ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 21, 2020 23:37:19 GMT -5
but I jumped right in and the fire went wild
◌ INTRODUCTION ◌
The west is a wild, lawless land. This is more true now than ever. But it is also a land of great possibility, and a of refuge for those who are running from something. The trick is, most don't have what it takes to survive out here. Many come on trains and in wagons, hoping to carve out a little peace of heaven all for themselves. Those people deceive themselves. There is no heaven to be found out in the west--there's only hell. The land is overrun with unspeakable things, creatures who were once human are now rotten from the inside out. They have no mercy, no conscience, no language. They crave only death, and the taste of flesh. These creatures, called Blights, burst up from unmarked graves (of which there are many in these parts). They might look like the foulest things to walk this earth. But sometimes the living are just as ruthless, and even more dangerous. All this is just to say, turn back to greener pastures if'n you have the chance. The west is not a land for the faint of heart nor the timid in disposition.
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 21, 2020 23:39:35 GMT -5
but I jumped right in and the fire went wild
◌ BACKGROUND ◌
So I'm just going to cut to the chase, because I want this to be pretty casual--this is a western rp which includes zombies. That's the main thrust. It will ideally be a small group of about 6 people, each of whom gets one character ('cept me because I feel the need to make two). These main characters will be a part of a gang of zombie-hunting outlaws. I'm not too worried about being historical (hence the zombies), but if you are a history buff and want to lean into that more, be my guest!
The main plot revolves around our gang of outlaws going around and ridding territories of their monsters (human or otherwise). They are a complex group of individuals because while they're running from the law, they also offer a rather meaningful service. The work they do is dangerous, and they demand steep pay. For this reason, their presence in towns usually causes quite the ruckus. Whether they like to or not, they find themselves in a tangled mess where zombies are the least of their problems (but must be dealt with nonetheless). This will involve poker, good ol' fashion shootouts, and all the evil mustache twirling you could ever want.
Here are the slots for the gang:
The Sheriff:
- He's not a sheriff, but they call him one anyway because of his stocky build and commanding presence. He has an addictive personality and is more restless than a cricket. [ℊℓоω ]
The Sharpshooter:
- This eagle-eyed gunslinger has a dark past, and he keeps most of it to himself. He's the most reserved of the pack, but often the most diabolical. [halogen]
The Wrangler:
- This westerner by birth knows these hills better than any around. The former cowherd turned to a life of crime, though he is quite the gentleman. [Leo ]
The Widow:
- She lost her husband in a violent zombie attack. Since that day, she's sworn to shoot every Blight through the eye socket. Scared to death of snakes, though. [ℊℓоω ]
The Barmaid:
- Lovelier than a summer rose, she catches of the eye of every man she meets. Though she's pretty in the face, she's a little eccentric in the head. The least predictable of the gang. [Feathertalon ]
The Ace:
- He's the youngest of the group, but probably the smartest (he's college educated). Little is known about his past 'cept that he lost a lot in a game of poker. [𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 ]
The Native:
- She is Navajo of birth. She speaks little of her background, but she knows her way around a gun and she rides better than anyone in britches. [𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 ]
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 21, 2020 23:42:30 GMT -5
but I jumped right in and the fire went wild
◌ PLOT and EXPECTATIONS ◌
The main plot will involve our gang arriving in a mining town called Sandybend. This town is run by wealthy gold miners, particularly one by the name of Amos, who is powerful enough to own most of the surrounding territory. The town is in jeopardy because its old cemetery is overrun with zombies. Not only that, but the miners are a group of gangsters who don't take kindly to strangers. They refuse to acknowledge the problem and threaten to harm anyone who hires outside help (like our gang of outlaws).
Maps:
Joining:
If you're interested in joining, post here with a slot claim or send me a pm, just to be sure no one else has claimed the slot you desire. Once you have the thumbs up, you're free to work on your form. No need to worry about formatting. You can post as much or as little about your character as you want on the character page. I know some people like to make collages/playlits or find fcs, which is fine. Others don't like forms at all, I get it. So post whatever you like on the character page. After that, you're good to rp!
Expectations:
This is a semi-advanced roleplay. I'll probably have a reasonably long (5+ paragraphs) starter, and from there my posts will get a bit shorter. Please don't join if you generally only write a few lines. That's as much for your enjoyment as it is for everyone else's, I just don't think you'll have as much fun if you're struggling to write.
