He knew his goal was close at hand; he could feel it. Something about the thrill of the hunt, the honor of duty, or perhaps simply the innate desire to overcome excited him to the fullest. His lips formed a thin smile.

Clad in his specially designed gear, the hunter was truly a skilled tracker. The armor that encased his body seemed to sharpen his senses; and as ridicules as it sounded, he had realized that whenever he wore this armor, he had an uncanny idea where his prey was lurking.

The gear was also unusually light, as sturdy as its frame was, and it in no way restricted his movements. The overall fluid design of the armor and lightness of the material allowed him easier access to his assortment of potions and medicines. He estimated that while wearing this armor, he could grab and administer medical treatment to himself or another in half the time he could while wearing any other suit of armor.

This ability to heal rapidly had narrowly saved his life _many_ times, and his comrades declared that he must have been the luckiest warrior alive.

Well-made armor such as he wore had _not_ fallen into his hands out of luck, however; far from it. Only through sweat and struggle had he gained this armor. Piece by piece he had pulled it from bodies of the monsters that he had slain with his own hands.

The tyrant of the snow and sand is not a forgiving foe. He is merciless in his tyranny and his jaws constantly crave flesh to devour. But the hunter had been equally merciless in his pursuit of the tyrant, and he had pealed the scales and claws from his victims one by one; until at last, he was clad in some of the finest armor he knew of.

Its golden scales were offset by blue highlights, and a pair of custom-made carving daggers hung from his belt. His armor was flawlessly polished, from his helm all the way down to the bottom of his greaves. It was not polished out of any sense of vanity, but simply out of the desire to maintain the high quality of the armor in spite of the most hostile weather.

He was armed with a long-sword that hung gracefully from his back, even in all of its deadliness. The long-sword flowed and pulsed gently with static electricity. It was infused with lethal charges of raw electrical power which, for the moment, lay dormant in its well designed scabbard. The warrior had attained it in much the same manner as he had the armor. Countless monsters had been slain to create this powerful weapon. He had evaded many swamps and caves and had slain an innumerable amount of blind wyverns on his quest for this weapon. He wore it on his back with pride, and he wielded it with a sense of honor.

The hunter slowed when he reached the area where he knew his quarry lay. Searching the ground for markings, he spied the tracks he was looking for. _Big ones, _he mused. _And they're fresh. _There was an eerie silence in the air as the hunter inched forward.

Carefully making his way past the edge of the mountain's cliff, and slowly peeking around the edge of a large, snow covered bolder, the hunter spied a small group of Blangos stood in the snow. They sat in a large opening with a few standing guard, while the rest groomed or slept. _Two, four, six… _the count ended at nine. _Nine Blangos in an area this small. The Blangonga can't be far._

Suddenly, a loud roar from the cliff above instantly caught the attention of all, but most of all the hunter's. A hundred feet above, standing on a rocky overhang was an enormous white ape. It stood the height of approximately three Blangos, and was longer than two. Its long tail hung around its feet, and its muscles flexed with every move. This was indeed the King of the Blangos.

With another mighty roar, the Blangonga leapt from the precipice and hit the ground with a shuttering thud, its tail whipping about majestically. The Blangos about it seemed to back away from it in admiration and fear. There were no doubts to be had; it was lord of its pack.

The hunter could feel his anticipation rising; his prey was now in his grasp. He slowly pulled his sword from its sheath. It made a soft scraping sound as it was being drawn.

The sound made was below even the softest whisper. But as the razor edge of the sword cleared its covering, the Blangonga snorted and looked in the direction of the hunter. The beast sniffed the air cautiously. It stared intently at the rock that the human was hiding behind.

From behind the boulder the man stayed as still as the frozen stone which hid his position. His heart pounded wildly. He wished he could slow its heavy jolting, but excitement and fear would not let it slow down its thumping.

The Blangonga sniffed once more and then turned, as if to acknowledge that it was quite assured that no one would dare enter its territory. The warrior breathed a soft sigh of relief.

He peaked over the rock again to find that the Blangonga had left the area. He looked about franticly, but the king of the Blangos was no where in sight. Scanning the spot where the Blangonga had stood he saw no footprints leading away. For a moment his mind went blank. _Where could that beast have gone? _He pondered, quietly to himself.

Suddenly the ground began to tremble from beneath him. _Oh my God! _He took three great strides to his right, and dove headlong into the snow. As he did, the Blangonga tore from the ground beneath where he has stood, spewing snow and frozen soil in all directions. It let out a mighty roar and came back pounding onto the ground.

