Jump to content

Packgoater

Members
  • Content Count

    1,398
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Everything posted by Packgoater

  1. They were uncomfortable. Why wouldn't they be? Jed had uttered a word that made people squirm when uttered and this particular group proved to be no different. He had thought that, because he'd only previously met a few very closed groups of humans that did not have many in them, coming to this city would be a wildcard and not just because of the environment, but because of the people themselves. And yet, as he was learning, they were all predictable and similar. It made sense for them to be uncomfortable because the word lurker brought up vicious pictures in their minds, and rightly so. They winced at what he said because lurkers were beasts of destruction, nothing more. They didn't see what he saw, didn't know his daughter, hadn't looked into her eyes which were the same eyes as she'd had before, only different somehow. To them, she was just a story, she was just something they were told about, not something that they could experience themselves. Similar to how someone who'd been told they were diagnosed with a benign cancer would only hear the word cancer, they had heard his daughter was bitten by a lurker and all they heard was lurker. And that word, that word lurker was such an ugly word that Jed could not bear to call her as such, for she wasn't ugly. He could never see her as ugly; she was his daughter, his darling daughter that would smile a he lit a fire and cry when he brought in the animals he'd kill even though she'd end up eating it anyway. She used to, he had to remind himself. She hadn't done any of those things in a long time. All she'd done was devour the carcasses he'd brought her and thrash against the chains that bound her to his house. And even though she was not the same as she was before, he still could not help but love her, for it was a truly unconditional love that he held for her, unconditional enough that he didn't care if she was a lurker or not. When Rune spoke, Jed was admittedly surprised that there was not words of poison coming out of his mouth. Instead, the man appeared to be trying to make some sort of compromise in order to play it safe between all members of the party. Perhaps, if he had been a man that was more snoopy and more concerned about other people's affairs he may have picked up on the fact that he'd mentioned his sister, perhaps even been intrigued by it, but he was neither a snoopy man nor was he interested in the cleric's affairs. One could have called him self-centered, for he did not seem to hold much regard for the other people around him, and instead only paid attention to his problems. After all, what would worrying about other people get him besides harsh wrinkles atop his forehead? Everyone had problems now, not just him, but if he wasted his time getting caught up in it, those problems could very quickly become his own and he had enough problems on his hands that he still had yet to find solutions for. And yet, he couldn't help but feel some guilt at not caring, at least while he sat by Rune and heard some small amount of concern, some small amount of concern directed towards Jed. In these times, that kind of concern was a huge kindness. Concern meant someone cared about what happened to you. "Bolen's a good horse. He can carry what we need him to," he responded quietly, nodding his head slowly. "I cannot recall if I've introduced myself to Matthias before, but I've seen him. It is hard to not remember a man with a wolf at his side," Jed added, pressing his lips together as he struggled to remember if he'd actually met the man before. His mind tended to discard information that was unnecessary for his survival, such as the details of meeting a man who was the cleric's brother. However it would become essential information now, for he'd be spending some time with these people now. He wasn't quite sure if he was comforted or horrified to find himself in a group of people again, but he was sure that they were good people, for Rune had seemed to decide that they were good enough to travel with, and if there was one thing that Jed was sure about the cleric, it was that he was a good man above everything else and certainly a far better man than Jed himself was. He helped to heal a strange man who had no clue where to go, whereas if they traded spots, Jed was pretty sure he wouldn't have given Rune any attention whatsoever. So these people couldn't be that bad, which led him to wonder why he was brought along at all, for he was certainly not a good person, and he wasn't going to delude himself into believing that, even if he deluded himself into believing that perhaps his daughter still was a human and loved him deep down inside. Somehow he subconsciously drew the line at his own actions, though, for there was no point in pretending he was a good man. He just was a man who did what he needed to do in order to keep himself and his daughter alive, but that didn't give him an excuse for what he did and he knew that and accepted it. Why, though, did these people accept him as well? Why did they allow him into their ranks if they were good and he was bad? Perhaps it was because they were not as good as they first seemed. Perhaps they too had their own deep dark secret. Jed watched Rune get up and he inwardly stiffened. The man, he was also uncomfortable with it all. He'd pretended that it was fine, but it wasn't. It was reasonably clear this must be the case, after all the conversation had been filled with deep silences and awkward pauses. It made sense that he'd want to take a break and gather some relief from the group and so he didn't hold it against the cleric. He merely felt somewhat... dejected. Perhaps even hurt. He had thought that maybe, just perhaps, someone got what he was saying or at least would pretend to, but he wasn't even given that satisfaction. Could it be mere coincidence that Rune left just after talking to him about his daughter? Not likely, but it was to be expected. The man wasn't a robot, he was human, and humans were predictable. This was proven yet again as Jasmine, the bard who had promised to show him her sound stick, stood up and left for her room again. He had made them both want to leave, hadn't he? And he wasn't sure if he was supposed to take offense to this or whether he was supposed to be disturbed by it and heed this warning. If they were so disgusted by the mere mention of who his daughter was and what he did, did that make it all wrong? Did that mean that she was not human at all and that she should be abandoned? And it was now that he felt alone and confused, for he didn't know how to determine what was to be done or what advice should be taken or ignored. If there was one thing that Jed hated, it was to be confused.
  2. ((Thank you guys so much for your patience. I am extremely sorry, guys.)) Jed took the chair and sat down in it, his form hunching to the point where it was reasonably difficult to see his face, leaving him to be a bundled mass of furs. This was done in the same way that a child curls themselves into their blankets and covers their heads while hiding from the darkness as if it were an invincible shield able to block out anything unpleasant. In this sense, Jed was hoping that if perhaps he curled up for just a little while that perhaps all of these problems would just end up disappearing and going away, that perhaps when he unraveled himself he would find that he was just back in his house with his daughter, arm undamaged, everything just as it should have been. And yet he knew that as soon as he lifted his head it would not be those familiar surroundings meeting his eyes but the far more strange territory of the interior of the inn. His previous reality had all but been completely obliterated from existence, shattered by his need to traverse all the way out here and now he found himself stranded, tantalizingly only a few days away but somehow worlds apart. The possibility of finding his home was next to none and he needed to move on. If only if it were so easy to forget, to ignore his daughter and all the responsibilities he had. Crouching and sitting like this would do him no favors and would solve nothing, so with that thought in mind, Jed forced his head up in order to lock eyes with Rune. There were two ways he could go with this and he was conflicted about which was the better approach, for it wasn't very clear to him. He could lie, say that it was a dog or something such as that, but he wasn't sure he was a good liar and didn't know if Rune was good at telling if someone was spouting false information about. Of course, if he told the truth and said that he had a daughter, then if they wandered upon his house he'd go and collect her and then Rune and the others would kill her and maybe even kill Jed himself. If he was completely truthful and told them everything, then would they hurt her? Would they prevent him from trying to find her? He did not know any of them well, and he did not look forward to going through with any of the options that he had given himself, but he knew he'd have to choose one. "I- I left someone," Jed mumbled quietly, his eyes dropping away from the cleric and towards the table. He pressed his hands tightly against his temples, his jaw clenching tightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. All of this was making him think, and he didn't like some of his thoughts, not the ones that betrayed him and his daughter. There was part of him that was trying to convince himself that she didn't need him, that she hadn't in a long time because she no longer was his daughter, no longer was the little girl that he loved and cared about. And this small little sliver of doubt had become a splinter that was slowly cracking him apart. Did she need him? Did she, more importantly, love him? And to this question he asked himself when she last sat in his lap without trying to writhe out of his arms, when the the last time was that he could hold her without fearing for his own personal safety. The answer was that neither of those things had happened in a very long time. His father had once told him that if you let something go and it came back to you, then it was truly yours. Jed knew, deep in his gut, that if he let his daughter go, she would not be coming back, not now, not ever. And so what if he left instead of her, he found freedom instead of her? For he was the human and she was the monster, right? And yet the vast majority still viewed her as his daughter, for he had heard some of the lurkers mumble, had seen them wield weapons and with this thought in mind he wondered if they kept some of who they used to be, if she could still look out of her eyes and see him as her father. How could he take the chance? How could he leave her when he believed that perhaps deep down inside of her she loved him? He had told her that he'd be coming back and that it would be okay. He had promised his return and the thought of her sitting until her demise just waiting for him tore him apart inside. "My daughter. She was bitten by a lurker. I take care of her and protect her because people try to hurt her. A- And I can't let them do that. So I kill them and then feed them to her," Jed said bluntly, turning his head slowly up to Rune, his eyes narrowing, looking for a trace of uncertainty in his eyes, looking to see anything that could suggest that he was not an ally to be trusted. He had said the last part in order to make something very clear; if they wandered upon his house, the first man to lay a hand on her would be a dead man, and Jed would make sure of that. He suddenly realized that they had been joined by a few other people, namely a tall man with strikingly white hair even though he was a rather young man. Accompanying this man was a simply massive beast that Jed instinctively was wary of, especially seeing as how quickly and diligently it responded to its master's commands. If he got on the wrong side of that man, things could get very bad very quick. But seeing as the wolf-man and the cleric were brothers, Jed was convinced that things probably would be okay. After all, how did one survive without killing a man every once and awhile? There was no other way, not for Jed. It just so happened that he actually did something with the remains other than just let them be put to waste. He let something he cared about very much to survive through this. "I have a horse," he added, mostly just to try and backtrack and pretend he hadn't said anything he'd said before, instead trying to impose a more casual attitude now that the rather enormous cat of his was out of the bag. This was Jed's way of attempting small talk, and when he did this it was very much apparent that he was completely and utterly uncomfortable, uncertain, and wary. Jed had plenty to be nervous about, and he felt his hands gravitating towards the hilt of one of his daggers almost as if to just make sure that it was really there and that everything was completely in order. Jed recalled the cleric's reaction to him doing this before, so he attempted to move his hand away and decided to settle on knotting them together and he seemed to show sudden and deep interest in this, though in his mind he was thinking, Great job, Jed. Now we're really ****ed. Way to go.