Again, this is a really casual rp. I don't have high expectations for activity, especially with the world in the state that it's in. But post if/when you can! It's meant to be fun c:
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Post by lillypopper on Mar 23, 2020 17:00:00 GMT -5
Could I join as the Native?))
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Lesbian
#ACEBF6
Name Colour
Feathertalon
Bird Overlord
unofficial chicken whisperer
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Post by Feathertalon on Mar 23, 2020 17:45:03 GMT -5
hi there!
mind if i claim the barmaid? c':
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 23, 2020 17:45:56 GMT -5
Could I possibly claim the ace? I’m sorry I see Wild West and I’m instantly drawn in
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 23, 2020 18:02:59 GMT -5
[ Sorry, I just got home from my hike. lillypopper the native has been claimed already, sorry! You're welcome to another character, though. Feathertalon she's all yours! 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 haha welcome! wild west for the winnnn ]
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Lesbian
#ACEBF6
Name Colour
Feathertalon
Bird Overlord
unofficial chicken whisperer
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Post by Feathertalon on Mar 23, 2020 18:08:23 GMT -5
awesome, thanks! i'll get to work on at least a basic joining form here soon
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 23, 2020 18:25:06 GMT -5
(Yess
I’ve got a couple replies I need to work on, but after that I’m definitely gonna work on a form for my boy)
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 23, 2020 20:28:34 GMT -5
(I really like what you did for their forms, I can guarantee mine won’t be as fancy, lol)
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 23, 2020 20:31:20 GMT -5
(I go back and forth, sometimes I can write a form and it’s super long and detailed and sometimes???? Sometimes forms take me days because I’m procrastinating them)
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 23, 2020 23:54:24 GMT -5
but I jumped right in and the fire went wild
◌ MORGAN, "THE SHERIFF" ◌
As the sun melted behind the cliffs, a pinprick of light appeared in a secluded canyon. A campfire blazed skyward, scorching the carefully selected wood inside its belly and spraying the surrounding area with a shower of embers. A figure stood over it, admiring his handy work as the hills turned gray. The man’s face was obscured by the brim of his hat. He chewed on a stalk of wild grass. Only a stern smirk was visible to those close enough to see. He had built many fires in his day, but there was always something satisfying about watching a new one shudder to life. The desert could get lonely and cold in the dark hours of the night.
“Fire’s lit,” he said, stating the obvious. The comment was to no one in particular; perhaps he was speaking to himself. His companions remained mostly silent, each busying themselves with their nightly preparations. The blinding light of the fire commanded his vision, and he could only see the dark silhouettes of the six other members of his posse.
“We should have enough wood to last us the night,” said a female voice from nearby. He heard the crunching of gravel as she approached, lifted the dusty hem of her skirt, and sat down beside the flame. “We only need the campsite until tomorrow, afterall.” It wasn’t until she spoke a second time that the man lifted his dark gaze to look at her. In the orange light, she resembled a child. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks red from the chilly air. She hugged her knees to her chest to ward off the cold.
He watched her for a second longer than necessary, chewing on her statement. “Why’s that?” he inquired in a gruff voice.
“Well surely tomorrow we’ll be staying somewhere in the town. Should be big enough to have an inn of some sort. And I for one am looking forward to sleeping on a real mattress.” Wren had a slight huskiness to her voice. It aged her in contrast to her youthful features. He sensed a sudden annoyance in her pause. “That’s the plan. Right, Morgan?”
If he heard the question, he didn’t acknowledge it. He simply plucked the straw off his lip and tossed into into the campfire. Then he stood, brushing off the backside of his pants. “We’ll see,” he said finally.
At that second, he sensed something behind him. He turned his head, peering into the dark. His eyes were still adjusted to the light, so all he could see was black and the distant blue line of the eastern horizon. Slowly he began to make out the blurred shapes of pinyon trees and boulders. Still, he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, the type of feeling a deer gets when it knows it’s being watched by a cougar. “Shhh,” he hissed. His hand dropped to the pistol on his hip. And then the party of seven froze, waiting in tense silence.
The silence was broken by the sound of a gunshot. Morgan’s pistol fired and he released a sharp curse through his teeth. Within the span of a second, the camp sprang into chaos. Wren scrambled to grab her shotgun. The horses shrieked and kicked dust into the air. It took several moments for the blights to become visible. They sprinted in from all sides, fleshless fingers outstretched and teeth chattering wildly.
