Heavy Stepping

AW - Bog - Thread Prompt 2 - Multiples still welcome!

POSTED: Mon Apr 07, 2014 2:53 pm

thanks AADI for the superfancy new text table, now to use it for good evil! AW for 1-3 peeps for the BOG prompt, because Decker getting caught in bog muck is par for the course for him!

"~Far a-way in a dis-tant land, where'da sun embra-ces 'da seeaa...~ Ugh. Nah, nah, nah, dat's stupid... Too many, eh... Sounds..."

Decker's nimble paws did their best to keep a steady, lively tempo as the monochrome-pelted medic pranced gracefully about the open spaces of the Bog. Thick, gray clouds hung overhead, obscuring the sun, but promising no rain, and the air remained pleasantly warm as the seasons changed to warmer days - all ideal conditions to practice his singing, he decided. He picked the Bog for the simple reason that it was the least likely place to find any other wolves - only someone who had as much experience evading certain death as he had could ever avoid sinking into the marshy pockets of boggy muck that littered the landscape with such consistency. The risk was ultimately lost on him; whether it was from confidence in his abilities or simply spending so long not caring about his own physical well-being, he couldn't say for sure. What did matter to the merrily trotting medic was coming up with something new to sing. For what seemed like ages, the only song he could clearly remember was the old folk tale his mother would sing to the budding healers in his birthpack, about the mythical healer Talluzah Faraday and his whimsical adventures finding magical herbs and healing the sick and injured, no matter how serious the ailment. It was the kind of thing starry-eyed little apprentices listened to with rapt attention, bounding about to the tempo and singing it in unison before sleep time.

"Okay, what about... ~Far a-way in a dis-tant l-~ Wait, why am I sayin' 'far away' an' 'distant' in 'da same line? Ugh, cripes, 'dis is hard."

Now, though, in keeping with his new theme of letting go of the past, Decker had decided to write his own song. His singing voice was something of a secret he kept close to his heart. It contrasted spectacularly with the sharp, dry tone full of acid and cynicism that he spoke with, the lyrics to his unfinished melody instead flowing elegantly from his muzzle, carrying an inspirational tone of hope and energy akin to catchy old folk tunes. He'd deny his ability to any that asked about it - some part of him despised the thought of others knowing of his skill, asking him to sing like some dimwitted bard. Still, it helped him think straight, it being the only thing besides healing that would completely silence the incessant voices that whispered long-lost sorrows to his shaken mind.

"Okay, wait, wait, I got it, I got it. Rhrhrm... ~In the far-a-way clouds in the skies a-bove, where the tal-lest-mount-ains dare not reach, a castle rises higher than theeee....~ What da'-?!"

Just as he was finding his creative groove, Decker's tempo abruptly ceased. It took him a moment to realize how much of a problem this was, as his tempo was synonymous with the movements of his paws. Looking down in confusion, and then in panic, the healer let out a yelp as he saw his paws had disappeared into the boggy muck beneath him! He'd let himself sink too far into the 'zone', and now he was at risk of sinking into the muck of his own pack's territory! He tugged and struggled against his muddy, filthy bindings, but his diminuitive strength proved this to be a vain struggle. Panting from the effort and a few inches deeper into trouble, he began scanning his surroundings. He brightened up for a moment upon seeing a stray beaver sitting atop its wooden dam in a river just a stone's throw away, tail wagging as he decided to put his new, friendlier perspective to use.

"Ey, buddy!" he called, unaware whether the buck-toothed creature could even understand him. "Mind grabbin' a stick an' lendin' a claw over here? Kinda' stuck!"

The answer came in the form of a small wedge of wood, hucked through the air to smack the trapped healer on the nose.

"OH, YEAH, WISEGUY?!" he roared, struggles renewed with blind fury. "YOU THINK YOU'RE FUNNY, YA' CRETINOUS FRIGGIN' STICK-GOBBLER?! HOW'S 'BOUT I RIP OUT'CHA TEETH AND CUT'CHA OPEN WIT'EM, HUH?!" He continued to shout and curse with an anger to rival the gods, unaware that his thrashing about was getting him deeper into the sticky muck.