  3. ((No, we're waiting on Narvix. I've been waiting. I have no problems posting without them, but... I just felt like I should wait. I guess I should have pm'd them, sorry.))
  4. As Jed had touched the daggers at his sides, the cleric had moved protectively between Jed and the woman. Clearly there was not a terrible amount of trust there, but that was to be expected and that just meant that now the feeling was mutual. Trust was such a hard thing to gain, for he had not spent much time with other people and hadn't given himself the time to form these bonds with other people. The last one he really had was with his father, that is excepting his daughter who wouldn't really count because she wasn't exactly as she used to be. It had ended suddenly and quickly, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to be vulnerable by becoming attached to someone. Of course, that was rather contradictory to the life he led, for his whole life revolved around his daughter, who certainly compromised his full capabilities. But Jed was blind, blind to the troubles that he pushed in front of himself and forced himself to possess. "Thank you," the cleric suddenly said, and Jed nodded to him, though he wasn't quite sure what the cleric was thanking him for until he started speaking again. "Your offer is most kind." Jed shrugged; he wasn't really doing this out of the kindness of his heart, he was doing it because he felt he had to. Not to mention he had no other real option to do anything else. "As a matter of fact, my brother and I could use an extra hand in our next endeavor." The cleric wanted him to participate, to help them? Of course, Jed had been somewhat hoping for some clear direction, perhaps even directed by fate to lead him to an answer, but he somehow wasn't sure if he felt ready to give up everything he'd had, even though most of what he had was already with him. But the house, with the garage that was converted to a stall for Bolen? The warm fireplace? His daughter, trapped inside a room with no clear way to get out? "So long as you can hunt, we can provide you with any other necessities on the way. Perhaps we'll be heading in the direction of your home, although I don't suppose it's too important you return there," the cleric finally finished, and Jed nodded firmly in response. He had been trained to hunt ever since he was just a boy. He had been born to hunt, and if there was anything that he could provide, it would be that service. And the thought of possibly passing by his house quickly affirmed his decision. He would travel with these men, and when he found his home, he would leave. It was that simple. Suddenly the cleric spoke up once more, and Jed realized that the man was introducing himself. Rune. Interesting name, but somehow it seemed to fit the man, especially considering how it even seemed to fit the man's profession. Rune the cleric. Rune Vashak. "Jed. Jed..." he paused, his mouth pressing firmly together in a line and his brows knitting together in concentration as he attempted to remember his last name. "Jed Col... Colt? Colston. Jed Colston," he continued, pulling his last name out of long-buried memories. It was not often that he said his name, not often that he met people. But here it was, and how strange it did sound, coming from his own lips. It was a short name, and somehow that seemed to fit him. He was not be able to imagine having to pronounce a long name in front of people, for he'd undoubtedly mess it up and then people would laugh. He couldn't mess up Jed. "I can hunt good enough. I've been doin' it ever since I was a boy. If there's anythin' I can do, it'd be that. And if we'd happen to find my home, then I'd just need to get one... one... I couldn't take her with me, so I had to leave her at home," Jed murmured rather quietly, unable to bring himself to call his daughter an thing. He would not refer to her as an object, for she was still a person. His person. If Rune decided not to take him because of it, than so it would be, but Jed would not do that to her. Not now, not ever. "Just one to get. Not... Important. I can't get home anyway," he mumbled. Turning to look at the woman, he realized a little late that she had accepting Rune's offer and would indeed be joining them on the journey. Jed supposed she was at least minimally trustworthy if the cleric had cleared her, so he'd have to trust her at least to some greater extent than he had done earlier. Looking carefully at her, he decided she didn't really look very hostile at all, and probably wasn't worth all the unease anyway. She was interesting, though. With dark skin, at least compared to Jed's own, she seemed to be of a more diverse background than he, and he had already heard her play her wooden... thing. He wasn't sure quite what it was, but he liked it and was almost positive that if he picked it up, he couldn't make it sound like she did. No, she did not seem to be someone that he should hold too much concern for, but it was dangerous not to assume the worst of people. Even so, he attempted to look less... hostile? "I'm Jed. Rune fixed up my arm. You tried to help me yesterday, and I thank you. What was the stick you had before? That made noise? What was that? How did you do that?" he asked, suddenly full of questions. After all, he'd never heard of music before, let alone a flute. It was not a necessary thing for survival, so his father had not taught him what it was. In fact, Jed's father probably hadn't known what it was either, and maybe even his father before that. But know that Jed had encountered this thing, this beautiful expression of creativity, he became very curious, and in a sense, afraid. The unknown was a dangerous and startling thing, and this 'stick' was unknown and new to Jed.