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 24, 2020 1:14:52 GMT -5
 Clarence “Ace” Barlow 
Ace’s eyes watched as flames licked the edges of the logs and spread into the sky. It was quiet, something he used to enjoy until recently. However now the silence was no longer peaceful.
It was eerie.
There were no bugs humming in the background, no animals, barely even a breeze.
Instead everything was still, waiting for the ever expected attack. Ace had come to expect it as well. So much in fact that it was almost...odd to go so long without some sort of attack. He swore they could track them by the smell of blood, seeking out any living creature within a mile radius and come scampering up like ravenous dogs.
Ace frowned thoughtfully and grabbed the ace of spades card from his pocket, rubbing his thumb along the design. This used to be his lucky card, his get out of jail free ticket no matter how the game was going.
Now though? Now he couldn’t help but see it as a reminder of his failures. There was nothing lucky about this card and part of him still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thrown it out yet. Maybe because it still gave him an odd sense of security. It was familiar. Safe. This card was the only thing - besides Tex of course - that tied him to his old life. His life before...before all this happened.
Looking up from his card, Ace’s gaze trailed from Morgan to Wren, observing quietly from the sidelines as they spoke. Sleeping on an actual bed sounded nice. It had been way too long since he had been able to feel a mattress underneath him as he slept.
Not to mention...inns were generally less infested than out in the open was.
As if his thought had been enough, Ace froze in his spot at Morgan’s command, holding his breath.
Then shots were fired and he sprang to his feet.
Placing the card back in his pocket, Ace hurriedly grabbed his pistol and stepped a little closer to the fire, squinting in the darkness as the blights began to surround them. He took a deep breath and fired at the first one that came into view.
It was useless though, he couldn’t kill something that was already dead. At best all the shots did was slow them down.
Backing up a little more, the heel of his boots brushed up against the fireplace and Ace paused, an idea coming to mind.
Crouching down, he grabbed one of the logs from the furthest corner of the fire and waved it in front of him, warding off a couple of the creatures as they neared him.
”Sheriff, I don’t suppose you’ve got a plan up yer sleeve, because now would be a mighty fine time to share it,” he said through gritted teeth as he took the log he had grabbed and whacked the head of an upcoming blight with it.
The head quickly dislodged from the body and rolled to the floor, the fire from the end of the log spreading to its head.
Ace looked down at the head, eyes going wide as it looked back up at him and growled.
Needless to say, he yelped in surprise and quickly kicked the head as far away as he possibly could, shivers going down his spine.
Nothing should be able to do that once it’s head as no longer attached to its body. Nothing.
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Lesbian
#ACEBF6
Name Colour
Feathertalon
Bird Overlord
unofficial chicken whisperer
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Post by Feathertalon on Mar 24, 2020 2:11:23 GMT -5
  Delilah Flora Munch
the barmaid
There was something almost peaceful about the approaching night. To many the night was full of horror and dread. It was the time when deadly creatures prowled, when monsters slipped away from their dens and stalked within the shadows. Nighttime was when scorching temperatures dropped down low enough to freeze even a careful traveler. Everything about the time after the sun had set was dangerous. It was a gamble of life to not seek shelter, and it was rather idiotic to not feel some kind of fear once the night was upon them, yet for Delilah, the night was a comfort. It was quiet. It allowed Delilah time to settle into her mind and process everything that had happened during the much busier day. Nighttime was when everything settled down, and it was much easier to get a conversation out of other gang members when they were settling in and winding down from a day of hard work. Of course, even in the darkness there was a sense of stress and the need to always be on edge, but that was how life was, and how life would probably always be. It was something Delilah was used to. A part of her wished for things to be different, for there to be nothing dangerous about this world, but she wasn't so naive to realize that things would ever be completely safe. She just...she had hopes and dreams. Surely that wasn't a crime.With nothing more to really tend to, Delilah found herself drawn toward the campfire that had just been lit. Round green eyes watched as the embers danced and twirled in the darkening air, the warmth of it all embracing the young woman, allowing her to ignore the chilly bite that came with the breeze. "An actual bed would be nice," Delilah agreed, adding in her own input to the conversation that was going around the campfire. While she personally didn't mind roughing it out in the untamed wilds, she knew that, for many of the gang members, a well night's rest only came with a comfortable place to lay. Going into town and finding an inn that would take the gang in for a few nights would do them all well. Perhaps even raise spirits and morale, something that everybody needed in these trying times.
