• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fantasy Shadows on the Canyon Floor | RPG Thread

OOC
Here
Characters
Here
Lore
Here
Other
Here

Sleipnir

The Eight-Legged Norse Horse
Springdale
The town of Springdale is a small one, nestled at the mouth of a great orange canyon under the shade of cottonwood trees growing out of loose, sandy desert soil. Yucca plants, prickly pear cactus, and sagebrush dominate the land, and the locals raise cows, horses, goats, and other livestock on the meager graze the southwest provides them.

In this strange western world, isolated from their eastern brothers and sisters, the locals of Springdale rely on one another more than anything, forming a close, tight-knit community. Supply runs to recieve or send food, goods, or medicines and ammunition are a dangerous thing, as the wild world outside town and the dirt roads in between are often plagued with monsters or even the occasional gang of undead highwaymen, killed by capable travelers only to rise again in order to continue their trouble.

Now, though, a local leader of the community, a man named Ezekiel Blackham, has telegraphed a request for help in the canyon. The people of Springdale have put out a bounty on monsters up the canyon which have been preying upon their livestock and their neighbors both.​

HELP WANTED:
HUNTING


The town of Springdale requests able-bodied individuals ready and willing to hunt and dispatch a pack of dangerous, unknown beasts in the northern reachs of the local canyon. These beasts have repeatedly ambushed herders staying upcanyon with their livestock, killed livestock including cattle, goats, and horses, and have recently come closer to the town of Springdale itself to raid chicken yards. The horde has occasionally attacked men and women out in the dark.
Due to a failure to provide a response from local outposts, the citizens of Springdale have pooled $45 apiece for any hunter willing to find and slay the monsters or beasts responsible.

 
Last edited:
The town of Springdale was a small, but spread out one: Mostly, it was composed of a loose collection of farmsteads and pastures sprawling across the valley between the tall, red-brown mesas. Cottonwood trees and thickets of willows offered shade and protection from the heat in most places. It was a hot morning already, with the sun just peaking over the canyon walls, and most of the livestock had since retreated to resting in the shade near the river or in it -- except, of course, the chickens, which didn't seem to care about the weather one bit. The roads were dusty, and a few folks were out and about. There was, however, an overwhelming nervousness to those who did roam the streets.

That was hardly a surprise, though. Springdale had been harassed by unknown monsters relentlessly recently, and tensions were running high. How long, after all, would it be before the monsters or demons responsible for the attack strayed closer during the day? How long would it be? The threat was ever present and ever growing. Goats and cattle left out of the barns had been slaughtered, chicken coops had been torn apart and flocks eaten. Even the occasional horse or pony could be prey to whatever beasts came crawling out of the canyon at night -- and worse, they'd attacked people, too.

It was the dreadful realization that the attacks were getting worse that drove the town to act. Money was pooled together and an earnest call for help sent out: Any hunter willing to find and kill the monsters that lived north in the narrower sections of the canyon would be rewarded. It would be dangerous work, there could be no doubt -- especially when no one knew for sure just what was attacking Springdale in the dark. But that was just all the more reason for the folks in town to pay well. The gathering place for such an endeavor was, naturally, the church -- a big, one-room brick building, where most schooling, town meetings, and services all took place. It was the heart of town, and the town 'square' -- a small collection of stores and businesses -- popped up around it quite promptly. It was here that any willing, able-bodied hunter was to meet one Ezekiel Blackham, a tall, dignified man who had become a leader for the frightened citizens of Springdale in every way except a formal one. With no true saloon or hotel in town, he had not only set up the bounty, but offered to help house those who may need it as well.


It had been a long evening of travel, and Judas Cloud was only just coming into town when the hot sun peaked over the canyon walls and washed the desert floor with light. He felt about ready to fall out of the saddle, if he was being honest -- but he didn't like admitting that. He could've slept the night before, on his way in, but sleep had alluded him quite well. And how could he blame himself? He found the concept of coming into Springdale a little unsettling, but the town needed help, and looking up at the familiar red canyon walls rising over the river... he didn't regret the choice.

