Devil's Tower

Who: English and Windchasher
What: English needs her leg liberating
When: Wednesday Afternoon
Where: Windchasers little treatment room
Rating: Probable language

Windchaser had kept a quiet eye on English throughout her healing process. She didn't know the other woman that well, but she did know how best to treat broken limbs, and it was time to get her leg out of that plaster before her leg muscles wasted any more through lack of use.

This was going to be awkward with none of the modern equipment one used to be able to use to remove such things. With an electrical medical saw this would have been an easy job, now, with a set of heavy scissors and brute force, this was at the the very least going to hurt Windchaser and she'd have to be incredibly careful not to hurt English too.

Who: Grey, Yeates & English
What: An over due chat about Grey's choice in women
Where: Out in the fields
When: Early Monday Morning
Rating: PB-13 for Language

Grey's main goal over the last two weeks had been to avoid any and all people who would actually talk to him about the things that had happened just over two weeks ago. So far that had meant getting up early and going to be late, this had even meant avoiding his own birthday by going on a hike for the entire day. His plan had been working perfectly so far, but he was aware that he wouldn't be able to avoid the impending conversations forever. However, as far as today was concerned, Grey was sure that it shouldn't be today.

The morning found him out on the hay fields loading the newly baled hay into a waggon in order for it to be stored in one of the barns. He had a few of the young men of their tribe with him, but none of them dared breech any conversation more engaging then the weather or who they thought was good looking with their fiery tribe leader.

Overall it left Grey in a good mood, but that mood was soiled by the appearance of two figures moving toward their convoy in the field. Without closer inspection he had no doubt as to whom it was... mostly due to the limp. Scowling, all of the farm hands silenced themselves and put their heads down and continued their work. Turning his back on the two approaching figures who did the same, hoping they would get the message, but knowing they likely wouldn't.

Who: English, (NPC Wicket) and OPEN
When: Week 22, Sunday June 27th, Afternoon
Where: Road that leads into town
What: Taking a walk
Rating: Language is a given it is English
Status: Open in Progress


English had come a long way after the war. It was her brush with death or the fact Wren had been right and she just needed some sexual release. Ethier way English had changed. The few that had known her before the virus saw a reammergance of Anna. English smiled more, didn't get upset as easily. And having been put out of commision with her busted up leg hadn't been able to leave and head out on her own in months. The job of trainer came to rest on slender shoulders as she was determined not to be dead weight. The kids that were old enough to hold a gun and be responsible with it were taken under wing to be shown how to hunt, shoot, and defend themselves if another war came knocking on their farmhouse door. English was almost certain it would. She didn't trust the Jackals in the slightest.

It had been a miracle in and of itself that English had managed to sneak off the Farm with only one preteen in tow. Wicket was a great kid though. He had been a local boy that had been taken in at the Farm when Sundance first started to dissolve around them. Back then he was a slightly chubby little kid that for some reason reminded English of an Ewok. It was probably the rampent curiosity the boy had. He had grown out of the chubbiness and was growing into a gangly thing. English had to admit that the boy was one of her favorites.

Going the long way into town had been her own idea. She wanted to skirt beside Jackal territory to see if she saw anything. There was also the fact it took longer and she wanted to be away longer. She was getting stir crazy and she just needed a walk. So with her rifle strapped across her back, a floppy hat dropped atop her now shoulder length hair, she crutched her way in the direction of town.

Who: Everyone
What: Towel Day Party
When: Tuesday Evening - After 9 pm
Where: The Trading Post
Rating: R for language and likely nudity

((OOC: In the subject line of each post please put the players involved. For example, "Wolf and Open" or "Wolf and Libby", etc. This helps minamize confusion in a group thread.))


( Come Join The Party )

Who: English and Open.
When: Week 16 Monday May 17
Where: Heading to the Library
What: Child labor
Rating: PG-13 at least cause English has a foul mouth
Status: In Progress, Open


The little red wagon. Never in her life would English have expected the little red wagon to steal her self respect. It had and she was certain the blasted thing would never let her have it back. Despite the loss of self respect the little red wagon was an excellent sustitute for a wheelchair for her scrawny arse. She sat in the larger Radial Flier the kids played with a cane tucked in beside her as two of the older kids pulled her down the road. Her rifle was draped over her lap begging for anyone to cause trouble. She was the escort for the kids wanting to go into town to the library to pick up books and the like.

English' wagon had been modified. A few drill holes, an old lawn chair, a couple of screws and English had a rolling thrown pretty much. Well, maybe not a rolling thrown but at least she had back support and a cup holder.