+7

Last edited by Decker on Wed Apr 09, 2014 2:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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POSTED: Tue Apr 08, 2014 3:41 pm



Conan’s desire to get away from his siblings had only grown as the boy grew more and more independent with age, and today was no exception. Early in the wee hours before the rest of the O’Callahan family even woke, the gold-tinted male was out of the den and exploring, heading into the new territories their alphas had claimed as their own. It was his now, too, so he might as well go and see what he could see, he thought, as he trotted along happily. He went on about this way all afternoon, hugging the shore and taking a few little prances into the ocean to enjoy the salty scent of it, the air warm enough, but the water too biting to stay in it for too long. It was mid-afternoon now, though, and it was overcast, the waves rolling even harder against the shore.

Deciding to move inland, Conan soon found himself in the Bog area, able to tell what it was by the smell of rotting plants, the dank musk of the bog that hung in the air. There were new kinds of insects scurrying around, having only just risen from their winter hiding places. The birds were the same as any others, resting on blanched trunks of dead trees and staring at him as he moved. A crow was watching him rather closely, causing his tail to give a little irritated flick as he went. There was silence around him besides the chirping, and he didn’t think there were any other members of New Dawn exploring this particular spot – but he was wrong.

He was too far behind Decker to hear much of the singing, but he certainly heard the indignant roars coming from afar. His paws dug into the soft earth as he ran towards the sound, recognizing the accent as belonging to the eccentric healer named Decker. Conan sped up, getting there as soon as he could to see Decker screaming his lungs out at a beaver, who seemed to be fairly amused by all this sitting on his dam with a rather haughty expression. Conan, knowing that Decker was higher on the totem pole in pack hierarchy and older than him, pinned his ears back and hunkered down a bit as he moved close, keeping his paws on the slightly more solid ground.

“Uh…Decker?” he said, looking at the healer’s surprising lack of paws. As he moved, his legs went deeper and deeper. “I don’t think you should keep moving around like that…” he cautioned, glancing around and noticing a large stick. The young subord picked it up in his mouth and held it, waiting for Decker to pay attention to him so he could hopefully use the stick to help get the male out of the muck. He just sorta hoped that Decker wouldn’t yell at him like that…

OOC: Hilarious post! xD Have a Conan. :)

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Conan

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POSTED: Wed Apr 09, 2014 12:21 pm

lol thanks! feel free to powerplay Decker biting onto the stick in your next post, he wouldn't really do much else in this situation haha. also still accepting multiples in case Conan alone isn't strong enough to yank Decker free >;P

Decker's acidic tirade was interrupted by the sound of someone else's voice, Conan's words just barely managing to register in the healer's furious state.

"... AND 'DEN I'M GONNA FIND YOUR CRAPPY LITTLE FRIGGIN' WALL, AND I'M GONNA' SHOVE EACH AN' EVERY PIECE STRAIGHT UP Y- Eh?" He managed to stop shouting long enough to acknowledge his packmate, initially raising a brow at the lithe male's intrusion. "What 'da frig are you talkin' about? I dunno if you've been payin' attention, Goldilocks, but 'da whole reason 'dat bucktoothed chumpass over 'dere ain't in little pieces is 'cuz I ca-YIKES!" A quick look at his immobilized paws had shut him up fast - the sticky muck nearly brushed against his belly fur, the lower halves of all four legs having been swallowed up by the bog during his mindless rant! The Delta swallowed briefly, suddenly very grateful for the presence of one of his packmates. He dreaded the thought of what might have happened if he'd been out here on his own - he didn't have time to worry about whether the subordinate had been close enough to listen in on any of his singing, he was almost shoulder-deep in bog crap! With panic in his eyes, he turned his head back up to look towards the subord.

"HAHAH, OKAY, point freakin' taken! Now hurry up and put 'dat stick ta' good use before 'dis wood-suckin' friggin' bandit tries ta' clog a stream wit' it!" As Decker did his best to lean towards Conan - a movement that brought his chest a little closer to the muck - the aforementioned bandit sat idle atop its dam, head tilted in blank curiosity at the events that unfolded before it.


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POSTED: Sat Apr 12, 2014 1:36 pm


((515)) ooc. Lyris to the rescueeee~ some minor pp here, feel free to pp Ly as well, if needed. And tell me if anything needs changing.