Within seconds the night turned from a group of seven trying to settle down for sleep to a group of seven springing into action to survive to the next morning.
Gunshots echoed through the air. Horses startled from the presence of oncoming Blights, their neighs of fright and stomping hooves just as loud as the ring of bullets. Delilah briefly worried over the safety of her own horse, but the thought passed through her mind just as quickly as it had entered; the buckskin mare would be fine. She had lived through countless Blight attacks thus far, and she wasn't the kind of horse to lay down and give up. Buttercup would be just fine.
Those thoughts aside, Delilah jumped into action. While everything about her made it seem like she was not the type to be able to fend for herself, the young woman was full of surprises. While she made a move to grab the pistol she owned, it was her knife that she instinctively grabbed first. The blade was old and had been through a lot with the young woman, but she cherished it and made sure it never went dull. It was as sharp as it was deadly, and there was no doubt that the weapon was deadly.
Green eyes caught sight of a Blight heading her way. Something akin to merriment shone in her eyes as she aimed her pistol right at one of the Blight's decayed legs. She pulled the gun's trigger, watching as the undead monster stumbled from the bullet's impact. Delilah knew this wouldn't kill it, or even gravely injure it, but she knew it slowed the creature down long enough for her to close the distance between them and strike. Getting up close and personal with a Blight had never bothered her, especially not after some an experience she had in her past. With the creature still slowed down from the initial shot, Delilah maneuvered herself in a position that allowed her to basically get atop the thing as if it was giving the woman a piggyback ride. It certainly wasn't comfortable, but with a rush of adrenaline Delilah was able to ignore it and even get to the point that she was laughing atop the Blight.
It wasn't long until the Blight twisted its neck and head around in an unnatural way to attempt a bite at the woman, but this was where it truly messed up. "Want a taste of something? I'll give you a bite of this!" As soon as the words escaped her she brought her knife down into the creature's open mouth, connecting the blade with the small amount of flesh it had left in its throat. With a skilled hand Delilah pulled the blade upward, hoping that the Blight was decayed enough that she could get a relatively clean strike from its mouth to the top of its head; she knew this wouldn't kill it - it was basically already dead - but it would be enough to stop it in its track long enough for an escape to be made and a plan to be thought up - a plan that was certainly better than riding on the back of a Blight and stabbing it through the face like a crazy person with a death wish. |
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 24, 2020 14:40:51 GMT -5
(Cool! No rush though, I know everyone is busy and all)
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Lesbian
#ACEBF6
Name Colour
Feathertalon
Bird Overlord
unofficial chicken whisperer
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Post by Feathertalon on Mar 24, 2020 16:22:05 GMT -5
[ yesss, no rush though! ]
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Mar 25, 2020 1:00:37 GMT -5
[ I'll get a post for Haloke up tomorrow :3 ]
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Mar 25, 2020 1:34:57 GMT -5
but I jumped right in and the fire went wild
◌ WREN, "THE WIDOW" ◌
She had little time to prepare. One moment she was sitting by the fire, dreaming of a feather pillow. The next, her ears rang with the sound of gunshots, and dust was kicked up in her face. Her first instinct was to grab her gun. It was behind her, resting atop her bedroll about six feet away. By the time she had scrambled to grab it, the blights had infiltrated their camp. She spotted a bony pair of legs, and heard a guttural, moaning sound among the cacophony of shouts and stamping of feet. The horses brayed in fear. She whipped her shotgun up against her cheek and attempted to aim, but it was impossible to get a shot off. Morgan was in front of her, and she sensed Delilah was on the edge of her periphery. Firing her weapon meant risking shooting one of them.
“Sheriff! I don’t suppose you have a plan up yer sleeve,” Ace’s voice sounded behind her. “Because now would be a mighty fine time to share it.”
A shape flashed out of the corner of Wren’s eye. She whipped around, leading with the barrel of her gun. She shot down the incoming blight an instant before it had the chance to collide with Morgan, who was kicking the feet out from under another. He wrestled the gnashing creature to the ground then stomped on its head. Wren reloaded her weapon as she heard the skull crunch.
Only then did Morgan answer Ace’s question.
“Git your belongings!” ordered Morgan. He wasn’t their official leader, but there was no time for pleasantries. “These parts are infested.”
