[AW+] lost in sand and lost in snow
For the IF plot -- we're trying to track down the missing Denise! There's still room for one more Infernian to join! :>

Snow was falling -- and had since the morning. Vicira shook flakes from her dark hair and frowned as she peered out into the mansion yard, watching the horses nose around in the snow to find frosted grass to nibble on. Some played, though others huddled under the shelter of the garage, leaning into each other for warmth.

The Fera yawned, but when her jaws snapped shut again and her eyes opened, it was to spot Harosheth standing huddled in a heavy pelt, pacing in a small circle just off the porch of the hospital house. She seemed to be muttering something in Spanish -- but stopped when she spotted Vicira, and hunched her shoulders.

"Come over here, girl," the woman barked, and Vicira did so -- though she flattened her ears and took small steps. They hadn't gotten along well since Vici's "pregnancy," though the Tears woman would not hold this against her clanmate if she needed help.

"Have you seen Denise?" the healer asked, shivering.

Vici's eyes widened. "No," she said. "I thought she was supposed to be --"

"She should be with me, ," Harosheth said bitingly, then pulled the furs tighter over her shoulders. "She's been... delirante, not right in the head," the old woman continued, tapping her skull. "I think she got confuse and -- and go." She exhaled. "It's cold."

Vicira put a hesitant hand on the old coyote's shoulder. "I'll try to look for her, okay?" she offered, but glanced at the snow. Her tracks would be all but invisible under the stuff. "I'll find her," she said.

She shifted down onto all fours when she passed the garden gate, and let out a yipping howl to let the others know that Denise was gone -- asking, too, for others to join her if they could. She heard Conrad's voice, and her mother's, and knew that they would have the Waste and mountains covered.

The slim grey coywolf took off into the forest, nose to the ground, looking for signs of the wayward vintner.
[html]<div class="vicisig">

<div class="bottom">
<div class="text">
their lips the secret kept, if <span class="if">in ashes</span> the fire-seed slept


@import url('https://soulsrpg.com/images/icons/postsig/signature-icons.css');
<style type="text/css">
.vicisig {
margin:0px auto;
.vicisig .bottom {
background-position:top center;
border-bottom:1px solid;

.vicisig .text {
font-family:'Gaegu', cursive, serif;
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Gaegu" rel="stylesheet">


Dorcas was surveying some of the trees in the forest, wondering whether she'd want to risk Oliver's well-being to fell them - she was missing her left leg, and could not stand to do it on her own - when she overheard Vicira's howl. A coyote went missing. She had only a passing familiarity with the woman; she'd seen her while exploring and inspecting the mansion and had heard that she'd gotten sick, too. How and why had she wandered off? Had she gotten better in the interim?

The faded coyote discarded her task -- oh, she'd just find some way to trade for wood -- and sought out the source of the howl. None of her projects had been finished yet, and she had an urge to prove herself to the clan - she needed them to know that she was not useless, despite her leg. And, if she were being honest, she was also quite curious as to what might have happened.

Since she was already heading in Virica's direction - albeit, unintentionally - she did not take long to find the grey coyote. She introduced herself with a "Hello," and a "I heard your call." She paused, then, and recalled Scintilla and how the concept of hierarchy was paramount there. Was this one higher than her? Should she be following her lead? Inferni wasn't exactly like Scintilla, but the two places were more alike than all the locations her travels had brought her to.

"Where was she last? Do you have a direction you would like me to investigate?" Oliver was the only coyote she'd ever had to track down and she wasn't close to the missing coyote, so she wasn't confident that she'd be able to find her, but she'd try. She tipped her head back to sniff and make her own assessment in the meanwhile.

As of April 1st, Dorcas is covered in burn scars.

(300+) Have an Izual :)

Izual had been laying on his bed of furs in the mansion when he heard the call. Abruptly, the Massacre sat up. Denise? That sickly bitch? Missing? That couldn’t be a good sign. Everyone was on edge about her sickness, and everyone was wary. He was even wary - and that was saying a lot.

As much as he didn’t want to go anywhere near the woman, this was a good opportunity to show the pack what he was good at. Tracking. Hunting down his prey - whether it be someone he was actually going to harm, or a pack member - it mattered not and it was all the same. Showing Inferni what he was good for was the only positive thing on his mind, and that was what pulled him off of his bed of furs and out the front door.

Being almost always in his Optime form, he didn't bother shifting down. He always did the tracking in this form, and in the snow, now, it would be no different. It would just take him longer to get to Vicira and whoever else gathered to her call.

It was a few minutes before he reached them, their gray and tan pelts stark against the white winter snow. The two of them were in their small, four-legged forms, and Izual towered over them. He only recognized Vicira as Vesper’s daughter - the one Belial warned him to stay away from. The other woman must have been new because he hadn’t had the pleasure.

”What have we here? A crazed Coyote in the woods?” he asked, coming upon them. He wasn’t surprised.

This would be cake because Izual already knew the subtle signs to look out for - shallow claw scratches on the trees at just the right height, scents rubbed on the bare branches and shrubs that she had passed, any tracks that they could find, of course. Only the snow would limit their sight and smell just a little.

