[m] sarcastic savior
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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.


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Setting Location Form NPCs
Location: Drifter Bay

Date: 09 Aug* (Backdated)

Weather: Windy, cloudy

Time: Late morning
Optime
Stark
Asher Thompson




Vesper is by Nat!

(1090) For Nat! You can honestly probably skip most of this; only the last bit is important. Stark would likely be using his terrible high speech to get Helotes' attention.

“Boy sure about doing this?”

“Quiet, Stark.” A pause. “Yes, I’m sure. I mean, you ever get one of those nagging feelings?”

“Stark being nagging feeling.”

Vesper had to smirk at the big raven flying overhead, although she knew he had a point. He operated as her conscience just as much as he did a scouting partner, and what she hoped to do was probably pointless. After her argument with Myrika—if it could even be called that, as one-sided as it was—she’d felt anxious and frustrated about the horse herds, wondering what might happen if they were all snatched away. She knew that there was little she could do, having no experience with livestock, but sitting vigil for one day would help clear her mind. Then she’d apologize to the Aquila, somehow, and pray that she hadn’t scared the redheaded woman off forever. She didn’t know what she’d do, in that case.

“Not wanting to shift?” the black bird asked, a more anxious note in his croak.

The scarred woman shrugged her shoulders, feeling the quiver shift on her back. She knew that optime limited her in some ways, but she’d practiced enough to be able to hold her own, if not decimate enemies the way she could on four legs. Remembering the rope wrapped around her neck, she didn’t want to be helpless to grab it and wrestle it away. And she supposed that, if the day was as uneventful as she expected, she could get some archery practice in.

Claws touched down on one of her shoulders, and she reached up to gently clamp his beak shut. “I’m fine,” she told him, letting go and running a finger under his feathery chin. “I’ve got you to look out for me.”

Stark sighed then rubbed his head against her cheek before taking off, circling high above. Ves inhaled the salty wind and looked at the foothill grass well-grazed by the herd. As far as she was aware, there was one big group of horses tromping around the Drifter Bay area, not understanding that three stallions had split their families into three clusters. As soon as she heard the thump of hooves and saw two mares at play, she meandered to the nearest landmark she could find—the makings a cliff jutting out from the foothills of Halcyon.

Once there, she took a seat where she could see the horses running, unslung her quiver, and set to work unraveling a bowstring.

*****

Vesper yawned.

It had only been a few hours keeping watch over the herd, but she’d woken earlier than usual and the boredom especially was getting to her. There were the occasional bouts of excitement when the horses played or bickered, but mostly they grazed, and she had a suspicion that the chestnut standing at the edge of the herd was really sleeping. All she’d done that was productive was shoot ten arrows at ten rabbits and only miss nine times, and then there was the trip to retrieve them. The poor rabbit had only barely been hit, so she’d had to track its bloody trail only to find the arrow left behind.

The coywolf just about dozed off before there was thump beside her on the stone, and she blinked at the sight of the dead rabbit before grinning at Stark, who puffed his dark chest proudly. She began to eat sloppily, tossing him a good percentage of the meat and leaving him to pick at the smaller bones. She sucked on the femur, staring out at the herd boredly until she caught movement at the edge of the territory, near a thick cluster of shrubbery. Her jaw tightened, cracking the bone, and she was on her feet in an instant.

“Careful, boy,” Stark hissed, and she nodded as she hopped down the small outcropping. “Forgetting bow!” came an angry caw from behind her, but it was too late for that, and she sprinted toward the foliage. She could count at least five luperci there, and she knew loners didn’t group up like that except to hunt.

The raven flew past her, likely to perch up in one of the trees, and she slowed down, half-crouching as she circled around. None of the luperci seemed to be looking outward; their attention was focused on one of their own. As she grew closer, she could hear voices barking back and forth, mostly taunts and questions, and one in particular made her freeze.

“I’m not one of them!”

She could almost imagine the stupid kid’s desperate hand gestures. Her lip curled, and she wondered if this was her chance to set them even.

“Sure you are, coyote. We’re not stupid.” This voice was husky but feminine, and Ves saw a richly patterned tawny wolf through the leaves. “It was a coyote that killed Owain, and these arrows look pretty familiar.” The tawny she-wolf moved, and there was a pathetic little yipe. “We might not kill you if you can round up some of these horses for us. We can start with that perlino; he’s very pretty.”

The collie hybrid continued to protest. “The horses aren’t mine! I can’t do anything; they belong to the pack east of here, and if they find out—” He yelped again, and Vesper unsheathed her claws, stepping closer. Her approach wasn’t stealthy enough, however, and she could see one luperci glancing in her direction, opening his mouth to raise the alarm—before a shadow detached itself from the tree and clawed his face, wings flapping hard.

Vesper took advantage of the chaos to lurch forward, snaking a skinny arm around the tawny she-wolf’s neck and biting deep into her shoulder. The larger woman threw her down, though, and she only barely rolled away from a kick. “Move your ass, kid!” she snapped at Asher, who stared with wide amber eyes before whirling on one of his captors. Even with three of the foe engaged, there was a fourth raising a knife in her direction, and she wasn’t sure she could take all of them depending on how much help the coydog was.

Someone hauled her up by the arm, but she turned and locked claws with the wolf, baring her teeth. She heard the approach of the fourth luperci and let out a desperate caw, ordering Stark in low speech to fly to Inferni and get help. They were close to the clan’s borders, and with any luck he’d be able to bring backup before one of them got seriously hurt…

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