Wren didn’t need any more instruction. She fired down another blight and then leaped for her saddlebags. The gang grabbed whatever they could carry, abandoning the fire to lick and claw at the skies like a caged animal. There was no time to talk. Wren slung her bags over her shoulder with her free hand, the index finger on her right rested on the trigger of her gun. Then she ran for the horses. A couple of them had broken loose of their tethers, but were too spooked to leave the herd. When she reached her horse, Rabbit, she tossed the saddlebags onto his back and then set about calming him. She grabbed him by the cheek strap and muttered soft words. The horse was having none of it. He whinnied nervously and jerked back his head. His eyes were wild.
“Hold on, bud,” she scolded, dropping the calming act. “Let’s get out of here.”
Once she was on his back, she tightened her knees around his belly. He pranced about, threatening to lurch up the hill. If Wren was nervous, she didn’t show it. Instead, she set about firing at whatever moved in the bushes until the others were on their horses. “Now stay dead, you rotten bastards,” she said under her breath.
“If we’re separated, head for the town!” It was the last thing she heard before Rabbit did what rabbits do. Wren half yelped and half cackled as her horse tore off into the darkness.
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 26, 2020 4:13:21 GMT -5
(I’m gonna try to get a reply up for Ace tomorrow!)
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 27, 2020 2:06:29 GMT -5
Clarence “Ace” Barlow
Ace didn’t have to be told twice to gather his belongs together and go. He didn’t have a lot of belongings to begin with, making it easy to collect them up and start over towards Tex.
He had to squint to see anything at all and had already kicked a couple blights away from him in his frenzy to get to his horse. Honestly, Tex could probably take care of himself better than Ace could, but he didn’t want to take any chances. That horse was important to him, far too important to leave in the grimy hands of the undead.
Tex was a rather brave horse in Ace’s opinion, he acted more annoyed than anything else at the oncoming undead, however that didn’t completely reassure him that his horse wasn’t in someway spooked by all this. Ace sure was, if anything.
Thrusting his bag of belongings over his shoulder, Ace grabbed the log again and waved it around at any of the blights with narrowed eyes. ”Back! Stay back!” He snapped after them as he moved towards Tex, and once he was close though to his horse, he the log right at one of the decaying bodies crawling towards him and quickly got on his horse.
”Nasty vermin,” Ace muttered under his breath, light blue eyes darkening as he tried to make out the shapes on the ground.
He couldn’t see much, even with the faint glow of the slowly dimming fire, but he could see enough to watch as disfigured shapes moved across the darkened ground like waves lapping upon a blood red sand.
Ace made a face, backing Tex up as one of them reached up towards him.
Tex let out a noise as if to agree with his earlier statement and just as Ace grabbed hold of the reigns, his horse had already started off and away from the creatures. No use sticking around, there were far too many of them to stop, especially in the dark.
The last thing Ace heard before he was out of earshot was Morgan’s order to head to town if they got separated.
Ideally, they wouldn’t get separated at all, however it was too dark to tell, so Ace did what he was told and steered Tex towards the direction he hoped was town, keeping his ears open for any sounds of the others.
Ace would much rather not be left alone out here, Tex with him or not.
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Mar 27, 2020 16:20:20 GMT -5
be still and the earth will speak to you
◌ HALOKE, "THE NATIVE" ◌
The brilliant light of the fire cut across the darkened landscape of America’s west, casting the various brush and shrubbery in a shadowy haze. Haloke sat a few feet away from the fire, and its heat still danced across her darkened skin. Morgan was staring off into the distance at something, keeping a sort of watch, while Wren and Delilah were daydreaming – or was it night-dreaming, considering the sun had set several hours ago? – about where they’d prefer to be sleeping. A bed would be a nice luxury, but Haloke had spent many nights out in the wild, and she’d hardly begrudge a few more. Ace sat to Haloke’s right and was musing over something in his hands, but she paid him little mind. She was far more focused on what she was doing – fletching another arrow. She’d gathered the feathers a while back and had kept them for this very purpose. She used her knife to cut a slit in the end of a branch she’d whittled to shape and carefully set the feathers. Most used firearms nowadays, and Haloke herself was quite the gunslinger, but she was always certain to have a few arrows on hand, in case she needed them. When each arrow was finished she slipped it into her quiver.
