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The quest posting was convincingly made, but such was to be expected of a man who had spent much of his younger years looking at such sheets to earn his coin and his renown. Even with all its details, down to the last dot, Z'aanta of the Darkwood, despite being no local, still knew it was fake from its lack of formal acknowledgement from the Hunter’s Guild that oversaw these parts. However, riding was a hunting fundamental in Kamura Village, so having a hunter who could not was in need of rectifying, even if they were a guest.
The village specifically had an arena for bouts like this, to train and to test mettle, and this time one was said to be set with a nefarious fanged wyvern that ruled over these parts. It was certainly not a beast to learn on, nor one for the faint of heart, but Z'aanta was no greenhorn coming back from hunts on a cart either.
To start: mounting monsters was always done through the aid of ironsilk. Though Z'aanta was well mannered with the wilds, never thinking he had any particular dispositions over insects, the idea of a wirebug still caused scrunched brows and skeptical glances from even fellow countrymen kith to Kamura. The little creatures would fling their hunters across the landscape and through the skies, their silk string a boon in landing perilous blows, and most daringly: commanding strung-up wyverns like the one now beneath him. Except, this wyvern beast sure did not like to admit easy defeat, so it threw around its weight to complement its massive size, thrashing about haphazardly.
Z'aanta, however, was not one to admit easy defeat either, for the pride of a dragonslayer would not allow leeway, and against a forceful buck, he steeled his footing and tensed his thighs tight enough to put solid rock to shame. A triumphant groan exhausted from the master hunter as the beast did its best to unseat him, but to no avail. Try all it might, Z'aanta only refused it further by grinding down against its hard hide to secure his seat. He was the master here. The monster would do best to realize that at soonest.
But, to command like that was rather cocky for a guest just learning these ropes, so as a reminder of just who exactly was the lord of this land, the wyvern was set wild until its rider labored huffs and gasps for air. Except, humans excelled in their endurance, so it was folly of the beast for it to expect to go unscathed.
Tired in its face, the monster reared its head in one last effort but only released a muffled moan before it came crashing down from its spent muscles and relaxed weight.
“...Ya, ya sure you haven’t done this before?” Elder Fugen said, catching his breath, “ 'Cause with moves like that, woulda thought ya were Kamura born an' bred! Bwaha! Ah… ha…”
Amused, Z'aanta chuckled along between his own huffing pants. In truth he was no novice with acts such as this, whichever way he was placed, but he was also equally one to gladly wear a role if it meant its fun.
“Borne mayhap not,” he managed, eyes lazily lowering to Fugen, “but bredde, well… thou hast finished surely, O monster of Kamura. And here I still be mountede snug upon thee full, no? Lest I be mistaken.”
Surprise then rumbled in the back of Elder Fugen’s throat, rolling around generously, and with a widening smile, his fangs poked free to reassure that the hunter spoke true.