  5. Dark shapes had filled Jed's dreams. The figures slowly lumbered towards him, but he gained no distance between he and them, even as he ran all he could. Several of them carried clubs in one hand, but all of them had at least one hand that reached towards him, their hands grabbing wildly for him. He did not have to see them to know what they were, for their barely-audible mumbles were familiar to him; he had gone over the noise plenty of times in his head, and even his daydreams were always disrupted by them. And suddenly, in front of him, he saw his daughter. Behind him the dark figures grew ever closer, plodding steadily forward, and in last effort, Jed expended all of his energy and threw himself towards his daughter, his own hands grasping for her as the dark hands did him. The moment his hands came around her in an embrace, her own body shuddered and became a liquid black just as those behind them. Jed merely let himself fall to the ground, defeated, as she brought her face close and started to bite him. He struggled and scrambled up, but the others were around him now, and he could do nothing but try and push against them as he felt his strength ebb. The figures became a sea of darkness that flooded around him, slowly closing in on him as he thrashed in its thick inky water. And just as he was about to be overcome, he felt himself drift into consciousness. Jed's chest heaved and as he lifted a hand to his face he found it was damp with sweat. Crawling out of the sleeping bag that trapped him, he sat at the edge of the bed and struggled to calm himself down. It was just a dream, that was all that it was. But he knew that he had to get out, to run to his daughter. If only he knew how, if only he knew where he lived or how to get there. Rubbing his thumb against the bridge of his nose, he tried to remember anything significant around his house, but found he couldn't. There was nothing particularly important around his house, for he rarely left it for long, and certainly hadn't been this far from it in a long time. What could he do now? He would just have to try and talk to the man who had helped him before, for perhaps he would know something of the surrounding area. And somewhere in him, he knew that there was part of him that was glad he didn't know how to get back, but Jed pushed that part down. He couldn't let himself abandon his daughter like this. Standing up, he pulled his outer layer of pants on and turned to roll his sleeping bag up. Over his coat, Jed strapped his belt on and attached his four daggers to that. Because he wasn't outside, he didn't bother to pull his mask over his face and instead of going on his pale bony hands, his mittens were attached to his belt. Pulling his black rubber boots onto his feet, Jed opened the room's door and stepped down the stairs. With relief, he noticed there was not as much to overwhelm him as there had been before, for it was nowhere near as busy as it had been last night. His cold eyes scanned the area, and he rested them on the cleric whom had treated him yesterday. He couldn't ask the cleric to take him to his daughter, for any man would kill her, and there was no way he could let anyone do that to her. At the same time, he couldn't not ask for help, for if he didn't he would be leaving her in a room with no way to get out. No way to even have a chance at survival. She would die either way, so how did he make the choice of which way it was to be done? Did he dare look her in the eye as a man slaughtered her, or did he let her perish with the thought of her father leaving her and promising to come back? If only there was someone he could talk to about his problems, but even though there was a variety of people in the lobby, Jed found himself completely alone. None knew who he was, what he had been through, or what he needed. This was his punishment, to be left surrounded by others but unable to do anything. Just like his dream, really. He was surrounded by figures and had no visible way out. He was not as courageous as he had been at first; he had fought against the figures, had run from them even though he knew they would catch up, but in the end, he gave up and submitted to his daughter. He could only last for so long, and he had finally found his end point. He had to choose one or the other. And that little part of him, the part that had felt relief before, was just barely tipping the scale toward moving on. The cleric was now by a woman, and Jed realized that it was the same woman whom had told him where he might be able to get some medical attention yesterday. Walking hesitantly toward the both of them, he kept his head low, which in turn accentuated his short stature, and his shoulders slightly forward. Though the woman had given him some useful information, he did not know her, and his eyes locked on her with an animal-like intensity. "G'morning," he muttered, his voice hoarse, and quickly cut to the chase, "I'm much debted for what you did. If there is anythin' I could do for you, just ask and it'll be done." His lips pressed firmly together in a frown, and he nodded to the cleric with a clear finality in mind. In Jed's mind, he specifically meant the finality of a person, for that would be the easiest duty for him to carry out. He'd have no nightmares about ending the life of someone, though it was sometimes a valuable service to others, as Jed knew from his days in the small group where he met his wife. Some people had a hard time actually taking the action out themselves, for they separated humans from animals. But Jed? Jed clumped them all together. It was the same to kill them. The same action was carried out and people faded away in the same sense than animals did. There was no difference doing it, so long as one did not separate their prey into different categories. Because this was in his mind at the moment, Jed's fingers had quickly gone to his daggers, and they traced their edges thoughtfully until he realized a cleric would not likely be one to ask for someone's demise. With that, his hands retracted quickly from the blades and he instead knitted them together. Jed sniffed and pulled his attention toward the floor, averting his gaze from the cleric. He was unsure about these people from the city, for he didn't know if it was an accepted and commonplace thing to bring about the deaths of others, or if it was a horrific act greatly looked down upon. Either way, it was a necessary thing sometimes, so Jed hoped that people realized that and did not look upon him with disgust and horror. If they did, his life would very quickly become difficult.
  6. ((Nah, looks fine. Sorry this is really short, but I really don't have much time. D:)) The other man took the meat and Jed nodded to him, knowing that this meant that he would be accepted as a patient. Finally someone was willing to help, and this help meant that Jed could get back home quicker. He wondered what the other man could do for the cut; Jed couldn't really remember what his father did to the cuts he sometimes got, but he assumed it had to with a bandage or some such thing, though this was a far larger cut than he had ever obtained in the past, and far redder as well. As the cleric chewed on his lip thoughtfully, likely deciding whether he could help Jed with his whole lodging situation, he finally consented and walked up the stairs into the inn. After just a slight hesitation, Jed followed the cleric, slowly plodding up the stairs. He was grateful to this man, and felt as if he owed the man something, though he wasn't sure what he could give. Somehow Jed doubted that a piece of meat paid for medical service and lodging, or even one or the other. After all, the look the bartender downstairs had given him was not exactly promising in that regard, and Jed wondered how someone was supposed to pay for things in this place. The room that the cleric had rented was small, and had a variety of things in it, some of which the cleric moved to the side, and some of which he rested on a deer hide. Jed was wary of the materials; he hadn't ever seen anything like them before, for his father had never had to treat anything too serious and besides, his father really wasn't a good healer himself. There wasn't much concern about health, quite honestly, at least so long as you could function remotely well. That was the only reason Jed had started to look for help in the first place; he wasn't able to throw a spear as well because of his would, and it had become too painful for him to just brush off. Though he did appreciate that the man was talking to him, Jed didn't really pay attention to the man's words. Instead, he was off looking at everything in the room, which were all sorts of interesting things he'd never seen before. In comparison, he found his own items rather primitive and drab; even his father's daggers seemed dull in comparison to the other things in the room. The oddest thing was the bed. Jed knew what they were, but as for sleeping on one? No, he'd never really slept on one and the prospect of doing so made him uneasy. What if he fell off? It was rather high up off of the ground, but that would have to do; the man had already offered it to him, and Jed was not about to turn down this show of kindness. The question that was asked of him, however, was striking. How did he get back to his place from here? Jed had no clue. He tried to think of how, but came up with nothing. Perhaps he'd wander across someone, perhaps not. All he knew was that he would end up getting home to his daughter, for if he was going to survive this, which by pure chance it seemed he would be, than surely he was meant to return to her. Jed pulled at his fur coat and dragged it off of his woolen shirt, which had a rather foul odor, for he had no other shirt to wear. He pulled out his sleeping bag and rested it on top of the bed and then pulled off the outer pants he wore over his woolen ones. His mittens were dropped to the floor and shoved to the side as well as any other 'valuables' he possessed. The other man's things looked nice, and for a moment Jed considered stealing them and running off, but the fact that this man had been the only nice one to him stopped Jed. With an almost ashamed look on his face, he crawled inside his sleeping bag. He could not steal from the cleric, for though his things were nice, the cleric had done a good thing; he had helped Jed get back home to his daughter, and to steal something from him would be wrong, even by Jed's standards. No, just falling asleep would be much better. Of course, there rose another problem. Jed's sleep habits were anything but satisfactory, and undoubtedly he'd end up staying up for a good portion of the night just as he did at home. Except at home he was more comfortable than he was here. He was with a stranger right now, trapped in a room. Though Jed always slept with one eye open, he was sure that tonight he'd be especially awake. Perhaps it was because of the bed he slept on or perhaps it was just because he was tired after all of this, but Jed did not sleep with one eye open. He fell asleep quickly and went into the first deep sleep he'd had for a long, long time.
