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 Hunting Season, Who's hunting the hunters? |
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Posted: November 17, 2005 03:25 pm
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Sergeant William Cuthbert (Billy to his fellow police officers, to the town's one judge, to the mayor and town councilors, to Ralph the general store owner; Billy to Susan at the local Blockbuster video store, and even 'Officer Billy' to the kids at the local grade school), sat in his cruiser in the parking lot behind the town's one bank (the parking lot was shared with the library), looking across Pelham street at a boy. A lanky teenager with long red hair was walking on the wide, low stone wall of the old graveyard. Billy hated teenagers, especially teenaged boys, they were the worst. 'Downright evil,' Billy thought. Even the way the kid moved seemed somehow threatening, menacing even. Instead of being impressed with the kid's remarkable balance, obvious strength and grace as he leaped and danced from one precarious perch to the next, sergeant Cuth perceived the boy as being almost animalistic. Surely no ordinary kid could run and jump like this kid was doing.
"Savage," he mumbled and started up the cruiser with the intention of following the kid around the corner onto main street where he could bust him for disturbing the peace or frightening old Mrs. Cranston who always took her lunchtime walk around the center and then around the graveyard to visit Mr. Cranston who had died many years ago. But the moment the brand new Chevy Caprice roared to life, the kid's head snapped around like a cat's and he stopped, perched impossibly on the corner of the stone wall, staring directly at Billy.
"Gotcha!" shouted Billy perceiving the boy's sudden look as a guilty expression. He gunned the shiny new brown and black out onto Pelham street, turning left. Suddenly the sound of screeching truck tires (they do sound wholly different than car tires) and clunking metal dragged his attention off of the kid and he slammed on his brakes, too. The battered gray bumper of Hank Miller's incredibly old Ford flatbed stopped not more than an inch from Billy's brand new passenger side door.
"Billy! What the Hell ya doin'?" shouted Hank, "Wake up before ya go racin' off!"
"That's Sergeant Billy, to you, Hank!" Billy shouted back through the open window and he gunned the cruiser out onto the street. But the kid was gone. He stopped at the corner and looked around. He tried to look all around at once, surveying the graveyard, up and down Main street and even looking back up Pelham street, where Hank's old Ford was rolling slowly, cautiously up behind the police car.
Billy flicked on the bubble machine, yanked his seatbelt off and climbed out of the cruiser, hitching up his service belt over his gut. Hank leaned out of his window and asked with that awful, hackneyed smile of his, "You all right, Billy?"
Billy ignored the man, still looking around for the kid. Billy hadn't recognized the kid, but that didn't mean what it used to. Nowadays, Billy hardly recognized any of the kids hanging around town, especially the hunter's kids, they were the worst.
This post has been edited by KrushGroove on February 21, 2006 02:07 pm
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Dragonling
Group: Members
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Member No.: 224
Joined: October 06, 2005
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Posted: December 09, 2005 01:26 am
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OCC: A lot of strange characters are showing up on the screen. It makes it hard to read it all. That aside whats the basic info on this storyline?
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I can see! *Thump* Oh never mind.
I had something funny to put her but I forgot. So MANGOES
Someone once asked my name
I could not tell them as I have to many to remember
I'm buggsy, nightowl, magpie, loxanna, sis, mum (dubbed by little sister), starlight, moonbeam, psychopath, weirdo one, loopy, evil one, chaotic, ms scatterbrain and many many others
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Earth Dragon
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Posted: December 09, 2005 12:26 pm
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Yeah, I noticed that the other day. It seems Forumer doesn't like it when I cut and paste from the latest version of MS Word (******* Microsoft!!!). I'll have to make a habit of going back and editing my posts after posting. And of course, I'll have to go back and edit all my recent posts. (Hahaha, he said 'recent'!!!) 
As for story, it's set in contemporary, if not modern-day, Maine. Seems the old local legend of hunters disappearing in the back woods has resurfaced. Stories of werewolves and crazy hill-billy families that have never seen civilization abound.
One thing's for sure, every autumn, when the leaves start to turn their wonderful yellows and oranges and reds, people start going missing. Usually just hunters, but now things are about to change. It may be that no one is safe in the woods.
There MAY be magic and even some telepathy, but it has to VERY WEAK, NEARLY NON-EXISTANT.
And finally, if you plan to play a character with red hair, you should check with me first.
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Dragonling
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Posted: February 21, 2006 02:59 pm
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Meanwhile, in the back woods...
...John Williams was stalking his prey. John was alone on the east side of Ruggle's mountain, miles from the nearest logging road. Right where he most liked to be, well away from other people. Well, John wasn't quite alone. He had been following a 14-point buck all morning. The huge deer would feed him for months and its head would make a nice replacement for the old 12-point trophy in his cabin near Bull lake. John had learned by necessity how to hunt in Vietnam. Which might explain his penchant for solitude. It certainly explained his abundant skill in quietly tracking his prey, remaining at a distance so as not to spook the animal.
