Who: Bear & Sanda What: Hunting Where: On the outskirts of the town When: Sunday Afternoon Warning: TBD
Even as the sun beat down from above the large figure of a man barely seemed to notice at all. Beneath the blazing ball of fire in the sky John casually strolled across the desert floor; working his way around the outskirts of Carter, with a bloody sack slung over his shoulder. Scavenging for supplies wasn't something he did much any more. Not since becoming Sheriff and needing to stick close to the town he was supposed to protect. Still when a touch of boredom struck, or the man just needed to stretch his legs, Bear found a way to put his gifts to good use...while working on scaring up something he could use to trade. The sound of the tell tale rattle drew his gaze, and when the man spotted the snake perched upon the rocks a hint of a wolfish smile touched the corner of his mouth.
Oh most folks took that sound as a proper warning to steer clear, especially since the rattle snakes were venomous as hell. Still Kayden wasn't most folks at all, and instead of moving away the mountain of a man actually drew closer to where the sidewinder was perched. With quickened steps the Sheriff closed the gap between the deadly snake and himself, reaching out with a bare hand even as the serpent lashed out with those fangs. The pressure was felt as the bite followed through, yet with his impervious hide Bear wasn't the one to get injured at all. Fangs broke against his flesh, never managing to even leave the faintest of scratches against the man's arm. But a second later Bear grabbed the poor snake by the head and ripped the small skull right off the still moving body.
Nine was the count some far for the man; nine dead rattlers and a dozen or so scorpions as well now in that bloody bag. If a man walked long enough, and knew where to look, well it wasn't much of a challenge to find the spots where the snakes and scorpions liked to sun themselves. It didn't hurt that he never got tired; that John literally could've walked forever. Add in the fact that the venomous creatures posed no threat to him at all...and the Sheriff found quite a niche when it came to bringing back something of value. A dozen snakes, and a dozen or two scorpions, or so every other week was the goal; freshly skinned hides, milked venom, fried scorpions and snake meat offered for trade. Though he tended to keep a few cuts of meat for himself since it wasn't bad when grilled and seasoned. With three more snakes, and a few more scorpions, to go Bear tied shut the bag again, and leisurely began his stroll once more.