  7. Jed was angry. No, more desperate than angry. He had been so sure that this place could help him, so sure that in all of their evils, the more civilized people would be able to help him and to cure his ailment. He had left his daughter and had started off in a way he'd never gone before, all in the hopes he'd be able to have his wound treated. And the first place he goes tells him that they can't do it. Where now? How could he possibly hope to navigate this town? He didn't even know where he was supposed to leave his horse, and just prayed that Bolen still would be there. He felt caged, stuck in a fox trap and having no other option sent to him other than gnawing off his own foot. Or in this case, his arm. Jed had killed countless elk and slaughtered several moose. He had faced a mountain lion and had seen it's hungry yellow eyes so close up he could see himself in their reflection as he stabbed it with his knife. And Jed, as he watched his father die before him, took his spear and thrust it into his father's attacker, and had no problem in seeing the life fade from his eyes. Yet, having been through all that, it was this wound that was killing him, this wound that he had sustained from a petty fight involving a man who had wandered into his home, and it wasn't even the wound itself that was causing his demise; it was the infection. He knew how to fight people, but infections he was clueless about. A woman, who was noticeably different looking from most people, kindly told him he'd come to the wrong place, that he needed to go to a clinic. Dipping his head to her, he stared down at the only thing he could barter: his small piece of meat that was practically ruined, as his fingers had been clenching it all this time and slowly sinking into the equally slowly thawing meat. The one item he had to possibly bargain with was ruined, and as he turned back to her to thank her, he realized that she had started doing something. Whatever she was going with that stick-like object, it made noise, and pleasant noise too. Jed attempted to rack his brain for his father ever mentioning anything like this, and came up with nothing. He'd never experienced something like this, and he wasn't sure that his father had, either. He would have asked her about it, if not for the tall man that walked over to her with his enormous wolf. While he had no problem attacking enemies larger than himself, there were two of them and besides, he didn't quite know the area well enough. Not to mention he had absolutely no grounds to be doing such a thing in the first place, but when meeting people, Jed always sized them up as if he'd have to end up fighting them. It was better that way, to make them the enemy before they become it, that way you weren't surprised when it happened. Jed watched as a second man came up, this one with what seemed to be some of the darkest hair he'd ever seen and cold eyes. He was again tall, and Jed bristled ever so slightly; his eyes tightened, he shifted his weight slightly backward, and he looked distrustfully at the stranger. When the man started speaking, however, Jed relaxed visibly; his tensed shoulders were released until they sagged, his eyes held more curiosity than hostility, and his mouth turned from a from to a relatively flat grimace. The man said he was a healer. By his tone it seemed that he knew what he was doing, and so Jed nodded. Of course, there still was questions of if he could actually trust the stranger, but he was so desperate that he didn't really care anymore. He needed to try at least, needed to try so that he could get beck to his daughter and so that things could get back to normal. He would do anything for her, even if it meant asking for help from a complete stranger or taking his charity. His pride meant nothing to him like his daughter did, and he was willing to sacrifice whatever it took to be able to be with her again. At the same time, he didn't know this man, didn't know the people of this town, and didn't know if there was anything that this man might get out of killing him. What if this man just up and ended him? Then he wouldn't get back to his daughter anyway. But of course, there wasn't really another option. There wouldn't be anyone here that Jed would feel like he could trust, for there wasn't anyone here he was at all familiar with. The only option was to trust someone, and this man was as good as any. "I'd be grateful. Most grateful," he mumbled, sitting down at the chair offered to him, only to hear someone start ordering everyone about. They had to go home? But he didn't have any place to go, and this place was his last resort. He had nowhere to travel to, didn't know anyone, didn't even know the streets here. Pressing his thin lips together, he truly felt afraid. He was stuck int his new territory and knew nothing of it. He knew not where good shelter could be had, or who the predators were. Turning to the only man who had shown kindness to him, this man who offered to fix him up, Jed looked pleadingly at him. "I never been in a place like this before. I've a horse outside and I don't know what to do with it. I don't know where they go. I live far away from people. Alone. Where do I go?" he asked, and glanced briefly at the raw meat he held in his hand before offering it out to the other man. He had nothing else he could trade or barter, and the raw meat was the best that he could do for this stranger. Jed was used to going without the food, and the pangs of hunger in his stomach were somewhat easy to ignore by now. "Take this. It's the only thing I have to give you. I can get more easily enough," he said firmly as if it were already decided, and he stood up from his chair. His words were true; getting the food was not the problem, and Jed would probably be better fed here than he had been at home. There was no daughter here, no daughter for him to give all of his food to. He would actually get to eat it, but that wasn't the most important thing while he was here, anyway. His priority was getting fixed up, and currently this man was his only hope. "Please. Help me."
  8. Doug sighed at Iva's question. Oh, how he wished he could stop all this, to make it all go away, but it was not so. It was yet another young girl. Ten or so years older than Iva, but that didn't make her even close to her physical or mental maturity. Iva and this girl were both children brought into a world of madness. "Iva, believe me in that I wish I could stop something, but I came too late. Golten had already bitten her and once he did, well, that closes her destiny and she's forced to become a werewolf. There's nothing more that I can do. Even though you and I might not agree with this, especially since you and she are both just children, we cannot do anything. It has already happened, and the most that you and I can do is to try and help this poor girl as best we can. Which means taking the her away from all of this and heading up to my medical area," he replied softly, his head down. Under the scrutinizing eyes of a child, he felt somewhat responsible for all this. "Why don't you help her!?" Noticing the dog challenging his alpha, Doug stepped somewhat beside and back from his alpha, as if to show his support. Obviously he wasn't in agreement with Golten on the whole children issue, but he had just come back and he felt the need to prove his loyalty. He wasn't a fighter, wasn't planning on fighting, but he was planning on letting Golten know that he was there beside him. The dog's comments were somewhat of truth, but that was no matter. "Dog, you think that just because you're not in a pack, that makes you stop causing others pain? Let's just say this, the injuries I treat don't all result from hunting deer, believe it or not. If you have a problem with recruiting, then go tell the world that there's a group of people who live in the woods who turn into werewolves and bite people. What other option is there to getting rid of those who come into our territory? You know just as well as I do that we cannot just let them walk free," Doug snarled, and then as an after thought, turned to his alpha and apologized. "Sorry Golten. I just had to interject my opinion. I'm worried that the girl might have shock, so would it be alright if I moved her up to my area so I can get her looked at?"
  9. Jed had been up long before most creatures would be awake, and as he stood over the kill that would sustain his daughter for the next several days, he glanced briefly at the thick grey sky before turning back and continuing to drag the carcass toward the home that awaited him. Inside that house would be his daughter, his ever-hungry daughter that was dependent on him to help protect her and to help her survive. There were many that would want to kill her if they knew she was there, but Jed would slay them all if that was what it took, and it just so happened that that was exactly what it had taken just the other day. The man hadn't seen her yet, hadn't opened the door to her bedroom yet, but he had entered Jed's house. Without a care in the world for what could be lying inside, the man had entered the house that Jed was living in, and if Jed hadn't entered just then, it could've been his daughter's carcass lying on that floor instead of the stranger's. What if another one came? What if another man came in while Jed was away and wished to hurt his daughter? Gripping his throbbing forearm, he shook his head and told himself not to think about it; if he did, it could quickly become his own downfall, and without himself, what did his daughter have? She would have nothing but certain death. When he had woken that morning, he was sure that he would have to leave; the wound he had obtained from the fight with the man who intruded upon Jed's domain had gotten swollen and red. The heat that emanated from the gash was disconcerting, and he knew that he had absolutely no idea how one was supposed to treat a wound of this sort. Clearly it would need something more than a bandage, and that was something that Jed didn't have. There was only one answer, and that was an answer that was most unwelcome, for it involved people and asking help from them. Jed knew that everything was based on trade, and he had nothing to offer, unless someone wanted a few more pelts or some meat. There was not another option, and he knew that the safest thing for his daughter was for him to leave her behind. He could never take her somewhere so dangerous, but there was also a risk in leaving her behind, for he didn't know what might get to her. He couldn't let anyone hurt his daughter, and taking her towards people would just be taking her towards her demise. The caribou was young, lost and already half-dead from lack of food and the cold. It already had some wounds on it's side, and he probably only would've had to wait for about an hour before it fell and died on it's own, but he didn't have that kind of time. He tossed a spear towards it, and watched as it sunk thickly into its side. With a loud scream, the animal's knees buckled and it collapsed, though its agonizing breaths could still be heard. Drawing a dagger, Jed slit its throat and crouched by its legs, grabbing them and getting ready to pull the caribou behind him. Though he could clearly use the meat, it wasn't for him. Along with he man he had killed, this small caribou would help sustain her for a few days. With a grunt, he began a slow walk towards his house which he could see in the distance, and suddenly wished that he had thought to take Bolen with him, that way he could've just held the carcass in front of him as he sat comfortably on his horse's saddle. Instead, he had to make it hard for himself, and he found that he was trudging along on what now seemed to be a long hike. His home gradually grew close, until he was by its font, whereupon he heaved it up the steps and into the house, leaving a blood trail behind him. As soon as it was inside the hall, Jed closed the front door and turned towards the bedroom at the end of the hall, which's doorknob had been turned the wrong way so that Jed could lock her in. The doorknob