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 Survival is a Dying Art, tag: Lincoln; OPEN to Grounders
Rhys
 Posted: Dec 19 2017, 07:06 PM
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Sentry
player: Jax
14 posts

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Rhys looked down in disappointment. Another empty trap. What was he doing wrong? It would be one thing if the snares were being sprung or if the bait was taken without a critter falling into the trap. He sat, crouched on the forest floor, looking at a trap that had been out for the last twelve hours. The cord was not snapped, and the bait was still there. He disarmed the trap, and lowered his hand into the trap, pulling out the bait. With a testing gentleness, he touched the raw meat to his tongue. It certainly did not taste spoiled or sour. Something was... wrong...

He walked the 35 paces away to the thompa snare. Again, nothing. The string was knotted properly, set to spring when it was pulled upon, and the bait was likewise fresh and green and soft. He left the trap where it was, even if he felt like it should be moved. It was the third time he had moved it in the past two days. Moving it again might only make it worse right now. But if it kept going on like this, he might have to resort to trade if they were not going to starve. He would go hunting later, in the night. The meat would be good for them, and the fur and bones would be good for trade.

115 paces back to the hut. He gave a silent nod to his nomon as he walked to the entrance. She was out in her garden, tending to the herbs and other plants that served as food and medicine. He could see the same look on her face that he had at the traps. It was a knowing look that they shared, a silent concern. This was running deeper than the problems of an approaching winter. There was something about her glance that worried him the most, though: she had no answers. A cut-wife, his mother was always a cunning woman. She had seen more years than many others in the area, and she would see more still. Her uncertainty, though, struck a chord with him harder than any he could have fathomed.

Entering the hut, he found it otherwise unoccupied except for his mother's singular patient. He could not speak for Viktor, but Talia had been sent on the task of walking to the river and gathering more of the red floating weed they would all need. There were some in supply, but they could always find an abundant need... maybe more so now. Times ahead would be a trial, more so than the trial of Sonchageda. More so than the trials of the man who laid in the medical cot in the corner of their hut. A part of him truly wanted to shutter at the memories from the time when that place called the City of Light took he minds of his would-be friends... of his Talia... But a part of him looked back on it with a fondness that was bordering insanity. It was not a fondness for his enemies, but for the odd pride he felt when Talia was, even for a moment, an adversary in battle.

Silence held its claim over the hut. It would be important for their patient to recover. Fayogon wounds were some of the hardest to heal. He had seen enough of them from the time when the men of the Mountain still walked the woods. And Lincoln... he had taken it to the worst of spots, and unceremoniously abandoned to the same pits they threw all of their kind to. Maybe Lincoln should thank the city of the sun for his own survival. Rhys had come to not question the way the world worked but had it not been for the abandonment of Arkadia, sneaking out Lincoln would have never been an option. It was funny how it played out.

Zodon. Fate. Rhys would not question it...

survival is a dying art
 
tag: Lincoln / word count: 656 / also open to other grounders, if they should stumble upon this scene
 

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Viktor
 Posted: Dec 22 2017, 03:10 PM
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WARRIOR/SCOUT
player: Dani
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VIKTAR KOM TRIKRU



Sitting still had never been a skill Viktor had acquired. He was always restless; always wanting to do more, see more, never satisfied in the here and now. That went double for when he was worrying. When they had found his cousin, Vik had done everything he could to keep it together, especially for his sister. And now they had to wait helplessly as Rhys’ mother worked to bring him back to life. He wasn’t dead, strictly speaking, but he was close to it; in Viktor’s eyes, the man was dead. How could someone come back from that? But Rhys had assured him it was a possibility. But Viktor knew nothing of healing… How could he provide any help? He felt useless; pointless, helpless. Instead, he spent much of his days keeping himself occupied.

Today, it had been with hunting. He’d taken his bow and arrows, along with an axe, and went out in search of some game. Food had been scares lately, so Viktor was determined to travel further in search of animals. They had likely been driven away by the noisy Skaikru who didn’t know how to travel through the woods without attracting the attention of everything within a twenty-mile radius. It was likely they were scaring all of the animals off.

