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Offline [archive] Metallica_Vamp

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #15 on: March 17, 2007, 07:51:00 pm »
                Wow! This is really great stuff! This would make a great novella! Well-developed characters and a solid plot...ahh, life is good! MORE PLEASE!                        

 

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Offline [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #16 on: March 18, 2007, 04:04:00 pm »
                So about those descriptions, since you did ask.
 
 Personally I've got a good mental image of the sheriff, Noel, Blackeye and obviously Dusty, although the last one is purely because of RC. I don't think you need to describe every single character up to the color of their underwear, but a word here or there would help.
 
 That's a fine line, by the way. I've seen authors over here (Poland) use the term "roleplayer-syndrome" in reference to overdetailed descriptions, where the writer is spending a whole page on a characters appearance, clothing, gear (!) etc. So that's not good either.
 
 Still, saying that Gangrel in front of Burney's truck had Indian features would've helped, I think.
 
 peace                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Grendel8101

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #17 on: March 18, 2007, 11:25:00 pm »
                Thanks for the kind words guys, you're all just swell.
 
 IRT#15
 Hey, you can bathe my feet anytime, Val, just remember that my flippers are probably as big as your arm, so calloused they actually click on hard surfaces and my toenails get ingrown.
 
 So bring power tools.
 
 IRT#17
 Word.
 
 IRT#14-16
 See Below.
 ___________________________________________________
 
 Chapter 3
 
 Max crawled into the passenger seat of the old pickup, glancing at the driver, who looked at the Nosferatu with disgust.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Get out.â€? the driver said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What? But I’m-â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Just get out for a minute.â€?
 
 Perplexed, Max got out and stood by the car. He looked around, nervously. He didn’t like being out in the open like this.
 
 The driver got out and grabbed something out of the back of the pickup. Max saw it was a tarp. He laid it out on the passenger seat, then motioned Max to come back.
 
 A kind of anger and sadness twisted itself in Max’s gut, but he stayed silent. He sat down on the covered seat like a good little monster and closed the door. The driver took his seat and started the engine.
 
 Max looked at his driver. “So what’s your name?â€? he asked.
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Mac.â€? the driver said, shortly.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh.â€? Max decided not to press the issue. The other vampire seemed to appreciate it.
 
 Max sank down in his chair. His hands trailed up to his face and prodded one of the tumors that periodically appeared on his body. They were swollen, hard lumps that usually had ragged seams in them, as if they could be opened.  They produced a rancid black fluid that smelled absolutely obnoxious. He had a bad habit of picking at them. Max set his hand down to keep from doing just that.
 
 He hugged himself in his tattered red sweater and looked out the window for awhile. Everything looked the same. He supposed the Hills were beautiful in the daylight, but at night they were just extremely dark. He focused and let his eyes glow, seeing into the dark. The trees flashed by dizzyingly, and Max started to see things in the dark, moving by too fast for him to focus on them. Was that a rock or a deer?
 
 Max turned away from the window and let the glow fade out of his eyes. He noticed Mac looking at him.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Where’d you get eyes like that?â€? he asked, his voice suspicious.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh, some of the others back at my Warrens taught me.â€? Max said, uncomfortably. He had forgotten the strains between the Gangrel and the Camarilla in this place.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You got the claws, too?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No, just the eyes.â€?
 
 Mac looked forward. “Watch who you show those to. Gangrel don’t like their secrets getting out around here.â€?
 
 Max considered his driver. He was kind of nondescript. He’d been turned with a patchy beard growth on his face. He was wearing a flannel shirt with suspenders and an old pair of corduroy work pants. He looked like a logger. For all Max knew, he was.
 
 Mac caught him looking. “What’ch you starin at?â€?
 
 Max looked away. “Sorry.â€? he muttered.
 
 Mac reached down and rummaged one hand through a compartment in the driver’s side door. Max glanced at him worriedly, wondering what he was going to pull out.
 
 His hand came up with a rolled up manila folder. He handed it to Max.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’re supposed to look over these.â€?
 
 Max took them with some trepidation. He took the rubber band off the folder and opened it. It had maps of the facility, and some basic information about Homestake. Some of the maps had been hand-drawn with a pencil. The were arranged by outside, inside and then by level.
 
 Max studied all the maps and the notes. Homestake was apparently the largest and deepest mine in the Western Hemisphere. Hmm. He wondered how big the lab was going to be. He remembered colleagues of his back at the university discussing facilities like this, huge tracks where they would throw atoms at hyper velocities and smash them, then examine the parts left over. Fascinating stuff. He had hoped to become involved with those projects, to get out of the college, but a bad turn down a wrong alley had changed all that.
 
