[m] the debt un-reconciled

POSTED: Sat May 04, 2019 12:01 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.


When had it felt so cold, so cold?

They had left him here - Solomon stared, long and hard at Arlo, and bid he stay; it was not an object of contention, by the tone, and his breathing was rough and dizzying as it filled his lung and up through his head until he finally found a place to sit. 'You've done more than enough,' they'd said. 'You've made a right mess of things,' they'd said.

Arlo clutched at his arm, bandadged and bound, still seeping pinpricks of red through the rough linen and his leg hadn't looked much better. The damn snare had snapped something rough against it, and Pippin's doctoring certainly hadn't helped none. Hobbled and weak, the earthy wolf was going to die out here.

The thought hit him square in the chest as it repeated, a hollow mantra in his head.

He was going to die out here, in this frigid north. He shouldn't have followed that band all the way up, shouldn't have left his home. What had he been thinking?

Slumping beneath a tree, he tried to measure out his breathing, tried to keep off an adrenaline spike and the heat of fever ticking up beneath his coat, and with his good hand, he took off his hat, laying it flat to his chest.

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Preybot
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POSTED: Fri May 10, 2019 12:08 am

She had tracked the scent of blood, lured in like a moth to the flame. Rather than pique a hunger in her belly, it lit the kindling of her mind, causing a thousand ideas to light up in an instant. There was something else she was picking up as well; the kind of familiarity that brought discomfort, and made the skin along the back of her neck prickle. Ears lowered, she moved cautiously through the brush, hoping not to scare off whatever was wounded, nor cause it to lash out. Just in case, she armed herself with a knife she used to skin animals, though it was clear by the way she held it that she was not used to using it for any other activity.

Propped up against the base of a tree was an earthen toned luperci. He looked as if he had been placed there after being haphazardly dragged through the mud. The hat he clutched against his chest moved with his sporadic breathing, shallow and ragged. Even from a distance, she could see that one leg was mangled, and his arm badly wounded. A red wine blossom bloomed through layer upon layer of cloth wrapped around the gaping wound, though it was barely enough to absorb a small trickle, let alone the pulsing gush.

It hit her suddenly. The muddy footprints were familiar, and it took her only a minute to remember. She felt her dry lips crack open, felt her diaphragm expand as she drew breath to speak. "You..." But no sound came out. Presented with an opportunity, she had a choice to make. Frozen in her tracks, she briefly considered her options. It did not take her long to decide.

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Ray
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POSTED: Thu May 23, 2019 9:33 pm

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

He'd been tracking them - hoof prints in the mud and trails of wolfish scent that lingered too close for comfort. His people had seen too much to think trouble weren't brewing out there. The noose they'd found been a warning. A threat Boone hoped was empty, though history had shown most threats weren't.

He followed the scent of blood. It was a curiosity unlike anything the cartel or the posse had yet to find. Boone was dying to get a hold of someone flesh and blood to shed some much needed light on odd goings on around their territory.

Wily Boone Winthrop finally got his wish.

She'd found him first it seemed, that strange new posse recruit with a facemask made of bone. She was one of theirs. A dog, but worthy of trust. She crouched before the wolf man with some strange look on her face as Boone rode forth astride his horse.

"Well," Boone mused, voice as smooth as molasses before the woman could act. "Would ya look at what we got 'ere." He clasped his hands together and canted his head, smiling a predatory grin as he examined the poor creature propped against the tree. He wanted information. Information Boone would make him spill like fresh, fresh blood.

Boone slid from the back of his horse and trained his bow on the stranger. "Shit Ceridwen, you shoulda told me you was entertainin' company," said Boone, never once taking his eye off the propped up wolf. "You got a name, boy?" Boone hissed.

OOC text here.
Del Cenere Gang
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Ryan
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Northern Tides