Despite heading in the opposite direction of Skaikru territory today, Viktor still could not spot any animals… It was unusual; something was wrong, that much was clear… But what, he did not know. Finally, he returned to Rhys’ hut, defeat hanging heavy on his shoulders. Not only was he returning with no food, but he’d still be nothing but a body in the way. Of course, nothing could keep him from seeing his sister; after losing her to Maun-de for all of those years, Vik did not let a single day go by where he did not make sure Talia was okay. As time passed, he had come to trust her on her own more and more; often feeling better when she was with Rhys than no one, but that didn’t mean he didn’t worry every second the blonde was out of his sight. Hell, Viktor had even followed his sister into that weird Sonchageda place simply because he wouldn’t let her go anywhere he could not follow. Not anymore. So Vik returned to Rhys’ hut; both to wait for Talia and check in on Lincoln… Not that he expected any improvement, but at least seeing with his own eyes gave him an odd sense of control over the situation.

Ha em lin?” he asked in a quiet tone after stepping into the hut and leaning his bow against the wall before pulling the quiver over his head and hanging it on a nearby hook by the doorway. Viktor then removed his outer most layer of furs that had helped with the cold, tossing them onto an empty chair. Removing the axe from his belt, the blonde placed it on a small wooden table by the door before finally stepping inside. First his eyes landed on his cousin, brow knitting tightly with worry for just a moment before tearing away. Blue eyes scanned the small room for the familiar blonde hair. Weron ai sis kamp raun?” he asked, stepping over towards Rhys.

tag: Rhys
words: 553


note: *stumbles in* / translations: 'How is he?' 'Where is my sister?'
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Lincoln
 Posted: Jan 1 2018, 12:40 AM
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player: Ren
18 posts

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Voices.

Swimming around as they were, it was hard to grasp them, to pin them down to people or events or time. None of those things seemed to matter, memories and events piled atop one another, twisting and writhing around as if unable to keep still. There had been a few times, a few times that he'd thought that maybe he'd been able to grab onto one, to hold it long enough to figure it out, which end was up, where he was, what was going on.

Finally, finally it seemed like he could, words that came through clear enough that Lincoln could follow them, slippery as a rabbit, but Lincoln was like a starving man on its trail. Keeping track of that little thing, those little words like they were difference between life and death. If he could just catch them...

This feeling... he remembered this feeling... of being away but having not moved at all. Remembered when voices were so close and again distant, mocking him, reminding him that he wasn't worthy. But he was here.. why was he here? His people.

Tahlia.

Viktor.

Rhys.

Octavia...

The unwashed, the sick and broken bodies all crammed in that cell like meat. Like they were animals. They weren't animals. He wasn't an animal. Not anymore. Whatever the Mountain Men had done to try and change that had been undone. No matter how many times he was put on his knees...

The noise he managed to force out of his dry throat sounded mostly like a growl, but it just as easily could have been a groan. He tried to move, tried to sit up even before he opened his eyes. His body felt hot and heavy like he'd been sleeping too long; his limbs wouldn't respond the way that he expected them to. The second noise was more assuredly a growl, mostly out of frustration as he tried to sit up, finally opening his eyes for lack of anything else he could do, and trying to absorb his surroundings.

This wasn't Arkadia, that much was clear right away. While it all looked familiar, it took a few blinking seconds to try and figure out where he was exactly. His eyes fell on the two men a few paces away and for a few long, terrifying seconds, Lincoln knew he knew them but couldn't put names to faces. But he knew he knew those faces.

"Heya." he croaked, at a loss for anything else. He couldn't sit up, couldn't gesture right now, but his dark eyes were clear if not a little confused as he tried to piece things together again in his mind.
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Talia
 Posted: Jan 3 2018, 01:36 AM
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Wayward
player: Jess
20 posts

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Operation Save Cousin was significantly more complicated than she originally expected.

