03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
Harland had drove to outskirts of town, where exactly? Back to the woods where the Hellhounds had appeared, and why? Curiosity mostly. Har had got bested and a bit hurt by one of the Hellhounds and those injuries could still be seen in his wolf form, burn scars on the underside of his jaw and off the corned of his left eye scars pock marked a space of fur that would never grow back, to say the least Harland Shaw had been lucky. Harland Shaw would have done it the same way again if it meant protecting people.
However today, he wasn't changed or shifted, he was just Harland in his blue jeans, boots, and flannel. With a backpack and water canteen the large man hiked through the burned and eviscerated woods. A husk of ashes and death, he was glad the smells hadn't lingered but it'd be a while before the wooded area recovered. Harlands end game was to try and find anything that explained why a hellhound was in Sweetwater.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jul 12, 2024 0:44:16 GMT
Up until now, Tristan had avoided the area of the forest where the beasts had been. He wasn't in town when it happened, but he could smell it. There was something very wrong here. Not quite in the same way that undead smelled slightly 'wrong' but it was close, muffled beneath the scent of ash and smoke. It being far outside the small territory of Elrond's country home and deeper in that of the other two packs, was only more reason to stay away. He'd asked his roommate about the fires of last season, and he had been directed to the stack of newspapers. Which didn't explain very much, citing a dry summer and a rabid wolf.
Today, rather than go hunting (because Elrond and him did enough mundane shopping to sate his appetite), he was curious. But unlike the other man exploring the woods, he did so in wolf form. Call it a preference, the werewolf did not distinguish between the two sides of himself, except when it came to being presentable in proper company. which was a lot more often around Sweetwater than he would like, so any excuse for a run was a good one.
The large, ruddy colored wolf padded walked through the patchy forest, avoiding the drier leaves, but generally very comfortable. He could tell whatever had been here was gone, even the scents fade. Despite the coming and going of winter and the spring showers, the section of forest was patchy. Some parts, especially near the stream, had survived. But the others would take a few more years. He paused on one side of the stream, lifting his head and ears toward a sound. Footsteps. And the scent of another werewolf. He stayed where he was, looking across the water as a werewolf in human shape hiked through the forest. He had the same confident focus and a pack that suggested he was here intentionally. Tristan cocked his head slightly, piercing silver eyes not leaving the other man. He made no attempt to hid himself, nor did he reach out to communicate.
Harland almost missed the scent as the wind cut paths in different directions between the trees, but the bed of water between them also cut through his slightly heightened human senses. This one wasn't a familiar scent but no mistaking they was a wolf, just not to his pack. Harland wasn't foolish enough to believe that his kind didn't filter through Sweetwater or that the lone wolf here and there would take up residence, he didn't react in an ill manner when the wolf stops noticing him.
Harland waved in fact.
"Hello over there friend, Harland," Harland called out.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jul 14, 2024 6:44:51 GMT
Tristan tilted his head slightly as the other werewolf waved. Friend was an interesting choice of name, but he did understand the man meant it to be comforting and 'friendly' despite clearly being a member of the larger pack around town. No reason for him not to be in return. He dipped his head lower and then huffed. Telepathic communication was not enjoyable. Personally, the man struggled with any form of communication through words and the mental contact in this form was very nearly painful, which only served to make his use of the ability come off as even more stern and blunt.
He made the mental link with an irritable shake of his head. Morrigan. You are hunting? Or perhaps tracking something, but being that they were both the same, Tristan got the feeling he had come here to inspect the results of the fires and that he too could sense the residual smell of the strange beasts that had once been here.
The stream between then offered a comfortable barrier for the moment while Tristan decided how safe he was here. He was trespassing, after all, and while Harland (whom he knew to be the bar owner and the man Gemma fancied) seemed amenable enough, Tristan was classically terrible at reading people and he knew it. Best to take things slow. It smells of ancient fires, he added, sneezing to just his discomfort with the scent. He didn't mean the fire of the recent season, but something else.
Harland looked around, he didn't smell or even expect much activity in the area but he didn't need to look crazy talking out loud to Morrigan.
"I was here," Harland admitted, "I fought with one of them, hellhound I think is what they called it," he could still remember biting at the beast and the fire and the heat, "I'm scouting, just trying to figure it out..the why."