John raised his rifel and peered through the scope for the umpteenth time today. The buck hadn't moved for several minutes. It was quietly munching on a blue berry bush, eating the berries and the leaves, too, preparing for a long winter it would never see. Out here in the field, John was at peace. He had tremendous respect for his quarry; no part of the kill would be wasted. John exhaled slowly, quietly, through his mouth. Slowly, smoothly he squeezed the rifel with long-practiced precision. At 65 years of age, the crack of the report and the sudden jump of the rifel in his hands were as familliar to John as any part of his body. What was not familliar was the sudden impact and blossom of pain in his left side.
Something had struck him in the ribs, knocking him over onto his side. John tried to roll and bring his rifel around to bear on his attacker. But when he finally saw what had attacked him, his hands went limp and he dropped the gun into his lap.
This post has been edited by KrushGroove on March 16, 2006 04:10 pm
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Dragonling
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Posted: March 16, 2006 04:29 pm
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The girl could not have been more than fifteen years old, maybe only fourteen. She seemed generally ragged and under-dressed for the cold. She certainly didn't look like your typical hunting protester. She was just a kid with long, dirty red hair. John held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Now just relax, missy," he drawled.
The girl didn't move, she was unaturally still. John wished he hadn't let go of the rifel. But at least there hadn't been the sound of the buck trampling through the brush. At least the brat hadn't ruined his shot.
"It's too late for that there buck, so why don't you run your raggedy ass back to your momma and cry about it to her, cause I sure as hell don't wanna hear your 'Hunting-is-bad' speach." John started to get up.
The girl was on him instantly! John struggled against her flailing fists and feet and knees, but the girl was a little demon of feroscious intent. For every punch or kick he blocked, several struck home. His rifel had gotten kicked aside and was well out of reach.
Somehow, he managed to regain his feet and his anger grew to match the little girl's. He gritted his teeth and lunged at the child.
PAIN. Sudden and unrelenting pain. Knee broken, forearm shattered, more broken ribs, dirt in his eyes, John collapsed to the leafy ground. He tried desperately to simply cover his head and he prayed that whatever was happening, whoever this girl was, that she would just leave him alone.
But she did not. John screamed in horror and agony for some time. Until, lost in the private hell that is powerlessness and wishing for death, he was able to scream no more.
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Dragonling
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Posted: March 21, 2006 05:53 pm
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OOC: Do you want to see character sheets first, or can we just jump on in? Given the location, I have a character I made for another game which I never got to finish, which would be perfect for this setting. She's a blonde, though. 
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"It's good to be known, but it's even better to be known as strange." -- Kaga Takeshi
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Dragon
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Posted: March 21, 2006 06:19 pm
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Feel free to jump right in and do whatever the heck you like. 
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Dragonling
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Posted: March 29, 2006 07:46 pm
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Zinaida opened the door of her fog-grey Prius and swung around, setting her feet on the ground and standing up. The warm air that had filled the car during the drive blew out past her, dissapating in the chill autumn wind. She shivered as she closed the door.
As she stepped around to the back, opening the hatch to retrieve her suitcase, she shivered again -- and paused, thinking. Yes, it was cold -- but not that cold. Was something going on here?
She blew her breath out through her nostrils in a soft snort of annoyance. She'd come over here from Collinsport to get away from stuff like this. Her father was in the ground less than a week, and the process of going through his papers was an exercise in all things paranormal, metaphysical, occult, parapsychological, mystical, and just plain weird. While Zinaida was -- more or less -- a believer, she needed a break.
The fact that she was getting weird shivers was, clearly, proof of just how badly.
Retrieving her two bags, she closed and locked the hatch, and made her way to the door of the B&B. The porch stairs were steep and not quite even, and her left leg was starting to ache by the time she pushed the front door open and went inside.
A dark-haired woman in her late forties was polishing a brass lamp at the front desk. She grinned as Zinaida entered. "Zinaida Stokes, it's been ages! So good to see you!" She almost snatched the bags out of Zinaida's grasp, dropped them to the floor, then hugged her.
"Rayne," Zinaida said when she could breathe. "It's good to see you too. Been what, five years?"
"At least. What brings you?"
"I just needed a break," Zinaida said. "I probably should have called ahead, but ..."
"No, no, it's okay," Rayne said. "I just got a cancellation, so the second-best room in the place is all yours. For you, it'll be the best room! Come on, I'll show you."
[OOC: Seems all the more appropriate that I use this character now -- Dan Curtis, RIP.]
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"It's good to be known, but it's even better to be known as strange." -- Kaga Takeshi
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Dragon
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Posted: August 17, 2006 02:54 pm
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This story might be something we could add as an additional element -- it's from the right location:
"Like the horns of a devil"
Heck, even the "conventional" explanation of a Chow gone feral would be interesting ...
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"It's good to be known, but it's even better to be known as strange." -- Kaga Takeshi
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Dragon
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Member No.: 19
Joined: February 18, 2004
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