Rathalos-Sky King

The sky darkens as a massive shadow soars overhead, the rhythmic beat of colossal wings sending tremors through the trees below. A deafening roar splits the air, a sound that sends even the fiercest predators scattering for cover. The King of the Skies has arrived. Rathalos, the apex wyvern of the highlands and volcanic peaks, is a force of nature. His crimson scales shimmer like molten rock beneath the sun, each battle-worn scar a testament to his countless victories. Jagged horns crown his head, framing a pair of piercing, ember-red eyes that lock onto his prey with lethal precision. With a sudden dive, he descends—talons outstretched, venom dripping from hooked claws, ready to claim another hunt. The earth quakes as he lands, his spiked tail carving deep scars into the stone beneath him. Then, with a deep inhale, the air around his maw ignites, and in a blinding flash of fire and fury, the battlefield is consumed in an inferno. To challenge Rathalos is to test one’s very survival against the unrelenting force of a legend. Many have tried. Few have lived to tell the tale.

Selena

Selena is a very quiet woman. She only talks to her monsters who fight for her and protect her. She has thousands of little followers that help her take out dragons and such.

Lira Dresh

Lira didn’t wait. She never did. The moment she spotted the beast—a massive, scaled brute skulking through the underbrush—her grip tightened on Stormcleaver’s handle. The weight of the great axe was a comfort, familiar and solid in her hands. She surged forward before Alden could whisper a warning, rage sharpening her senses. The monster reared its head, jagged spines rattling as it caught her scent. Good. Let it see her. Let it know what was coming. With a roar of her own, she swung. Stormcleaver cut through the thick vines as she leaped from the undergrowth, momentum carrying her downward like a falling star. The axe struck the monster’s shoulder with a sickening crunch, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. The beast shrieked, twisting violently, throwing her off. Lira hit the ground hard, rolling through the damp earth. Before she could rise, Alden’s voice cut through the chaos. “Lira, wait—” But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was already back on her feet, charging again. Every heartbeat pounded like a war drum. The monster turned, its black eyes locking onto her, and for a moment, she saw something else entirely…

Esdeath

Choosing a weapon can be a burden to carry for an entire lifetime. Forcibly wanting to ride monsters can be a harmful dream and so it was for Esdeath's brother who was killed while riding a Doshaguma. Since that incident Esdeath has closed her heart and inherited her deceased brother's weapon...the Insect Glaive

Tetra (Femheavy)

Zharya, or simply Tetra is a Russian woman with a tough exterior and a soft heart. Her glowing eyes and mossy armor make her stand out. She was born in the ruins of an invaded city in Siberia. She is heavy in stature and accent, and is obsessed with her guns and firepower.

Rax Velmoran

The desert stretched before me like an endless, burning graveyard. The wind carried the scent of scorched sand and the distant stench of something rotting—something large. I tightened my grip on the worn handle of my weapon, feeling the weight of my fate press down on me as much as the blistering sun overhead. This was not a mission I would have chosen. But debts don’t care about choice. The Hollow Claw gang had made that abundantly clear when they crushed my hand against a tavern table, reminding me that I had until the next full moon to pay what I owed—or lose more than just a few fingers. And so, when the contract came, I had no right to refuse. Hunt a beast that no other hunter would touch. And do it with him. Rax. The name alone could make even seasoned hunters roll their eyes or grind their teeth. A warrior whose skill was as infamous as his arrogance. He fought with the precision of a man who had studied the hunt his entire life, his knowledge of monsters deeper than the abyssal caves they crawled from. But it was his attitude that made him unbearable. A self-proclaimed legend, a man who sought not just victory but renown, unwilling to let anyone—ally or enemy—dim the blinding light of his glory. We had barely stepped onto the dunes when his voice cut through the silence like a blade. “Try not to slow me down, rookie.” I ignored him, scanning the horizon. Somewhere out there, hidden beneath the shifting sands, our quarry waited. A monster old as the dunes themselves. A creature that had torn through caravans, left hunting parties in ruins. A creature that could kill us both before we even saw it coming. But for me, there was no choice. This wasn’t about glory or proving myself. This was survival.