The fighter scrambled to his feet and turned to face his foe. He spoke to the creature as if it could understand him. "Nice try, you worthless animal." He taunted, "Thought you had me, didn't you?"

Unaware of the taunt's meaning, the Blangonga simply growled in reply. The two stared at each other in cold defiance. They circled slowly with eyes locked; they faced one another like wild dogs before a fight to the death.

The warrior tightened his grip on his blade and growled back, "Well you failed! You had your chance to kill me before I was ready, but I swear to you that it won't happen again!"

Again the Blangonga growled, this time even louder and more threatening. It bared its enormous white fangs, staring him down, waiting for him to make his move.

The human stared at his foe with an unbroken gaze. He searched the beast for any sign of weakness, any open window of attack that might give him the upper hand. As he looked at the monster, he noticed a series of slashed burns on the side of its muzzle. The broken shafts of arrows still lay buried within its flesh.

_This Blangonga has fought with hunters before._ The man mused, never taking his eyes from his prey. _It knows how dangerous we are; that's why it's being so cautious. Most monsters would have charged me already, but this one holds back. It's battled with humans before, and from the look of things, it has prevailed. _

He stared at the massive Pelagus and calculated his next maneuver. He let the deadly tip of his blade drop the frozen ground. It melted every inch of the snow it touched with a warm electrical glow. As soon as the sword was lifted again, the arctic wind instantly chilled the water back into ice.

As the two paced about each other in a circle, the hunter noticed that the Blangonga had an arrow head lodged into the joint of its right knee joint. It was an old wound, but the arrow still seemed to cause the limb discomfort with every movement.

Far off in the distance, on some other lonely crag of the mountain a monster's roar echoed, reaching the ears of the Blangonga and his assailant. The Blangonga pricked up its ears for a moment and looked in the direction of the scream.

This was the opening the warrior had been looking for. With a burst of speed the hunter leapt at the monster, bringing his razor sharp long sword down on his quarry's face. A crackle of electricity shot across the face of the beast causing it to recoil in anger and pain. It lifted itself onto its hind legs and clawed at its fresh wound. The blade had cut open a wide gash, while the pulsing electricity had cauterized the same opening, further burning the soft surrounding tissue.

Still on the attack, the human wielded his blade with amazing precision, this time striking the soft underbelly of the ape. Huge bolts of electricity ran thorough its skin with every strike. Dropping its enormous front paws to the ground, it pushed with all fours and pounced backward.

A small violet-colored ball was hurled from the hand of the hunter. It hit the creature on its neck and popped, spreading a gooey, purple tented film onto its fur. The goo was held a strong smell, an odd smell which was easy to identify, yet hard to describe. It had a heavy smell, but not so strong that it was disgusting to the human nose.

Blangongas however, detested the smell, and out of all the known beasts of Minegarde, they were the only ones to have such distaste for it. The gook tended to smell much like a highly concentrated sap, mixed with a second unrecognizable scent, which gave it its characteristic odor. It was unmistakable.

This Pelagus, like most, clawed at the goop, which only succeeded in smearing it onto his clawed hands. The warrior pelted him with a second paintball for good measure and again, drew his weapon.

Without a moments notice, the Blangonga charged directly at the human, diving toward him, and extending its large claws to sever his spinal cord. He skillfully rolled out of the way, missing the impact by mere inches.

In a moment, however, he was back on his feet, raining slashes and strikes down on the monsters exposed back. Lightning raced through its veins, causing its smaller muscles to seize up, and its heart throbbed uncontrollably.

Nevertheless, its bulk and its brawn were still as massive and powerful as ever, and it had no intention of giving up before it had breathed its last. It prepared itself for another charge. It sprinted unexpectedly at the hunter, flinging his smaller form around like a doll.

His body rattled within his armor, but the soft inner padding that was common in most armor kept him from being too seriously injured. Nonetheless, his body ached from the blow, and he struggled to his feet.

As quickly as he could manage, he pulled a powerful healing medicine from his kit, and held it to his mouth to consume its soothing contents. The liquid had barely touched his lips when the Blangonga plowed over him again.

The vial containing the healing potion sprang from his hand, dumping its contents all over the frozen ground. Once again, his body was sent spiraling across the ground, and he landed in a deep snowdrift.

He let out an inaudible curse and turned to make sure that the Blangonga was not facing him this time. Faster than before, he drew out another first-aid vial and held it to his lips.

