mucked it up

Unatsikanogeni Adahy · 07-18-2012, 12:19 AM

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Muddy Unatsi is in lupus, with no spirit guide present.

Lanky limbs stretched out in long, quiet strides as the small form moved through the muddy plains of the lagoon. Occasionally, a pale paw would lift up out of the muck and shake—twitch, really—and send tiny splatters of brown off in various directions. They remained coated with mud and softly squelched with every misstep, however, and most of the little flecks landed on the taut jaw of the red wolf navigating the floodplains. His too-big ears were pinned tightly against a skull that might have been elegant if anything about the man could be called elegant. As it was, he was muddy and on a mission—more so the former.

Taking on the entire agriculture tier all by his lonesome (Jaroslaw excluded) was not something that Unatsikanogeni could do in his first few weeks in the new sect of his once-beloved Tribe. However, hunting in the muck for deer and grouse was a simpler task. He could handle that one. Or, well, he had less of a chance of screwing it up, and the consequences weren’t so bad because it wasn’t like this was some big abstract thing he was responsible for. No, he either nabbed an animal and ate well and went to sleep with a big round tummy, or he was hungry and possibly even muddier than he already was.

A nice thought, that.

His brow furrowed, and he bit the side of his tongue. His stalking brought him no closer to any prey that he could see, but at least all this mud was camouflaging him or something. All he needed to do was look out for any deer that wandered too deep into the muck, and then he’d break off one of their spindly legs and bring them down. Luckily, Udanvti was not present; having a ghost doe among the real ones would only have confused the matter.

Wading through a deeper section of the pondlike bog, Unatsi sniffed for traces of his intended prey. He thought he’d seen a buck, antlers all a-velvet, disappear into the foliage when he’d first arrived at Mersey Lagoon. He couldn’t smell the creature anymore, after its odor had teased him for the past twelve minutes or so. He wondered if this was a sign, just as the squishy ground under and around his paws disappeared, and suddenly he was up to his pointy little nose in grimy water.

Of course, he’d found a sinkhole.

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Frodo Silvertongue · 07-21-2012, 11:18 AM

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526 // while Frodo's in optime, with Pan present (rat spirit guide). :]

Frodo had no idea why he'd gone this far out. It was probably his gut telling him there was prey of some sort, out here in the worst terrain of them all, but his head kept screaming at him to head back. A less cautious animal would have already tripped or slipped or something of the sort, but the careful footing of a hunter brought Frodo pretty good luck, as he trod, inquisitively, among the dampness. There was nothing of interest he could see for miles, even when he cupped his hand to his forehead and squinted across the horizon. Absolutely nothing. Nout. Frodo said to himself. Zilch. he growled, finding another word for it. But however you described nothing, it really came down to the same thing; it wasn't worthwhile. Talking to yourself? asked a familiar voice, the all-knowing tone something that irritated Frodo a lot, as it could easily be misinterpreted for arrogance. The curly furred wolf turned his head to find his spirit guide slumped lazily on his shoulder. They weren't even friends yet. They hardly knew each other. Yet from the start, the rat had always had a place on his shoulder. Shut it, saucepan. he grinned. Saucepan was his new nickname for Pantalaemon. So new in fact, that he'd thought it up that very second. He thought it suited the rat. Well, sort of.

Pan opened a weirdly realistic (for a spirit) mouth, to let out a protest, but then his eyes faded and he snapped his head towards the east. There's someone there. he commented, rather mysteriously. Something about Pan's tone of voice made Frodo hurry up suddenly, although he didn't know why. He headed to the east, but then realised he didn't actually know why. So? There be some-a-ones back home, too. Dunt mean it's my buisness. he said. Pan replied stiffly. It is your business now. Go and see.

A little confused, Frodo headed toward an even boggier area, and each step seemed to get deeper and slower, his foot taking a little longer to come out of the ground each time. He started to panic a little. Calm. Pan said, and Frodo nodded, focusing on the dry spots and leaping over to them lightly. It helped that he was small. His cloak billowed out behind him with each leap, and he felt cold somehow. He wished he'd bought his bow or something. But he was practically defenceless.

An immense curiosity overcame him finally, as he felt the presence of someone else, in scent and in sight. He spotted a male up ahead, in lupus, fast sinking. He knew the marsh was dangerous, but not this much! Hurriedly, Frodo thought of a soloution, and grabbed a nearby stick. He then used it to prod the ground in front of him to test it's strength before hopping over the dirty turf quickly. Soon, he was looking down at Unatsi, his face screaming of concern. Stay still! he growled, holding out the stick. If there be strength in yer jaw, grab it! With all yer might, sinking one. he paused. If not, yer might need to a-shift first, cherry valance.

Unatsikanogeni Adahy · 07-22-2012, 01:29 PM

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Muddy Unatsi is in lupus, with no spirit guide present.

Stuck in a muddy old sinkhole, left to die—what a way to go! Or, well, it wasn’t what Unatsikanogeni had expected his final moments on earth would be, but it probably should have been. Really, anything short of a completely and totally moronic blunder was quite unrealistic for him. At least this was a little bit scary, something that belonged in a nightmare, really, and not something like tripping down a cliff and bashing his head, or choking on a piece of food. No, no, sinking was just fine when you compared it to that.

He still wasn’t really happy about the whole situation, though, and he struggled vainly, his paws sloshing through muck of varying viscosity, from watery mud to muddy water. He managed to heave his shoulders up above the mudline, but the next instant he fell into the pit his body had already made in the bog, and he was back to resting his chin on the surface miserably. Not even Udanvti could help him now, although it’d help if she were there just to talk him through it.

Speaking of Udantvi, where was that damn doe? Leaving me all alone to die, that’s really considerate, Guide of the Year Award. I’m truly moved, I’m abso-freaking-lutely—

A pair of green eyes in a dark face under a shock of ginger mane stared down at him intensely, and after Una had caught up on the visual stimulation, he realized that the luperci was barking orders at him. He clenched his jaw, wondering how much strength he did have in it, but didn’t question. He lunged forward and grabbed the stick tightly, although not tight enough to crack it. He assumed—hoped, prayed, all that stuff—that the other would be willing and able to haul him out, and this wasn’t just one last prank by the Universe by having him die with a random twig in his face. Doing his part, though, he kicked out with his hind legs and scrabbled with his forepaws, trying to aid the stranger in dragging him out of the sinkhole.

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