The Scrappers

Shit, they must be scrappers. I didn't think about it when they first leaped out at us, but it makes the most sense. The scrappers are well known for taking beasts from inexperienced hunters who hunt alone or in small groups, typically it is because they are too weak to catch one themselves or have given up trying to find their own. 

As we walked into the clearing dawn began to break, casting an ethereal glow on the clearing, revealing the presence of makeshift tents and scattered belongings that hinted at the scrappers' threadbare existence. As we entered the camp our supplies were thrown into a pile of what appeared to be other group's rations. The atmosphere was tense as the group of hunters, us included, awaited the grim revelation of what twisted games the scrappers played.

The eldest scrapper, a grizzled teen with a scarred face and a grim demeanor, stepped forward, surveying us with a cold gaze. "You're here because you wanted to find beasts, and now you just want to survive. Lucky for you we've got a way for you to do that. It's simple but harsh," he announced, his words cutting through the silence like a blade. "We are going to send a group or two into the Irelivian jungle, and you're not coming back until after nightfall. No supplies, no safety net. You catch something, it's ours. If you don't, well, better luck next time."

The implications of his words sank in. This was not just a matter of survival against the beasts of the jungle anymore but against the scrappers themselves. These scrappers were exploiting new hunters, forcing them into a cycle of risk and dependence.

"Don't worry, we'll add some excitement to the selection process," the scarred fighter said with a malicious grin, "by making it a little entertaining. You'll be pitted against each other in the ring, and the team that performs the best will receive rations for the day. The team that comes in second place will also get the same rations but will be required to go out and hunt. However, if the same team wins repeatedly or we become bored, they too will be sent out to hunt. We send out the best of you since we want a good catch, not some weakling. As for the worst performers? Well, they'll receive just enough to avoid starvation."

This is a sick game, a cruel dance of desperation orchestrated by those who had embraced the harsh reality of their existence- and who had nothing left to lose. The only way to survive would be to play along. As the morning progressed, the stone ring became the stage for a brutal display of skill and survival instinct. The six competing groups began facing off, their clashes echoing through the clearing as blows were exchanged and alliances tested.

...

Our group fought fiercely, driven by the necessity of supplies out here in the wild and the hope of a better outcome. We played to our strengths, having Gen charge in with this monstrous strength- while me and Keel swept behind them and knocked their legs out from under them. We had an advantage since we were in peak condition coming in, while the other teams have clearly been here for a few days at the least. The scrappers observed with a mixture of amusement and detachment, their callous eyes calculating every move. In the end, our group emerged victorious, earning the begrudging acknowledgment of the scrappers. It was our first fight as a team with a promising result even considering our advantage. 

As the eldest scrapper begrudgingly distributed meager rations to us, he spoke with a cold indifference. "Today first and second are gonna go hunt, I want to see what the new blood can do."

We set out into the Irelivian jungle, our spirits dampened by the weight of our circumstances. The dense foliage swallowed us whole, and the harsh reality of our situation became painfully clear. With no supplies, we were left vulnerable in a hostile environment, our survival dependent on our ability to outwit both the creatures of the jungle and the scrappers' twisted game. We can't get sent out everyday, we will wither away into nothing. We need to change our circumstances fast. For now, we are stuck following along.

Hours passed, and the jungle proved unforgiving. The lack of resources and the constant threat of danger forced us to navigate the wilds with caution. Each step was a gamble, and every rustle of leaves could signify either a potential meal or a lurking predator. Never having stepped foot in the jungle before we didn't know where to find even the hint of a lurking beast we would be able to take down.

As the day wore on, our hunger grew more pronounced, and the desperation to secure something, anything, intensified. The Irelivian jungle became both a hunting ground and a proving ground, testing our mettle in ways we never imagined.

As the sun began its descent, we decided to get as much information as possible in hopes it would satisfy the scrappers, while also helping us the next time we were sent out. We all climbed different trees in order to try and look in different directions to find something, anything. Upon coming back down we discussed and established that there was a small lake to the northeastern portion of the jungle, and we would have the best odds there since we would have the best field of vision. 

...

The scrappers awaited our return, their judgmental eyes sizing up our efforts. The eldest scrapper, showing little emotion, listened to our information. It was a pitiless evaluation of our worth, and our fate hung in the balance.

In the end, he decided a group that could gather information on their first expedition, let alone survive, was worth keeping around. Our efforts were reduced to a mere weighing of the scales-the scrapper being judge, jury, and executioner. "Until next time. You survive another day, for now. See you in the ring tomorrow."

The jungle's shadows embraced us as we retreated from the clearing to our own section of the camp, the reality of our existence sinking in. We were pawns in the scrappers' game, caught in a cycle of struggle and survival that seemed endless in its cruelty. The twisted dance continued, each day we continued to grow our knowledge of the jungle, and work better as a team.

...

We quickly realized we were the strongest of these novice teams so we created a strategy to survive. We made sure to get second a majority of the days to go hunt or explore the jungle, and would take first occasionally to rest up. We had to be careful and do it sporadically so that no one would catch on, luckily the scrappers didn't seem to be paying to close attention to the results as long as blood was involved. After days of repeating this cycle for almost two weeks, we had grown into a formidable team. Our fighting style became elegant and effortless. An intricate dance where we knew our partners next moves and could weave in and out constantly keeping our enemies on their toes. As time went on our strategies became more complicated as we tried new things and thought of strategies during the days we didn't hunt- trying to make the most of the situation we were in. 

Then, we found our first beast.

...