The fact that he had unrestricting armor no doubt saved his life, for no sooner had he finished half of his container of drug, than the mighty Pelagus leapt backward at him, pushing off with its powerful front legs, and kicking him squarely in the face with its sharp rear claws.

The powerful kick sent his body flying. It was still flying when it collided with a frozen boulder. The impact knocked the breath out of his lungs, and he landed haphazardly in the snow. Every muscle in his body screamed. Blood dripped slowly into his eyes, obscuring his vision and making it impossible to get his bearings.

He drew his fingers into a fist only to find that the last blow had sent his blade flying from his hand and landing somewhere nearby in the snow.

The mighty Blangonga rushed over to where he lay and lifted its massive form above him; standing on its hind legs and raising its fore-arms into the air, preparing to slam its body down onto him with every ounce of strength it had left.

For the hunter, time seemed to slow to a snails pace. He looked up at the Blangonga with a dull sense of regret. _So this is the end. _He thought. _Just one more hunter for this damned beast to destroy. I'll be one more nameless life that this mountain has claimed. Oh well. Everyone dies. It was me, or it, or some other hunter. Damn it all. I won't cower from death; I'll accept its cold grip when it's ready for me. I'll be like my father, a warrior who faced death without fear of cowardice. And I'll be forgotten just like he was. Damn it all again, I'm ready to die._


	2. The Frozen Hunt

I'm SO sorry that this was so long coming. I wanted to finish it sooner, but college sure can keep you busy, right?

Thanks for the reviews on my previous chapter and your continued support. Like any true author, I appreciate feedback and positive comments. Please, keep the reviews coming!

Also, I've noticed that I don't make as many spaces in my paragraphs as many authors. Is that bad? Thoughts please…

The following chapter is _**not**_a one-shot; it is a continuation of the same story as the previous chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Monster Hunter. If I did, you'd be reading this in a hard-back book.**

Far up the slopes of the High Mountain, the snow fell in torrents. Driven by a wind which seemed to be furious at the entire cliff face, each snowflake formed a tiny frozen needle. These bladed pinpoints tore through the frigid air, stinging everything they touched with a cold indifference.

The sky was dark with brooding clouds, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. It was as if the concept of warmth had abandoned this mountain completely, letting icy fingers clutch the peak in a never-ending death grip. This land was governed a natural, cruel, and chilling law: the law of the "_Hiyashita Samui_" or the "Icy Cold." Many simply chose to call it the Frozen Hell.

Yet through his frosty, forlorn land, three armor-clad figures made their way. They sprinted across the snow-laden ground toward their goal. Travelling at a swift pace, the trio moved as one unit. Without words or even hand gestures, they turned, slowed, and sped up together. No one led, and none followed.

Each one of the three was clad in custom-crafted gear. They were hunters; of that no one would doubt. There was no mistaking it from their presence on this mountain and from the swiftness with which they ran. These three were on a hunt; they moved as if their quarry was close at hand.

The first man slowed to a halt and the others did the same. He was a tall, fierce looking hunter with a firm set to his bearded jaw. Scanning the mountainside with a watchful eye, he began taking in every detail and processing it within an instant. He motioned and pointed to a massive claw print in the snow, some hundred feet away; to which his two companions nodded and signaled that they had seen it as well.

This same hunter was armed with a great sword as large as it was deadly. It resembled a massive, hardened femur which was filed down and sharpened at one end to a razors point. Even more than a sword, it appeared to be a huge duel edged axe, and its enormous bulk sat threateningly upon the hunter's back.

Many proud Diablos had been slain in order to create this weapon. Time and time again, this hunter had ventured far into the desert, often alone, to fight with as many of these beasts as he could find. One after another, the mighty horned king and his black-scaled mate had fallen into the scorching desert sands; their horns and spirits equally shattered.

His armor took neither less skill nor any less time to acquire. It was made with precise science; a credit not only to the wearer, but also to its master designer. It was forged in the most intriguing way. Half of its rugged exterior was made of polished, well-crafted steel. The other half was made of the deep red, impenetrable scales of the powerful Rathalos. A strong steel visor covered his eyes and protected his face to the same degree of which the rest of the armor defended his body.

But his body armor also had another outstanding feature. It had joints which were amazingly well designed. They allowed the hunter to place every ounce of strength into his attacks, through a series of tiny gears which followed every motion of the hunter's arms. These cogs used inertia to place more weight behind each physical motion, and this drastically raised the amount of damage which he could inflict with each strike.

