Drowned Wood [BWP] what's the fun in doing what you're told?

OOC: for @Blackmoore

I feel numb, born with a weak heart

Despite the extreme summer heat, the forest was swamped. Everything was coated in a layer of water, drowning the surrounding vegetation. The yearling had not been expecting it, but he was pleased. His need to cool off was stronger than his dislike for wet fur, so he stomped around like a pup in the mud, covering himself in gunk. He looked his age for once, his eyes bright and playful. The dirt was dripping from his underbelly, the sides of his fur tainted brown. There was some dried mud beneath his eyes, but it blended into the black fur.

His paws hit the water with a loud splash as he jumped, his tail wagging quickly behind him. He was panting a bit, but the heat wasn’t bothering him. He felt good covered in the wet mud. It was bringing down his body temperature, even though it smelt like rot. He didn’t mind the stench.

I guess I must be having fun

(This post was last modified: Aug 02, 2018, 02:01 AM by Vaken.)

currently travelling with Circe (she can jump in any of his threads)

On a contrary, the hulking male did. Yet the marshes have always tended to sneak into the man's life each year despite active attempts to avoid them as much as it is possible. Sadly, sometimes they had to lay on a shortest route the man had hoping to undertake, yet always their extent seemed to elude the man as he was contemplating encroachment into the Principality of Stench and Kingdom of Muck. Perhaps it had been the sun that seemingly lowered the man's cognitive abilities and reasoning - after all the dark towering male was prone to suffer it's wrath thanks to his thick dark coat, more suitable to live in places like valleys or straight on the mountainside. But as much he'd could claim to be from the north, from the hills - dabbling in a bit of water didn't seemed to be enough to call himself a Viking.

But his role had surely made up for it plenty enough...

Thanks to his size, the male was able to traverse the marshes with a relative ease. Yet, despite sticking to the beaten tracks and pathways by the prey and the rare locals - the man had managed to get dabbled with the sticky goo up and above his hocks. The substance had almost covered his brighter markings entirely, making the man appear as solid black from quite a few angles and surely at the distance. For now, despite the great displeasure that the mud was bringing, the male hadn't even tried to shake it off and get himself in order. After all, what was the point of doing so before he'd managed to leave this damp, smelly place? Besides, it would serve an opposite purpose to the one with which the male had ventured up here since he'd left the borders of the willow ridge in the early hours of the past night.

To his surprise, the male had failed to find any recent tracks of the coyotes outside the borders. The latest seemed to be a few days old at best, and only made by what have appeared to be the scouts. Nothing coherent. Nothing of substance. It had made the man wondering, it had made the man going in circles. Inspecting. Looking for anything. It took him sometime before the male had found a more fresh track, leading up north-east from the pack.

Where they gone? Or did they simply decided to join another band of coyotes? Or may be even some coyotes succeeded in overrunning one of the smaller packs?

He didn't knew, neither Blackmoore had any coherent idea about the packs in the area, aside from the Charred Ash Draw that is. From which he'd met Garmir earlier this year, when the coyotes seemed to be on the rise. So to speak that is. Either way, the male had followed them until he'd got himself here.

In this damp, smelly place.

The male gurgled softly with irritation as he'd stopped on the edge of another murky passage, leading straight onto another patch of dry land covered by some trees. Through muck and whoever knows what else that floated inside the smelly muck between the two shores...

He was obviously not keen on prospect of taking a dip in this stinking poodle...

Scout demonstration 1/3

I feel numb, born with a weak heart

The mud was wedged between each hair follicle on Vaken, the young wolf could almost taste each grain of wet dirt between his tastebuds. Surprisingly, it wasn’t an awful taste. The yearling certainly couldn’t make a meal out of it, but he wasn’t offended. He licked his lips and continued along his merry way. It tasted exactly how it felt: heavy, wet, grainy. He had eaten worse things along his journey: rotten berries, decaying worm-infested meat. Dirt wasn’t incredibly satisfying, but he didn’t grimace when it hit his tongue and travelled down his throat. He trotted through with heavy paws, slamming them into the puddles to watch the splash. 