Lyris had wasted no time in exploring the new territory. Of course, she’d seen the land marks before, but they had been insignificant and pointless to her, because she had planned to never set eyes on them again. But once they were within New Dawn’s borders, they would need to be scoured and scanned to help sate the girl’s constant need to move and to do something productive, however little or much. She’d gone on a border patrol earlier, and that had been a bore. It was only after a vole hunt that the idea came to her; how she had completely overlooked the idea to visit the new land was lost on her. So the Stryder quickly abandoned her aimless meandering to pursue an objective.

Her reflection was thrown onto the still surface of one of the bog ponds, and she once again examined the ink that curled over her thigh, tracing and memorizing the chosen symbol of her family. She’d been given many odd stares and questioned concerning the mark, but she’d brushed them off, only giving them one-worded answers, some meaning more than others. Her decisions were hers, and she was past caring what others thought of her. Taking a quiet moment to sigh she continued to wander along the sprawling bog landscape, bounding carefully over rivers and mud patches. After a fair bought of exploring, her white and pristine paws had morphed into a brownish-grey, tainted with the muck she’d transversed.

It was the outraged almost-curse that brought her head snapping up from where she’d been examining the skeleton of a dead frog, ears pricking and poise alert as she searched the flatlands for the source of the disturbance. What she found was a faraway white shape, another tawny colored figure making its appearance as Lyris turned to investigate her pack mate’s distress, skillfully crossing the length of the bog and managing to avoid getting too wet or muddy. Still, her current state was less than ideal. As she approached, she recognized the Delta’s face, and wouldn’t have been able to place it lest the youth had muttered it just as she was within earshot. Quickly, she skidded to a stop next to the boy, assessing the situation and barking sharply. “Don’t move.” She commanded, quickly gripping the other side of the limb that Conan held. Biting sharp fangs into soft wood to get a good grip, she leaned forward, urging the youngster to do the same, relieved when Decker managed to snap his jaws around the stick. “On three.” She mumbled around the barrier in her mouth. “One,” She began, “Two,” Another mumble, this time she sunk her claws into whatever purchase she had to prepare herself for the pull that would ensue. “Three.” The bark came, and she jerked back, putting each muscle honed by running and archery to as much use as she could. Lyris could hear faint gurgling sounds as the healer was pulled from the mud, and continued to strain, moving backwards as Decker was slowly sucked from his predicament.

Lyris Stryder
Casa di Cavalieri
DEAD
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SILVER & GOLD

POSTED: Mon Apr 14, 2014 1:04 am



It was all he could do not to laugh. Decker’s tirade against the beaver was hilarious and even though he managed to look stoic and sympathetic, there was humor in Conan’s yellow gaze. He cleared his throat as he held the stick and waited for the other male to calm the hell down long enough to pay attention to him, and finally he did. It only took a second for Decker to look down and see the predicament he was in, what with his legs nearly missing in the muck. Somehow, even though he’d never experienced a bog, Conan knew that the movement was what was causing Decker to slip further down into the muck and if he kept it up, he’d soon be shoulder-deep.

Conan’s paw had just lifted to make his heroic move forward when suddenly another packmate joined them, stealing his glory. The golden male’s eyes narrowed a touch while Lyris was looking at Decker, and he had to suppress a grumble when the female grabbed the other end of the stick. It made sense for two pack mates to help Decker out, seeing as the healer was larger and heavier than Conan without the pull of the muck making pulling him out even harder, but Conan wasn’t thinking that way. He was thinking in his young male way that he would have been the hero and now this female was here taking over.

Her sharp voice almost had him grumbling again, gold-tinted ears pressing flat against his head in a disgruntled sort of way. With a roll of his golden eyes he settled himself and waited for her to stop counting, then dug his paws in and started to help pull Decker out of the muck. The whole time he was grumbling internally about the pushy female barging in and taking over, flicking his gaze over her and noting all of the scars. Maybe she’d put herself in the middle of dangerous situations before, she’d have to to get that amount of scars. Conan’s form was unmarred, he hadn’t faced any trauma since the death of his father and felt he’d been given a dose enough. He didn’t need physical scars to add to the mental and emotional ones.

OOC: Grumbly ego-popped Conan is grumbly.