Although this armor was extremely well made, nothing could remove the dangers of hunting. Every monster was deadly. It didn't matter how many beasts a warrior dragged down, the next one could always be the one that killed him. No one knew that truth better than this hunter did, for during the fifteen years since he began hunting at the age of ten, he had lost more than one friend to the same creatures which he had killed countless times.

He removed his helm and let the frozen wind whip at his fiery red hair. The companion standing to his right spoke to him in a hushed tone.

"You're point-man for this mission, Kelevra," the fighter said, "What is the next plan of action?"

Kelevra turned to his right and replied softly. "I'm not sure yet. We know that the Tigrex is in this general area," he pointed to the tracks, "But we don't know where. If we don't hurry, we could lose him entirely. I say that you and Dred take the pathway down the mountain. I'll take the path further up. If I see no signs I may search through the cave system."

His comrade nodded and headed off to relay the message to Dred. "Oh, and Koga," Kelevra called, "Be careful. If you encounter the Tigrex, you know the signal."

Koga nodded, motioned to Dred, and the two of them moved swiftly on the pathway that led them further down the mountain. Kelevra watched until they disappeared from sight. He had seen so many of his friends part ways with him in this fashion. It seemed that so few of them ever returned.

He thought back to the days when he was Dred and Koga's age. He let out a short chuckle and couldn't resist a wry smile. He had been just like them; he mused. Eager to fight, eager to prevail, live and let die… that was the way of the hunter. Or at least, so he felt back then. But time takes its toll on all things.

Sometimes he couldn't even remember why he hunted anymore. It wasn't for the money anymore, nor was it for the fame or glory. He had gained and lost all of those things innumerable times. Sometimes he still fought in order to help out the people of the local villages. Sometimes…

But mostly he did it because of his promise. The only promise he knew he'd die before he broke. _One promise. _Kelevra thought to himself. _One __**good **__reason to continue this crazy way of life. And I'll never stop. Not till I close my eyes for good. _

This self-motivation speech got him ready to hunt again. Still captive to his thoughts, Kelevra sprinted on the path up the mountain toward where his prey might be lurking.

He moved swiftly up narrow mountain path until he came to dead end. He slowed his footsteps to a creep and stepped nearer to the cliff's edge. All around him, the wind howled threateningly; it pushed at his body, as if trying to urge him off the overhang. Down below the cliff, he could see nothing but a frozen abyss.

Kelevra drew a pickaxe from his supplies and then drew his carving knife. He glanced over the edge once more. His view was quite obscured by the driving snow, but he knew what lay below, as if he could actually see it. It dropped straight down 500 feet or so, before it reached a portion of mountain which jutted out at a deadly angle.

He shook his head slowly. _I can't believe I'm doing this again. _He thought, _Every time I do it, I almost die, and swear I'll never do it again. But here I am, once again._ He glanced over the precipice once again, before leaping over the side!

He plummeted downward several yards and then drove his ice-pick into the side of the mountain. The pick caught a firm hold, snatching with enough force to make his arm ache.

Moments later, as the pick started to slip, Kelevra drove his carving knife into the mountainside as well; this action halted his decent, and he breathed a sigh of relief. _Cheat death daily, _he smiled. _Without any regret._

He climbed down the cliff slowly, looking down to find solid places to bury the points of his climbing tools. Glancing downward, he could still see nothing but open expanse beneath him.

He breathed a sigh. He knew he was close to his goal, but he could still feel his arms tiring. The wind still whipped at his back and buffeted his face with ice. Lowering himself down another seventy feet or so, he saw the opening he had been searching for.

It was a large cave entrance that few hunters knew of, and even fewer had managed to enter through. It was this same cave mouth which Kelevra always used to gain access to this cave system, which was constantly inhabited by wyverns.

There was one other entrance that could be used, but it required chimneying up an icy tunnel that could better be used by wild animals than humans. It was best suited for an exit.

He assumed that beasts liked this particular cave because it was difficult to enter and even harder to leave. The term "mouth" was well deserved to describe the mountainside opening. Hundreds of stalagmites and stalactites lined the roof and floors of the cave, creating the illusion of a massive mouth which waited to devour all those who entered.

In fact, entering the cave could be as difficult as reaching the opening, and if a hunter didn't plummet to his death outside the cave, he would need to take care not to impale himself on the icy spikes which lined there floor.

The cave had a small ledge jutting out from the side of cliff. Kelevra let himself fall onto this protrusion and carefully stepped inside the cave. He made his way carefully around the jagged points of the cave's mouth and dropped onto the smooth, icy floor of the main cave.