He felt completely at peace in the slime. Of course, he knew there were going to be consequences to his fun game. He was going to have to wash out his fur (maybe) or else he’d smell like the swamp for days to come, but it didn’t matter. Vaken was too impulsive, too childlike and irrational to prioritize cleanliness over pleasure. He wanted to play, so he did. It was weighing down his fur, making him look much like a drowned rat. The fur on his scruff stuck up in a wild disarray, tangling up the fur around his neck and face.

Vaken was never one for looking his best. At the best of times, he looked presentable, but even that was a rare sight. For the most part, he appeared grimy, unpleasant, scruffy and vaguely alarming. With his uneven fur and chaotic behaviour, he seemed to be infected with some sort of rabies.

It was only when the smell of the approaching visitor, did Vaken stop his gallivanting. Over the smell of mud came the scent of pack, a single wolf, male. Vaken stayed low to the ground and searched with narrowed eyes. He saw the outline of the man- huge, bulky. The small boy gulped and let out a deep sigh, nervous. Why couldn’t he run into smaller wolves? Less intimidating pack wolves? This seemed to always be the way, and Vaken was growing impatient with it. He had two options: leave without being noticed, or step forward and acknowledge the arrival.

Clearly his throat, the yearling made his way over. The closer he got, the more details he noticed about the stranger. First, Vaken noticed his sparkling green eyes. He was almost taken back by how bright they were. It didn’t seem natural, but the yearling brushed it off and analyzed the rest of him. He sized him up, comparing muscle tone and height, almost wanting to laugh. It was a good thing Vaken was a good runner. He squinted his eyes, trying to see the stranger’s markings, but failing. The mud was distorting everything. “Not a fan of the mud?” He inquired, beckoning the stranger forward to join him. “It’s not all that bad.”

I guess I must be having fun

currently travelling with Circe (she can jump in any of his threads)

There is a deer carcass being picked over by three coyotes. They spot you and become territorial of their kill.

As he stood there, the man's eyes flashed forward through the bog and into the reeds that had stood above the murky surface that smelt of last years carcass. The male had unconsciously begun to imagine scenes carnage, the sheer terror of having to fight on unknown grounds with one's paws sinking into the murky void beneath. The enemies closing in, hidden by the impenetrable walls of reeds that stood all around. Cutting into the less protected bits of flesh when one had tried to push through to safety. He could imagine the screams as the local tribesmen had descendent upon an expedition that have hailed themselves from a far away land. Land where a strangest kind of tree could be found, one of purple leafs.

The male had shook his head violently, in a frantic motion like he had been scared by the blood and screams that he had "seen"... But there was obviously nothing like that before him as far as the eye could see... Yet the cold chill kept creeping down his spine, as the male tried to get his senses back in line. The man had never experienced such a thing before, thus he'd wondered silently upon it. Was he getting deranged or did the bedtime stories from his puphood decided to weigh in their ugly heads? Whatever the reason, the cause, why it would be happening to him right now, at a such a place? 

Why it would have felt so familiar... Like from a past life?

The questions kept mounting up, but the man's attention had been quickly returned to the reality as the dark male's ears twitched upon a fresh set of sounds. A few distant squelches at first that have quickly grew into more muffled, more complex orchestra of sounds that could only originate from a body that was pushing through the muck and gooey on their own strength. The ridge's guardian have turned in place at first, like he tried to look behind. Only to realize that the source had to be in front of him, somewhere in among the tall grass and reeds that stood up above the brown waters...

The man had kept silence as his fervently green eyes were put to good use, scanning the murky surface and whatever was above it. It took a moment, but not a long one till he'd spot a creature that emerged from the shores of what had appeared to be an 'island' in front of him, the dry patch of land with a barely visible track leading through it and made by the locals as well as prey. At first Blackmoore had found himself a little perplexed about the stranger, as there wasn't much of him for his eyes to inspect. Especially once the smaller creature entered the murky waters and pushed in towards him, trying to avoid the deeper parts at the same time... The man had been quite honestly unsure was that a coyote going towards him or a "brethren", just of a smaller kind than him... Though honestly almost everyone belonged to that category for the man, so that was quite a vague too.

Either way, he was soon going to get his answer - as the yellow eyes had emerged from the brownish, fuzzy outline that barely stood apart from the brown waters of the marshes. Emerged already firmly locked upon him, just moments before he'd heard the voice beaming him over. A voice, not incoherent cackling in a some foreign, barbaric tongue. The male blinked curiously, as he had tilted his head slightly as his eyes kept looking over the stranger. "No, obviously not." The man replied without a thought, on a impulse. The man had been honestly quite perplexed upon this chance meeting. Especially as his eyes ventured beyond Vaken in response to sudden change in movements of the surviving not-sunken flora.

"Uhuh..." He exhaled with a tiresome sigh as his green eyes locked upon one of the three coyotes emerging from the farthest clump of reeds and starting to navigate their way towards the two. Abusing their lesser size and weight to gain advantage of mobility, the trio of scoundrels begun to close the distance on an alarming rate... "They're not your friends am I right?" He snickered while tilting his head to the other side than before, all the while giving his best impression of a slightly amused grin...

It seemed that Blackmoore had found the coyotes he was looking for...

Blackmoore isn't getting crazy. Let's just say that the foul smells triggered a timid homage to one of his past lives to surface~ The man had survived a lot of shit going on places like these (ie marshes), including the aforementioned ambush. So let's just say that the disgust for the smell became so universal that it had transcended his inter-forum barriers by this point and become an established part of his personality~ xD
Edit:
Scout demonstration 2/3

(This post was last modified: Aug 14, 2018, 12:39 AM by Blackmoore.)

I feel numb, born with a weak heart

“Why does everyone think that,” Vaken mumbled, half to himself and half to the other wolf. His eyes sized up the stranger once more, impressed with his weight, and snorted. He couldn’t imagine being so well-fed in the midst of the summer trouble. The coyotes were stealing all the kill, how did a wolf like that keep up his weight? Clearly from being part of a pack, but still. The boy was only part envious, the rest of him was in shock. It didn’t take long for him to remember the point of the conversation: coyotes. They were heavy on the breeze now.

It went without saying that he wasn’t friends with the vermin. Hell, maybe if he was pals with them he wouldn’t be in such rough shape. It wasn’t too bad of an idea. The loner knew it wasn’t possible though, the creatures were too venomous to accept a peace offering. He looked longingly over his shoulder at the creatures, turning up his nose. “Can’t say we’re too friendly to each other,” he added sarcastically, quirking an eyebrow.

The boy moved himself farther left, his paws sticking into the muck, and turned to face the impending danger. “I don’t know why the hell they’d be in here though,” he muttered angrily.

I guess I must be having fun

currently travelling with Circe (she can jump in any of his threads)

Vaken's mumble had barely reached the man's ears as he'd still stood on the edge of the murky waters. The man tilted his head slightly as his gaze shifted between the three scoundrels and the half sunken wolf in between. The dark male had wanted to ask the smaller guy to repeat his words, but only for a moment. He'd however managed to open his maw already which he'd then promptly shut with a loud clack. Surprisingly, as his eyes noticed, the ears of the coyotes had perked up for a moment as they've stopped for a split second in their track, before redoubling their pace towards them. "I think it'd be better for you to come out of this pulp." The man spoke, switching his muzzle back towards the stranger. Unlike previously, Blackmoore had spared himself the sarcastic tone nor the snickering. It didn't looked like it was going to be a joke.

Not today.

Despite that, the other wolf seemed to be in good spirits as the towering male had blinked in slight bewilderment in response to his next words. Considering the fact that the scavengers were already a hock deep in the mud, steadily pushing towards them - he'd didn't deemed that they'll have a lot of time to joke around. Yet, Vaken seemed to push on like he wasn't concerned with them at all, as the small guy had pushed himself through the muck to the man's right side. "I was tracking these one from Drooping Willows since yesterday." The man had calmly replied, as he'd shook his head slightly. "But does it matter? The mongrels seem to be everywhere lately. Come out, it will be easier to deal with them without paws glued down by this mush."

Scout Demonstration 3/3

(This post was last modified: Aug 28, 2018, 09:38 PM by Blackmoore.)

I feel numb, born with a weak heart

Vaken listened to the man’s words, agreeing with his advice. He slowly tore his paws out of the mud, shaking off as much as he could. It was a difficult task, one that was pointless. He pulled himself out and towards his company. He could hear the coyotes following behind, the sound of their steps sinking into the gunk. He grimaced. Why would they ever bother to chase them in this? He sighed, but moved his attention to Blackmoore. “Can’t say they’re too quick,” he laughed, squinting to watch their forms move through the marsh. They were still fairly far away, but trying. Had it not been so annoying, it would have been comical. 


He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “They don’t know when to give up.”

I guess I must be having fun

currently travelling with Circe (she can jump in any of his threads)

"Maybe for now..." The dark male begun, as he'd flashed a curious albeit maybe slightly disappointed look towards the smaller wolf. "But are you willing to wait for them to catch up with you to test it for yourself?" He'd continued, as his eyes shifted towards the annoying coyotes. He'd mused about it as the mongrels managed to take a few steps closer towards them, all the while cackling between each other like they've were either already celebrating some sort of victory - or, which was far more probable given the circumstances, they were trying to hurry each other up. However, neither of it had been in particular interest to the male in terms of finding it out for himself. Perhaps it had been the reason why the male had raised his eyebrows, as his gaze switched back to Vaken, in response to what the younger lupus had to say.

"How about we just go, I don't fancy having to bath myself out of this miserable puddle mixed with blood afterwards." The bigger male quipped as he'd stepped away from the edge of watery slime that marked the point of misery and limited agility. "Besides, we can check does they really don't know when to quit... That is if they decide to follow us of course." Blackmoore smirked as he'd said so, already turning clockwise and looking at the tawny male with his head turned to the side out of necessity. "What you say, hmm?"

I feel numb, born with a weak heart

Vaken wasn’t overly fond of the coyotes by any means. He hated them. The smell of them made his stomach uneasy, made his fur stand on end and his body shiver. He had his fair share of the vermin. They had made quite the impression on the young boy, made it on his top ten list of enemies. He would do nearly anything to avoid them. With that in mind, he wasn’t too comfort with following the man either. He had accepted his fair share of kindness from strangers, but it had been mostly from lone wolves. A free meal here, a small hello there- he had only followed Sahalie and Kino when he had been desperate. They had been able to sweet talk him. The yearling had an innate distrust for pack wolves. There was something especially dangerous about following a wolf nearly double your size, something menacing and quiet. It just didn’t sit right with Vaken. That is why, when the older man began to leave, the yearling hesitated.




He looked towards the approaching coyotes, made eye contact with the leader, then began to retreat. He didn’t want to fight them today, especially not in the mud. The green-eyed wolf had been right, it would be a struggle to get out the mud and blood from his fur if he stuck around. He usually didn’t like baths in the first place, it would taste horrendous. His only option would be to find a water source and soak, but even that sounded undesirable.




The confusion was apparent on his face. He was mentally conflicted, torn between leaving his companion or following after. He didn’t want the coyotes to follow him, and surely they would. He was confident in his speed, but the mud would slow him down. What was the safer option? He scrapped at the ground with his paw, thinking as quickly as he could. “I’m going to head north,” he stated, the smell of coyote growing stronger. “I should be able to outrun them.”




He offered the other wolf a slight goodbye with his tail, keeping his eyes on the vermin, and began to dart off. He did not follow the man. Instead he ran to the left of them, avoiding the coyotes, but catching their attention. He knew some of them would at least follow, but the yearling had stamina and speed on his side.




Vaken's exit

I guess I must be having fun

currently travelling with Circe (she can jump in any of his threads)