He slipped out of the saddle and took his horse's reins in his hand to lead him as they came down into the town square. Judas was already getting nervous, uncomfortable looks, and honestly, he couldn't blame folks for seeming anxious -- after all they'd been through so far, how could they not dislike a horse that was walking, but obviously dead? Sundial's coat was still shimmering pink-gold, but Judas was sure the exposed vertebrae and leg bones couldn't have been a pleasant sight. So, as he came up closer to the church, he led the horse, hoping the tight sense of control would make folks feel a little better. So, with his horse's reins in hand, Judas slowly made his way up toward the church where Ezekiel Blackham would be waiting, with his head low and his hat brim shading his face from the sun.
 
Frankie was sulking in the shadows of the church, his presence, a ghostly silhouette within its hallowed walls. He sat at a pew holding an aged photograph of a busty saloon girl with her hand clasped around a pint glass. She resembled someone he’d once cherished. “Mr Franklin Adams - my oh my! You are a handsome man, if I thought I was yer type, I’d snatch you up in a heartbeat - a heartbeat - a heartbeat.” Fixated on the image, he could hear the piano in the background as the young woman danced around the frame, petting patrons and beckoning Frankie to lose himself in the past. He pressed a finger lightly on the film, “now don’t you worry yer pretty little face, that darned brother o’ mine will be finished any min… ute - just you w… ait.” Frankie released the photograph from his grasp, the piano’s song fading as it lay on the floor, disintegrating into ashes. Thrown stills always found their way back to him, he knew he’d revisit that memory again.

Now slouched at the pew, a pile of dust at his feet, Frankie turned his gaze to the alter. A voice had guided him to Springdale but this was not the source of it. He gazed up, realising whatever resided within the walls of the church would allow him board - but his cursed existence was not welcome to stay.

A consequence of his affliction, Frankie No Face had become the spectral sentinel Springdale had unknowingly sought. The town, bound by an unwitting pact with the otherworldly, now relied on Frankie's undead prowess to combat the malevolent forces that had taken residence outside its once-tranquil borders. Whether or not it was their intention, he had been summoned by a Springdale resident.

It was the day before, a plea for help carried with the desert’s dry breath drawing him in like the lungs of a rabbit. A distress message he held no power to ignore were he even to try. He followed the voice and rode into town on a coal-black horse with eyes as deep as a mine that lead to hell. The wraith was greeted by gasps, bells and gunshots as he usually was but Frankie No Face would harm no human, that much Ezekiel Blackham knew for certain. As the ruckus died down, Frankie was escorted to the church where he took solace in the idea that he’d be smited for attempting to enter holy grounds.
 
A young woman sat a few rows from the pew where the spectral, faceless man was waiting with his photo. She was somewhat relaxed, leaning into the corner where the short armrest met the back of the pew, her feet stretched out under the pew in front of her. Her blond hair hung in loose curls at her shoulder, and she hadn't offered the building the respect of removing her hat.

The scent of demons had brought her to Springdale. Where there was trouble, she figured, there might be demons. The slaughtered livestock and other such terror didn't sound like the demon she was hunting, but they all killed the same in her book. The only good demon was a dead one, after all, and even if it wasn't a demon terrorizing the folks here Ska would settle for having helped some folks out.

Restless, she pulled a book from the back of the pew in front of her. She'd not seen these types of books with more than two words on the front before, but this one had three. Strange, she thought. She didn't linger on the question long though. Instead, she flipped the book open to somewhere in the middle. Most of what was on the page looked like gibberish to her, but then again it could just be that she hadn't gotten very far in learning to read. Still, though, she figured there was no harm in trying during the downtime. She focused at the top of the page, making her way through the shorter words with relative ease. The longer words gave her pause. As the door opened, and a short, effeminate cowboy made his way inside, she must have looked the picture of a diligent student of religion as she struggled to make heads or tails of the page.
 
Despite living in the town, Chuu was up early. The sun had barely brushed against the horizon as she scuffled to the stables, her fingertips running along the wood panels, keeping her grounded. A typical morning was filled with the whinnies of her animal companions, eagerly awaiting their breakfast... but it was far too early for that. As the wooden door creaked open, brushing with it a pile of hay, they raised their heads in confusion at the small girl dwarfed by an armful of supplies.