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Conan

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POSTED: Fri Apr 25, 2014 2:52 pm

nahh you good. bit delayed since losing progress on the bear hunt reply kinda wore me out, and Easter week was kind of a rollercoaster for me

Decker couldn't help but arch a brow as yet another Dawner stepped in to help yank his scrawny hide free of the mess he'd trodden into - and for a few moments, the pale-furred healer was more worried at the prospect of having been eavesdropped on than he was about suffocating in bog muck. One random passerby could easily have been coincidence, but two? Had he had a secret audience this whole time? What if they had actually heard him singing?!

Bringing himself back down to earth, the Delta managed to refocus on the matter currently threatening more than just his self-image, ears perking to catch Lyris's order against moving. Figuring thrashing about furiously was what got him this deep into trouble in the first place, not to mention the bog compressing around his legs and making any sort of movement nigh impossible to begin with, he complied eagerly, leaning forwards to receive the branch Conan had brought over earlier.

Jaws clenched tight around the stick, Decker shut his eyes and did his best to will himself free of the mud as Lyris counted three and his two potential saviors yanked back on the limb. Growls of discomfort rumbled forth from the healer's throat as this packmates' efforts slowly, yet surely, pulled him free of his situation, the muck clinging doggedly to his legs as he was heaved gradually out of the bog.

It was an uphill battle, but although success did eventually come of it, it came perhaps a little too suddenly. Without much warning past a brief sense of the sludge's hold on his paws weakening, which Decker couldn't exactly communicate, the muck very quickly released its grip on the scrawny healer, the laws of physics swiftly making themselves apparent as the now-freed Delta was yanked back onto solid ground just a bit more violently than he was anticipating. This caused him to stumble as he landed on his muck-burdened paws, falling in such a way that his end of the stick jammed its way down his throat, eliciting several awful gagging noises from him before he gathered himself enough to pull himself off of it, coughing up a few bits of bark on the process. Even in freedom, he couldn't seem to catch a break.

Throat cleared and mind straightened, he turned his attention briefly to his filth-laden legs, mumbling under his breath as he tried with no success to shake his limbs free of the clingy slime, before looking back up at his packmates.

"Sheesh," he scoffed. "Thanks for da' save, 'dere..." A split-second scan of Lyris's face to identify something about her that he could substantially nickname her with decided the huntress's fate. "... Squiggles. ... You, too, Goldilocks." Perhaps to add to the pain of Conan's deflated ego, Decker's mention of the subord boy's nickname was considerably lower than his acknowledgement of Lyris. "Hate ta' think what'd happen if youse two hadn't come along. Suffocatin' in bog crap ain't how I'm s'posed ta' go out." He smirked amicably at this, quietly hoping he could avoid interrogation as to why he was out here on his lonesome to begin with. He hadn't anticipated needing a rescue, and his mind scrambled to formulate a valid preemptive excuse.


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POSTED: Thu May 01, 2014 11:37 pm


((377)) ooc. Clueless Ly is clueless

It had been a coincidence, and a lucky one at that, that Conan and Lyris had been nearby to hear his distressed wail. Had they not, Decker may have very well struggled in vain, only to be found days later a scraggly and mud-consumed corpse, if his corpse had ever been found. Not a good way to go out, and most definitely not a heroic one. Suffocating was one of the Subord’s worst fears, and even the idea of it made her heart flutter. From now on, she would be doubly-careful watching where she stepped.

With a lack of social influence in her life, Lyris was very out of tune to others emotions and reactions. Conan’s cold and suddenly quiet persona was not out of place in the Stryder’s mind- for all she knew maybe he was just a soft-spoken boy; she’d never met him before. It would take a blunt and to-the-point sentence for her to understand what she had done to upset the male. Precisely the reason she’d never been in an intimate relationship before, be it friends or lovers: simply because feelings were not her forte.

It was not awfully long before Lyris felt a sudden slack on the stick, and her sharp reflexes screamed at her body to move, causing the huntress to quickly leap backwards, avoiding being bowled over by the newly-freed pack mate, but consequentially allowing her end of the stick to get shoved up his throat. Wincing lightly, she moved back to the trio, pausing as the Delta spoke to her. Squiggles? “Lyris.” She corrected him, as it seemed that the term had been directed at her. The girl gave a brief nod to Conan, thanking him for his assistance, before she moved past the males to glance over the sinkhole of doom. “Might should mark this so nobody else falls in.” She mused, only half to herself. Glancing over her shoulder again, the female stooped to the grip the saving stick in her mouth, driving it suddenly into the soft ground on the edge of the bog hole. A stick in such an odd position would certainly arouse some suspicion, yet the Subord still figured some colored cloth at the top would serve a better warning flag.