slowly turned and opened the door as Jed let himself into his daughter's room. In her own small parka, she sat in a corner, her hands tied behind her back to the old radiator behind her. Smiling softly, he rested the carcass in the middle of the room and walked over to her, gently petting her head. It was a shame he'd have to go away, and he'd miss her all the while she was gone. Untying her hands, frowned at himself. Why did he do this? Couldn't he trust her by now? He fed her, cared for her, protected her. Surely she wouldn't try and do anything now, right? Untying the gag on her mouth, he left the room quickly, leaving behind the caribou and the remains of the man whom had foolishly entered the Colston residency. "I'll be back soon, Darling," he murmured quietly, he voice raspy and ill-used. With this quiet promise, there was no more hesitation. Everything was quickly packed. His sleeping bag was rolled up and tied to be compact. His spears and daggers were attached to Bolen's saddle, and the saddle was then lifted onto his horse. Taking what minimal meat he allowed himself to have, the rest of his provisions were packed and the house was stripped of all valuables. Excepting, of course, his daughter. Bolen was readied and the garage door was opened to the outside world. The draft horse did not react to the loud clacking noise of the door forcefully being thrust open, and it patiently stood as its rather short owner managed to climb up onto its back. Jed lightly tapped Bolen's stomach, and they were off, off to people who could help Jed's wound. Truth be told, Jed was not known for being a man who frequently traveled cities or townships or anything of the like. He had no clue where he was going or how to get there, but he knew that somehow he would manage. He ran Bolen as hard as he dared, but he knew that they couldn't go on forever, and he knew that when night fell, they would have to find shelter. The gnawing hunger in Jed's stomach was not a new feeling, and so he ignored it, only stopping when he could tell that Bolen could go no farther. He didn't want to risk his horse sweating too much, for sweating in the cold could be dangerous. Taking off the saddle, he took the water which he was able to bring and poured into a bucket he had. Bolen guzzled the water quickly, but Jed couldn't afford to give his horse anymore than that without endangering them both. Who knew where they were going or how long it would take to get there? They were just running aimlessly, running aimlessly to anywhere that might be able to help. With tinder he was able to scrounge up, Jed started a fire and unrolled his sleeping bag next to Bolen, who had laid down, which was rather unusual for him. The horse's body heat was easily one of the most valuable things about him. 'You heading to Winterbury? If you've got food, I can help you,' someone sharply asked, forcing Jed to awake again. The crunching of footsteps nearby startled him and he looked around towards his horse, who was standing up now. The fire had gone out, and Jed wondered how he hadn't woken up sooner. With bleary eyes, he slowly turned toward the noise and barely registered the human figure that was walking towards him. The person nodded and pointed somewhere off in the distance. Struggling out of his sleeping bag, he starting packing up his camp and saddled Bolen without saying a word to the other person, who clearly was getting a bit more than irritated. Apparently they had decided that Jed was of no serious danger. 'Excuse me? Are you headed to Winterbury?' they repeated, and Jed turned around to look at them once more, though his expression was surprised as if this was the first time he had noticed them. "Winterbury? Is that a town? I'm heading there. If- if you can show me the way, I can get you food," he said slowly, nodding. It was clear he was barely awake, and taking a spear with him, he plodded away towards the wilderness, and roughly thirty minutes later, he returned with a hare. He was reasonably surprised to see the other person still there, but he supposed that food must really be important to them. They reached towards the hare, but Jed shook his head and pulled out his food provisions he had packed, which was a small amount of cooked caribou meat. Leaving the other person to that, he attempted to blow on the remains of last night's fire, and succeeded in striking up a new blaze, with which he started to cook the hare. He attached the pelt to Bolen's saddle, and when the hare was done, he ate the whole thing, intestines and all, leaving behind only the bones. Every bit of the hare was essential to his survival, and he wasn't about to leave any of it behind. 'Alright, a deal's a deal, buddy. So long as I get a ride up on that big horse you got there, you've got yourself an escort to Winterbury. Once we get there, though, I'm not about to show you around,' the person said, and as his mind slowly awakened, Jed became aware that it was an older woman. Hopefully she knew the area well enough, for he didn't want to spend any more time on this than he had to. Getting up on Bolen, he reached down a hand to her, to which she just laughed and clambered up on her own. With a gentle tap, they were off at a slow trot, the woman giving Jed directions and telling him how to get there. He began to wonder how many times she had gone this way, for she seemed to know the area and the landmarks reasonably well. As they wandered on, they encountered a few more people, several of which who asked for a ride and all of which were denied one. And suddenly, after they climbed over a few hills and took a few turns, Jed got his first glimpse of Winterbury. They fed into a direct road and somehow managed to get close to the town, which appeared to be built by a cliff face. The fortified, well-protected walls loomed high above them, and Jed hardly remembered getting in the town. They just ended up inside, and he barely noticed that his guide was gone. There were so many people, so many talking people. Getting down from Bolen, Jed held on to his horse's bridle and led him through what seemed like a huge crowd, though it was nowhere near one. He needed somewhere to go, somewhere to stay, and his eyes locked on the first place that seemed to have people by it. Where was he supposed to leave Bolen? Where did he put his horse? A few people had given him some funny looks, but he payed no mind to them, for that could be because of a variety of reasons, including the fact that he was a short man riding a rather tall horse. There was a sign for an inn that he gravitated towards, and he just left Bolen by it, knowing that his horse would fight back against anyone trying to move him from where he was, and that Bolen would stay right where Jed left him. Taking everything of any value off of his horse's back, he went down into the inn and grimaced at how crowded it was, but turned into an area where people seemed to be going up to the counters and receiving things in return. Walking up to the counter, Jed placed a chunk of meat on the surface and pulled up the sleeve of his parka, revealing the wound he had. "I'd like this fixed. And could you tell me where I am?" 'Erm, sir, we do not treat wounds here, and I'm pleased to tell you that you're at The Throne. Is there anything else that I can help you with?' Disappointed, Jed continued to stand at the counter, though he took the chunck of meat off of it. Unsure what to do or where to go, he glanced around the room, looking at the people. What were they doing that he wasn't? They seemed to have better things than he did. Better items, better clothing, better food. Staring at his piece of meat, he wore a dark grimace and glared at the person whom had seen him at the counter. What did he do now? Where did he go from here? What was he to do with Bolen and who on earth would help him with all of this? He now understood why his father had lived so far away from all this; this all was terrifically confusing, and Jed wasn't sure why anyone would possibly want to live like this.
  10. ((Oh, of course. I just think it'd kind of be more in-character for a doctor, one who lost his unborn child especially, to have some major issues in recruiting children. ))
  11. ((I hate do disagree, Shadowwolf, but it wouldn't exactly make sense if it were directed towards Raven, because as Soiledlove controls both of them, there likely would be conversation following it. Also, it makes more sense if it's directed at the wolves currently biting this girl. You know, asking them why they'd be hurting her?)) Doug could tell he had somehow said something wrong; the young nine- no seven, Lilith had said seven and he was sure that she cared more about the girl's age than Golten- year old had seemed to have something of an air of disdain about her, likely the result of how he had talked down to her. Obviously such actions would have to stop on his part, especially if he wanted to at least attempt to do what his alpha had asked of him. What had gotten into Golten? His alpha seemed to not be holding the same pull he did before, and if this went unchecked there could potentially be fighting within the pack itself, even to the extent of someone attempting to usurp Golten himself. He needed to be more careful, and that included respecting those in powerful positions around him, and not just Doug. In fact, it wasn't Goltens's disrespect towards him that shocked Doug, but rather his disrespect to Lilith. A wolf with such seniority should certainly have a good amount of respect both from the pack and from the alphas. In fact, Doug wondered why she wasn't an alpha herself. Turning towards where he had left Iva, Doug was shocked to see that she was gone. He had been too busy in his own thoughts to notice that she left, and with horror he saw that she was running full-speed towards the alpha, who was busy attacking someone. That someone was not Doug's problem right now, however, it was Iva that worried him. Wasting no more time, he dropped the medical supplies he was carrying and tore after her, his much longer legs letting him go faster, and he reached the scene just after she did, skidding to a halt. Iva clearly had no idea how any of this worked, and he needed to stop her before anything to bad happened. He wasn't able to stop her from quickly asking why they were doing all of this, however, and he sighed, hoping his alpha wouldn't act harshly towards her. After all, what did he expect when he brought someone so young in the pack? Prudent questions would be asked, and if he so much laid a claw on her, Doug would make sure that his alpha didn't have any more claws left. After all, this was Golten's fault anyway. If he took a child's curiosity out on the child that he ordered to be brought into the pack, he would certainly pay the price. "Iva! You cannot go running up to our alpha asking him questions like that. He's recruiting another, just like he did to you. She has no parents, no home, no family. I understand what you're going through, especially as a freshly turned, but you cannot speak to Golten that way. Besides, your role is as a healer, not as a fighter. You need to learn to keep a cool head. Come with me, Iva, and we can talk more about this. Not here. Not now," he sighed, shaking his head after briefly glancing at his alpha. The recruit was still young, even if she wasn't as young as Iva. It was so wrong what was being done. They couldn't let her walk the streets, but giving her this misery? Forcing her to forever be however old she was? Doug had been lucky, in a sense. He was older, older than most. But she? She, just like Iva, could be several hundred years old, but they would forever be stuck in these bodies. In a more hushed tone, he muttered,"Besides, I wanted to ask you about yourself. It just seems like most of these people just care about the numbers, not about the who. And I, personally, do not take much liking to the numbers, and I care more about the people. I guess that's why I'm a healer, and why they're the warriors and hunters."
  12. ((Okay, cool. For a third skill, would a parkour-like ability be acceptable?))