Chuu's beloved steed had been the first equine death on the farm. He was the smallest of the herd with a gentle temperament to match, he was easy pickings among his larger, more aggressive brethren. He was the reason the horses were now confined to their stables overnight, something the wilder of the group did not appreciate. The night was dangerous, leaving them in an open field was simply asking for it.

Chuu had picked her transport ahead of time. A big horse, but not so big they couldn't feel her leg aids; An aggressive, hardy horse, but not so rowdy she couldn't control them on the trails; A fearless mount, but not so fearless they refused to run from a threat. That left only one, her boss' favourite and for obvious reasons. She was the perfect horse for the job, the top boss of the herd, her ears always pinned, notorious for nipping slow cattle on the backside when they got too close.

Mercy was tacked and mounted before the sun could illuminate the pastures, her saddlebags filled with whatever essentials Chuu could find. A flask of water, bandages, a hoof pick and brush. Surely someone else in their group would be organised... right? A compass wasn't exactly something she could easily come by and she'd already pinched as much as she could get away with from her employer, including his prized mare.

She quickly led her outside, using the middle rung of a fence to mount up. She could feel Mercy's uneasiness beneath her as she kicked up dust with her hooves, trotting towards the woods. This was far too early to be exercise, that was a job for the evening when the sun was low, and they never exercised with saddlebags. Her ears were pricked. Something abnormal was afoot. Her ears flicked towards her rider as Chuu pressed her lips around her fingers, her whistle echoing through the trees. She too had an anxious air about her. What if the hunting party left without them? What if she was caught before her companions even arrived? She adjusted her wide-brimmed hat, gazing nervously into the woods.
 
The air was filled with the soft sounds of jingling bells and metal clattering together as Reid Atwater rode into town on his big, dark mule, his dark clothing was a choice for the sunny southwestern deserts. He had had a harrowing journey coming from the east over the Rockies, he wasn't so used to the climate or terrain here but he'd heard of the bounty offered, and it was something he couldn't pass up.
So in he rode, dark as the ravens plucking at the bodies of the unfortunate sheep that had fallen victim to the beasts in the canyon. He was imposing, striking, he wore all manner of trinkets on his person and didn't seem fond of making small talk.
The church was a much needed break from the sun, as he made his way up the pews to sit down, exhaling deeply and taking his hat off. It had been some time since he'd been in one of these places and he couldn't help but wonder if this was the same god he'd known in his youth, the one that was used as a weapon against him, he'd heard stories about the God these people followed, none of it sounded right to him either.

Looking around at the people in the church they all certainly seemed intriguing, but the thin little cowboy that swaggered in he recognized, he squinted at him, unsure at first if it was some coincidence, but no. Sure as shit that was him. Kid Cloud. Or whatever alias he was going by, but he wasn't after him now, and he supposed if Cloud was here, he must not be here to commit crimes against humanity or cause shenanigans. At least maybe that was the case.
 



'Flower / Rain' and 'Wolfie'

Rain-Crop-1.jpg
wolfie.jpg


Location: In the trails, cat form riding with Chuu. Nearing the church by the end.
Mentions: None.

Interactions: Miaow Miaow

Leaving the Wilderness...


 
Judas had to stop at first to stand at the bottom of the steps into the big brick building. He'd been there before. Many times, really, usually with a book pressed to her chest or praying or trying to avoid looking at anyone. Staring out the window, maybe, watching the cowboys bring herded cattle back into town. She'd only ever been watching the one with the pretty champagne horse, though.

Well, that cowboy wasn't here now. Cloud wouldn't ever see him again. Looking back over his shoulder at the half-dead horse behind him, standing patiently and watching him, though, he could take solace in still having Sundial. He was an obedient beast -- didn't even need tied to a hitching post. If anything, Judas was just lucky he didn't try to come into the church with him. "I'll be back before long, Sundial," he told him.

He stayed there a few seconds more. He still felt jittery. He still felt like he should turn and run, staring at the door. All he could really think to do to steady himself was step back down to Sundial's side, pull a cigarette out of a saddlebag, and light it as he headed back up the stairs. Over his shoulder, as he started in, he could see a smaller, younger girl coming up the road behind him. Pale as death itself. Judas paused for a minute, studying her as he took a short drag off his cigarette. Part of him thought she might not have been fully alive at all, looking at her -- her features certainly didn't match her color. But there she stood in the full sun, riding a pretty horse who showed her no concern. So all he could figure was the girl with her cat just... looked strange.