Morgan suddenly hissed at the group to be quiet. Haloke went as still as a grand oak, dark eyes dancing from Morgan to the landscape. In the distance, she saw what had Morgan pausing: a great writhing mass, undulating across the ground like a dying beast. There was only one thing that could be the source of such an oddity and it certainly wasn’t good. Haloke’s gaze was fixed on the distance, so she didn’t see as Morgan grabbed his pistol, lifted it and fired a single shot. The sound of the blast as the gun’s hammer ignited the black powder and sent the bullet flying cut across the landscape with a certain unsettling finality. There was an instant of stillness, as if the world held its breath, before everything descended into chaos. Blights swarmed the camp like locust, clicking and hissing and clawing at anything in sight. Haloke grabbed one of the arrows she’d just finished making and wielded it like a dagger, plunging it through the eye-socket and out the back of a blight’s skull when it made the poor choice to lunge at her. She whipped to her right and ducked, barely dodged the swipe of the gnarled, dirt-caked nails of another blight. Another thrust of her arrow and that blight toppled away. For the space of a heartbeat, Haloke was out of the reach of the blights, and she took that moment to take a deep breath. Beneath the scents of the fire, the scents of death and blood and decay and fear, she breathed in the warmth of the earth. The smell of the grass, of the air, of the trees. She let everything fade away as she reached for the purity of her breath, searching within herself for a moment.
And then she found it – the Nilchi. The breath of life, the breath of balance and power. Haloke opened her eyes and settled into the Navajo’s sacred path, the Hózhó. The Hózhó reflected the world’s harmonious conditions, the connectedness and interdependence of all things. It was the Diné’s job to ensure the balance of all things by respecting the Hózhó, by walking in beauty and balance, by singing songs and presenting the proper offerings, by their very thoughts and actions. To do so meant that the relationship of the Diné – Navajo, in the white man’s tongue – with the holy people, the Diyin Diné’e would remain harmonious. When one’s connection to the Diyin Diné’e was disrupted or damage, illness was the result. Healing songs and rituals would be necessary then to restore balance. The world’s balance was disturbed, and it grieved Haloke deeply to see that it seemed as though no one had learned anything from the previous worlds; humans passed through the first two worlds as spirit beings to learn spiritual guidance. The third world – the Yellow World – was one of emotion and mortality. It was here that the Diné learned to practice and respect the Hózhó.
Haloke ducked another swipe of the blights and lashed out with her arrow, slamming it into a blight’s throat, where it was lodged. Rather than try to retrieve the arrow she abandoned it and retrieved one of the pistols she carried. A few expert shots had several blights crumpling to the earth. Over the din of the chaos she heard Morgan’s shout; she did not respond but instead set to obey. Even as she fought off the undead she gathered her things; like usual her bow remained looped around her shoulders, as she never parted with it until just before she settled down to sleep. She picked up her quiver and looped it over her shoulders as well, but she was forced to abandon her bedroll. With the swiftness and agility of her namesake, Haloke weaved and danced through the blights until she reached the horses; Wren and Ace had already managed to escape, and several of the horses were panicking – aside from Ahiga, the great stallion that belonged to Haloke. The warhorse was clearly unsettled, but had been raised in and for battle. Haloke reached out with her right hand to grasp his mane, even as she turned and fired a shot with her left. A swift kick off the ground had her swinging up to Ahiga’s back and she whistled for him to take off into gallop. The warhorse responded instantly, leaping forward into a breakneck pace, kicking up dust and blood and decay as he did so. Haloke crouched over the animal’s neck, keeping low so as not to slow him down.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the others had escaped; the blights tore through whatever they’d left behind and swarmed the fire, snuffing it out until the darkness had swallowed everything. Fitting, Haloke thought to herself. She sang a healing song for the blights, her soft words carried away by the wind.
Ahiga’s ears flicked back as if he had heard and understood the Diné words. In the distance, Morgan’s last order rang out, barely reaching Haloke’s ears as Ahiga thundered for safety. Head for town, he’d said – at least that’s what she’d heard.
Haloke pressed against Ahiga’s flank with her knee, and the steed swung about in the direction she’d indicated almost instantly. At this breakneck pace, they’d reach town in a few hours. Haloke wrapped her fingers in Ahiga’s mane and let him run for as long as he felt necessary. Eventually, the animal would slow and she’d find the others.
* Please note that this post was written with the utmost respect of the culture, beliefs and traditions of America’s Indigenous peoples and was an attempt to understand said culture, beliefs and traditions. No offense was intended and if any errors or misunderstandings are noted, please PM me.[/font][/div] |
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Mar 29, 2020 0:45:45 GMT -5
(The maps look so cool!)
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