He lowered himself to the ground to looked for any tracks. Although he had never studied tracking in depth, he still recognized the complete lack of Tigrex tracks. A variety of different prints were scattered across the floor, including a few Blango and Popo tracks. A multitude of Giaprey tracks littered the ground, but Tigrex tracks were not among them.

On the ground he saw a large pile of scat from a Popo. He was already in a foul mood, having not seen a single Tigrex track, and the stench from the animal mess wasn't helping. He covered his nose.

_Damn! _He muttered , under his breath as he stared at the frozen floor. _All that risk and the Tigrex hasn't even been here in months! When I find that beast I'm gonna kill him for wasting my time. _Kelevra let out a dry laugh at the irony of his statement. He'd planned on killing the monster anyway.

Still inside the cave, Kelevra heard the wind pick up speed. It whipped across the opening or the cave and wailed through the cave. Suddenly the wail picked up to a grating screech that echoed from all sides of the cave. Kelevra jerked his head up and looked around him.

He found that he was surrounded by Giaprey from every side. The slender, raptor-like creatures watched him carefully with unbroken stares. Their white bodies were streaked with lines of soft blue across their backs, and many of them had battle scars as well.

They screamed at him in irritating, high-pitched barks. Closing in slowly, the Giaprey hissed and snapped threateningly.

From beneath his helmet, Kelevra's face broke into a malevolent smile. "Oh, this is good_," _he laughed. "I'm pissed off to the core 'cause I can't find the Tigrex, and you little fools wanna end your lives? Splendid."

He drew his massive sword and held it before him. He was surrounded by six Giaprey and he could feel his adrenalin began pumping. There was not a carnivorous monster in the known world that was never a threat. But Giaprey were the closer to an annoyance than a real threat to a seasoned hunter.

They had small, thin frames but the fearlessness of Rathaloses. With short, swift jumps the monsters moved closer and closer. Forming a circle of fangs, the Giaprey closed in for their attack.

Kelevra tightened his grip on his great sword. The Giaprey were slowly moving closer, but so far none of them had come within range of his blade. He raised the massive blade threateningly, but the beasts did not seem to comprehend its lethality.

He spoke to them through a clenched smile. "So, which one of you wants to die before the others? I didn't start this fight, but you can believe that I'll end it. None of you will be leaving here alive, but which one of you wants to taste my blade first?"

As if to answer his question, one of the Giaprey leapt at him, aiming its razor sharp talons at his face. It desired to drive its claws deep within Kelevra's flesh, but its body met with nothing but the cold, hard edge of his sword.

With one mighty heave, Kelevra brought the blade up and over his left shoulder. It sliced deep into the Giaprey's chest, severing its ribs with one bloody stroke. Its lifeless form flew backward from the force of the blow, and landed some yards away in the frozen soil. It let out a soft moan as its life left it forever.

The sight of blood only enraged the other Giaprey, who leapt at him with courage that betrayed their size. Springing at Kelevra with impressive speed, they all flew away with equal speed, their bodies severed and bloody.

Wielding his blade with the strength of a wild beast, Kelevra cut down the Giaprey continually. The creatures screeched and lunged at the hunter. But their efforts were all in vain. He chopped the pack into ribbons until only one remained. The small monster cowered from Kelevra who approached it with his sword clutched tightly in hands.

He moved toward the small beast with self assurance. It's last moments were at hand. He knew it, and so did the Giaprey. The only way that this beast could make it out alive, the only thing that could save it from an early death, would be an absolute miracle…

A might roar echoed through the cave. Both hunter and prey spun about toward the source of the monstrous sound. All about the cave, the ground shook like thunder; small frozen particles rained down from the ceiling in a frozen mist.

A monster, as powerful and dangerous as ever lived, had entered the cave. It stood on a flat open precipice near the roof of the cave,

Kelevra's blood froze in his veins. He became oblivious to everything around him. This one sight alone demanded his attention. His life was on the line, and at this point, nothing else mattered.

There was not an ounce of fear in his body. Rather, there was a cold, mathematical certainty that he was ill prepared to face this monster. His mind raced, and he realized that he was armed with the wrong weapon, and had all the wrong equipment in his pack.

Kelevra had slain this monster before, and had always figured that he would face it again. _But not like this… _Kelevra thought silently, _Not alone, and not with this weapon._

The creature's name flashed in his mind… _Rajang_.

So, I wasn't planning for this to be another cliff hanger, but it seemed to pan out well and I was making this chapter too much longer than its predecessor.

Anyway, I PROMISE that the next chapter will start answering some of your questions.

So enjoy the story, and please give me some feedback.


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