'Souls RPG

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446 For the #5 prompt fo the housing event! \o/

The sun burned on the crown of her head and her shoulders, the rebellious glare of the remaining summer refusing to give way for autumn, even if the cool breeze seemed to disagree and helped to temper the heat. Today was one of those days where the wind was erratic enough that she had to tie a headband to keep her short hair out of her eyes. Back when it was longer she would just braid it up, or knot it in a bun, but it was now too short for those. Not that she minded most of the days, since she often spent her time indoors, but today was different. In her buckskin skirt and leather vest, hard leather bracers on both forearms, and a full quiver at her hip, Tzila was ready for a hunt.

The Napier had gotten used to hunt mounted, it was far quicker and demanded less people involved to herd any prey towards a trap, but that was when she knew the land like the back of her hand. Now, she was in unknown territory, and against herds she's never seen that took paths she didn't know. So this time, Lorea and Domino stayed in the stables. Besides, she missed having her feet on the ground and the grass hiding her as she lined up her shot. She didn't miss having to get up close and personal to make the kill, and risk getting her valuable hands stomped on by some stray hoof. Thanks but no thanks, she'd stick to her hunting bow. Now all she needed was to figure out where to start.

Macula's shadow cast a shadow over her head, the crow's calls warning her of possible leads to herds of deer. Tzila's voice deepened as she crowed back, asking if he haven't seen any deer at all. None, or so the crow replied, but there must be some prey somewhere. She sighed and rolled her eyes, a hand going out to push away some underbrush in her path. Well, duh, of course there must be prey somewhere, or else the Court wouldn't even be here. Macula wasn't a stupid bird, much on the contrary, but sometimes he said the dumbest things.

Well, might as well ask for help from her new packmates. Nothing got canines together like a good hunt, after all. Standing near the rolling hills where the new mound village was being built, she sang out a howl for a hunt. Macula hovered over her in wide, lazy circles, like an ominous beacon signaling where she was waiting. If she was lucky, someone would come and give her a hand taking down something for supper.

A howl graced the skies, and in it was the thrum of the hunt.

Skoll looked up from where lounged outside his mound home, idly nibbling at a white forepaw when he saw a tiny flea crawl across his toe. He stood languidly, stretching with his curled tail in the air, then stretched out each hind leg in turn before jogging toward the source of the call. It wasn't a howl familiar to him, but they'd taken in quite a few newbies lately -- something that pleased the Senechal. The Court seemed to be thriving.

The wolfdog, bright and lean in his Lupus form, crested a hill and glanced skyward. A black bird circled like some dark omen; his muzzle wrinkled at the scavenger. Ravens and crows (he never could tell the difference) alawys reminded him of Inferni -- and of the bird whose bones he crushed between his teeth when that coyote mongrel attacked him. He licked his chops at the thought, then glanced down and spotted the caller.

A salt-and-pepper she-wolf stood dressed for the hunt, complete with a full quiver. She had large ears and angular features that betrayed her heritage, but it was little enough that Skoll chose to overlook it. He smiled as he approached, his head and tail held aloft.

You wanted a hunting buddy?

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It was with a stroke of luck that Mads had just settled the two energetic girls down for a nap when a familiar call rang out. Tzila, his old Sapient packmate. The Dane wasn't much of a hunter, only tracking game out of necessity and hunger, but the change to reconnect with someone he actually knew in a place where he knew so few was something he couldn't pass up.

After ascertaining that Keylo was happy to mind his granddaughters (and grandsons to a lesser extent) since Moon Moon was wandering around somewhere, the corded male made for the source of the call.

He was not the first to arrive, however. A pale gold, one eye warrior who smelt like he belonged at the top of the food chain had answered the call before he had. Without a care, Mads padded up to the pair on four legs, giving the Sénéchal a casual (perhaps a little too casual) nod of his head, before greeting Tzila warmly.

'Wha's th' odds've us both turnin' up here then, eh?'