by Rajaad

To Monsters and Creatures Treatises

There is a creature that lies coiled in the far wildernesses of the Old World, lying in wait with sharp, keen eyes for anything it might call prey. Usually it is deer, moose, wolves, or bear that fall to its rending talons and piercing teeth, but occasionally it is a human who finds themselves being torn by this most deadly of predators.

But what happens when the roles of predator and prey are reversed, and the humans stalk the woods in pursuit of this elusive game? What happens when we hunt the forest dragon?

I spoke to Tajaeta, a Jeddan huntress famed as the primary supplier of forest dragon meat to the restaurants of the Old World. She leads a group of seven men, teaching them her ways before they venture out in an attempt to take the prey.

I doubt it. It matters little what sort of knowledge you’ve gleaned – people will still die trying to hunt the dragon. And few are willing to trade their lives for gold.

It’s not about the gold for me. Though that’s a benefit, to be sure. For meat, skull, claws, scales, dragon bone, and various other organs I can sell to alchemists or arcane practitioners, I can easily see twenty thousand silver from a single dragon. Usually more. But as I said, it’s not the gold. It’s the thrill.

Tell me a little about the prey.

The forest dragon? Alright. You’ve got to picture a creature about the weight of a man. Some are bigger, some smaller. We’re talking about a creature that can fly, climb trees, and live in small caves or even underground. We’re talking about a creature with armor thick enough to repel crossbow bolts and even some arrows. A creature that, if it can attach itself to a human for even the space of a breath, can do enough damage to leave him dead the next day.

They’re supposed to be pretty elusive, right?

Forest dragons have exceedingly sharp senses. It’s almost impossible to sneak up on one. They can see in the dark, hear sounds we can’t even perceive, and smell scents only a dog could smell. So they know if you’re coming. Now consider that they don’t generally have established territories like a lot of other animals, except during mating seasons when the male is defending his rights to a female or the female is nesting. Otherwise they don’t have any big reason to stay in the same place for long. If they have a bad feeling, they’ll just fly away.

When I take on a man, I train him hard for a moon. He learns Jeddan stealth tactics and receives training in opening his senses. So they walk very silently. We’ve had groups of huntsmen ride right past us when all we have to hide in is a field. They’re good. Still, my turnover rate is high. I lose people to injuries, death, and loss of mental stability. You see your friend rended to bits and it tends to haunt your dreams, you know?

I was trained in the ways of the Jotai Lakit of Jedda. That gives you a bit of perspective on things. Takes a lot to shake me, I guess.

Forest dragons aren’t rare. At all. I’ll take you for a walk outside of Aranor, and within an hour I’ll find you some dragon sign. It’s just that they don’t like to be seen. They’re also active mostly at night, and will hide in hollow trees or inaccessible dens or caves during the day. They like their privacy.

The first key is that you have to find one. Tracking isn’t any good, because they tend to fly a lot. You can’t search for sign, because even if it’s fresh, the dragon is probably far away by then. So you’ve got to know their habits, their minds. Our hunt begins by getting away from the city a little, and starting to look for temporary den sites. I work primarily on intuition at this point. It’s a rather complex matter of observing the habits of other animals in the area. The arrival of any predator into any environment starts a reaction that spreads throughout that environment. The basic idea is that if deer sight a wolf, they’ll give out their raspy alarm and run. Now take that to a more subtle level. All the animals out there pay attention to each other. That deer running will alarm a raccoon, who will also sense the danger and make for the nearest tree. The chickadees in that tree will voice their alarm at the ungainly raccoon scratching its way up the trunk. Other birds will react to the chickadees’ alarm, and soon the whole forest will be vibrating with the presence of the wolf. By following a logical/intuitive chain of reasoning, I can observe any of those creatures, say the rapid scurrying of a mouse, and trace the disturbance back to its source.

