sooner or later God will cut you down

Del Cenere Foundation

POSTED: Wed Jun 05, 2019 11:29 am

my heart was flawed, i knew my weakness

This had to end.

Nazario combed the edge of his thumb over the frayed end of Riselka's lead, as he hitched her to a more secure spot. The Cartel's camp had suffered mild burns. The Posse's had been trampled - but the coyotes were growing wiser. It certainly didn't help that the del Bosque thought himself steeled to the concept of psychological warfare, the attempts obviously meant to confuse, the threats to make them scatter, to make them easier targets.

These wolves had another thing coming, if they expected that.

His call went up, and it was solid, and it was sure - the characteristic yip of coyote, if not a little deeper; if the threat were to be nullified, they needed plans, strategy. Rio had had enough of the heckling. He'd devise as he went - but first he needed support.

Patting Riselka's shoulder, Malchior echoed his cry with one of those long, gawky wails, before the great bird descended the canopy, and came to harass Nazario for feed, craning up to press the pointed end of his bill against an empty palm, before attempting to suss out those pockets, while Rio simply waited for the others to arrive.

Slowly, the crowd filtered in, trickling to the call, where he wet his lips, and steeled his expression.

--| [wc — 000] template by hilli
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POSTED: Wed Jun 05, 2019 11:39 am

And the stars will be your eyes, And the wind will be my hands

The crowd had dissipated, though Santiago still remained there, staring to the little wooden cross he'd buried into the dirt, hammered in place with a rock.

The crude marking did not suit the injustice, did not suit the man who lay beneath it. For all the things the Drygrass Posse had done, the trio from Rattler's Gulch carried the brunt of the sins that their past thrust upon them. He had realized this, now - there was no luck in escape, nothing to barter there; even if Evelyn and himself gathered up, fled north even further, how far would they get?

The space at his side felt definitively empty without the golden Reverend to keep him company.

Sometimes, Santiago still started a sentence, a thought, a statement - and would turn to look for his friend, only to find the space empty, and he'd hurt all over again. Fishing was quieter. Brushing out the horses was, too. It all was. And it was certainly no mystery that he'd withdrawn in on himself somewhat in Calhoun's absence.

It had been his fault, after all.

If they'd kept moving, if he'd heeded Calhoun's concern, Evelyn's intuition, he'd still have his damn head, he'd still be around to croak out awful ditties at the campfire. His jaw tightened, and he swallowed the lump in his throat, when the call rang out sharp through the cool morning that was burning off in the sun's gaze. He abandoned the hunt through his traps to heed it.

"¿Qué tal, las brasas?" Santiago murmured once he neared the Cartel's camp, and spotted Rio with his ridiculous bird, his expression confused.

"I think I know how we can run 'em off," Nazario started flatly, and Santiago watched that nose twitch.

| [wc — --] template by hilli, image from Wayne Stadler
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Despi
Mate to Evelyn Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Wed Jun 05, 2019 5:32 pm

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yeeeeeeeeeee

The yipping howl lifted Clover's head, sending a twinge of fiery pain down her neck as it stratched the inflammed scab. One eye still squinted from beneath a swollen lid, but the other chestnut orb flicked around with dull confusion before she remembered where she was. Some part of her instinctively knew that she was safe (or safer than they'd been on the road alone)—otherwise the howl might have jolted her to her feet—but it still seemed so surreal to be among others again.

The dog got to her feet and pushed her head through a tent-flap, frowning. With low, limping movement she skulked out toward the meeting place.

She lingered at the edges of the slowly gathering band, feeling self-conscious. She scratched at a matted ear with her hind paw, staring forward, until she heard a creaky yap and noticed Vesper trotting toward the group. The old coywolf brandished her bushy tail in an encouraging wag toward her adopted grandson, then came to sit beside Clover, reaching up with a small paw and pressing it against her shoulder.

When her paw pulled back, a smudged print lingered. Clover blinked, then smiled in gratitude, and Vesper offered her a wink back.

I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart
I can see through the scars inside you
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oderint dum metuant You have to love yourself a fire
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unconditional loyalty

POSTED: Wed Jun 05, 2019 5:51 pm

Zsorthia had been just rising when the yipping call rose into the morning air. Ears swiveled in the direction of the sound and quickly she grabbed up her knives, adjusting her hat upon her head before hurrying out of her freshly re-sewn tent, the flaps of the canvas fluttering in the cool breeze off the lake. As she made her way to answer the summons, she found herself among other members of the Posse and Cartel also making their way to the call.