After her breakdown and half attempted try at escaping English and picked herself up and put herself back together with the help of Will. She had lived this long a busted leg wasn't going to do her in. She was made of tougher stuff than that and she needed to prove to herself as well as everyone else the truth of that. The same people she had grumbled at and sneered at for years now were the first to help her and give her encouragement. English just figured the lot of them were a bunch of masochists tnat wanted her mean and angry again so she could yell at them properly. That was her story and she was sticking to it.

Who: English and Open! (Probably Grey or Yeates or both)
When: Friday evening, Week 14
Where: Farm
What: English being a self loathing cripple
Rating: PG-13 for her mouth
Status: In Progress and Open


No one was happy that English was injured. English was not a happy woman to begin with and stack on that injury and pain and her not being able to do her job and she was making life a living hell for everyone involved. She wasn't supposed to be out of bed but she couldn't deal with it much longer. She had one of the kids hold the door heading out of the kitchen for her as she hobbled out of the main farm house on crutches. Her injury had scared everyone.

Calliope had been shot and went down on top of English. The massive white horse had died and everyone had thought English had went with her. It had taken hours for the battle to clear and for the others to come collect the dead. It had been then that night in the pouring down rain that had almost killed her. She had overcome the fever and everything else but it still remained she had a damn near shattered leg and might not ever walk normal again if at all.

Having your legs damaged was always a fear for a dancer and this was just another large hammer strike to bust English's already shattered dreams. She made her way into the back of the yard and began circling around the house looking at all the progress the cleaning had done. She wished she could help do something. She hated feeling useless and that was exactly what she had become. She was just dead weight to an already struggling system.

***OOC: Be sure to label the subject line of every post with either "Open" or the names of the chars that are involved in a particular thread! This will help eliminate confusion and let you know what threads are up for grabs!***
Who: Anyone and everyone who’s in Sundance at the time!
What: St. Patrick’s Day/Spring party!
Where: The Trading Post
When: Saturday
Why: Because it’s fun!

In the warmer months the Trading Post is almost always busy, full of drifters and members from every tribe who come there to barter, socialize, and a whole host of other things. It’s generally a peaceful place since it exists in neutral territory and everyone who comes there seems to have an understanding of an unspoken truce. The Trading Post is a large park the sits on the banks of the Belle Fourche river. There are picnic tables, a delapidated swingset and monkey bars, old grills, and of course trader stands. There’s also a dock there, but it is understood to belong to the River Runners, as it’s where they are docked most of the year and those wishing to use it usually have to give the RR a token of some kind, or at least ask nicely.

The St. Patrick’s Day/ Spring party was not planned or hosted by any tribe. The whole things seemed to have come about on its own, first as a rumor and then with complete strangers and tribe members alike planning for it. Saturday morning the place was busy with people decorating in any way that they could. The place was strung with streamers of all different colors, some torn and ratty. There were candles, and lanterns strung about and a few different musicians set up throughout the park. By the time the sun set the park was teaming with people, more people than it had seen in years. Between the boos and the open admission there was no telling what the night would hold.

Who: Jace and [OPEN! or random narrative]
What: Keeping the Wolves safe from intruders, of course
When: Tuesday, late afternoon
Where: The edges of the Wolve's territory in the city

Guard duty. It was, generally speaking, a terribly boring job. It was better than doing nothing, but only slightly better, since most of the time it was... well, doing nothing. People left you alone though, and Jace appreciated the solitude. He was still too much of a loner to cheerfully join in the tribe's more teamworky activities. Considering his uncanny ability to piss people off and knack for disrupting groups, that was probably best for everyone.

Today's assignment saw him on the western edge of the Wolves' territory. His usual technique was to find some high vantage point where he could keep watch from and where he'd have the advantage if anything did go down. Lurking in trees or on rooftops also meant he could avoid welcome visitors he didn't want to deal with or, on rare occasions, jump down and scare the shit out of them, which was always good entertainment. Why was it that even the most cautious people never seemed to look up for danger? It couldn't have been evolutionary, there must have been some point in prehistory where people were attacked by nasty things lurking in the trees, but still everyone looked side to side and chanced a wary glance behind them, but never looked up. Except for the people he'd encountered before, of course. He had to hand it to most of the Wolves, they learned from experience.

Jace had perched himself on the roof of a small house today, using a conveniently placed railing to help him climb up. From that vantage point he had a good view of the few scattered nearby buildings and the road stretching out in both directions. There was no chance he wouldn't see anyone approaching.