 Max returned his attention to the notes. Apparently the main aboveground facility outside of Lead was supposed to have a few records about where the lab was and what they had been doing there. The actual mine was so large Max could very easily get lost without some direction.
 
 Max saw a sign reading “Lead: 1 mileâ€?. He slowly began picking at the tumor on the side of his head. His hands shook a little, and he kept his face locked into a stare at the notes, even though he wasn’t reading them.
 
 Mac continued to ignore him, humming along to a faint country tune coming in on the radio. He had turned onto a less-traveled road just as Lead came into view.
 
 The tumor started bleeding a little of the oil. If Max’s heart could still beat it would be pounding. He wiped a good measure of the crap on the seat underneath him.
 
 The pickup slid to a stop. Max froze, terrified. He wouldn’t allow himself to look at his driver, wincing at the blow that hadn’t hit yet.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“This is your stop.â€? Mac said.
 
 Max’s eyes slid over to Mac, then turned his head. Mac was just looking at him. He pointed to the side of the road.
 
 Max turned and saw a chain-link fence just over the ditch.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Over that fence, over the hill and through another and you’ll be in the parking lot. Good night.â€? the driver said.
 
 Max started getting out, then paused. “How am I supposed to get back when I’m done?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“There’s a number on the envelope, call that.â€? Mac said disgustedly. The pickup started inching forward. Max got the hint and got out, no sooner stepping out than the pickup’s tires sprayed gravel as Mac sped away.
 
 Max let himself chuckle a little, nervously. That pickup would smell for days. He felt a little pride, mixed with a touch of anxiety.
 
 Max rolled the envelope back up and tucked it in the back pocket of his pants. He almost started whistling.
 ____________________________________________________________
 
 Max crept along the side of the main offices for Homestake. It was a pretty nondescript, old brick building. There were, however, cameras installed on the outside.
 
 Max couldn’t remember if he could be seen by a camera while cloaked. He seemed to remember somebody telling him that he couldn’t, but Max wasn’t sure.
 
 I‘m not cut out for this spy crap. He thought. His foot stepped on an old aluminum can, making an obnoxiously loud crunching sound, affirming his point.
 
 He looked around, but there were no guards. No guard dogs. Just the cameras. No cars, either. The place seemed deserted.
 
 His information told him that the mine had been closed for a couple years. He wondered why the government would install a secret physics lab. He supposed he was soon to find out.
 
 The main doors were right ahead of him. Old metal things, with small windows with criss-crossed wire running through the glass. He knew they were locked, but he reached out and tried them anyway.
 
 No fucking way. Max thought in amazement as the door swung open. How could the security be so lacking?
 
 Don‘t look the gift horse in the mouth. His mother’s voice told him.
 
 After a slow journey up and down the halls, he found the records room door, also open. He wandered in, looking at the rows of file cabinets. A computer sat on a desk on the other side of the room.
 
 It was on.
 
 The pit of Max’s stomach wrapped in cold knots. Was his cloak on? Yes. He lighted his eyes and peered around the room. Empty.
 
 Max went to the computer. Cartoon puppies panted and wagged their tales at him. He moved the mouse to dispel the screen-saver. A document was on the screen. The same documents he needed. He minimized the program, and checked the settings on the computer. The screen-saver was set to turn on after a half hour, and the computer would turn itself off after an hour. So, someone had been here, looking at these documents less than an hour ago.
 
 Max pulled up the document. One was a map that corresponded with his other maps. One was a list of equipment and the other listed personnel. Some of them had the title ‘Dr.’ Max didn’t recognize any of the names. He clicked the print icon, and immediately wished he hadn’t, as the office was lit up by the printer, and so were the windows right next to the damned machine.
 
 Max moved to try and shield the printer’s light, kicking over a trash can in the process. He froze as the sound echoed down the empty office, out the door and into the halls. Max was a statue, he couldn’t move. His hands were held out in front of him, as if to stop the noises he’s created.
 
 The printer clicked off.
 
 Was that a door opening in the distance?
 
 A clock he couldn’t see ticked the seconds away.
 
 A footstep?
 
 A pencil rolled off the desk.
 
 His imagination?
 
 Max gathered up all his courage, grabbed the freshly-printed pages, and bolted from the room, no longer caring if he made any noise. He careened down the hall and out the door, then swung around the building and dove behind an air-conditioning unit in the back.
 
 The Nosferatu peeked his head over the unit, then gave a little shriek when the fan kicked on. Max leaned against the side and inhaled, deeply, then let it out. He peered around. Nobody was there.
 
 The noise of the fan soothed him. Pull it together, they‘re long gone whoever they are.
 
 Max got up and headed towards the mine entrance. It had a cavern-like face, with a trolley, shaped like roller coaster seats to haul the miners into the first level. The trolley wasn’t working, though. A steel grate stretched across the opening, thick steel, meant to keep trespassers out of the mine.
 
 Max walked to it, wondering how he was going to get in, if at all. The solution presented itself, however.
 
 A ragged hole had been torn into the steel grating. It was oblong, taller than a man and wider. Something very big had passed through this gate.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I want to go home.â€? Max said out loud, then clapped his hand over his mouth.
 ____________________________________________________________
 
 Mac drove along the winding roads back to Rapid. Something reeked. Did that fucking Nossie rat take a shit in his truck?
 
 Mac leaned over and looked. Nothing he could see, anyway. The fumes made his eyes water, though. Damn, he hadn’t smelled that bad, had he?
 
 Mac tried to keep one eye on the road and the other to help him bundle up the tarp, so he could toss it out the window.
 The deer stepped out in the road and froze, mesmerized by the bright headlights. Mac looked up and slammed on his brakes, but it was too late.
 
 Shit.
 
 Mac was thrown out through the window. He rolled on the pavement. If he had been human, he would have died. He came to a stop and decided to lie there for awhile.
 
 He pulled himself up, not sure if he had blacked out. His arm was broken, so was his ankle. He felt blood run out of his nose. There was probably gashes all over his face.
 
 The pickup had hit a tree after throwing him out, dead on. The radio had somehow survived, and an old Hank Williams song poured out into the night. The headlights flickered.
 Mac limped to the truck and searched for the cellphone. It wasn’t there. Then it started ringing.
 
 Mac rolled his eyes and pulled the phone out of his pocket. Stupid.
 
 It was Burney. “You drop him off yet?â€? the sheriff asked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Yeah, he’s at the mine. Uh, hey Burn, I got some problems here. I hit a deer, the truck’s all kinds a fucked up.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You jackass, what the fuck you think you were doin? Fuck you, find your stupid ass its own way back to town.â€? Burney roared, and the line went dead.
 
 Shit.
 
 He turned around and saw the werewolf. Mac just froze, not knowing what else to do. It was enormous, dark gray fur, long claws. It was considering him with an almost bored expression on its face, if you could call it a face. Its body was nothing but muscle and tendon, wrapped in fur. It cocked its head at Mac. Mac giggled, insanely. He’d seen dogs do that.
 
 The giggle cut the tension and the wolf came at him, fluidly moving from standing to sprinting. Mac ran, pushing blood to his legs, shattering the cracked bones in his ankle in the process.
 
 Another wolf peeled itself away from the night and was in front of him, but Mac couldn’t stop in time. It hit him with one powerful claw, just under the ribcage. Mac’s body tumbled, skidding and rolling, still moving with the same velocity he’d built up.
 
 When he came to a stop he tried to get up, but couldn’t. His legs weren’t working. His stomach felt cold. He tried crawling away, but then there was a fire in his back and he was lifted up off the ground…
 
 And then he saw an owl perched on a tree, its eyes glowing red.
 
 And then nothing.                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Vongetta

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #18 on: March 19, 2007, 12:07:00 am »
                In Reply To #18
 
 Grendel...I love it, but towards the end of the chapter, you wrote Mac's name as "Mic". Is this intentional or a typo? It occurred a few times, so I wasn't sure if this was on purpose? Pretty hard to do that, since "A" is right across the keyboard from "I".
 
 And just for the story, I'll wash your feet even if it'll take me a forklift to put them in the water. happy                        

 

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Offline [archive] Grendel8101

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #19 on: March 19, 2007, 12:14:00 am »
                In Reply To #19
 Good call. I left my computer to go cover a story, and when I got back my brain decided his name was Mic. Weird.                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Vongetta

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #20 on: March 19, 2007, 12:22:00 am »
                In Reply To #20
 
 No sweat. I can't wait for the next chapter.                        

 

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Offline [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #21 on: March 19, 2007, 09:27:00 pm »
                Niiice. And considering we were just talking about adding descriptions, actually implementing them smoothly without it seeming forced is honestly to be marvelled at.
 
 *marvels at it*
 
 The werewolf scene SO reminds me of something, I just can't recall what (if that makes sense at all). I think it's that silence before the storm thing, where they're just staring at eachother (ok, not so much a "storm" for the werewolves, but still) for a moment. Creeeepy.
 
 
Valoris posted:

 Pretty hard to do that, since "A" is right across the keyboard from "I".

 
 No it's not, it's quite simple, actually. All you need to do is face your keyboard like this *faces keyboard* then bend like that *bends* then turn your elbow inwards *breaks arm, falls from chair*
 
 peace                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Vongetta

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #22 on: March 19, 2007, 11:05:00 pm »
                In Reply To #22
 
La posted:

 No it's not, it's quite simple, actually. All you need to do is face your keyboard like this *faces keyboard* then bend like that *bends* then turn your elbow inwards *breaks arm, falls from chair*

 
 Funny I never saw your oddball sense of humor before, La, at least not all the way back when I first found this place. Hehe.
 
 I agree with the werewolf scene being familiar...it was a good moment though.
 
 WANT MORE! WANT MORE NOW!                        

 

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Offline [archive] Grendel8101

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #23 on: March 20, 2007, 12:28:00 am »
                In Reply To #22
 
La posted:

 Niiice. And considering we were just talking about adding descriptions, actually implementing them smoothly without it seeming forced is honestly to be marvelled at.</quote>
 
 Thanks. There was force however. First you have to write something, delete, write the same thing, consider, delete, skip, get drunk, write something really great, wake up the next morning and delete last night's drunken gibberish, then quick type something in and mutter 'fuck it, good enough'.
 
 I believe I just gave away my writing method.
 
 
La posted:
The werewolf scene SO reminds me of something</quote>
 
 Hmm, I have no idea where I stole that scene from. Now that I think about it, it kinda reminds me of some of the Friday the 13th movies, where the camera moves, following the character, and you see Jason in the background.
 
 <quote by="La">No it's not, it's quite simple, actually. All you need to do is face your keyboard like this *faces keyboard* then bend like that *bends* then turn your elbow inwards *breaks arm, falls from chair*

 
 *Chuckle
 
 IRT#23
 <quote by="Val">WANT MORE! WANT MORE NOW!

 
 Working on Chapter 4 now. Well, not right now. Right now I'm drinking coffee and playing videogames. I'll get to it, uh, soon(?).                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Year_of_the_Scarab

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #24 on: March 20, 2007, 11:36:00 am »
               
Grendel Avenged posted:

 
La posted:
The werewolf scene SO reminds me of something</quote>
 
 Hmm, I have no idea where I stole that scene from. Now that I think about it, it kinda reminds me of some of the Friday the 13th movies, where the camera moves, following the character, and you see Jason in the background.</quote>
 
 The "Alien(s)" saga. I can't remember any exact scenes, but those critters had that exact sort of, hmm, fluid predatory feel. Like when an Alien would stalk some poor soul and then just hover there for a moment before attacking.
 
 The Predator did that too, at least that head cocking thing; and that's a good character (beast, whatever) too. (NOT) surprisingly, the AvP movie was a complete and utter failure.
 
 Anyway. Question - how much of the plot do you actually have thought out when beginning? I don't actually mean the individual scenes, but the general story direction & waypoints in general.
 
 I'm wondering cuz when I develop a plot it's usually along the lines of "Yeah, the character will go there and this will happen. And then, some... other stuff... will happen before the other scene I got. Whatever, the important part is I've got that conversation planned out, now I only need to construct a plot around it. Yeah, that'll work."
 
 <quote by="Valoris">
 Funny I never saw your (...) humor (...) when I first found this place.

 
 Huh? Positively sure I don't know what you mean. After all, we two were the bestest buddies from your very first post, no arguments, name-calling, snarling nor intentions of inflicting bodily harm on either side whatsoever.
 
 :P
 
 peace
 
 [added Mar 20 2007  7:39AM]
 
 <quote by="La">
 Anyway. Question - how much of the plot do you actually have thought out when beginning? I don't actually mean the individual scenes, but the general story direction & waypoints in general.

 
 "General direction in general". Obviously I am a master of the written word.                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Vongetta

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #25 on: March 20, 2007, 12:43:00 pm »
                In Reply To #25
 
 Carry on, La. Quite endearing, this, you stumbling over your words. *for some reason imagines him as an eternally cute hamster shuffling about busily in a cage filled with woodshaving dust*
 
 Oh Grendel, I'm sorry, I really look forward to your instalments, but I know being pressured to write kills the creativity, so...don't worry, we'll just grow old and starve, queuing up here for your latest. happy                        

 

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Offline [archive] Grendel8101

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #26 on: March 20, 2007, 07:13:00 pm »
                In Reply To #25
 
Lanc posted:

 The "Alien(s)" saga. I can't remember any exact scenes, but those critters had that exact sort of, hmm, fluid predatory feel. Like when an Alien would stalk some poor soul and then just hover there for a moment before attacking.</quote>
 
 Yeah, I can see that. Predator and Alien have both impacted my thought process quite a bit.
 
 Y'know, though, I'm also reminded of how my dogs would react when a rabbit or cat would jump out in front of them. First they'd just stare at each other for awhile, then one of them would make just a tiny little motion and the tension would break.
 
 
Lancsters posted:
Anyway. Question - how much of the plot do you actually have thought out when beginning? I don't actually mean the individual scenes, but the general story direction & waypoints in general.

 
 Um, almost nothing. I have a few characters and a few scenes, and then I construct a story to explain why, say, Burney is traveling to meet Blackeye. The story then tells me to fuck off and goes and does whatever it wants for awhile, then eventually I figure out where it's going. So right now I know the key elements of what's going to happen, including the end.
 
 So the plot outline has appeared since I started the story, you dig? If you do dig, would you explain it to me? Because I'm not sure I follow. (I had to rewrite this post about ten times to make an explanation that wasn't completely Rambling Gibberish).
 
 <quote by="Val">Oh Grendel, I'm sorry, I really look forward to your installments, but I know being pressured to write kills the creativity, so...don't worry, we'll just grow old and starve, queuing up here for your latest. happy

 
 No, actually pressure makes me get off my lazy ass. Keep it coming.
 
 [added Mar 20 2007  7:36PM]
 
 Y'know what Lanc, now that I re-read your explanation of how you plot out a story, that kinda sounds like how I do it too.                        

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Metallica_Vamp

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #27 on: March 22, 2007, 06:11:00 am »
                Mah-velous dah-ling!                        

 

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Offline [archive] Grendel8101

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #28 on: March 23, 2007, 09:37:00 pm »
                Chapter 4
 
 The crow and the vulture flew over the hills, keeping just above the treetops. The vulture was settled behind and just above the crow, flying lazily to keep the distance between them. He would occasionally slide into the crow’s vision, to signal a change in direction.
 
 Noel went over dozens of scenarios to get out of this situation. Nothing. Dusty’s flying form was faster and stronger than hers. She considered shifting to human form and dropping out of the sky, but that wouldn’t work either. Dusty was a tracker, he used his sense of smell like others use their eyesight. Even if she got a head start, she wouldn’t be able to shake him. And if he caught her, negotiation for her safety would be out of the question.
 
 A few years back Noel had hired Dusty as muscle for a job. He was strong, savage, good at intimidating and actually pretty scary in a fight. Not very bright though, and his temper usually got him in more trouble than was necessary.
 
 He hadn’t been with the Blackeye back then. He wasn’t one of Blackeye’s childer, they tended to take the shapes of cougars and owls, like their sire. Rumor had it that he’d come out of the reservation, but not everyone believed that. The Rez was wolf country, and unlike the Hills, there was nowhere a vampire could hide.
 
 Noel wondered how to play this. She’d probably have to give up some dirt on the Cam, but she really didn’t have any. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what had been in that crate. The best option would be to tell the whole truth, then offer up some information. She’d get in touch with Skabb and cut a deal with him. He’d want money. Huge chunks of it. She might have to give him the whole cut from the Ellsworth job, but that was just fine as far as Noel was concerned.
 If she got out of this alive, it would be time to grab her savings and get the fuck out of the Hills. Tomorrow, if she could swing it.
 
 The vulture floated up right above her and started coming down. Noel got the hint and started descending. She saw the clearing he was aiming for.
 
 She banked, slowing herself down and came to ground level, landing, if not gracefully, then smartly. Dusty’s bird hit the ground and started rolling as he changed, coming up on his feet in human form. She wondered if he was showing off or had just never perfected the change.
 
 She looked around, getting her bearings. She felt the little hairs on the back of her neck raise up. There were red eyes all around in the dark. They disappeared and moved, shifting around. No one knew exactly how many Blackeye there were, but it looked like a big chunk of them were in this clearing tonight.
 
 A woman stepped out from behind a tree. She was American Indian, like most of the Blackeye. Short, just a little chunky. Her fingers ended in permanent claws, and her ears were covered in fur. She was also completely naked, and didn’t seem at all ashamed of it. Her bare feet stepped soundlessly over the carpet of pine cones and needles the covered the ground. Noel winced. Noel's feet would be bleeding, but she wasn’t as tough as the Blackeye Gangrel.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Dusty,â€? the woman said. “You need to go talk to the Anarchs.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The Nomads? I’ll do it later.â€? Dusty said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Blackeye wants you to do it now.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Fuck that, I just got back and it’s gettin’ early.â€?
 
 The woman turned to Noel.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You, head that way, he’s waiting for you.â€? She said, then turned to continue arguing with Dusty.
 
 Noel started away, not sure what to make of their bickering.
 __________________________________________
 
 Dusty watched Noel disappear over the hill. He turned back to Marie.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So…why exactly are you naked?â€? he asked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh, that’s just for city girl over there. The more those Licks in Rapid think we’re a bunch of fucking animals the better off we are.â€? she said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Oh.â€? Dusty let a pause linger in the air. “So…are you going to get dressed eventually?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nah, it’s a warm night.â€? Marie said, picking dirt out from under her claws.
 
 Dusty rolled his eyes. “So what’s with the Nomads?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Nothing. That’s the problem. If we got them on our side, we don’t even hafta worry about taking the city by force. Trixie’ll roll right over. So we need you to go convince ‘em.â€?
 
 Dusty rubbed his eye. “If we push them too hard, they’re gonna just back out. This really ain’t their fight.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Fuck you talkin’ about? They’re goddamn Anarchs, Dusty, this is exactly what they’re supposed to be fightin’ for.â€?
 
 Dusty sighed. He really didn’t want to go anywhere else tonight. Plus he was always losing money when he hung out with the Big Bad Nomads. Cheryl cheated at cards, or was just so good that Dusty’s cheating didn’t help.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Fuck, fine, whatever.â€? he consented. He looked up at the moon, estimating the time of night.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Don’t expect me back tonight.â€? he told her. Marie shrugged.
 ____________________________________________
 
 Noel was starting to get nervous. Her hands shook, just a little. She was never sure why they did that. There wasn’t any adrenaline to pump through her veins anymore. Perhaps just some bizarre habit? Like her brain was trying to act like it was still human. She wondered if the old ones carried any human habits anymore?
 
 You wouldn‘t think so, looking at him.
 
 Blackeye was still as a stone. She hadn’t noticed him, at first. She wouldn’t have seen him if her eyes weren’t glowing. He was crouched on the top of an old wooden fencepost, considering the forest, or perhaps seeing something she couldn’t.
 
 Noel heard a car. They must be close to a highway. The Hills were like that, dense forest, so much so that it made you think you were miles away from civilization, then you heard something…mundane, commonplace, but still invisible to you.
 
 She wiped her palms on her pants, and waited for him to acknowledge her. He finally turned his head and looked her in the eyes. She’d seen birds do that. Sit so still you would think they were stuffed, then they would move. Owls, especially.
 
 Marv had once asked her what Blackeye was like, as he’d never been around him. Noel had only been near Blackeye once, and it had been enough.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“It’s like..â€? she had told Marv. “It’s like, you know how when a dog meets a bigger, badder dog, and the smaller one rolls over and shows its belly? That’s what he makes you want to do.â€? Marv had laughed at her, but Noel hadn’t been joking.
 
 Now, about to speak to (or get eviscerated by) the man himself, Noel cleared her throat. “You wanted to see me?â€? she said, trying not to make her voice squeak.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’re not one of my blood.â€? the old Gangrel said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“No.â€? was all Noel knew what to say.
 He nodded. “Where did you come from?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I came out of Minneapolis a few years back.â€? Noel said hesitantly. She hated talking about her past.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I hear your sire’s from one of the other packs.â€?
 
 Noel went a little still. “I’m not Sabbat.â€? she said, her voice finding its edge.
 
 He nodded. “But the one that turned you, he was?â€?
 
 Noel nodded.
 
 He was silent for a second. “What’s your Beast telling you to do, right now?â€?
 
 Noel felt thrown. Of all the questions she had prepared for, this wasn‘t one of them. “What?â€?
 
 Blackeye grinned, faintly, but didn’t bother repeating the question.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I don’t…I don’t know what you mean.â€? She finally said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Speak from your heart, pup.â€? Blackeye said, gently.
 
 Noel thought. Then she just…felt for a minute. And she could feel It. She was used to ignoring it, suppressing it, but the Beast was there. It scratched at the walls of the prison she kept it in, in the opposite direction of Blackeye.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Run. It’s telling me to run.â€? she finally said.
 Blackeye nodded, as if satisfied, and hopped down from the post.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So, what?â€? Noel asked. “Do I need to run away from you?â€?
 
 Blackeye raised an eyebrow. “Do you?â€?
 
 Noel was silent.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The Beast is an animal. It just wants to kill.â€? she finally said, keeping her eyes on the ground, afraid to look at him.
 
 When she finally peaked up, Blackeye was just looking at her, neutrally. She heard something, on the ground, and Blackeye’s hand shot out into the pine needles. She heard the rattle before seeing it, the same sound you always hear in the movies.
 
 The snake coiled part of itself around Blackeye’s wrist, its tail shaking, violently, letting the world know to stay away. It was a big rattler, its midsection the width of a golf ball.
 
 Blackeye stared into the empty eyes of his captive, the snake bared its fangs and stared back, rattling for lack of anything effective to do.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Everything has a Beast, pup.â€? Blackeye said, not taking his eyes from the snake. “It’s inside all life. It makes Mouse bite Cat, even when he’s cornered. It makes wounded Wolf struggle to walk the last few miles back to his den. It makes a man kill another man for money, or for his people, or to protect his self.â€?
 
 The snake struck out, a blur of dusty scales, but its fangs couldn’t penetrate Blackeye’s hide.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“With us,â€? he continued. “The Beast keeps us from starving, when we’ve gone too long without blood. It keeps us alive, in a fight, when we have nothing left.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Take it away...â€? Blackeye said, his eye’s turning to meet Noel’s. The snake’s rattle died away. Its jaw closed, and it stopped struggling, its coils growing slack. The rattler’s tongue flicked out, tasting the air, but that was it. It was a limp, tame thing, all of its fire and desperation gone.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“…and you have nothing.â€? he finished.
 
 Blackeye gripped its neck and twisted. Noel, who was not at all faint hearted, still winced when she heard the crack.
 
 Blackeye muttered something in another language to the corpse, and bit into it, draining what blood he could get out of it. When he was finished, he pulled the rattle off the tail. It came off easily in his hands. He considered it, shaking it to hear the sound, then tossed it to Noel.
 
  Noel caught it, examining the thing, not sure what to make of this demonstration. She’d never seen a creature lose its Beast before. It seemed...cruel? To let something die like a drugged baby.
 
 Blackeye lowered the corpse back onto the ground, almost reverently. He then started digging in the pockets of his vest, coming out with a pipe and its accessories.
 
 He lit a match with his thumb and stuck the flame into the pipe’s bowl, inhaling. He came to stand beside Noel and let out a plume of smoke.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“So what do you want from me?â€? she finally asked him.
    
 He was silent for a moment, perhaps considering his words. “What did you deliver to the gunsmith?â€? he finally said.
 
 Noel nodded, finally they were to the questions she’d been expecting.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I stole a crate and some guns from Ellsworth.â€? she said, adding “I was paid to do it.â€?
 
 Blackeye nodded. “Do you know what was in the crate?â€?
 
 She shrugged. “Never looked, never asked. Figured it was guns. The number on the box said ‘20-3a’.â€?
 
 Blackeye turned his head at that number and nodded. “I see.â€? was all that he said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You are thinking of leaving.â€? he said to her, making it a statement.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Uh, yeah. I figured…â€? Noel trailed off.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Stay.â€? Blackeye said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why?â€?
 
 Blackeye smiled. “The old cat lets the young one hunt in his territory, just to see what new game she scares up.â€?
 
 Holy shit, he really talks like that. I thought everyone was just bullshitting me. Noel thought.
 
 Blackeye smiled at her.
 
 Oh, shit, can you hear that?
 
 His grin became wider.
 
 Noel remembered to close her mouth.
 
 The heavy woman who’d greeted Noel joined them.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Owl’s back.â€? she told Blackeye. He nodded, and left them.
 The woman regarded Noel, and noticed the rattle in her hands.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Damn, looks like I lost a few bills.â€? the woman said. “I bet the boys that he was just gonna kill your white ass. Ah well.â€?
 
 She stuck out her hand. “My name’s Marie. Welcome to the Blackeye.â€?
 
 Christ, Marv was right.
 ______________________________________________
 
 The two women caught up with Blackeye. He was talking to a deformed vampire. It looked to Noel like parts of the other vamp’s skin had been torn, and feathers had sprouted out of the wound. Two stubby, mismatched wings stuck out of his back. His eyes were huge and round, like an owls. Noel realized that this was Owl Feather, Blackeye’s mysterious Lieutenant. People rarely saw him, but nearly everyone who’d had dealings with the Blackeye knew about him. The rumors of his appearance were true.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“…the wolves got him.â€? was all Noel heard as she came up on the conversation.
 
 Owl turned his attention to Noel. “What the fuck is she doing here?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I was invited.â€? Noel said. She was done taking shit from these backwoods bastards, if Blackeye wanted her around he’d just have to deal with it.
 
 Owl looked at Blackeye for confirmation, and the old Lick nodded.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Whatever, stay out of my way and do what I say, little girl.â€? Owl told her.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Woof,â€? said Noel. “Oh, sorry, I meant ‘Yes, sir.’â€?
 
 Owl’s facial features were hard to read with the odd shape of his head, but Noel was pretty sure she’d pissed him off.
 
 Blackeye raised up his hand, quieting all of them.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Pup, I have a favor to ask you.â€? he said to Noel.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“What? Why me?â€? Noel asked, a little taken aback. “And why is it that I’m just part of the fucking family all of a sudden?â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“You’re sending her?â€? Owl asked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“If you do this for me, pup, you will have my gratitude.â€? Blackeye said.
 
 Noel was about to ask what that was worth, but stopped herself. What was that worth? Having the most powerful vampire in the Hills owe her a favor?
 
 A dangerous game you‘re in, little girl. A voice told her. Playing both sides to their conclusion. She wondered if the voice was some aspect of her Beast, trying to keep her alive.
 
 Noel glanced at Blackeye, wondering how much of that brainstorm he’d heard.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Tell me what the job is before I decide.â€? she told him.
 Blackeye looked at Owl. The deformed vamp sighed.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Alright, about an hour or so ago one of Burney’s boys dropped off some Nossie at Homestake.â€? Owl said. “They sent him in, and we want you to go find out why.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why didn’t you just ask him?â€? Noel said.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“The Nossie cloaked himself, and I doubt he’d come out and strike up a conversation with me If I wandered around and yelled for him. I was about to ask his driver, but he had a little car trouble. Out in the Wolf’s territory.â€?
 
 Noel raised her eyebrows, wondering who the driver had been.
 Blackeye turned and faced the woods. A raccoon popped out of the darkness, and Blackeye and the animal stared at each other for a time. Blackeye spoke to it in that same language she’d heard before. Noel wondered if it was Lakota. The raccoon chattered back.
 
 He broke the conversation and returned his attention to Noel.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“I need you to decide immediately, pup, we don’t have a lot of time.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Why not?â€? Owl asked, perplexed.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Because they followed you back.â€? Blackeye said to him.
 
 Noel felt a deep chill in the pit of her stomach.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How close are they?â€? Owl asked.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“We leave in a few minutes,â€? Blackeye said. “No more than that.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“They are way out of their territory.â€? Marie said. Her voice was edgy, nervous.
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“Something has been riling them up,â€? Blackeye said. “Pup?â€?
 
 Noel had forgotten about the favor in the light of the werewolf situation. “What? Oh, yeah. Fine, I’ll do it, just let me get the fuck out of here.â€?
 
 Blackeye nodded. “Find out what you can.â€?
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“How do I get in touch with you?â€? Noel asked. Idiot! Why are you asking questions? You need to get the fuck out of here!
 
 Ã¢â‚¬Å“We’ll find you.â€? Blackeye told her.
 
 Noel nodded and immediately morphed into a bird and took off.
 
 Noel let the air currents hold her for a minute. She could return to Rapid and leave by tomorrow.
 
 She turned, and let the air currents carry her towards Lead, and the deepest gold mine on this half of the world.
 
 I’m such an idiot. She thought.
 
 She heard a howl from the clearing.
 
                       

 

                                                  

Offline [archive] Vongetta

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Re: Dead and Damned in Deadwood
« Reply #29 on: March 24, 2007, 05:34:00 am »
                I LOVE YOU GRENDEL!
 
 Haha, ok, just kidding, but yes, love it and want more! could you give us a slightly more detailed description what Noel looks like?                        

 

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