Standing on the steps, breathing out a cloud of smoke, what could Judas say of it, anyway? He knew well enough there was a woman's body under his shirt, vest, and jeans, and he was standing there with a rotting animal as a horse. What was strange anymore, anyway?

He couldn't deny the inevitable forever, though. He turned back to the doors and pushed them open. He dropped the cigarette to his side, still keeping it lit, and glanced around the room. There in the back, sitting in the pews was a man with his face covered. Something about him had a strange feeling about it -- almost the same way it felt to stand too close to Sundial. Judas squinted at him as he walked past, slowing when he got closer. He still couldn't make out the stranger's face. He kept walking up the pews and lifted his cigarette for another drag. Up closer to the front, a pretty blonde woman studied the Book of Mormon carefully. He'd almost think she was just there to study as he once had, if not for the fact that she was wearing pants, too. No one in Springdale would've let that slide if she lived here. Judas didn't recognize her, anyway, so unless she'd arrived after he left, she couldn't have been around. Finally, there was a man all in black, adorned in countless trinkets and pieces of jewelry. As Judas passed him, he could see how pretty some of the bells and pieces were. Dark hair to match, a handsome face... He couldn't deny he liked the mysterious man's look, but when he lifted his head and met Cloud's eye, something in it told him plenty. He's a bounty hunter, if ever I saw one.

He narrowed his eyes a bit and passed him by, pausing for a moment to look up at the front of the church. Of all the people he'd seen so far -- the pale girl outside, the shadowy stranger, the blonde rider, the bounty hunter... Ezekiel Blackham wasn't among them. Not at first, anyway.


Judas was only questioning that for a few moments before the side door opened. He lowered his head a little and watched as the man himself strode in.

Ezekiel Blackham wasn't the sort of man you'd pick out in a crowd right away. He was on the tall side, with a relatively broad frame -- one couldn't miss that he was the sort of man who had to go work outside frequently. He moved with the confidence of a leader. He left his hair a little longer than some -- it was ashy blonde and cropped to his ears, framing his brow and brown eyes. He strode into the front of the church, glancing around the group as they entered and settled. Judas lowered his head and slowly breathed out another cloud of smoke. Ezekiel gave him little more than a passing glance, though. Suppose he'd rather I smoke than spit tobacco on the floor, Judas guessed. Well... he preferred that, too. Nothing was more repulsive than a man who spat, as far as Cloud was concerned.

Whatever he thought, looking at the group, Ezekiel didn't let on. He just offered a warm, tight-lipped smile and lifted his hands in a welcoming gesture. "I must start out by thanking you all for your willingness to come to our aid," he told them. "The community has seen terrible losses in livestock since the attacks began. We've seen goats and sheep ripped apart... Even cattle and horses have been taken if they're left alone. We can't go on like this, so we as a community have come together to ask for your assistance. You'll be paid well, and for as long as it takes for you to locate the source of the problem and eliminate it, I will gladly provide you room and board on my ranch. You'll be well-fed," he added.

He turned then to point out the window, up into the canyon between its soaring orange walls. "We know the beasts are coming down from up-canyon in the night," Ezekiel continued. "But this canyon is full of deep cervices, narrow side canyons, and a small collection of mines. We decided it was best to suspend any work in the canyon itself until more qualified people could eliminate the threat." He turned and glanced around the group again, eyebrow furrowed in mild concern. "I'd encourage you all to be careful in this undertaking. If you have questions, I will gladly answer them and tell you all we know. And, once you're ready, I can take you to the house and you can settle in before you head out. You plenty of sunlight to go by -- just... be aware that once the sun starts to set, it sets quickly."
 
Chuu's ears pricked up as she heard her "name," or the whistle that meant her name. She stood by Mercy's side, her fingers loosely wrapped around her reins. As the broad, imposing form of her friend emerged from the woods, she slightly tightened her grip, anxious her equine companion might find someone such as her intimidating. She watched Mercy as Rain's eyes glowed silver, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. They were talking! It was highly convenient, having a friend who could commune with nature. It made introductions much easier, especially with flight animals.