.Beltext {margin:0 auto; width:95%; font-family:'Droid Serif', sans-serif; font-size:14px; }
.Beltext p {line-height:25px; padding:3px 0px; text-indent: 25px; }
.Beltext .ooc {border-bottom:1px solid #c3c3c3; padding:10px 15px; font-family:Arial, helvetica, sans-serif; opacity:0.75; font-style:italic; font-size:14px; margin-bottom:10px; }
.Beltext b {font-family: Georgia, serif;}
.Beltext b.npc { opacity:0.75; }
[html]<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Open+Sans+Condensed:300|Raleway|Mrs+Saint+Delafield" rel="stylesheet">
<div class="Izzysig">
<div class="lyrics1">I looked through your frame
<div class="name">Izual Massacre
<div class="lyrics2">and watched death go by

<div id="signature-icons" class="iconblock">
<a class="optime-preference" title="OPTIME unless otherwise stated"></a>
<a class="scent-warning" title="Character disguises their scent with pine and sawdust when outside Inferni."></a>
<a class="skill-social" title="Character is skilled in social skills."></a>
<a href="http://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Characters.IzualMassacre" target="_blank" title="Izual's Wiki" class="character-wiki"></a>
<a class="mature-character" title="MATURE CHARACTER. Threads often include violence/gore. Viewer discretion is advised."></a>
<a title="I will roleplay mature material." class="will-mature"></a>

<a class="reply-medium" title="Reply speed varies"></a>
<a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.SammiieAdopts" class="adoptables-available" title="Adoptables available!"></a>
<a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.Sammiie" target="_blank" title="Sammiie's Wiki" class="player-wiki"></a>

<div class="button-block">
<a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Players.SammiieAdopts" target="_blank" title="Check out my adoptables!">
<img src="http://pile.randimg.net/0/91/22980/Adoptable%20Buttons.png">
<a href="https://inferni.soulsrpg.com/policies/joining/" target="_blank" title="Join Inferni!">
<img src="http://inferni.soulsrpg.com/public/images/pride/if.gif">
<a href="https://wiki.soulsrpg.com/index.php?n=Packs.InferniAdoptables" target="_blank" title="Adopt a Massacre!">
<img src="http://pile.randimg.net/1/191/110365/Massacre%20n%20Addiction.png">

@import url('https://www.soulsrpg.com/images/icons/postsig/signature-icons.css');
.Izzysig {
margin:50px 0 10px 0;
.Izzysig .button-block {
margin:2px auto;
.Izzysig .name {
.Izzysig .lyrics1 {
color:#9F000F;font-family:'Mrs Saint Delafield';
.Izzysig .lyrics2 {
font-family:'Mrs Saint Delafield';
margin:-11px 0px -7px 0px;
.Izzysig .button-block a {
background-repeat: no-repeat;
transition:200ms linear all;
-moz-transition:200ms linear all;
.Izzysig .button-block a:hover, .Izzysig .button-block a:active, .Izzysig .button-block a:focus {
.Izzysig .iconblock {
margin:0 auto;
.Izzysig .iconblock a {
transition:.3s ease-in all;
-moz-transition:.3s ease-in all;
border:2px solid #9F000F;
.Izzysig .iconblock a:hover, .Izzysig .iconblock a:active, .Izzysig .iconblock a:focus {
border:2px solid #000;

Hope y'all don't mind if I join with mister awkward here! :> [330]

Were it not for the jacket draped over his shoulders and the scarf wrapped around his neck, Saut would look utterly barbaric. He crouched like a goblin over what was left of an old deer carcass, knees to ears, hands sore from digging through flesh largely frozen in the days since the kill was made. Chunks of congealed blood clung to the scarf, his right forearm, and his muzzle. He growled softly at the ravens who gathered around him, but tossed them a scrap every so often, anyway. Honey sights glowed hot as he watched them battle for the spot of crimson amongst the white.

He still held his left arm close to his chest, although it had healed well under Harosheth's care. Weeks had passed since the accident on the island, but his heart still hammered when he recalled the sound of the beams as they came down above him. The Asylum man was decidedly better off than the other victim of the collapse, and he regarded that fact with a slight irrational jealousy. He wanted to be cared for, worried over – and he wanted it to last beyond one chaotic afternoon.

The empty jacket sleeve flapped enticingly in the snowy wind, and one of the younger ravens ventured a tug at it. Saut was about to turn on her when a familiar call pulled him out of his meal. Curious, he ripped a final chunk of meat from the carcass and trotted, gnawing at it like a drumstick, in his cousin's direction.

There were two others present when he arrived. A little disappointed, the monochrome hybrid ignored them and rubbed his muzzle on the sleeve of his jacket, smearing it with blood. “I'll go this way,” he announced to no one in particular, upon realizing the situation. Shoving what was left of the meat down his throat, Saut trotted again into the trees, relying on his sighthound vision for hints of the missing woman's presence.


Forum Jump: