Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

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    Mortis
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    Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

    Post by Mortis on Tue Sep 12, 2017 2:46 pm

    Time: Late Night
    Date: July 5, 0008

    Evenings in the city may as well have been the same night set on repeat; traffic whistled and rumbled in the distance, echoing off of the derelict husks of burned out buildings. The sound mingled with the hushed chatter of shady persons huddled in dank corners of alleyways, their hands busy with the rustling of paper bills and bags of illicit substances. Further off, it was drowned out by the harsh snap of gunfire and pained howling, gangs clashed like thunderstorms, their quarrels illuminating city blocks in ways akin to flashes of lightning. Such was every night, every day, down in this chaotic sub-sector of the city.

    For Mortis, it was a far cry from the quiet, relatively peaceful nights that the grasslands had to offer. But, it was a welcome difference, along with a well needed one for this particular evening. A new sound mingled with the ambient chaos that churned in the dismal air; iron clapped against asphalt and mist swirled as their owner emerged from its icy exhale. The undead superfiend sat atop a powerful steed, her towering form clad in black and a reek of decay. Her usually glistening green-black hide and rancid flesh was almost completely covered from hoof to nose in her newest attire. Plating upon her head, neck, and chest glistened like polished metal under the milky light of the street lamps, the rest of her shone no more brilliantly than an immense checkered cloth blanket that had been draped over her form. Only, the squares were far more useful, and formidable than mere embroidery. Rigid and unmoving with the rest of the undead beast as it walked on through the streets, it was evident they were more than what one would initially perceive.

    No reins were gripped in the undead rider’s hands, one claw gripped the pommel of Samhain’s saddle, while the other was wrapped around the wooden stock of his shotgun as he held it across his lap. Gnarled claws flexed audibly against the leather of his horse’s saddle, a low long hiss slithering from his rancid throat. Life, iniquity hung thick in the air to the point of being nearly intoxicating to his senses. He could already tell that his steed felt the same way, from how he read her thoughts over their shared link. For a moment, a light, content feeling swelled in his hollow chest; two undeads, two happy slayers out for a night on the town. Ah, if his brothers were here, he would almost feel as if he were back home, or perhaps even in the Mega City’s dimension. Just as quickly as the sensation arose, however, he quickly reigned it in. His purpose here was not one of nostalgic whimsy or an interest in reliving old glories past. Ancient vertebrae crackled as his skull swiveled to take in his surroundings, psychic senses scanning the area.

    You ssseem excited, Sssamhain. Mortis mentally commented to his steed as he regarded their surroundings, ”How are you looking forward to your firssst training excercissse?

    Gestalt in particular was the topic of their evening lesson. The mare had proven to hold the aptitude to attempt a psychic merge, and with practice throughout the past several months, her master thought it time to put their lessons to practical application. What better place, he deduced, than the Outer City; the one place that was certain to be teeming with some sort of illicit activity worthy of their righteous fury?


    Last edited by Mortis on Tue Sep 12, 2017 4:09 pm; edited 1 time in total
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    Re: Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

    Post by Universal NPC on Tue Sep 12, 2017 2:47 pm

    Beneath the sheep skull headed being, Samhain’s nostrils flared. Like her master she too picked up upon the heavy stink of mortal life that permeated the air. Her neck arched and she shook her head with a dull snort as she stepped forth from the mist. Her iron shod hooves clapped upon pavement, splitting a web of cracks through it as the spikes upon them were pressed into the asphalt under the horse’s tremendous weight. Upon lifting her foot, so too did she lift freshly broken pebbles of black tar and stone to clatter across the road. Her armor shifted quietly upon her decaying body, its weight dull and numb against her dead senses. The most she registered from it was the way the plasteel plate upon her head fettered her line of sight ever so slightly in exchange for protecting her skull, and the sound of her leg guards as the maleable plates that protected her pasterns shifted and clacked dully against one another.

    Suxch things were hardly her concern however, there were living things here. So many living things. They were not like the things in the grasslands, where her Master demanded she only chase and destroy those that came in over the fence. Here they were beings that her Master also loathed, things that made them feel as if they were one in desire and intent. Just as she longed to chase down and demolish the teeming things that lurked in the alleyways and that twiggy, steel skeletons of what were once tall buildings hid... So too did he. Her armored head moved with his briefly, as she felt him scan the area for nearby things for them to hunt.

    The mare’s head dipped low to the road before them, her rictus grin pulling involuntarily into a snarl as mummified nostrils flared wide and snuffed at the tarmac. The harsh stink of tar mingled faintly within her senses, her olfactory abilities all but completely dead to the undying steed. But it was not a conventional scent that the mare was seeking. Her nose did not discriminate between the odors of man, beast, or machine. There was only the scent of life, that psychic residue that all mortal and immortal beings left wherever they tread. This was what the mare sought to track as she took deep, heady breaths of the ground before her as she lumbered along. Upon her back, she noticed her master stir, and communication was initiated across the psychic link.

    She snorted through her nostrils, the armored plating upon her neck lightly jostling with a shake of her neck before returning to her attempts to find a suitable trail of residue to follow. But, there was no mistake that she was aware and attentive of the sheep skull headed rider seated on her back. Her single intact ear swiveled to face backward towards Mortis, her attention divided between their conversation and her task.

    Yes, this place is different than our usual route into the city.

    It was far more active that the streets that sat directly on the divide between where ISO’s patrol ended and the lawless Outer District began. How could she not be excited when there were so many possible targets for them to chase and hunt? To top it off, she and him were going to do that thing they were practicing; the Gestalt.

    Her bony tail flicked and lifted breifly, the act itself in full felt more like a meeting of their thoughts, the both of them syncing up to the point where it was difficult to tell where one of them ended and the other began; one became an extension of the other. Her Master became agile and able to leap through the ether just as easily as she did,  and she became a beast of decay, death incarnate as she leeched off of her Master’s power. She had been overhearing what plans the sheep skull headed rider considered, and the mare had been patiently awaiting the evening he had in mind to finally act upon them.

    It could not have come soon enough, Master. What shall we do for my training?
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    Re: Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

    Post by Universal NPC on Tue Sep 12, 2017 2:48 pm





    Indeed, this part of the Outer District was a far cry from the slums that skirted the border of the ISO’s jurisdiction. Buildings leaned tiredly, upon their foundations, brickwork was permanently stained a smoky black from rioters. Shattered windows gaped out towards the street like a legion of toothy maws upon the lower levels. Their insides were pitch black and cold, no electricity had run through these places for months, perhaps years. Others further up were crudely blocked in with moldy plywood. A few buildings were nothing more than a bare steel skeleton, barely covered by the piles of broken brick and rubble that surrounded them. In the shadows of these barren edifices, one could squint and make out what looked to be a small group of hunched figures silently gathered within.

    Despite its ruined , dead appearance there were definite signs of life. The hellish kind that would surely send a sharp chill up one’s spine. Raucous laughter echoed ominously between the towering remains of city blocks, joined with the sharp pop of distant gunfire. Screaming blended in with a cool breeze that moaned hollow and low in its passing. An engine roared and tires squealed on pavement a few blocks over, immediately pursued by rapid clap of an automatic rifle and shouting too far off to be considered intelligible.  At the intersection directly ahead, the flash of muzzle fire lit up the battered, graffiti scrawled faces of the intersecting street. Suspiciously human silhouettes danced with every brilliant flicker and burst. Shadows leapt, they fell, they scurried this way and that like rats. Then, it faded off as quickly as it had erupted.

    Trash and filth littered the sidewalks and wedged itself into the gutters, caking to the point of creating a nearly hardened mixture of discarded paper pulp and plastic from weather. A stiff breeze proved enough to disturb the newer layers of litter, and discarded sheets  of newsprint danced erratically across the road before these two cryptic visitors to entangle themselves in the grates of a rain gutter and plaster themselves against the criss-crossing links of a rusting steel fence. Or more, the remains of what used to be a fence. The barrier was rent and peeled aside like a vehicle had smashed through it. Deep tire tracks, softened by days of foul weather gave a strong support to what would have otherwise been a passing suspicion. But, what could have possibly made this particular lot so fascinating would be the real riddle here; the property looked no better, and no worse, than any of the other ruined remains of this chaos battered sector of the city. In the center of the lot was what looked to be a partially completed structure. Or, perhaps it was partially demolished... Scaffolding snaked its way haphazardly up several stories of the building’s concrete face. Steel rebar jutted from the top of the abandoned structure in progress, knotted into rusted webs. Weathered plastic tarp billowed against exposed, bleak halls and corridors with the breeze, their movements nearly ghost-like in what sparse light managed to reach them. Beyond what little of the ruin’s innards that the shadowy cloth teased there was nothing but a murky pitch black.

    The only part of the building that looked remotely finished was the very bottom level, its face filled in with brick and mortar that had become patchy as the red stone fell away to join the field of debris and weeds that had devoured what unused space that lot still possessed. Here, the burnt out husk of a sedan was left to rust, its surface was splashed with layers upon layers of black, white and blue spray paint. Every layer contained the curvy handiwork of a tagger’s scrawling.

    With so many options to choose from, where would the duo think to start?




    Mortis and Samhain may choose to investigate one of the three occurrences/locations on the city block:

    -The mysterious figures in the ruined building to the left
    -The scene of the shoot out on the street up ahead
    -The suspicious abandoned building site to the right




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    Re: Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

    Post by Mortis on Tue Sep 12, 2017 2:49 pm

    Indeed, it isss different, mon desstrier. Mortis mentally agreed as he kept his skull on a swivel, Thisss place iss the mossst active in the evening hoursss, I deduced it to be the perfect place for usss to do sssome feild work.

    Admittedly, it was odd saying that. He had been without his badge for nearly three years, in the past when he considered what he would be doing with the rest of his unlife upon retirement the last thing to cross his mind was teaching an undead steed gestalt. His thoughts had been of resting, enjoying the long quiet in the wake of a successful purging. But, that had been on Deadworld, and even a passing pleasant thought when he had been in the Mega City with his brothers. That had been before he had been stolen away via the blue portal and deposited upon this miserable rock. It had been before he had created Samhain and Angemort, and before he had brought them back into his unlife to help him start anew -if only partially- in the wilderness. Now? This was his unlife, this was his existence post-retirement; training an undead horse to perform powerful psychic feats.

    Though unconventional, there was no argument that it was far more rewarding than simply sitting around and resting for an eternity, and more engaging than the communal drivel that went on within the Sanctuary. Perhaps it would be ‘friendly’ of him to sit in on the latest gossip, to engage in dead-ended small talk, or awkwardly observe the young lovers that came and went to publicly talk about how much they adored each other and demonstrated it in ever more suggestive ways of entangling themselves on the couch for all to see; their thoughts and base intent laid bare for him to intercept regardless of whether he wanted to hear them or not.

    He would rather drive a rail spike into his skull than willingly place himself within a similar situation again.

    With her snout dipped to the ground and an ear flicked attentively back towards him, the undead superfiend picked up upon her eager inquiry. An opportunity to practice their training outside of the farm was something she felt could not have come soon enough. His gnarled claws released the leather pommel of the saddle to give her armored neck an affectionate pat.

    That’sss my girl. Praising warmth flushed over their mental link. It was difficult not to enjoy Samhain’s enthusiasm on an impending hunt. It was a familiar feeling, yet completely unique to the undead mare.

    Though that did leave one fairly good question, where would they begin their exercise? This ruined hellscape of a city district was open to them as their oyster- in a sense. He removed his hand from the kevlar and plasteel wrapping, a talon came to rest upon his chin as he considered their options upon this particular block. Gunfire and distant shouting rang in his senses. Up ahead steel fencing was torn aside like flimsy tin to grant access to what looked to be an abandoned construction site-- at least until he spotted the tag-covered sedan. Finally his supernatural gaze settled upon the skeletal ruin of what used to be a high-rise, and the the figures that sat bowed and hunched over within the shadows.

    ”Sssss...” Decisions, decisions, decisisons. Everything looked promising in their own particular ways, perhaps this was what the saying “like a juve in a sweets shop” alluded to.

    His attention flitted back to the armored steed, red briefly flickering in his eye sockets like a flame; Why not you choossse thisss time? Pick whichever ssseemsss the mossst worthy.




    Mortis
    DP: 65/65
    HP: 650/650
    AP: 120/120

    Power: None
    Weapon: None
    Cooldown: --
    Target: None

    Action: Collaborating with Samhain.
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    Re: Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

    Post by Universal NPC on Tue Sep 12, 2017 2:50 pm

    As her Master had decreed, this particular area was chosen for a reason. Her nostrils flared, a deep icy breath plumed from her decaying snout. Her  supernatural senses were met with a myriad of mingling residues. Bloodshed that had long since been washed away by rain and sun clung wetly in her nostrils as if it had just been spilled days prior, mingling with the memory of kerosene and match heads. Stamping feet and wrathful cries stained the pavement far deeper than any spray paint or scorch mark. The glistening of both whetted blades and the smooth cylinders of pistol barrels scarred the ethereal fabric of days past and years yet to be. To attempt to track every trace of life and its passing would  lead her in winding circles through the Outer District for months. But she noted, as her master had stated earlier, the great majority of these clues took place beneath the shadowy cover of night.

    Her tail lifted and flicked, both her intact ear and the stump that remained of the other one flicked forward. There were so many choices, so many trails to track- fresh ones as well as old. It was nearly overwhelming to decide. She heard the clap of her Master’s hand and the flex of supple leather and cloth as he leaned to pat her neck alongside a praise. But, even without his validation Samhain was an eager worker, and an enthusiastic field partner. Maybe, she was even  a little too enthusiastic to leap into the fray. Though no one would dare tell her that.  It was a boon then, that his rider knew how to direct that brimming, inexhaustible energy into a useful discipline. But, it was not all so one-sided, she knew. Just as he motivated her to channel her energy into a honed, precise action; she too motivated him. Not a morning went by that the eternally grinning mare nudged and prodded for the both of them to explore beyond the confines of the homestead’s wooden fencing. Angemort did some nudging too, she supposed. Without her and Angemort’s wanderlust, she was certain he would settle into the garden he had planted and never stir from it.

    The warmth that pooled within her thoughts was just as immediately reciprocated, her intact ear flicking briefly back to her rider. Her head raised from the pavement with a dull snort. Icy air jetted from her flared nostrils.

    There are so many different tracks here, Master. Which one should we choose?

    At that moment, the sharp pop of gunfire rang in her ears, and the towering steed lifted her head to the bursts of light the shrill scream of tires on pavement. The figures in the ruined husk of a building, and the flapping tarps that teased the insides of the abandoned construction site were invisible to her. Both ear- and a stub- swiveled to focus directly on the skirmish happening on the next street over. Her tail flicked and the mare’s mammoth snout bobbed. Another raspy huff was blown in the direction of the commotion. Her decayed form was already prepared to leap straight into a charge towards the gunfight on the intersection. That was where Master was going to direct her, right? Right? She swung her head to glance back at her rider, once, twice, thrice.

    No, oddly enough. There was no cue to rush in, no burst of confrontational energy. Upon her back, his being, his projected mindset was nothing but calm and contemplative. Her Master was acting as a complete antithesis to the coiled spring that was Samhain. But, she soon grew aware as to why. She too picked up on the shadowy figures sitting hunched in the building, and the way the tarps blew like sheet-ghosts in the early summer breeze.

    It was only after the sounds of gunfire and shouting had ceased that she heard her Master decide which route to take. Or more, her Master allowed her to decide. Her head tilted slightly at the offer. She hardly ever got to take the lead in their excursions! Yet, she knew her master well enough to trust that he would never advise anything without sound reason. Her ears flicked in the direction of where there had been shooting, a hoof already raising and clapping to the ground in a step towards the intersection ahead.

    I want to go investigate the shooting, Master. That looks the most worthwhile to me.

    Naturally, the confrontation never left her thoughts, even with the other options that her Master had been considering. A prudent step pulled the armored steed into a hasty lope towards the intersection. Sparks flew from her studded shoes and pavement was split into rough black pebbles at her passing. As she neared the site of the explosive meeting of gunfire, the mare slowed, and her nose lifted slightly into the air. Mummified nostrils flared and snuffed at the air, then lowered to huff and sample the asphalt. Perhaps there were stragglers left behind for her to chase, or a fresh trail for her to track.




    Samhain
    DP: 65/65
    HP: 650/650

    Weapon: None
    Powers: None
    Action: Sniffing out perps.




    Tracking: Flip a coin, if HIT, Samhain finds something.
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    Re: Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

    Post by System on Tue Sep 12, 2017 2:50 pm

    The member 'Universal NPC' has done the following action : Dice Rolls


    'Coin Flip' :
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    Re: Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

    Post by Universal NPC on Sun Sep 17, 2017 9:44 pm





    The sound of metal clapping against asphalt echoed around the intersection as the investigating duo approached. While the horse’s efforts to seek a trail or any sign of life were eager; unfortunately they were committed far too soon. The streets were dead, not a soul could be seen. At the three way crossing, there was nothing to be found but an old stoplight swinging idly in the breeze. It’s three circles of colorful lights were glazed and dull with age and cracked  to the point of missing fragments of its tinted lenses. It buzzed, and with a flicker, the light changed from green, to yellow, and then glowed a baleful red. There was neither blood to be found beneath it, nor the striking, pointed stink of freshly burned rubber. No bronze casings glinted against the black pavement. In all, there was nothing to suggest anything had ever happened. To her supernatural senses, there was nothing but a confusing mish-mash of psychic imprints. Among them were flashes of terrible strife and splatters of fresh viscera, the brisk bark of gunfire and distant choruses of pained wailing... But none of them were recent.

    Nothing immediately at the three-way stop seemed amiss.

    From this crossroads, the street branched in three different directions. To the left of the duo, the road stretched on, lined on either side by a wall of concrete and rusting garage doorways- though it was difficult to tell beneath the layers upon layers of grime. This barracade of stone and rust was interrupted every so often by the remains of apartments and storefronts. Shattered glass lined the pitch black gape of broken windows like jagged teeth. In the scarce light, the window frames slowly bled rust and grimy soot.  These peeked over the long row of garages and concrete slab warehouses. But, there was a break between the burned out residences. It was small enough for one to miss it at a glance; the entrance to an alleyway. The drive was nearly clogged beneath a miniature mountain range of bloated black garbage bags and anything else deemed unworthy of keeping. It faced the entrance way to another alley directly across the street from it, this one was  blocked off with a rusting chain-link fence.

    To the right of the swinging stop light it looked nearly identical. Cracked pavement stretched on to a street corner several blocks away. Walls of concrete stood tall alongside the weathered husks of residential complexes. Broken windows snarled out at the street with little more than a pitch black void visible within them from outside. Graffiti curled along the building faces in hasty tangles of colorful spray paint. But there was one detail that set it apart from the opposite end of the road. A burned out shell of what used to be a bus laid on its side. The vehicle’s burning plating had long since been extinguished, now left as a partially melted, blotchy wreck. It effectively blocked part of the sidewalk and the entrance to an equally burned out building as it sat half in and half out of the street.

    As for the third route, both horse and rider would already be familiar with it. It was after all the way they had came.




    Mortis and Samhain may pick a route:

    -The street the runs left, to the alleyways
    -The street that runs right, to the burned out bus in front of the ruined apartment
    -The street that runs back the way they came




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    Re: Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

    Post by Mortis on Sun Sep 17, 2017 9:45 pm

    The excitement that bloomed in his horse’s mind was nearly palpable. Upon being given the freedom to choose where they would begin to seek their prey, Mortis could read the surprise in Samhain’s thoughts. Indeed, she never got to choose where they would go, who or what they would be chasing. Therein it was all the more fitting to give her a chance at leading herself. Being the decisive steed she was, already an answer was clear in her head. She wanted to investigate where she had heard the shooting but moments prior.

    His thoughts gladly confirmed her decision; Then let usss invesstigate the intersssection.

    He could have predicted it. The intersection up ahead had held her attention in some form the moment she had noticed the shooting. He sat back in the saddle, one clawed had gripped the pommel of his saddle as the horse stepped forward and eagerly accelerated into a lope. Within no time at all, his horse had transported him to the three-way fork in the road. Above them, the worn out casing of a traffic light swung slowly in the breeze. The moment Samhain came to a stop, Mortis watched as her mummified nostrils flared once again and she began huffing and snuffing the dingy air. While she did her best impression of an overgrown hooved bloodhound, a thoughtful hiss rasped from Mortis’ throat.

    Despite her commendable effort and enthusiasm to jump right into the hunt, Mortis could already tell that attempting to track anything from beneath the traffic light would prove fruitless. The psychic residue that the mare picked up was old and muddied- every past strife she picked up became mixed with other faded memoirs. He shifted his weight slightly to look at the pavement from his vantage upon Samhain’s back. There were not physical signs of a confrontation either.The superfiend adjusted his grip upon the shotgun as he swiveled his head to the left and the right. Both streets looked just as dead as the other, but there were certain details that stuck out to the ex-Dark Judge. To the left of them, the otherwise uninteresting  street -to him at least- suddenly grew far more intriguing once he noticed the obscured alleyways peeking out from between the weathered faces of burnt out buildings. To the right, the miserable husk of what was once a bus was positioned in a way that blocked off the entrance-way to the building it had toppled over in front of. Either place could be the perfect cover for any mortal thinking to outlast a shoot-out, or to simply curl up and die. However, it was clear that both had their own distinct challenges. Samhain was too big to investigate the inside of the burned out bus, and the alleyways easily could hold a small mob of the sinful dregs that roamed this sector.