  13. Doug blinked at Golten, shaking his head. "You can't possibly be expecting me to train a nine year old. How much dexterity can they possibly hope to achieve? Those stubby fingers... Medical bottles? Drugs? Around a child? Golten, if you don't mind me asking, what was the point of recruiting someone as young as her? She'll always be that young, always stuck in that body, never able to reach her prime. Why target her, a child? Think of her- of her parents, Golten. Never able to see their child again," he growled, swallowing hard. He was going to have been a father if not for the beast that stole away from him the life of his wife and his unborn child. No human could have done that, and it was clear to Doug that it truly was a monster. Every werewolf borders on the line of beast and man, but they must learn to veer from the predator that claims their bodies on the full moon, and instead veer toward the human that still is their mind. As soon as you start targeting children, Doug mused, that is when you know you have started to lose your grip on humanity and have started to let yourself be more wolf than man. "Golten, there's no doubt we need to refill our ranks, but perhaps attempt to target those in their prime. Twenties, at the very least? I'd suggest lower to mid thirties, and those in good health. Don't- Just refrain from children please," he sighed, his eyes wincing slightly. Who was he to tell his alpha what to do, especially when he hadn't been here in so long. Granted, he'd been out gathering goods for the betterment of the pack, but it still had been awhile and one of the first things he says to Golten is 'you screwed up'? Probably not the best idea. Walking slowly back to camp, he smiled slightly at the familiar surroundings, and was happy seeing a few people he recognized. Glancing briefly around, he noticed a young wolf that obviously only could be the wolf he was required to train. She was young, small and clearly hadn't been here for too long. That or she had a forgetful memory, what with the way she meandered around the camp as if she were exploring it for the first time. Sighing, he knew there was only one thing he could do, and that meant trying to be accepting and relatively kind to her. At least she wouldn't be much of a problem; he could probably destroy her with a mere flick of his claw. Doug just hoped she wouldn't prove to be too much of a nuisance. Bearing a tolerant smile, he slowly walked over to her. "Are you the young wolf who's interested in healing? I'm Doug, the lead healer here and if you have any questions, feel free to talk to me. In fact, I'm dropping off a few medical supplies, so if you want to come with me so that I can show you some of the medical supplies, please feel free to come along."
  14. ((I, uh, got a little carried away with the whole editing thing and kind of completely changed my character. Some of the stuff is the same, but... revamped? He's now generation A, and everything should now be in order to make sense with this RP. Hopefully.))
  15. ((Alright, I get the hand-to-hand combat thing, but let me explain a little something in my form. Though I do mention him not believing he was just fourteen, this was less meant as 'he was sent in at fourteen,' which would give him the year of veterancy that you speak of, and more to suggest the time before he was sent forth, the time in which he wasn't actively out on the battlegrounds and the contrast between that time and now. I'd assume that a year or so before they are released onto the battlegrounds a more intensive training would begin, just to up the anti and make sure they're ready. That would've been relatively hard, but compared to what they're going through now, it's like nothing. Also, just because he appears to sleep easy and just because he hold his emotions in does not mean they're not there, nor that hey won't come out. Not every generation B will melt down every single time, and he's decent at suppressing his feelings, by that's judging storing them internally for later, meaning that when he does break down, which he certainly will, it can and likely will be in a more severe and extreme way. To be honest, I have no problems switching him to B. I did figure, however, that since generation A soldiers tend to be more rare than Generation B, you'd want another Generation B. It's no problem, really. I suppose I just want to make sure you don't think I'm an idiot and/or thought I didn't take the time to read your rp, because I did have some thought behind what I was typing, even if dulled by my own weariness. Which also explains why my form is so short. I should go edit that.
  16. ((*coughs* Uh, my post was sort of directed toward Golten. I mean, Doug's been getting his licence renewed, getting an old friend to 'up' his documents, and taking the entire contents of your local pharmacy, so I figured he'd probably be going to Golten to sort of apologize for taking so long. Anyway, um.... obviously you've been quite busy with all of that form accepting, so I totally understand. But a reply might be appreciated? Hm, an OOC might be helpful here. There's a lot of OOC posts recently. Of which I'm partially responsible for, granted.))
  17. Username: Gator Name: Fegaen Havirti Age: 18 Generation: A Description: At 5'7," Fegaen is slightly short for his age, and his body is rather small and compact with most of his height coming from a long torso, which is a good inch or two longer than his legs. His body as a whole is bulky with thick muscle, leaving his weight to be a good bit more than normal for his height. His back is often held upright in a stiff manner and his broad shoulders pull back, giving himself a very uptight and strict appearance. A slightly long rectangular face rests on top of a neck that's just slightly too thick and just slightly too long. His nose, which is slightly bent towards the left side, curves slightly outward at the bridge and comes to a round end. His eyes are a light, bright blue that lie just under fair reddish eyebrows, and his gently curled hair, which he keeps at about one and a half inches long, is a light brownish-red color. When Fegaen smiles he reveals reasonably straight teeth, though several of them have been replaced with silver ones, including his top right canine, his bottom left lateral incisor and his bottom right first premolar. Fegaen wears black leather boots that resemble WWI combat boots, which go half way up the calf of thick canvas-like blue-grey pants which have a variety of pockets on them for storing any manner of things. Fegaen doesn't have metal anywhere on his jacket. Instead, the thick jacket is made of black leather and has a very military-like vibe to it. Around his waist, the jacket cinches in so that he's not left with excess space to get in the way. His hands most always have gloves on them, though it is not usual of him to wear a mask or face-covering of any sort. When he's not on duty, he'll wear a generic maroon shirt and charcoal slacks. Personality: Many people only see Fegaen as the strict, unforgiving, and a hard-ass self he will be when he's on duty, but there is a better side to him somewhere deep inside, a better side that comes out when he is not faced with what is asked of him and when he is allowed some amount of relaxation. With the experience he has, he acts like he knows best even if he doesn't, and he's not keen on having his pride injured if anyone suggests that he doesn't know what he's doing, so anyone who dares to do this to him better watch for his wrath, which will come relatively quickly and once is dealt out, is forgotten. He is not one to ever hold grudges, and it's pretty clear he lives in the here and the know, not caring much about his future, for who's to know if he even has one, what with all this going on? Aside from a few things that could tweak his pride, Fegaen does not have much of a temper, and is fine with letting things slide. Of course, if anything causes him to lose his temper, it will flare up with a quick burst of violence before it is subdued once more. Generally, at least when he's not on duty, he laughs easy and enjoys joking around with others. He's typically very friendly during these periods of time, though he does still have a hint of his strictness, though in a more fatherly-like way where he looks after the younger ones and make sure they stay out of trouble, which undoubtedly can lead to some major personality clashes. His advice is something that's given all too regularly, and he has no qualms with shoving it down someone's throat. Perhaps the most disturbing thing about him, however, is the fact that he sleeps easily at night; his dreams are not disturbed by nightmares of those he’s killed or the destruction in his wake. Instead he sleeps soundly, softly snoring through the night while others are completely unable to sleep at all for fear of the wretched things that plague their minds. No, the killing is all too easy for him now. There was a time when he had broken down just like everyone else, but that time has long gone and is replaced with a cold, though slightly remorseful, glance as he vanquishes the life of those he’s asked to annihilate. It’s a good thing for what’s required of him, for this is what is expected of him and all that he knows. The eternity of just a year has completely changed him into the kind of soldier the Imperium would want; he’s detached, strong, and practically brainwashed to believe that in some twisted way that he’s doing the right thing. It’s this belief that keeps him going. He thinks that all of this will result in unity and the betterment of society. It’s this belief that keeps him as sane as he possibly can be. His sanity is questionable, considering the lack of empathy he’s been feeling lately, but it’s not as bad as it could be; he hasn’t gone into a full-out mental breakdown in a long time, though that’s not clear if it’s because he’s gotten used to it or because he’s merely holding all of his emotions within himself. His line of thought, to refrain from thinking about what he is doing, helps with the attempt at not cracking and falling to pieces like some of those around him. History: Fegaen has been told he had a family that was dirt poor, had far too many children, and besides, they were abusive. He's been convinced that this life is far better than the one he's leaving behind, even if it’s not really. As a result, he's grateful for the opportunity to do something that makes a difference. Skills: Combat, parkour and survival Alchemies: Lead and Iron.
