[P] [m] Glory and Honor
P. Crown of Tines Miniplot

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.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: gore, language, etc..
Quote:Crown of Tines says: 
Throughout the night, a chill sets in, making your party grateful for the fire and distraction of conversation. A light snow dusts the landscape. Frost spiders through the tree branches, and, come daybreak, the land is washed in dawn-pinks and waxy yellows, washed out by the silvering of the landscape. The trail continues on.
OOC: Following Crown of Tines Plots. 1, 2

After they had set up their camp, discussed what had been found and came to a few conclusions, there was one thing apparent. No one was happy. To put it lightly, everyone had a pretty restless night, and following Peony’s own fitful rest, she wound up rising before dawn. The warmth of the fire was nice, considering the fresh blanket of snow that lay overtop them, and as she shook out her coat, the breath was visible in the frigid weather. 

Things were…different in a way she couldn’t explain. A gnawing feeling down deep in her gut told her what they would find wouldn’t be what they’d expected. A characterized demon by the two sisters Beverly and Maive. Oh, how things had become absorbing. Right down to the trail she spied once lingering outside of their little camp, and with a huff, the Braithwaite stood watching the now waning moon. 

Peony’s keen eyes waited until the daybreak of dawn, before she returned to the camp and found everyone stirring awake. With swirls of pinks and golds on the horizon she sniffed the fire and began her begrudged charge of their little group. 

It’s been a cold night, why don’t we get started bright and early folks?” Sure there were bound to be arguments and complaints from the drill sergeant Peony, but never mind that, she would gather her bow and pack, slinging them around her shoulders. For fucks sake. A thought left at the assessment of the cold night and the fresh snow fall, everything was frosted, she was cold, and she wanted to go home to her children. 

We can eat as we go, let’s get a move on shall we?” However would they handle her new found authority? Peony was only anxious for the findings they could presumably find, what with all their noses to work, something was bound to come up. 

And so, General Peony, with many— or none— complaints, would head the beginning of their harrowing expedition. Harboring none of the feelings of discontent against anyone else. She never claimed to be the softest woman in the bunch, and with only Morris being the only man— well damned if she would let him see her fumble. 
Crown of Tines Wrote:There's more caribou fur, patches and bunches of it, by the looks of things, in the sparser treeline just outside of Irving and venturing into the plain of the Debouille Reserve. The stumbling steps continue, but have zagged northward.

Location: just outside of Irving || NPCs: Amadahy (horse) || Form: Optime

Sleep had been difficult to catch. She had chased it off and on throughout that bitter, eerie night, capturing it briefly only to have it wriggle out off her grasp again much too soon. When dawn approached and La Oreja stirred, it was almost a blessing not to fight with the need to sleep any longer. With her nose tucked under her tail, Rafaela lifted one jade eye up towards her before giving in entirely and stretching the cold and stiffness from her limbs.

To better conserve warmth, she had shifted down to her halfling form for the evening. While the others stirred and woke, Rafa shifted back to again before checking on her mare. Ama nickered softly to her as she approached and, after a quick assessment to ensure she was no worse for wear, the Caballista began to ready her for another day of tracking and investigating.

She glanced at Peony again when she spoke, offering her a silent nod of agreement. The sooner they were moving, the better.

Once Ama was fully tacked and it appeared that everyone was more or less ready, Rafaela mounted her and urged her forward at an easy walk. Sitting tall in the saddle provided La Carne with a better view and she used the opportunity to scan the surrounding woods and trail as the sun, weak and hesitant, began to brighten the sky. As they neared Irving, Rafa asked Amadahy to stop.

"There," she said, pointing out a patch of fur that waved back at them from where it was caught in some brush. Rafa dismounted and padded towards the fur. And then she looked beyond it to the north. "Looks to have gone this way."

For, beyond that patch of trapped caribou fur, a disoriented and wavering trail had cut through the fresh snow, leaving prints and clumps of fur behind. Rafaela looked back meaningfully at her posse, her lips tight and her chest tighter.

They had to be getting close now.