She watched carefully as Wolfie emerged from the bushes, glancing between him and her steed. She seemed to tolerate his present, though there was an underlying anxiety. Chuu squeaked as he leapt into her arms, struggling to catch him. Wolves were big things, it took some decent upper arm strength to keep him off of the ground. She tilted her head up, attempting to avoid his slobber as he licked her all over.
"Shhhh!" She giggled, keeping her own voice low. Though they were a decent distance from her farm, there was always the risk she'd been followed...

She grinned as Rain pressed her cheek to hers, rubbing up against her like a cat marking their territory. She returned the gesture with pleasure. A kind touch was something she hadn't experienced for a long time until Rain had arrived. She held onto her shoulders as she hoisted her onto her saddle, adjusting her feet in her stirrups.
"Thank you," She smiled, leaning over to shake her hand. It was a relief that she'd embraced that gesture... it might make meeting the rest of the posse that bit easier.

As Rain returned in her feline form and hopped up onto Chuu's shoulders, she clicked her tongue and squeezed Mercy's trunk with her heels.
"We've gotta get going before they leave without us!" She murmured as Mercy trotted ahead, making their way to town.

The church was always a little spooky for Chuu. Her parents had made she and her siblings go as a kid, though Chuu was never entirely convinced. That place meant getting told what to wear, what to eat, who you could love... and that wasn't exactly her favourite pass time. She scanned the townspeople as they approached. She knew the stares would be much worse if Rain was in her true form, but a girl with a cat, a horse and a wolf in tow was still a little strange.

She swung her leg over the back of her saddle, bouncing as her feet hit the ground. She quickly tied Mercy's reins around the hitching post, giving her a brisk rub of the neck as a thank you. She could hear a familiar, authoritative voice from outside, making her stomach flip.
"They've started already..." She whispered to Rain, making her way through the main doors as quickly and as quietly as she could. She held them open for Wolfie, waiting for the sound of claws on hardwood, before swiftly taking a seat at the back to avoid any further interruption. It sounded like he'd just started his monologue... "I will gladly provide you room and board on my ranch. You'll be well-fed."

Boy, it was dark in there, which made her already poor vision that much poorer. She squinted at the surrounding mercenaries... A strawberry blonde cowboy, a regular blonde cowgirl, a tall, dark and mysterious cowboy, and a man with his face entirely in shadow. That would've been spooky if Chuu could actually see. She rested her hand atop of Wolfie's head, brushing his eyebrows with her thumb. Don't go sniffing around just yet...
 
As Ezekiel began speaking, Lockheart put the book she’d been parsing through back into the slot in the pew in front of her to listen. Seemed to her that the man’s willingness to board them was brave- or foolish. He didn’t know a thing about any of them yet. Still, though, it sounded better than sleeping in the church pews like she’d been expecting.

As he finished speaking, the door gave a slight creak, and Ska turned to glance behind at the latecomer. Quite the pet. She thought, assessing the wolf with the woman. She paid the cat no special attention, assuming it was nothing special as most cats were.

Turning back towards Ezekiel, he seemed to have gone quiet, waiting for questions. She had a few, but figured another would ask them for her so she didn’t have to struggle to get her answer out of the man.
 
The sun hung low in the sky as Juniper rode into the dusty town of Copper Creek. Her arrival was marked by the distinct sound of hooves on gravel, drawing fleeting glances from the townsfolk. She guided her horse toward the hitching post, securing the reins before adjusting her Stetson hat, its brim casting a shadow over her determined gaze.

With a quiet purpose, she made her way to the town's church, the meeting point stipulated in the bounty notice she'd received. The faint strains of hymns drifted through the open doors as she arrived, the congregation gathered for evening prayers. Juniper hesitated at the threshold, reluctant to disturb the sanctity of the moment, but duty beckoned her inside.

As she entered, the wooden floor creaked slightly beneath her boots, drawing a few fleeting glances from those already present. She kept her head low, the hat shielding her face from curious eyes as she made her way to the back pew, slipping into a seat with practiced stealth. She guessed she was late, but she didnt exacly mind all that much with her tending to always be late.
 



'Rain'

kitty.jpg

In the Church with Chuu and Wolfie...


 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top