Settled in to wait out his shift he fished in his pocket, pulling out a good sized switch-blade. The result of a recent trade, he'd grown quite fond of the wicked little weapon, playing with it in idle moments just to keep his hands busy, flicking the blade open and closed, spinning it, tossing and catching it. It was fortunate he had well above average dexterity from years of playing the same way with coins and cards or he probably would have lost a finger by now. That would be a fun one to explain to the medic.

Trespassing, climbing on rooftops, playing with knives. If only he had something to smoke and something to steal he could go for all the things that used to get him thrashed when he was fourteen. He chuckled to himself. If only his poor aunt and uncle were around to see him now, wouldn't they be impressed with how he'd turned out.

Who: English and Dusty
When: Thursday at sunset
Where: Boarder of Farm Territory
What: Coyote population control
Rating: Dead Coyotes and English's mouth lets say PG-13 at least


English could thing of any number of things she would rather be doing at the moment. She had set the trap though so now she was waiting. She had seen it just the other night. A pack of coyotes were getting a bit too close to home for her liking and it being her duty to keep the Farm safe set out to thin the pack a bit. She had dropped a deer earlier in the day and while she hated to let it sit there it was bait. She would clean it up later and take it back home.

English sat crouched down wend from the deer and she heard them long before she saw them. English was good with a gun, years of practice and the like had given her that and she took aim and before the pack of four could even tear into the deer she had dropped two of them and the other two where on the run. Another of them fell but the fourth was well out of range and well out of site. She knew it wouldn't be back near the farm any longer. She stood and marched the several yards further down wind to grab her horse and lit her lantern as she headed up to dress the deer and pack it up on to her horse before she cleaned up the coyotes.

Coyotes close to the farm was a bad thing. They had long ago become used to humans so didn't fear their scent and what was worse the farm had far too many small kids running around. A kid to a nonhuman fearing coyote was just as good as dinner.

Who: Yeates and English and a bunch of NPC Sprogs
Where: Out and about on the farm
When: Afternoon of Friday
What: Revelations, snogging, and a rousing game of Tag
Status: in Progress
Rating: Um...English always gets a PG-13 cause of her mouth!


Children. The little rugrats always seemed to brighten English no matter the mood she was in. She had stolen all of them from Wren and was in the back yard running around with them with a stirring game of tag. There was laughing and shrieks of exitement coming from all including English but it was a first in quite a few days.

She'd been painfully silent since she found out. She was hurt and nothing could change that fact. She had been brushed aside and it hurt. English didn't need anyone to tell her it would take a miracle to make someone want her for more than a quick...oh she didn't even want to think about sex. Something she had in all her nineteen years really never come close to. She was safely guarding it for some cosmic reason even she couldn't figure out anymore.

In all truth she knew she didn't have a right to be upset. Hawk was not hers to claim and most of the hurt she had rested with Nova. English had nearly lost a toe because of the stupid girl when she ran off like she did hurting Grey. The truth was something English didn't want to even acknowledge. Hawk had been a stand in for something she wasn't brave enough to try. They were the only two she had and she couldn't bare screwing something up with them. Will had always held just a bit more special place in her heart than Bobby. She had her fair share of longing looks when he fell within her sight and she knew it wasn't something she could ever have. She was his dearest friend and as far as either Caldwell boys were concerned she probably wasn't even thought of as a girl.

Where: Wolves front room
Why: Wren's feeling daring and decides it's time for Windchaser to meet English.
Who: Wren, Windchaser and English
Rating: PG-13

Wren glanced over at the clock on the wall that had only just recently been fixed, it seemed funny sometimes that in a world where nothing that really relied on time should even exist anymore that they still felt the need to be guided by it.  It ticked quietly showing her the new time of eleven and with a grin Wren finished off her beer, making a mental note to replenish seeing as she was running dangerously low, and crossed towards her friends room.  Wren bounced on her toes a little getting herself ready for a quick cover and duck, and reminding herself that she could get potentially stabbed for what she was about to do but just glancing back at the coffee table that held hair dye, makeup and yet more beer, was enough to get her through the door.

She could hear Windchaser behind her, possibly completely unaware of what was about to go down and she signalled for her to stay put for the mean time.  With a few careful steps, avoiding the creaking floorboards, Wren slowly placed her hand on the bedroom handle and twisted as slowly as she could make herself.  Her heart drummed in her ears.  Her mouth tugged into such a grin that she felt like she was about to burst into hysterics at any moment, she was so scared and excited that her hand was shaking.  This was going to be amazing.