[WC -- 332]
OOC: Crown of Tines micro-event!
Location: DCG, Trailside, Irving -> Debouille Reserve Date: 12th December Time: Morning NPCs: Unnamed mule WC: 681

[Image: GjPIvpe.png] - "Through the grasses, there's a pungent, distinctive smell, strong enough to wrinkle the nose - thankfully, it doesn't seem to be one of a predator, but the scent of deer urine is odd and unusual this thickly. At least, from this detail, the direction can be followed across the crisp, gold grasses and into the forest of Tall Tree." 

[Image: winter_fit.png] It happened as predicted, the El Elegido awoke with a scratching in the back of her throat and a general feeling of weakness which she knew would only worsen as the day progressed. Besides that, she felt stiff and cold, and for a moment there was fear that she had been frozen solid during the night and would need be thawed like wet laundry left out in frigid weather.

Thankfully, she found herself perfectly ambulatory, if somewhat sluggish and shaky. She stumbled out the temporary shelter with a mutter and made it to the campfire some early worm was kind enough to rekindle. As the rest of the Ashen went about stretching, moving and arming themselves, Cent warmed herself by the juvenile flames and merely spared a disinterested glance towards her mule, which had snuggled up to the the Tejada woman's blue horse for warmth.


With a yawn, followed by wet smacking of lips, the dog got up and busied herself with the simple task of putting out the flames. Grogginess still had a hold on her as she went to see how her mount was doing. At a glance, it seemed okay, and as Cent knew nothing of equine-care, past what she could look at and understand, this became the only diagnosis.

As they left their encampment, the foreigner opted to lead her ride by the reins, else risk a repeat of yesterday's embarrassment.


The walk was refreshing and got her blood pumping warm enough to chase away the stiffness from her limbs, and as she awoke in full the šarplaninac became more focused on the mission. Her unruly outfit was fixed as she scanned her surroundings in search of clues into this benign mystery, looking twice at anything another gang member had already glanced over. This interesting little investigation of theirs was certainly a good way to employ one's usually underused spatial awareness - not to mention that the woman was chasing the high of being praised for a job well done.

So it was that when the older Tejada discovered another fistful of thick caribou fur tangled in the brush and the animal's accompanying tracks, Cent hurried ahead, tugging her mule along, following the zagging hoofprints in the snow.

Tracking was on the list of skills she never cared to develop past understanding the base concept of them, but with her sense of smell (that would soon be blunted by a common cold) and the ability to see the obvious marks of a large creature's passing, Cent managed to follow the trail for a good fifteen minutes trough the fields and tall golden grasses of Debouille Reserve, before a fresh, musky pungency overwhelmed her.

"Isuse." Muttering this and the first lines of a prayer, the brown dog covered her nose. It was not an odor she'd ever smelled before, but a rule of God's creation was that all urine smelled about the same.

"Yeah, may~be this ain't luperćiwork." Came her admittance to the remainder of the party. She sharply tugged at her equine's reins, as the animal had begun to, for some gosh-darn reason, act nervous.

They kept on, deeper into the Gang's territory until they passed the Angel Oak. Cent thought that surely the scent would fade or change course soon, but when a wind blew in from the north she felt a pang of anxiety, for the first time since this quest began. 

Stopping rather abruptly, she turned to the rest.

"Y'all... y'a caught that, yeah? Goes way past the Oak, could be all the way to Tall Tree." There was a moment of hesitation, her gaze going somewhere off to the side before focusing back on her packmates. "Now, ah ain't no hunter, but ah reckon this ain't no normal deer behaviour, meanderin' about 'n', uh, urinatin' in such quantity 'n' pungency." Her free hand scratched at the creamy ruff of her neck, the dog's brows slightly furrowed by deep thought. "Could be rabies, Lord forbid." 

OOC: -
[Image: ver_11.png][Image: SoSuWriMo2022_participant.jpg] [Image: ughha.png]
Quote:There are more stumbling, steps and smeared mud suggesting something of a scuffle up a slope. There are more dark stains against the trees, and flecks of dried gore is caught against bark.