Gunshots were tricky things, especially when they were situated along the skull. By all rights if the shot had been even a fraction to the left or right Lincoln would be dead. Instead, miraculously it had found the thickest concentration of bone, the formation aligned just so that instead of turning his gray matter into mush it simply lodged deep into the calcified bone. It was her that stopped everyone from leaving him behind. There was no exit wound, though he had bled enough to barely make it to Robyn’s hut. Infection was still a dangerous bedfellow, and the healer at first wasn’t entirely certain he would make it either. It would require very precise hands for removal and Talia had immediately offered her firsthand knowledge. She was no surgeon or doctor, but she had seen and been the patient of many an incision and removal. And as long as she could get ahold of the damn thing, a bullet wound was still nothing more than an inert foreign body once it came to a stop. No more treacherous than a shard of glass or medical implant. Her port… well that was a different story. But thankfully for her cousin his bullet wasn’t surgically attached to a major life-giving organ.

Once the bullet came out and he seemed to have survived the experiment, the next step was keeping a fever at bay. So whatever instructions Robyn gave the little mountain sprite followed to a ’T’. Hot water, sterile bandages, plenty of the red seaweed to keep it clean. When they ran out, Tali volunteered to go to the river and gather more and in theory it should be easy enough. The quick hie to the river was something that were her cousin not in a coma she would have actually enjoyed. While a part of her missed being pain free in the City of Light, there was something to be said about reality. There was scent here, the moss and leaves made everything see and smell alive and fresh. And though there wasn’t any sounds of animals at least the insects were still buzzing and moving about. And a hum that wasn’t from machinery was definitely a nice change of pace.

The seaweed was dying. She didn’t want to say it. Hell, she didn’t want to think it. But after the walk to the riverbed where she was told there would be plenty and while that wasn’t necessarily a lie, it wasn’t anything she wanted to use. Firstly, the rivers had swollen. Badly. There was a strange demarcation line between where the water lanced through the forest. Any safe way down to the waterside that was most likely the normal path to the edge were long since gone. It took some wiggling and climbing but eventually a low hanging branch was the right perch for her to climb down to hang over the water to fish out the seaweed. And what she managed to retrieve was covered in ick. She wasted about an hour trying to find something that would work and eventually Talia got to fed up to keep dodging the rising water and treacherous shoreline.

She needed a Plan B. And what dawned on her was certainly not the most conventional of options. In her mind it was recompense for their actions; stealing supplies from Skaikru was the least of reparations for letting their Chancellor shoot her cousin in the head. Sneaking inside wasn’t the hardest thing she had done, too be fair getting out of the mountain was a more difficult endeavor. And she made sure to make use of the movements of the locals to hide her comings and goings. Everyone seemed to be focused on something going on in the hanger so getting into medical was easy enough. Especially since she had been in their medical before they had thrown her into lock up. Talia made quick work of her crime; antibiotics were the first thing she grabbed, followed by clean dressings and some pain relievers both injections and pills that were stashed in a bag she found in the room. Getting back out was more chaotic but there was a section of Arkadia no one seemed to pay attention to along the side wall and she made focused work of slipping between the electrified wires while holding her breath anxiously.

In her memory, Talia couldn’t think of the last time she sprinted as quickly as she did from Arkadia. The path back to Robyn’s hut was a winding way that the young woman took at a dead run for fear of someone dogging her heels. Bursting into the hut wheezing, her hand immediately rose to support and check on the infected port in her chest. It never stopped aching but there was a severe burn in it now and a stitch beneath the catheter that wasn’t there before. Half bent over, Talia gave her brother a guilty look. ”Ai laik hir, ai laik komba. Moba, bro.” Again, she wasn’t very good at the language of her birth but she tried… Mostly because it made her feel less of a freak to try and sound like she could maybe be Trikru. Without another word she placed the bag on the work table, unzipping the bag and pulling out all of the supplies carefully.