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jul 14, 2024 23:55:02 GMT
Tristan too could tell there was no one else around. But he supposed the man's caution was warranted, if amusing.
His ears shifted forward as the man said he was here. Well, of course he was here, right now. The other werewolf took a moment longer, along with context clues, to process he meant before. When the beasts were here. Hellhounds. The red and brown wolf snorted in interest. He'd heard of hellhounds, along with many other supernatural beasts, while in his first pack. Still, he didn't know enough about them to know why they would claim territory somewhere. But clearly, there some something about Sweetwater that they preferred.
Tristan moved along the stream until he found somewhere much shallower to step through, though he still kept his distance from Harland in a mix of caution and respect. He paused to sniff around the stream. It had been long enough that while he could detect vague human scents, it could just as well have been recent hikers. He knew from the papers that it had been full seasons and many rains. Any trace scents were only the acrid smoke. But they might be able to find something else, especially if they could discover where the hellhound(s?) had stayed. Perhaps, if we find their den? he noted, attempting to use more visual communication. Words were difficult for the wolf, even in human form. It was much easier to send thoughts via images, whether it was something he could directly see or something imagined from experience. Of course, it was often colored with his personal thoughts, but Tristan was a very...simple and realistic sort.
Harland nodded but didn't respond looking around the area, it was a good idea and if there were more? He assumed they'd know and there would definitely be more fires too.
"Give me a second," Harland told the other wolf and the flannel covered giant would find somewhere to ditch his pack and shift emerging from the little afforded foliage pitch black. Eyes of a bright blue. How snout and base of his chin were pocked with burns, hellhound burns.
'i figured this might be easier, need a good run anyways.'
The black wolf entered the stream from his side just a little further in than the other wolf. Water was a hellhounds weakness the others from that day had discovered so he doubted those things would den close to it, he knew of some caves, natural ones, a few miles further in and he'd relay that to Morrigan.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Jul 29, 2024 2:00:42 GMT
Give him a moment for what? Tristan paused a bit away, still in the stream, ears back uncertainly. He wasn't quite sure what to expect from the stranger. Would he call for more of his pack? Was his priority really the beasts that had been here or would he shift it to the loner? It made the red and brown wolf uncomfortable, but he held his ground, taking a drink to try and focus.
He could hear the swish of fabric and thunks that were him removing his clothes and shoes. Then the faint but telltale click of bones snapping as he shapeshifted. Tristan lowered his head, ready if it came to a fight, but keeping his tail down to suggest he wasn't aggressive, simply unsure. He studied the burn marks, where his fur would never grow back around his muzzle and jaw. Whatever he had bitten hadn't been pleasant. Certainly could be a hellhound.
Tristan tilted his head at the image of the caves and the information about the water. Some of those are carved by water. Perhaps we visit the ones that are dry? he agreed, relaxing a bit. He took another step closer and then stopped, suggesting his intent to follow, since Harland knew the area better.
Harland was happy to lead and he kept his head low to the ground his now wolve like senses picking up even more, 'This place stinks, I hope some rain or winter clears this up,' Harland thought toward Morrigan.
Following old scorched grounds and that sulfer smell was his best lead, Morrigan was correct on abandoning the water carved ones but Harland kept them adjacent to the water just in case.
'have you been in Sweetwater long old man?' Harland felt Morrigan, even as a wolf, was quite a bit older than him.
Post by Tristan Morrigan on Aug 30, 2024 0:54:24 GMT
The older wolf shook his head in vague amusement. The forest would heal. Already was starting too. But Harland was right, another winter or a few good rains would help. But both would also make it harder even for the likes of them to track anything, hellhounds or otherwise, in the forest. The fresher the better but the werewolf could tell it had already been some time.
Perhaps they would get lucky. At the very least, narrowing down a few places to check out on regular runs and hunts was helpful.
He kept up with the other man, but not too close. He was still wary, not wishing to cause any misunderstandings. Thankfully, both of Sweetwater's packs seemed much less uptight than where he had come from.
Since last winter, he directed, more by way of imagery than words. He didn't wish to provide too much about when and where he was staying, especially to one of the pack Sentinels, according to Gemma. He was surprised it had taken this long for one of them to run into him, but Tristan was used to being a loner and he wasn't social by wolf standards. The nod to his age was a simple observation and Tristan took no amusement nor slight at the way the man addressed him.