  18. ((Didn't take me too long. It just took some boredom, lol. Sorry this was short. Didn't have much time. )) The forest stood tall and dark before Doug, looming over him as its thick branches bent down as if to reach toward him and drag him to his demise. The werewolves had mostly finished their shifting about now, and he himself found that when he looked in a small pool of stagnant water, the face that looked back at him was the beast that took over his body during this period of time. Though he had now had many years to begin to recognize this beast as himself, it was not him. Its eyes were cold and unfeeling; his eyes were undoubtedly those of a predator and he knew that was no longer who he wanted to be. Doug crouched down until he was kneeling and lightly touched his own reflection that was in the pool, shattering the image with delicate ripples that distorted his face. It was funny to him that he felt more comfortable looking at himself like this, but perhaps it was because his eyes no longer stared into him and tore him apart for all that he had done. Standing up, he looked back the way he had come and began to move toward the camp he knew awaited him. Hopefully nobody had done anything stupid and given him a job to do, for tonight was not a night that he wanted to have to do anything. Tonight was the anniversary of her death, 'her' being his wife. It had been so many years since her death. It must've been about 57 years since her death, and so the bracelet he would normally wear around his wrist would have 57 knots once he regained his human body once more. It was the only thing he allowed himself to have that might betray anything about him or who he was, though he knew that most of the werewolves knew about it because they'd been told or had figured it out themselves. Doug wished he didn't have to take the bracelet off during these shifts, especially since it was during her anniversary that he changed, but it was the reality and the bracelet was far too important to him for him to stretch it out. Though she still appeared to him in dreams, he couldn't remember what her face looked like. He had seen so many bodies, so many dead, that she had just become another one, and that more than anything was why he tied the knots. Doug was afraid, more than anything, of forgetting her because he knew she was important. He knew those memories, and somehow those memories were so unfamiliar even though they were his own; it was not him in those memories, not anymore. He wasn't sure if he was a better man now or then, but something told him now. He hoped he was better now than he was so long ago. Doug had been absent from the pack for about a week or so now, his duties requiring him to be elsewhere. Over his shoulder the werewolf gently carried a satchel filled with medicine and more medical supplies, all from his little trip out of the territory. It had taken him awhile to get his license updated again, but he felt he'd made good time. He just hoped that nothing big had happened and that Golten wouldn't have his hide for being out so long. Even if his absence was irksome, the benefit from it was immense, even if not all the other pack members saw it that way. Glancing briefly around the camp, he relaxed instantly as the surroundings enveloped him in familiarity that provided a sense of pleasant security. He had the general sense that Golten might not be completely thrilled with his trip, but it was necessary, and Doug hoped his alpha could see that. In fact, there was the dark red coated wolf's scent now. Slowly walking following the scent and moving towards where he knew his alpha would be, Doug kept himself alert. Finally Golten was within eyesight, but Doug's ears pulled slightly back in unease as he saw the newcomer beside Lilith and Golten. Had the alpha decided to replace him in his absence? He'd caught several scents that were unfamiliar to him on his way here, and he wouldn't be surprised if the other healer had been moved up in rank and some of the new recruits were going to be healers themselves. God, he hoped not. He hoped everyone else was interested in fighting or hunting. "I'm back. I brought medicine, and I've got my license renewed. My apologies for taking so long. What's with all the newcomers? If I'm not wrong, I caught the scent of a pup, Golten. And who's this?" Doug asked distrustfully, his ears tilted back as he tipped his head in the direction of the other newcomer. He walked forward slowly, his eyes not on his alpha but directly on the stranger. Doug was never trusting of strangers, but when he worried for the sake of his rank there was bound to be trouble. Hopefully everything would be just fine now that he was back. Just fine.
  19. ((Forum Name: Packgoater Character Name: Douglas "Doug" Abbott Age: Looks like he's in his later thirties, but truly is 96. Gender: Male Race: Werewolf Role: Lead Healer Appearance: Doug is of average height, standing at 5'10" and has a reasonably well-built physique, which is as such because of his habits from when he was in the military. He has a variety of scars resulting from old wounds in the war, and some newer ones from scrappy fights when he first turned. He looks like a man who would be a fighter in every meaning of the word. Appearance in wolf form: When in his wolf form, the scars he possess are far harder to make out, for the thick, wiry hair he has mostly lies over them in places where the fur doesn't grow back. Personality: Because of his scars and the hard edge that remains in his eyes, one might expect him to be one of the warriors of the pack, but instead he is the lead healer. Many a person has asked him why he's not a warrior, especially with the military training that he has, and his answer is always the same: "I suppose it's because I've done it before. I've killed many a man, and I see no reason to have that kind of blood on my hands again. Children destroy things. Adults fix them." Above all, he is a man who has seen his fellow soldiers fall at the fault of a bullet, his friends die, and his pregnant wife be murdered, and the fact that he remains something akin to a normal man is remarkable in and of itself. Of course, how normal could he possibly be after seeing all this happen? Not very, so it's to be expected that he has several issues. Firstly, he has a few trust issues, namely with anyone new or unfamiliar to him. Just getting him to tolerate anyone who is not known to him is a struggle, for he will quickly put up a wall between himself and any newcomer, and it can be expected that he will be curt and anything but friendly. However, he would never be aggressive or outright hostile towards anyone, he'd just keep one eye on them. Secondly, he has problems getting to sleep. Whenever he shuts his eyes, it seems like memories of the war or his wife dying are always right in front of his eyes. Thirdly, interaction with people can be hard for him. The talking isn't so bad, so long as it's not about him, but it's the emotional connection with them that is difficult for him; he's just not able to sit there and interact with anyone on a deep level. Fourthly, he has some problems with being able to stand up and fight, but mostly because he's too afraid that he'd loose control. He's built up so much emotion within himself that he figures that if he were given some method of releasing it, some tiny vent for all the anger, that it would all come spilling out and he wouldn't be able to have a valve on that vent to make sure he didn't cause complete destruction. However, with all these flaws, he does have a few redeeming qualities, namely his intelligence, integrity, and the kindness he does have within him. Even though he's relatively young, at least for a werewolf, he is skilled and trained in the medical field, and the fact that he has access to medications because he's changed a few of his documents, renewed his medical license, and thus has the ability to prescribe medication, doesn't hurt either. He has plenty of medical tools and the knowledge with which to use them properly, and also has the knowledge of how to preform surgical procedures. History: Doug grew up like a pretty normal kid back in the day. He was adventurous, enjoyed messing about with friends, and liked to romp along with the best of them. He didn't have any violent tendencies, and was a smart kid who would have an undoubtedly bright future ahead of him. Then disaster struck, in the form of WWII, or more specifically, the draft for the war. By this time, Doug had graduated high school and even though he was twenty-three and hadn't gone to college, he had a job and had his own apartment. Unfortunately, he was drafted into the war and taken away from what he loved and what was important to him. The war was hard. It seemed like there were not periods of time to relax or rest. It was constant contact with the enemy, and it seemed that for every man they shot down, two people he knew fell to the ground with a bullet in their chest. If he slept, it'd be with one eye open. All the men were on high alert, scared out of their minds, and lonely. Even though there were a good number of them, it seemed that they were all alone. The only thing that kept him alive were the letters from home, and these were few and far between. Eventually he stopped waiting for them, and turned to alcohol to solve his problems which, of course, just worsened them. Somewhere along the lines there were a few stagnant periods, so to pass the time he would box and wrestle with the other men, and of course drink. Somehow he pulled through. Many of his friends were gone, and those that were alive, he cut off. Returning to normal society was hard, so hard. He had seen so many horrible things; he had seen so many people killed, had seen so many bodies fall to the ground. He was supposed to return to normal now, but it wasn't like that. He couldn't do anything. He had killed so many people and couldn't even remember their faces. All he could remember was the sight of the bodies falling to the ground. He knew he'd never forget it as long as he lived. He couldn't stay around the place he knew and the people he knew, so he moved to England, and to keep himself busy, he went to medical school to become a doctor. While he was in school he met a woman and a few years later, they married. It was only a short while after he graduated medical school that his wife was killed and he was bitten by a werewolf. She had been seven months pregnant, and they had been walking home after a nice evening out when a beast leapt from the darkness and tackled his wife, sending her to the ground. It clawed and bit her, leaving deep gouges in her flesh that he knew she would have been able to survive. Then the beast turned to him, and without even wanting to, he ran. The werewolf caught him, shoved him against a nearby wall, and started to attack him. Doug barely managed to pull out the knife he kept on him and shoved it deep in the werewolf's gut. He stumbled back to his wife, and ended up passing out right beside her. When he woke up, he was in the hospital and knew that his wife was dead. When he was asked what happened, he merely stared blankly and refused to say anything. In fact, he didn't speak at all after she died. He barely ate, and he barely slept. About a month after the attack, Doug found himself transforming into the same beast that had killed his wife. Horrified with himself, he didn't know what to do, and so sat in his house refusing to answer to door and refusing to go anywhere at all. He slowly became accustomed to it happening, but the fact that he had just lost his wife and unborn child left him to attempt suicide on two different occasions. The first was an attempt at overdosing, but he had foolishly done that inside of a public restroom, and was brought to the hospital shortly afterward. The second time he tried to use a gun, but he put the barrel in his mouth and when he pulled the trigger it ended up missing anything terribly important and he was brought to the hospital a second time. His sister came to England and stayed with him in his apartment for a year, just to make sure he wouldn't try anything like that again. She tried to keep him company, but he'd end up spending huge chunks of his time away from her, hiding himself and what he had become from her. A year seemed to be sufficient enough time, for once she left, he never tried to commit suicide again. Instead he moved toward the west coast to relax for awhile, supplied with money from his family. Buying an place there, he found himself delving into a slightly darker way of life, finding himself getting into fights with other werewolves that he had stumbled upon. They'd set up a small group in the far plains and would box it out there. It gave Doug some money, and was some form of release, but one fight went to far, and he found that he had nearly killed a man. Somehow that shot him back into reality, and he swore to himself that he had to be better than this, and he dropped fighting altogether, though before he did, someone told him there was a group of werewolves that could help him. That's where he went. Because of his medical knowledge and experience, he was a valuable member of the community and he found himself getting someone to edit his documents so that he could once more be accepted as a licensed physician. On his documents his first name is still Douglas, but he changed his name to that of his deceased wife, which was McBrewer, instead of his real surname, Abbott. Other: Werewolves Rule. ))
  20. ((It depends. I'd say that in your case it's not terribly bad, considering you don't seem to have many obvious errors and don't seem to have problems regarding lack of information. I'd suggest contacting an approver to have them look over your RP.))