It wasn't long before the red coydog stood among her fellows. Many of which she was slowly starting to feel comradery with. After all the hell they'd been through, she couldn't help but feel a certain loyalty to those around her. They'd taken her in and fought alongside her when there was nothing but darkness, death and uncertainty that lie out in the wilderness for a loner like her. Zsorthia remained passively curious and focused up on the two males who seemed to have called the meeting in the first place. It was Santiago and Nazario. She knew that if those two were putting their heads together, this was definitely important and she didn't want to miss anything.
Zsorthia



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Westy
Luperci Venerate savagery, Die savagely Del Cenere's Top Poster

POSTED: Wed Jun 05, 2019 6:10 pm

All things truly wicked start from Innocence

Everyone had been put on edge with all the recent events, especially Dahlia. The fire that had plagued the camp had taken her's and Boone's tent.. along with anything that was left inside of it. It was a shame that she had lost the only set of clothing she had, leaving her with nothing, but maybe this was some form of karma coming back to bite her in the ass.

She had to tass aside the things that were her's in the past and move forward with her new life. Inferni was no more, Faith was dead, her niece and nephew had their own home, and she was free to have her own life.

She should be enoying it if nothing else. The shackles were gone, yet she felt like she was still being held back by them.

When the call had gone out, Dahlia raised her tired head, sister at her side. It seemed hard to get sleep with what was going on around here. Thank goodness for her sister and Boone. Lately, the older sibling had been giving her things to help her sleep more soundly at night, and being next to Boone always seemed to help.

Both females made their way up onto their feet, padding over to meet with Nazario. There were others gathered when they arrived, and the rest were not too long to follow along after them. The two sisters stood together, giving their full attention to the one-eyed man, waiting to here what it was he had to say.

+200 words.

Dahlia Winthrop

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Salena
Luperci Carnicero Mate to Boone Chaos Star You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Wed Jun 05, 2019 7:22 pm

This place – this bitter and unsavory place – was awash in a golden light that faked sweet innocence with all the craft of a wolf in sheep's clothing. It had warmed, finally, but there remained a chill deep within the Vicar's being that could not be eased. Tugging her shawl tight around her shoulders, the marred coyote was always disappointed – despite her understanding of such things – when the thin fabric did nothing for her soul.

No physical comfort could warm the biting grief that languished there.

"Hey."

Evelyn blinked and shifted her eyes to the small dark coydog, not bothering to do anything to soften the heavy brows or the pursed lips that had formed on her ruined face. Paninya, though, didn't seem intimidated. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Thinkin'," she replied dully, her tone thick with annoyance. The younger woman didn't seem to care.

"Sounds boring. You wanna help me with somethin'?"

Evelyn stared, her expression flat and still, and considered all the things she would rather do than help Paninya in this very moment. But before she could say as much (and say as much she definitely would have), a call – that of a coyote if not marginally deeper – sliced through their individual thoughts. Both women turned toward the sound, their large ears perked, and listened.

Sharing a silent glance, the two Posse members gathered their wits and moved toward the cry.

There was already a gathering of coyotes when they approached. Her singular eye flitting restlessly within its socket, Evelyn sought out Santiago's familiar shape and, finding it, abruptly abandoned Paninya to seek him out. "What's this about?" she asked him quietly, slipping in beside him like a wraith as she glanced around at the growing crowd.

[WC — 292]


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Mandi
Mate to Santiago Maestro Cervecero
Little Bandit They stole my dirty socks... :( Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Wed Jun 05, 2019 9:02 pm

Can't go back, never go back - forward into the rust and dust

Twelve stuck the mouth of chipped bottle to her lips, only to find the gulp dry. Empty.

Damn. She said, throwing the bottle to go rolling onto the dirt and into the grass, never to be seen again.

This whole place was a mess of late, no worries with adding to it with a little refuse. Twelve was starting to think she had somehow cursed these once virgin lands with her presence; things had been so good we she first arrived. Now it was fires, stampedes, wolves out for blood. Typical, just typical.

The gray coyote woman almost didn’t respond when Santiago’s yipping call had gone up. She would have been more than happy just to continue sitting by her tiny fire, enjoying her buzz. But she found herself standing, and grunting, and scratching her backside as she made her way at a brisk pace to meet him. What had she gotten herself into? She cared too much for these wild folk.

Twelve followed up behind some others who gathered; like moths to a flame they seemed to filter out of the woods as if with wings. She hung back, always the outcast, always the outsider, and by choice. Still, close enough to hear what Santiago had to say.