It was as she was taking a look at the directions on the small vial of medicine that her eyes caught movement in her peripherals. And what she saw there widened her eyes owlishly as her hand immediately replaced the vial back into the bag. ”…Linkon?” He was awake! And the sound of his voice was probably one of the best things she’d ever heard. She scampered over to him as quickly as she dared, not wanting to startle him, and peering down at him a comfortable personal space distance away she beamed down at her cousin warmly. ”Yu stomba raun!”

rhys//viktor//lincoln » 1000 » I did a thing… made some choices…


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Rhys
 Posted: Jan 8 2018, 02:09 PM
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Sentry
player: Jax
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Rhys had always been a man of few words His mother and him had led a quiet life together in the woods without many people coming around. The people who cared about him first had been Anya, Lincoln, and Viktor. Anya had even tried to convince him to join Skaikru, but he refused to leave his mother behind. Even though he had been lucky enough to no become frikdreina, and his mother was past her child bearing years, they had still used her eyes and her foot as an excuse to not let her in. Rhys had a feeling it was more than that; they did not want to let the cut-wife in to their homes. Fine. His mother had said in her age she did not want to leave her home anyway, so here they stayed.

Lincoln and Viktor were different, though. They did not think the same way as the rest of [iTrikru[/i], so they got along. They each had their own personal mission in life, and that, in a way, gave Rhys one He could hunt and keep the Reaper population down, but that all had become part of the same day in and day out routine. Viktor and Lincoln offered up a new perspective in life. Rhys knew he could never be fully accepted into the clans, but the two young men had given him a connection to the world outside the little hut him and his mother shared. And then, they had brought Talia...

It was hard for him to express what he felt for the little Trikru girl. It had been hard for her to find her place back with her clan. He heard people say that there was too much of the Mountain in her, and even though the people of the Mountain were gone, Talia had remained, a young victim of their heinous acts. He knew what it was like to be a part of something and still separate from it. He stayed close to her, and more often than not she found herself in his cabin or with him in the woods, rather than behind the guards and fortifications of her village. He did not have words to express how he felt about her. When she had disappeared into the City of Light, when he saw everything that made Talia herself disappear from her eyes, he had felt a part of him scream into a pit of white noise. To be honest, if that whole thing with Sonchageda went on for much longer, her very well may have joined her. She was soft and bright and brave and a fighter... he could not lose her...

Viktor's arrival pulled him back to the hut. It was almost as if he had known that Rhys' thought were on Talia, because it was the second thing he asked about. Rhys answered his questions backwards. “Mother sent her for more red seaweed. His fever has broken, but the wound needs to stay clean.” He was about to say that nothing else had changed in the state of the unconscious man, but a small sound came from the sleeping mat that demanded his attention. His head whipped around to look down at the man. Lincoln. Awake. He did not know why he was so shocked. Probably because he had seen what bullets could do to a skull. A part of him was certain that he would never wake up. Let Viktor be the first one to have words with him while Rhys fetched Robyn.

He did not say anything to Lincoln at first. Seconds were precious with wounds like this, and he turned to retrieve his mother from the garden. All three of them joined the rousing man inside. Rhys knew his way around a wound or a fever, but something as bad as this he knew how to only trust one person. He had been treated for enough bullet wounds by Robyn to know that she had plenty of experience with them. He stood to the side while the cut-wife worked.

Moments when by, when he heard footsteps pounding towards them outside His ears perked at the sound, and he turned his head to the door in time to see Talia come through it. He wondered what the guilty look on her face was about, and he tried to catch her eyes. They called him a wolf, and he was a lot like one. Most of his communication he did through body language and eye contact, and right now he was silently asking what had happened. She was not hurt (no more than usual, with that Mountain tech still in her chest) but she had done something. He was not surprised. In fact it amused him on some level. She was always thinking ahead and always surprising them. It made her... unique. In a good way. In an endearing way.

Robyn worked her trade, and Viktor and Talia were nearby. Rhys did not want to crowd the newly awoken man, so he remained at the back of the hut. Let them have their reunion. It was hard earned.

survival is a dying art
 
tag: Viktor, Lincoln, Talia / word count: 853 / ---
 

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