  21. GOTD, I'm not going to quote you mostly because there's a heck of a lot to quote. I don't like MLP. I don't. It's a show about ponies. I think people shouldn't be judged because they watch it, though. Like I said, my friends are mature, serious people. They deal with a lot of crap at home, come from nothing, and have made something of themselves. Part of the reason they like it is because of the innocence of it all. It's lighthearted, I guess. But I'm not going to talk about that crap anymore. Clearly you're frustrated and at the end of talking about it, which is too bad, because I like a good debate. You deal with a lot of crap, clearly. My life can be pretty complicated too, sometimes. My close family isn't bad, just frustrating. Honestly, I feel worse for my cousin, who deals with a lot of crap. She's a druggy going through rehab, got pregnant when she was nineteen, was sexually and verbally abused as a kid, and her son was taken from her by the father. She deals with a lot of stuff too. I live in a bad area. I mean, the people are bad, rather. Most of them are racist jerks or are sexist. I went through heck being who I am. I was accused of being lesbian and all that crap -and I'm barely fourteen. Sometimes people are just stupid. I wasn't calling you a bigot, but rather your statement. You've gone through a lot, are clearly emotionally tied to the subject, and I wouldn't want to be rude or hurt your feelings. I'm deeply sorry if I offended you. Just because some people in your area are jerks doesn't mean you have to judge people who share some affinities with them. As horrible as it sounds, I'm friends with some sexist guys. Don't ask me how, I don't know. Somehow I found myself in their little cult-thing. But, being friends with them has helped me change their opinions. They started out very sexist and racist, and now they're really not. Some people can change, with a little guidance. My point in all this is that judging doesn't help. Just because we will be judged in our lives doesn't mean we should do the same out of spite. It just means we should be the bigger person. And, if we act like the bigger person, we can help educate and teach them. I think that most people have potential. Not all, but young people. In my opinion, a lot in the world could be saved via education.
  22. Basically, in response to GOTD, I'm with pretty much everyone else. And I myself do not like the show. I saw a few episodes at one of my friends houses, and I really didn't like it. But they did, and I have just as much respect for them now as I did before. Also, if we're supposed to follow under the guidelines of what things are 'boy' things and what are 'girl' things, we're going to make a lot of miserable children out there who are also insecure about what they like. It could only lead to more gender stereotypes. This isn't feminist at all. If you were truly a feminist you wouldn't say it's a little girl's show. Why is it a little girl's show? It's got ponies. It's got some pink ponies. Does that mean that it should only be a girl's show? I'm fourteen, female, and I play football. Not tackle, but it might as well be. We play it on blacktop, shove people around, and usually someone gets hurt. I'm the only female who does it, and I'm respected in my class for doing it. Should I not be able to play football anymore? I love football, but it's a guy's sport. So, according to these guidelines, should I not be able to? Not only is this sexist, this is a form of bigotry. You're judging the so-called 'bronies' just because they watch a show originally targeted for little kids. You know what? Some of my friends are bronies, and the ones that are are incredibly mature. They're in the International Bacceloriate Programme, get straight A's, are crazy hardworking and suuuper mature. As in, they act like little adults. So don't cut people down just because they watch some stupid show. And honestly, I have more respect for bronies than the parents that let their kids watch things like Silence of the Lambs, The Shining, or Saw when they're barely nine. I've watched them, but little kids? No. That's just asking for trouble.
  23. ((I'm sick with bronchitis. D: Not to mention the schoolwork that is flooding me... I'll try to get a post up later.))
  24. "I- well, I suppose I look at the mask, and envision how I want it to be. Rather, how I think it is. I couldn't do this back where I lived before. No, before I had the mask... but it was just a mask, I guess," he replied to the pale-faced girl, shrugging. But suddenly there was a weapon pointed at him, pointed to his gut. Fallion's features were now shocked and slightly afraid. Why had this man done this? Why was he angry at Fallion? He hadn't done anything, not really. And slowly he looked down, saw the weapon in his hand. Of course. The man must've thought he was drawing it on them. Now he understood, even though he found the man's logic rather faulty; if he had wanted to hurt any of them, he wouldn't have saved the other girl's life, and he certainly would have made his move by now. "A what? What are you even talking about? Like I told you, I'm just painting a mask. It's nothing special. I bet you could paint yours if you had one and if you tried. My type? My work? You... You're mistaking me for someone else. Yes, I killed before, but I'm just as new to your type as you are to mine. I didn't kill you. I've never heard of this 'Father,' or whatnot. I couldn't do this before. I-I just figured that out now. I had a feeling about it, like I knew I could do it, or something. These things, my weapons, they're from before. I killed with blades. I was a serial killer, not an assassin," Fallion said quickly, backing away from the other man, sheathing his weapon and drawing his hands up to show he wasn't a threat. And suddenly, a voice appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "Sea of Fate? So... We're dead, then? I mean, I guess I figured as such, as most don't live after death row. In fact, I've never heard of anyone living after death row. I don't know, I just figured... Maybe I had gotten lucky. So let me get this straight, we do good deeds and then, once we've repented, we get to go back and live again? Or go to an afterlife? So we have an option of starting over or going on to a new life after our death, where we also might meet those we had killed? I think I'll take starting anew, once the time comes," he mused, crossing his arms and rocking back and forth on his heels, head slightly tilted, face inquisitive.
  25. "I-I... I am human. I was born in the United States. My parents died in a car accident. I know I have no face -someone finally understands. Someone... I- I do have a mask, though. It can be anything -everything, I think. Before it wasn't like this. But," here Fallion took out a blade, as if on a whim, "if I look, I think... Ah, yes, I can paint my mask," he finished, his brows knitting as he concentrated. Slowly in the cavities that previously represented eyes, he painted a deep blue color, the color of the sea around him. His nose became slightly crooked, his teeth slightly irregular in shape. These were the features he had appreciated on the faces of others. He had appreciated the quirks. Of course, he wasn't actually painting; the perception of his own face was just shifting slightly, creating the features of another. And finally, he looked fairly human, pale in skin color with deep eyes. "I just can paint my mask. I'm human." Fallion looks at the other boy, uncertainty clearly written in his face. The other boy seems to sigh, then walks over to Fallion and puts an arm around his shoulders. "Look, Fall, no one will know it is you. With these clothes, you will be a mere shadow. And this mask," here the boy taps a blank mask, "will be your true savior." "My savior?" "It will cover your face, hide it from the cops." "I-I don't have a face." "Fine. It will be a face for you. It will be your identity."