There were Posse and Cartel members alike here; all of them shared common anxiety, common rage, about what had befallen them; maybe the One Eyed Pirate had called them to do something about it. Twelve crossed her skinny arms over her chest, slate eyes watching; she tried to stand as still as possible, despite the drink effecting her sense of balance.

OOC | [wc — 270] template by hilli, image from Bryan Mullennix
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Nat
Luperci Gaucho Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Wed Jun 05, 2019 9:16 pm

(000)

ooc

"Sumthin' sprung one of the traps." He muttered angrily, "Ronnie found wolf hairs, didn't match them fuckers we lookin' for though.." Whoever they'd caught had obviously escaped, though from the blood trail, John didn't think they'd survive long. The voice that spoke of innocents was slowly dying the longer he ignored it.

He half listened to Boone's response, re-wrapping a clean bandage around his burned hand with a scowl. He flexed the stiff fingers, glad at least that they could still be moved. Rio's call cut the two's conversation short, both heads turning towards him with the swiftness of those ambushed already.

John had already been a hard man, and now it felt as if the last softness within him was drying up, leaving behind a cracked, broken lake-bed. He needed rest, he needed to drown himself in his vices until the world faded away. He needed to be able to sleep more than once every three or four days.

Together the two approached, the gathering crowd navigated through. John peered around at them, the numbers swelling with each passing moon it felt like. They were many now. Again, 'Them' and 'Us' burst into life.

Vesper and Clover caught his eye, still looking wretched but less so. He didn't smile, but there was a lessening about the severe lines of his face. John clapped Boone on the shoulder,

"Sumthin' new?" He muttered, exhaustion coloring his voice.

Johnathan Winthrop
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POSTED: Fri Jun 07, 2019 9:58 am

(+200)

OOC text

Larka wanted to run, but something nameless stopped her. Whether asleep or in her waking hours she was assailed by memories. Ash and flame, broken bodies and headless corpses. The Cartel had been her sanctuary, the second chance at life the former slave didn not realise she had. Their little group were not alone in suffering; the Drygrass Posse had been targeted.

The girl’s breath hitched in her throat at the howl. Larka pushed a hand through the tangled mess of her hair, wondering how long she had sat alone, in silence. She pushed herself to her feet, and tidied her bedding out of habit. Copper-tipped ears perked at the sound of the camp coming into life, yet she lingered.

The darkness of the tent afforded protection from the anger and despondency that lay over the group like gathering storm clouds. Larka was perceptive of the weight that dragged at her body, and made every movement clumsy or sluggish. She needed a moment to think, to breathe before she could face the others.

When she was ready, the girl padded towards the gathered. Ears folded against her skull, spine curved and tail tucked between her legs. A furtive glance told her there were new faces amongst their number. A large doggish woman bearing fresh wounds, a scarred elder with a quiet fire kindling in her eyes and a younger female with unusual markings. Amber eyes held John’s briefly, before flicking to Nazario.

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Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Fri Jun 07, 2019 12:15 pm

my heart was flawed, i knew my weakness

This had to end.

Tired eyes turned to him, less for guidance, more questioning - and Nazario felt his nerves fray and send their electrifying shocks through his belly. His gold eye shifted a moment to Vesper - once proud Aquila - and he steeled himself with a tiny twitch of his lips. He could do this, address everyone as a group. How hard could it possibly be?

"Everyone," he addressed, his voice solid, but perhaps a little too hard, and he cleared his throat. "I know things have been rough goin' lately. Uncertain. Frightenin'."

He wet his lips, averted his eyes a moment to his palms, pressed against one another and fingers folding before he stretched his fingers and looked back up.

"But we gotta have faith. This - this hiccup, is not how we end. This ain't the story of us. An' it's important to remember, now more than ever, what we have, and each other.

"That bein' said, I believe it's in everyone's best interest that we come together, Cartel an' Posse, and drive off those that threaten us. We are strong, and we are stronger together, than apart."

His jaw felt tight as he drifted his gaze over those gathered, and he tightened the grip on his own hands to keep them steady as he pulled rank, and stepped outside his boundaries. He spotted Briarblack, cutting her own eyes over the group much as he did - gauging them to test her own certainty.

"As for this group targeting us - it's gone well beyond bein' tolerated. They've dallied here long enough, as we all can agree. It's high time we bring their fight to them, and cut that schemin' short. Those who can make traps, we're going to need 'em - this land ain't gonna be hospitable for 'em any more."

There was another pause, and he squared his stance further.

"Who's with me?"

--| [wc — 000] template by hilli
you haven't met me
i am the only son
Del Cenere Gang
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won't stay down

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