The roar of the water, echoing out of the bottom of the chasm, masked the sound of a voice calling from above. [i]Hey--[/i]

It was the movement of wings, a shadow flickering overhead, that drew Rook's initial attention. He expected a buzzard, maybe an eagle guarding a nearby nest against an intruder. He held still and nonthreatening against the rock face while he squinted up out of the shadow of the cliff.

The appearance of a winged [i]person[/i] made his brain misfire for a moment, and he briefly wondered if those elders might have slipped something into his drink. Then his eyes adjusted: that familiar navy capelet, and especially the shining white mana stone, explained his new situation in infuriating clarity. A godsdamned Royal Hunter was chasing the same kill, and he was dangling on the side of a cliff like a spider. He would have much preferred the drugged drink.

"[color=8dc73f]Go back to your pretty castle, Chimaera.[/color]" He braced himself against the wall, an arm curled around the rope while he glared up at the figure hovering against the sun overhead. Those hunters that worked for the crown were renowned for their stolen appendages and grafted powers. From the perspective of the underground hunters' organization, the queen was killing off the beasts just to hack them apart and reassemble them into an army of superhuman puppets that would inevitably turn on them once the monsters were gone.

Rook leaned out from the cliff, gauged the angle down to the cavern mouth, and rappelled down another short drop. "[color=8dc73f]Unless you plan to grow another pair of arms, this one's useless to you. Go home and claim you killed it. I'll take it from here.[/color]"