Rathalos Blademaster Champion Lore
For many Banner Lords, the hunt is nothing more than a social event – an outdoor pageant to show off their bright white charger, slay some beast after a canter through their ancestral holdings, and then retire to the lodge for an evening’s entertainment. However, there are many for whom the visceral thrill of the hunt is the reward, rather than the suckling pig adorning the feasting table afterwards.
One hunting group of such Banner Lords is the Brotherhood of the Golden Horn. To gain entrance into this centuries-old covenant, a potential member must present the horn or claw of a great beast to prove their worth. No simple stag antler or bear claw will suffice — would-be Brothers must present an appendage of a creature at least twice their size, one whose roar could chill a hunter’s roiling blood.
A hunter might have to range far and wide to find such a creature, and this is where Galfric, journeyman hunter and would-be Brother, found himself on an expedition to the sweltering Lost Isles of Teleria’s south. Galfric was on the trail of a flying, fire-breathing creature with red scales – a monster that had seemingly never been spotted in Teleria before. The great monster had been rumored to have emerged through a hole in reality itself in the forests of Kaerok, before taking flight southward. Wanting to finally prove himself, Galfric bought passage onto the first ship he could on the hunt for this monster from another world, only to find many of his fellow initiates had had the same notion.
As the ship sailed further south, one of the hunters aboard spotted a plume of smoke billowing from one of the islands. Convinced it was a sign of the monster, he demanded the captain sail toward it. When the ship drew close enough to the shore, Galfric leapt from the boat and raced ashore, plunging deep into the stifling undergrowth alone. Sweat dripped from his every pore as he hacked his way through the brush, following a trail of giant footsteps, claw marks, and upturned trees. But instead of finding his quarry, Galfric discovered something a little less shocking for him: a small talking cat, standing on its back legs and garbed in a remarkable set of hunting gear. It seemed to be surveying the tracks itself, scribbling down notes in a tiny notebook, and continuing further into the jungle. At first, Galfric considered this to be a mirage, the early symptom of some tropical disease. His confusion only increased when the cat spoke.
With great eloquence and confidence, the cat introduced itself as a Palico — a hunter’s assistant back in its own world, who accidentally traveled here from a world beyond Teleria. It had followed a trail of glowing flies from its world and had ended up finding something it called a Rathalos. Galfric listened intently, noting down the Palico’s wisdom and advice on how this Rathalos could be slain. While he understood the creature’s instructions, the Palico’s terrifying description of the beast — of its long claws, barbed tail, and flaming breath — made it clear his current, slightly rusted, broadsword would be no match for this monster. He asked if the Palico would follow him back to where the ship dropped anchor, as he reckoned that his fellow compatriots would by now have set up a camp there. The Palico agreed, and the two trekked through the jungle, sharing stories of hunts past.
When they arrived, Galfric implored the Palico to stay hidden, as one of the amateur trackers may see the hide of a talking feline as their way into the Brotherhood. Galfric ran to the expedition’s make-shift forge, imploring its smith to craft him a sword capable of piercing the hide of the magnificent monster the Palico had told him of. Seeing Galfric seemingly driven mad by the jungle heat, the smith asked no questions and set to work on Galfric’s request. After a night’s labor, the smith presented Galfric with the weapon he sought. The initiate returned quickly to his animal companion and the two set off, delving further into the island’s dense greenery, following a dancing trail of luminous green flies that the Palico assured would point the way to the Rathalos.
After several hours, they were still searching. Galfric and the Palico eventually stumbled on what looked to be the tracks of others – different to those who traveled to the Lost Isles with Galfric, but obviously in pursuit of the monster. Not wanting to be beaten, Galfric and the Palico broke into a sprint, the thrill of the hunt energizing their weary muscles, as they leapt over branch and trunk. As they ran they could hear roars, cries, and the clash of blades in the distance — their quarry was near. And so was Galfric’s chance to become a legendary blademaster.