[M] In the snow or the rain or the ice cold wind

Through the Valley Event

POSTED: Fri Apr 19, 2019 6:51 pm

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.

(000)

ooc

It was chilly enough this morning to give his nips a reason to say hello and for his nuts to say goodbye completely. Steadily in the cold air his cigarette burned away, a trail of smoke coiling about his head. Obstinado shuffled beneath John's body, and the tipsy man swayed atop his mount.

Getting sack-tapped hadn't been anywhere near on the list of things he wanted to do today, but fuck him if it didn't happen anyway. Wayne, that crotch-sniffer, was a treacherous bastard. John fell from his horse with a thump, eyes watering,

"You muthafucker." He wheezed from the floor, hands pitched between his knees, grasping his smarting balls. He could hear Boone's laughter, braying like his fucking mule. That little ass-pirate, John would get him back at some point.

Eventuality found John sitting back in his saddle, after throwing a half frozen horse turd at Boone's head. It was even enough to coax a smile, and some genuine laughter from John, it felt good to laugh.

Cig jammed back between his teeth, he puffed on it, wishing it wasn't so cold. The forests provided little protection for the three mounted men.

"Ron swore he saw some of them deer up'n over the bluff there, a few days ago now. Might be they're still hangin' round."

He nodded with his head towards the direction.

Johnathan Winthrop
I'm a dead man walkin'
Del Cenere Gang
Las Brasas
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Jace
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Fri Apr 19, 2019 8:19 pm

Layer after layer Wayne swaddled himself with with the few bits of clothing he had left. His muffler, having been stolen on the east side of Canada still had him in a mood, but he'd drop it for the sweet, sweet sensation of coffee. He'd woken up particularly early, before the sun and started the water to boil. Arms folded, he sat groggy and grumpy until the kettle hissed. From there, a pinch of granules were added as it boiled and he threw his head back.

He'd dozed off, but when he woke, the kettle was hissing again. Slapping his hands together, rubbing them for warmth, he leaned forward and got the cloth ready. Pouring the grinds into the cloth and over his tin cup, he let the tinted water strain. As the grinds cooled from the frigid air, he squeezed it into the cup and the yellow water mucked into a earthy hue. It was still transparent, but it was enough. A sip slid down his throat and warmed his belly. Today was gonna be a good day.

The rest of the camp was waking a bit later, Wayne still more of a morning person than most, and he watched as the world came awake around him. It wasn't until mention came that a hunt was something needing to happen for a certain gathering that Wayne got up off his little campfire and made himself one of the busy bodies in the camp.

Cochise was saddled up and Wayne pinched the corner of his gambler and tucked it between his ears. His features were a little brighter today, and his throat nearly healed completely from the bruising he'd endured before. In his good morning he'd all but forgotten about it. He was far more interested in teasing the boys that were saddled up and ready to go. Hopping atop Cochise,” Mornin' boah's,” he smirked. A flick of his wrist had his rope reigns snap to the side and give John a wake up call that would wipe the gloss out of his eyes,” Y'wake yet?”

An airy, strained yet mirthful laugh bubbled up from his belly as he passed, Cochise prancing as Wayne's eye met Boone's. The atmosphere was fantastic today. Sure, John had it rough, but what was a little teasing? Boone seemed just as delighted and that left Wayne assuming the lead until bits of scat dribbled through the air,” Woah, now!” He laughed, spinning Cochise about as the horse chewed on the bit,” That's one way to shoot th'shit,” He chuckled. It would have been different had it landed on him, but the worst John would get was a wet willy and a static filled noogie if he did.

After they'd all settled, John took up the note of what Ron had mentioned before. Wayne nodded,” H'okay,” and turned to Boone,” I'm up for't if ya'll are? Mud'll be great for trackin' I reckon,” It was a sight, the three of the men stood there, having grown into brothers from different blood. Boone and his painted mare, Wayne and his painted stallion, and John with his mule. Gripping his rope in hand and pitching his dagger behind his back, he nodded to them both,” I got what I need, if ya'll are ready to head out.”


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Del Cenere Gang
Las Brasas
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Dark
Luperci Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Sun Apr 21, 2019 7:42 pm

Do not cry out or hit the alarm
You know we're friends till we die

"Ha! Gaaaaaaaaaaaaay," Boone sneered behind riotous laughter as John fell gracelessly from his mount. Astride his own horse, Boone could hardly keep himself upright in the wake of this ridiculous affair -- or perhaps it was the strong drink concealed in the wineskin at the silver haired coywolf's side. The Posse's shine had been a good friend to him. He drank through the day; enough to provide a level of mirth that was rare these days.

Rio was doing his best to raise spirits among the disenfranchised. Boone easily offered the elder brother his support for the endeavor. Unity between the Cartel and the Drygrass Posse could make things better. Perhaps the shores of Moosehead Lake would soon feel like a home long lost.

It was moments like these where Boone believed it possible.

He narrowly dodged the cascade of horse shit that John slung his way, dipping low and reacting as fast as his drink tempered senses would allow. The laughter stopped. "The shit John?" Boone chided, narrowing his eyes at his uncle all stern like before descending into yet another fit of laughter.

Boone was ready for the hunt. "S'go then," he said. With bow slung along his back, Boone dug his heels into his mount's flank, prompting her to trot ahead. He couldn't wait to watch something die. As the others rode along, Boone turned to Wayne, spying the rope at his hip, and wondered aloud. "Shit you gonna do with that, Wayne?"

OOC HERE.
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Ryan
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Fri May 10, 2019 11:30 pm

(000)

ooc

They were a wretched trio, the three musketeers of debauchery. Each of them had their vices that they clung to with the fervency of the crippled for their crutches.

Hus nuts still smarting, he hauled his way back into the saddle and set off. John was less adept at catching things with his bow and arrows. Andy had been the one to introduce him to the practice when he'd arrived in the doomed Inferni. John was a trapper by trade, he was much more accustomed to leaving a multiple of snares to catch himself his dinner.

The conversation shifted to the rope Wayne carried and John was in Boone's camp, the fuck was the southern man gonna do with a fuckin' rope?

John snorted an ungraceful laugh,

"Maybbe, he's gon'an rope us some women to fuck." The disgusting man stretched himself, blowing out a cloud of cigarette smoke. It'd been too long since he'd dipped his wick, at this point he'd settle for just about anyone to decorate. He wasn't overly picky about their looks, or gender.

His hand got boring after a while, and he was a man that liked his variety. When he could get it. He'd fucked stranger things than another man's ass at the dares of his old friends.

Johnathan Winthrop
I'm a dead man walkin'
Del Cenere Gang
Las Brasas
User avatar
Jace
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

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