    We will not get any clossser to finding the ssshootersss by looking for cluesss here, Sssamhain. The ssstreetsss to the left and right of usss however may hold promissse. He relayed to the eternally grinning steed. If we are to travel together, invessstigating the alleysss would be a fine choice, or alternatively, we can sssplit up and tackle both sssidess. I would go and sssearch the busss wreck, and you can invessstigate the alleyway. We will regroup if we find anything.

    Naturally, any place they decided to search together would likely be covered far faster than alone. However there was something to be said about being able to hit many different places at once should the mare agree to split up. The way Samhain tended to operate however, despite her independent demeanor, he doubted that she would be quick to suddenly decide to operate solo. She was still a herd animal, after all.




    Mortis
    DP: 65/65
    HP: 650/650
    AP: 120/120

    Power: None
    Weapon: None
    Cooldown: --
    Target: None

    Action: Joining Samhain at the intersection, and considering whether to split up to tackle the streets or investigate them together.
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    Re: Birds Of A Feather Slay Together

    Post by Universal NPC on Sun Sep 17, 2017 9:46 pm

    Samhain’s mummified snout dropped to the pavement once and twice, her icy breath puffing against the pavement as she attempted to gain the smallest trace of where the shooters had gone. Instead of burning rubber and bullet casings however, the undead mare was met with the stale stains of memories. Blood, smoke, and gunpowder mingled in a faded image within her senses alongside the dull echoes of dying cries and shouts long past. The undead mare’s ear and a half pinned and she raised her head with a dull huff.

    I cannot find any traces of the shooters, Master. Everything here is old, too old.

    It was something she admitted begrudgingly. Her rictus grin curdled into an ugly sneer, and her tail whipped agitatedly to snap against her armored flank. It did not make any sense to her, there should be something here at this street for her to look for. Yet, all she could find were the stale psychic remains of confrontations past. For a moment she considered that maybe she had overlooked a spot on the asphalt, and she ducked her head down to sniff and huff at the pavement a few breaths more. She stepped ponderously around in a small circle beneath the swinging traffic light as she searched, otherwise oblivious to the flickering indicators. Her intact ear flicked forward and back towards her rider as if awaiting a cue. Perhaps her master would have some input to help her out of this frustrating rut? All she was gathering was the same residue that she had picked up before; old blood and gunpowder, and the faded echoes of gunfire and pained wailing. None of these were fresh enough to have come from the confrontation that had occurred minutes prior.

    Another exasperated huff flared her decayed nostrils, and she paused in her slow circling to pick her head up. While she had been trying to pick up any fresh signs of life, her Master once again was sitting, contemplating. Another puff escaped her snout and she turned her head to glance at her rider with a single empty eye socket. From the thoughts she could gather across their link, it seemed he was contemplating the two different directions the street went. Not long after, he offered two possible courses of action. They could either investigate one place together, or they could split up and look through two places at the same time. Her ear and a half briefly pinned, the thought of being away from her Master an impossible -or at the very least, worrying- option this far into obviously dangerous territory. He was so small and fragile looking compared to her. His bones could be used as toothpicks to her teeth that were as big as his palm was long, a single hoof was large enough to nearly cover his ribs. Certainly, she could go and investigate the streets alone and return in one piece, but Master? Despite the thunder sticks he carried and the many supernatural tricks he had up his sleeve, he required her presence. It was simply an inarguable truth!

    With this in mind, it did not take long for her to come to a decision.

    I like the idea of investigating this together. Let us go to the alleys.

    With a clap of her iron-shod hooves upon the tarmac, she turned and down the street that lead left and away from the flickering traffic light. The clip-clop of her hooves sent small bursts of sparks flying from beneath their iron studs. Although, she could not help but wonder something as she neared the point between the two alleys. Her intact ear swiveled back in her rider’s direction; a question forming in her thoughts.

    Master, How come I do not see you scanning for clues too?

    So far as she had noticed, he had just been sitting up there and thinking while she tried to sniff out traces of their shooters.




    Samhain
    DP: 65/65
    HP: 650/650

    Weapon: None
    Powers: None
    Action: Going left down the road, to the alleys.

      Current date/time is Wed Sep 20, 2017 8:50 am