Lyris Stryder
Casa di Cavalieri
DEAD
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Ann
Luperci Mate to Luca Stable Master The Brotherhood: Master of Tooth and Claw 2013, 2015 SoSuWriMo Champ! Stryder
princess cut from marble
smoother than a storm
these scars that mark my body?
SILVER & GOLD

POSTED: Sat May 10, 2014 2:44 am



Conan’s eyes were wide as he pulled and tugged at the stick along with Lyris, eventually hauling the disgruntled healer out of the muck. It might have taken his life, and had they not come along he definitely would have gotten more stuck, at least. Conan could tell that by the way it squelched when they finally hauled him free and sent him tumbling, right into Conan. The young male gave out a yelp and did some fancy footwork to keep from falling into the much himself, managing not to shoot a glare at the Delta for the bump – it had been an accident after all.

With Decker free, Conan convinced himself that he’d been the hero in all of this and Lyris had just been a sidekick. He grinned when Decker began to thank him, them, rather, for saving him from the muck…until he said Lyris’ nickname and added him as an aside. “The name is Conan,” he grumbled, sounding very much offended both at the nickname and the lack of recognition. His eyes narrowed into a scowl and he glanced to the other side of the bog, considering walking away from the two of them right then and there to find someone who would appreciate him and all of his greatness.

“You probably would have suffocated,” he said, his voice curt. “Lucky she came along and saved the day.” With that he stood and shook himself, trying to figure out some way to get out of here without looking like he was storming off like a teenager. He cut a glance to Lyris, decided she was a glory-stealing wench. When she leaned over the bog he had half a mind to shove her in and then save her himself. At least then he might be appreciated. A little smirk curved on his lips even though he knew he couldn’t do it. His mother would skin him.

OOC: Grumbly ego-popped Conan is grumbly...still.

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Conan

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POSTED: Mon May 19, 2014 2:06 pm

OOC here

A light, if somewhat biting, chuckle left Decker's marred snout as Lyris and Conan corrected him on his choice of monikers. "Yeah. I'm- I'm seriously not gonna' remember 'dat fa' neither 'a youse. See, look, you." He pointed listlessly to the huntress, giving an honest effort to recall her name, which she'd given not moments ago. "Llll... Ly, Ly... Ly... Lisa. ... 'Dat's not it, is it? See, I'm dead frickin' serious. I'm never gonna' remember youse' names. It just- Names just don't... stick. Don't ask me why. Now, you," - still pointing at Lyris - "You got 'dat scar on your face, goin' all..." Decker made a zigzagging motion with his paw while making what could only be described as a 'squiggly noise.' "Like 'dat, so I calls ya' Squiggles. Bam. See? I remember 'dat. You're foreva' burned inta' my brain as Squiggles. Yeah, it sucks, but so does disease, an' I gotta' deal wit' dat, so be happy all you're stuck wit' is a crappy nickname." He looked back towards Conan briefly to address the other half of the duo that had come to his rescue. "You're Goldilocks 'cuz ya' fur's a pretty color an' ya' look kinda' girly." It never occurred to him that his honest explanations may have come off as... Slightly insulting. Hey, he was new to this 'empathy' thing. He was a doctor, not some blabber-mouth socialite.

His attention turned to Conan, the Delta arching a brow as his ears picked up an underlying tone of... Saltiness. Gradually, Decker's inquisitive expression morphed into one of revalation, and then into one of teasing glee. "Wha...? ... ... ... Ohhh... Ohh, OOHH! Goldi- You-" His sentence disintegrated into a bout of sharp, tittering laughter as he sat back on his rump. "Ohoh... Hoh, hahoh boy, he's jealous 'dat da' gal came in ta' steal his thunder! Hah! Holy crap! 'Dat's friggin' adorable! Look, he's fumin'!"

Decker was skilled at many things - important things, like cleaning wounds, identifying herbs, creating medicines, and ensuring the continuing safety of the livelihoods of his patients. Displaying gratitude was decidedly not on this list.


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