[ WP ] Dragon . Wanted Alive . No bounty paid for a corpse .

For months supplies and men had continually poured in the village of Karen-ha, on the border with the western Savannah and the Saquir mountains. Everything brought there found its place in the Wild Acacia Inn, once known in the region for its beer and for its look, based on white wood, but now resembling more some sort of disorganized barracks. Piles of armour pieces, wooden racks covered with iron swords, bows without the strings, spear with dark fringes on the shaft, bronze spiked maces were all around the square outside the building, creating dangerous mazes for the locals. But the more unique objects being collected here were nets with different dimensions and shapes, and made with many different materials, from iron and steel to bones, wood and reinforced silk. 
 
 The inside of the Inn had not been modified any less. The round tables and the white dividers had been moved out of the way, to make space for two big, brown, rectangular tables. One was covered with a detailed map of the Saquir mountain range, while on the other a series of books and ledgers were being constantly updated with information about people and resources being moved in the village. 
 
 The `` customers'' of the Inn had changed as well. The rich nobles of the capitals avoided now the place, as did the merchants from the rich cities in the south, even if they still had their luxurious villae in the hills to the north-east. The place was now full with people of various wealth and origins, from the dark skinned Mahat'l from the desert to the blue-eyed, blonde-haired Kelis from the cold south. 
 
 But there was one thing that they all had clearly in common: they were men of war. Not that they had a uniform, they did n't even speak the same language. But they all had quivers and scabbards, and they all had scars on their bodies, and they all had a tempered look on their faces, and they all had the warrior look in their eyes. 
 
 Still, there was a group of them who had a defined uniform: all dressed in brownish-coloured leather, and with a green leaf painted on their left arm, they were directing the movements of all the presents. One of them in particular was clearly the leader, giving orders and directions to the myriads of people coming in to deliver supplies or to enlist. He was named Jahal Maraith, the White Wolf, leader of the mercenary squad of the Sarat Glefin, the Green Leaves, that had existed and thrived for hundreds of years. 
 
 It had not been an easy choice, but he had accepted, some months before, one of the hardest contracts of their history: to capture a dragon. Alive. Nobody really knew why, but what was known was that Cufal, the richest merchant of Leferia and its president, was offering an incredible amount of money, while also paying for the weapons and the supplies. Some people said that he wanted it for... necromancy? Or something. But whatever they said, it had nothing against gold. 
 
 We had n't had almost any contact with dragons for dozens of years, but we knew one thing: there were still some of them in the Saquir mountains, as confirmed by several reports and sightings. That's why they had decided for Karen-ha as their meeting place, and here they brought wares and supplies, and men and horses, mainly waiting in tents outside the city itself. 
 
 And finally in Spring, after months of preparation, the expedition was finally nearing the moment of truth. 254 men were getting ready to move towards the cloudy peaks, were several dragons lived. Little did they know they dragons' egg hatch in April, and the mothers are always hunting for food to satisfy the hunger of their newborns, and they will not accept any intrusion in their territory. When the men set foot on the Western road, they started marching towards their doom. 
 
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 *Well, this took a lot longer than I thought. And it is already quite late after the posting of the prompt, so I do n't know how many will read it. Anyway, feedback is always appreciated. *