Morris hadn't slept at all and had kept his bola ready to use at a moment's notice. He regretted not asking for Asher's harpoon, it would have been a lot faster. After that thought, he realized he had his axe on hand, and switched to that. A blade would be far more useful against any creature than his normal weapons. The night was cold, and he kept a silent and careful watch while keeping their fire alive. No one got a good rest as far as he could tell, and Peony had them moving in the early dawn hours. Morris wouldn't complain, and only gave a nod as they broke camp and started on their search again. 

Rafaela was the first to spot something outside of the trail, some fur and Morris also spotted the weaving steps. A chill that had nothing to do with the air went down his spine and the merle male had faced much worse than a sick animal. Still, when Cent mentioned rabies, he couldn't help but pause and look down the way that the creature seemed to be heading. The smell here was strong, and he was glad for a nose covering. "Even more reason to find it then" he said and sighed before walking again "Don't need that sort of thing spreadin'." So, he moved forward and did his best to ignore the uneasy feeling in his guts. It took a bit more time than he had thought to spot another sign. Mud and signs similar to what a scuffle would lead behind. 

Morris got his axe ready again, feeling that it was the only thing on him that would be useful if it was an animal. "We're definitely getting closer, keep a sharp eye out." He knew he had no place to order folk about, but this was a different kind of situation where he figured the warning would be more appreciated then scolded upon.  

330 words
[Image: q7fNnn.jpg]
Quote:Deeper into the trees, there's a low series of rasping, rumbling grunts, accompanied by a clattering noise before it all stops somewhat.

The silhouette is murky at first and difficult to discern, but it's definitely not quite the monster you were expecting; it is, nonetheless, unsettling. On approach, there's a stray caribou, caught up in the brambles with his head slung low - Caught within his antlers is the head of his adversary, or, at least, what's left of it - and it's difficult to say how long their antlers have been intertwined.

The animal doesn't seem to register the approach of your party, thick coat patchy and wearing thin, clear down to the skin in some places, with scabby, knobbly knees and listless eyes. His glassy eyes seem to stare through the collective perhaps fearlessly, strings of thick drool and saliva clinging to his shaggy muzzle.

Things progressed rather hastily, first it was Rafaela that discovered the caribou fur, more patches. The foul stench was next, urinated in a rather obscure way, it made Cent crinkle her nose, and Peony clutched her necklace, saying a prayer. Whatever this was, Morris had been right the night before, it wasn’t Lupreci doings.

The trail lead onwards, and the pallid femme took action to quickly catch up to everyone, stopping just short of bumping right into Morris.

Suddenly, a noise, grotesque in nature made her skin prickle and her hackles rise. It sounded like an animal that was in pain, but she hadn’t heard a caribou make those noises before. Grunting, more deep rasping, like it was sick, or perhaps caught in a snare?

Peony rapidly took charge of the situation a putrid stench crawling into her nasal opening and causing her to crinkle her muzzle, a mitt rising to block her nostrils. When the entire posse came into the clearing what she saw made her hand drop, before she quickly lifted her shirt up to cover her face.

What she saw dumbfounded her.

It didn’t notice her approach the head of the opponent they had first found lodged in its horns. Intertwined among one another like an awkward puzzle, it’s body; scraggly with patches of fur missing, out its mouth hung a tongue loosely making more grunts, a string of saliva dropped to the ground, and the stench. Peony couldn’t help it, she gasped, loudly and the thing didn’t even register her, only wobbled and stumbled as it walked. What had happened to it? Was it contagious?

Everyone stay back.” Ordering like a chieftain, yet, curiously almost approaching before stepping backward and taking note of everyone’s open faces. “Use your shirts, it’s diseased.” Another command, her immediate reaction was to kill it, but she didn’t want to get near it. Purple gaze swept the others she was with, before her hand touched her bow. Who knew if it was transferable to Lupreci. Who knew what had truly happened here. The risk of spreading to their livestock was too high for her to take. In a swift motion she tore her pretty shirt, and wrapped the fabric around her muzzle haphazardly.

Hurriedly, but without fault, Peony brought around the bow and notched an arrow. In two seconds, it was whirling through the air and hitting it dead center in the heart. It stumbled, let out a useless grunt, and fell over. She narrowed her eyes. Now what?
mini DCG Plot <3

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