It’s the type of disturbance that’s important. The forest dragon creates a distinctive set of alarms in its wake, as well as in the direction it’s moving. It’s a disturbance manifested most heavily in large animals, such as deer, wolves, and bear. Only a few other creatures can scare bears and wolves, such as dire wolves or great forest cats. But if, say, it’s a great forest cat causing the disruption, the large animals are going to react with a lot of sound, because they know that great forest cats are disturbed by a lot of noise and will tend to leave an area after the alarm is raised. The forest dragon, on the other hand, isn’t afraid of a little chaos, and is actually attracted by sounds of distress. So the larger animals, when a forest dragon is present, will tend to clump together in quiet groups, hoping to either hide or scare the dragon off with sheer numbers if they’re attacked.

I follow these subtle leads until I’m in an area with recent psychic residue of the dragon, if I may call my observations such. Then I look for obvious hiding places, such as high tree hollows or abandoned bear or wolf dens. When I find a hiding place, I can tell with almost total accuracy if a dragon’s in there, based on various signs that I look for, such as scratches, tracks, or scent marking. That’s where my men come in. They get the difficult part, and make their way up to the den, as I wait close by with an arrow ready.

My bow is called a "Nijita" in Jedda. It is made of a supple Jeddan wood found in the jungles which is soaked in a special preparation of resins and oils for over twenty years. It is then cured, reinforced with hair-thin bands of erthynsilver, and strung with a firesilk string. Most of the men I hire can’t pull it back, and I had to train for two years to develop the specific muscles necessary. You don’t pull it back so much as ‘release’ it back. Now I’m getting esoteric. Sorry. I use light, thin arrows tipped with Rel Morde steel. Those, shot from the Nijita, don’t have a lot of trouble with the armor. In fact, once I sent one straight through the body of a dragon.

Placement of the shot is really important. The body of a forest dragon is covered in sharply curved plates of armor, so even the Nijita’s arrows will glance off if the angle is wrong. The breastplates protecting the dragon’s heart are curved in such a manner that it’s almost impossible to kill it by striking there. So when the dragon emerges, I have to make an instant decision based on how it is positioned according to me. If one of my men is still close by, it may present a warning challenge, which often exposes its head. If I have a clear shot, I can pierce the brain and end it right there. Otherwise, I have to take a lesser target. Usually, this means shooting for either of the two large muscles which run down the back and support the wings. They’re not well protected, and a good, penetrating shot will keep the dragon from flying away. My men are then in charge of keeping their bodies intact as the dragon either charges them or tries to flee, and I try to get in another shot. The meat is very white and delicate, and arrows do a lot of damage and introduce air and external blood into the muscle, lessening its value. They also can damage internal organs. I figure that each arrow I place into the dragon’s body costs me a thousand silver. So accuracy is paramount.

There are a lot of ‘cuts’ of forest dragon. As I said, the meat is very light in color, almost white, and has a delicate flavor. People like it because it is sweet, tender, and has a unique, distinctive taste. It’s a shame to serve it with a sauce of any kind, or to cook it too long, which destroys its flavor and tenderness.

Oh, other people bring in forest dragon. Usually they stumble upon one, it attacks, and in defending their lives, they manage to kill it. But the meat is often badly bruised, and when that happens it develops a sharp, stagnant flavor. The meat I bring in is of highest quality. If the dragon is too damaged, I’ll eat it myself, because my reputation is based on high quality game. A few other people I know of try to make a living off of hunting the forest dragon intentionally, but so far none of them have had a lot of success.

Forest dragons are heavily fae in nature. Not only are they attuned to the presence of magic, but magic doesn’t always work on them very well. I prefer the sureness of steel.

One last question. What about other dragons? Do you hunt fen dragons?

A fen dragon can grow to be as heavy as a herd of horses, my friend. And with that spittle? No, I keep myself to manageable prey. At least when I’m hunting forest dragons I only have a reasonable chance of dying, instead of an overwhelming chance.