She could see a foot sticking out from under the covers, still, signalling the person was fast asleep.  It was a shame the girl wasn't one for snoring because Wren was so close to laughing she had to stop breathing just to make it towards the bed.  Luckily a hate of decorating had included this girls bedroom so there was nothing to trip over or disturb, nothing to destroy her ninja moment.  When she reached the bed she saw the mop a top of brown hair and exhaled slowly, then ever so slowly she leant over and circled the girls ankle with a cold thin hand.  With one final deep breath Wren put all her strength into her right hand and yanked as hard as she could...

Who: Grey and English
When: Around 3AM Tuesday morning
Where: In the farmhouse's kitchen
What: Grey gets hungry and comes out of his brooding bedroom.
Rating: PG 13 for violence and swearing

Since Jed had left on Friday only a handful of people had seen Jed and those were the few that had watched him storm up to his room. He hadn't said a word. To be completely honest he didn't know how to. What exactly could he say to the realization that the person he had been in a relationship with, the person that he had thought was dead for the last few months not only was not dead but was with someone else. It wasn't even honestly that Grey knew how to handle. All he wanted to do was go and hunt Hawk down and kick the living shit out of him never mind what he thought he might do to Nova. She had let him believe she was dead. Although logic would tell anyone that Nova likely didn't think that Grey had thought she was dead, logic wasn't on the table. It had abandon Grey just as quickly as Grey had abandoned the idea that Nova was dead. The one thing he did know was that doing what he wanted to do would get him killed and would put his tribe in a bad position, so instead of taking his horse to the Twin Feathers to inflict some sort of ex-lover's justice, he had locked himself in. There had been multiple knocks on the door and pleading voices. Everyone might have thought everything was alright had there been anguish or screaming, but all anyone had heard was the nails going into the boards that were blocking the window and the door.

By the time Tuesday rolled around he had not slept in day and it showed. Deep circles had formed under his eyes and his knuckles were red from clenching and clenching his fists. Never mind that his hair was greasy where sweat had formed from doing push-ups and sit-ups and any of the other exercises he had done to stop himself from killing anyone. His clothes likely stank from the sweat as well and the fact was he didn't care. It wasn't like he was going to slit his wrists, no he wasn't that type. Nor did he think that death was better than this. The problem was he just didn't even know how to begin to process and deal with anything. He didn't know how to tell his tribe that the woman they had searched for, for an entire month had just gone down to the Twin Feathers. A tribe that could easily has sent word to them.

Voices were echoing in his head; Wolf's, Nova's, his brother's, English's and many others. Each telling him that the relationship was nothing or even better that he was everything to her. His head had continued to pound with the headache that wouldn't seem to go away.

The one thing he had not stopped doing was eating, but to be honest although he would deny it Grey was an emotional eater. It was something passed down from his mother and although he controlled it well, he was not the type to just stop eating. So to avoid everyone and anyone he had been going down to the kitchen late at night when he heard no one and that morning was no different. He had lived in that house since he had been born (literally) so there was no need to turn on any light as she walked down the stairs and turned down the hall that lead to the kitchen. There was no touching of the walls to figure out where he was, he knew exactly where he was which is why that fact that there was a chair in the entry way to the kitchen caught him off guard. He jammed his toe into it and without even the groan of pain, he picked up the wooden chair and smashed it against the kitchen counter. A sigh left his lips then, knowing he;d eventually have to fix it or make a new one. Everything seemed to weigh on him so heavily. Walking over the the fridge he opened the door and started loading his shirt with food, not bothering to look around.

Who: English and ?
When: Monday Afternoon
Where: The Farm, out on the boarder
What: English being antisocial
Status: Open, In progress
Rating: TBD


There were times that English just couldn't handle the atmosphere of the Farm. There were times she had to get the hell away and be by herself. After a long hard winter English was agitated and tense enough to come really close to just going off on her own and leaving and never looking back.

English always took a camping trip by herself once the weather broke. It was her way of letting off all the agitation of being cooped up for months at a time. There truly was only so much of people, especially Wren, she could take. She adored the girl, much to everyone's shock, but there was only so much English could take of someone trying to lighten her mood. So it was a full week ago that she had set out from the Farm. There was something freeing about being out alone in the wilderness with nothing but what you could carry.

Several rabbits met their death to fill her belly. She cleaned the skins and would bring them back with her. There would be someone that wouldn’t mind a pair of rabbit gloves for next winter or the like. If all else failed it was something to trade at the Trading Post.

Bright and early Monday morning she packed up camp and would start the trek back to the Farm. By early afternoon she could see it in the distance and by mid-afternoon she was planting a hand on the fence to jump it. She was dirty and sore from sleeping on the ground but she could not feel the tension building in her shoulders anymore and her want to maim someone was at an all time low.