Anyone who has played any Monster Hunter game will have probably noticed at some point that the ways these so called "monsters" act are strangely familiar, with their behavior being more animalistic than monstrous. This is without a doubt the thing...
The first rays of light peak over the horizon as the half-moon that populated the night sky fades away, marking the beginning of a new day. The ocean's choppy waves glimmer in the morning sunlight as they rhythmically crash against the shoreline, slowly eroding the rocks, sand, and soil that make up the surrounding terrain. Many streams run across the open coast, providing nourishment for a wide variety of flora and fauna.
Further inland, the environment quickly transitions to an incredibly dense jungle. The nearly impenetrable undergrowth and towering treetops contain an incomprehensible amount of biodiversity. Each section of the ancient forest is an ecosystem in itself where vastly different species are almost exclusive to certain areas, and the boundaries of these regions are becoming more apparent as time goes on as the massive forests slowly retreat.
Ever since the arrival of the Raths in the new world, the open floodplains have been gaining ground through the displacement of Pukei-Pukeis by the flying wyverns. With the bird wyverns forced out of the trees and deeper into the forest, the dispersal of seeds in some areas has slowed or even stopped, turning an area that used to be strictly rainforest into a mosaic of habitats. Although this has affected the lives of some species, the changes haven't been drastic enough to cause extinctions, with some lifeforms even benefiting from the retreating jungle.
As the sun shines down upon an open cliff overlooking the vast ocean, the only defining feature is a lone tree. Something starts moving the vegetation in the forest behind it. Leaves, vines, and branches shake sporadically as the large, shadowy mass gets closer with the few shafts of light that manage to penetrate the foliage, revealing grey and pink splotches. Suddenly, Fang, a young male Anjanath, steps out from the underbrush and into the sunlit clearing.
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Squinting slightly from the sudden brightness beating down upon his face, Fang stops for a moment as his eyes adjust to the change in lighting. Regaining his vision, the Anjanath moves over to the small tree and proceeds to flush blood into the nasal structure within his snout, causing the organ, a combination of both sinuses first seen in his ancestors, to unfurl, standing straight up as a wrinkled mass atop his head. Pulling his head back, the brute wyvern fires a glob of snot from his nostrils, the mucus splattering against the plant as a form of territorial marking.
For an Anjanath, especially a male like Fang, keeping a territory is very important; not only does it give easy access to the surrounding resources, but the size of the owner's area can drastically affect their chances of breeding, since larger territories are more attractive to females. Having just reached sexual maturity last year, the young brute wyvern still hasn't been able to discover a place to call his own since every other spot he has tried was already taken. And with the mating season coming soon, he's more desperate than ever to find a region to claim for himself.
Having failed to detect other Anjanaths in the area, Fang feels confident enough that he can finally begin claiming some land. With his very first marker set, he begins sniffing around, the nasal organ greatly increasing his sense of smell since it is covered in olfactory receptors, and the folds it possesses enhance it even further by covering more surface area.
