Devil's Tower

Who: Saint and Gemini
What: Finally setting up Shop!
When: Around 11:00 a.m.
Where: The old Sundance National Bank
Rating: PG-13 for some necking? Possibly?
Status: Incomplete//OPEN by Request



Gemini was thrilled to be outside and walking, even in the midday heat. She had Saint's hand in hers and after weeks of often heated debate, she was finally on her way to start setting up her own shop- her own way to make a difference in this town. She was finally going to prove that she belonged here and that her skill was a valuable one, one that was worthy of being used.

Sighing and readjusting the pack of tools on her back, Gem took a glance at the directions Wolf had given her to get to the old Sundance National Bank. It hadn't been her first choice of locations and she'd fought tooth and nail against it- she still mourned the beautiful little pub where she'd first laid eyes on Saint. It was he who had finally convinced her that it would be perfectly suitable for their needs. The lower of the two floors had counters and plenty of open floor space for displays. And the upper floor had a small bathroom, with even a stand up shower, and the main safe that they could stow her work in at night to prevent break-ins on the main floor. All of the windows were frosted cube mosaics that had withstood even the looting and wreckage of the virus and the war. They would provide extra security as well.

Security was the main issue. Saint was living with the Wolves and was safe for now but he'd taken a hostage from straight under that bastard Jax's nose. None of them were fool enough to believe that Jax was just going to let him go. She gripped his hand a little tighter and smiled up at him, convincing herself that everything was going to be fine. Grey's birthday party was two weeks away- that would be a huge test of the Wolves' and Carrions' acceptance. But today they got to put that out of their minds and just work on something that was going to make life better for the both of them. Gemini came to a stop in front of the old bank and smiled at Saint. This was her first time seeing the building in person.

"You were right, a ghra. I think this is going to be lovely."

Who: Members of the Wolves, the Carrion, and their guests.
Where: Outside at Watershed Farm
When: Saturday afternoon and into the evening
Why: The Wolves and Carrion are having a picnic

((OOC: Please put your characters name and the other characters they are tagging into the subject line of your post. If your character's post is open or a narrative, put that in the subject instead.))

The partnership between the Wolves and the Carrion was really an coincidental one. During the second war of Sundance, the Mountain Lions had claimed the city and forced the Carrion out of their home. The tribe had no choice but to seek out the Wolves for protection. There was no way they would have been able to stand up to the Mountain Lions alone, and the Wolves were more than happy to take in the extra helping hands. Their victory had been slow, and mostly due to the Jackals having wiped out the Mountain Lion leadership; however, the Wolve and Carrion still had a lot to be proud of.

Since peace once again settled over Sundance, the two tribes had made an alliance to share resources, protection, and help one another rebuild the city. They'd come a long way and since Grey's birthday was coming up a picnic had somehow come together. It wasn't really clear whose idea it had been, but eventually it turned out to be quite the event. Tables had been set up in one of the greener fields nearest the farm house and every member of the two tribes had pitched in in one way or another. There was plenty of food set out, organized games, pony rides, face painting, and more. Pluse, there was even music provided by the Wolves's very own Dusty Rhodes.

The alliance between the Wolves and Carrion was perhaps more of an advantage to the Carrion than it was to the Wolves, but having a genuinely united city was a tremendous step in the direction that Wolf and the other leaders wanted to head in.

Who: Kahea and Saint
When: Week 16- Tuesday Afternoon
Where: Rundown church, (by Gem's bank)
What: Kahea takes a walk around Sundance and comes across the church, Saint and her then proceed to have an interesting conversation regarding faith.
Rating: Try and keep it PG, they are in a church and even Kahea would respect that

( Questioning of Faith )

Who: Gem, Libby, Saint, and Wolf?
What: Arguments about Gem's shop.
When: Tuesday mid-morning, breakfast time.
Where: The White House
Rating: PG. Mayhap some yelling, cussing, and foot stomping?
Status: In Progress

Gem woke slowly, feeling relieved and elated for a change. The past few days had been damn near pleasant. There was tension of course. It wasn't easy to have a "Lion" in the midst of the Wolves. Saint hadn't been in contact with too many people yet. Gem wasn't even sure Wolf wanted it to be common knowledge that he was here. But Gem was the happiest she'd been in a really long time. Her sister was safe, so was her man, and the house was beginning to take on the appearance of a home again. Not having much else to do, Gem had been cleaning as much as she could, repairing what could be repaired and tossing out what couldn't be salvaged. A lot of the house had been torn to shreds, as if someone was looking for something in every pillow and behind every picture frame. But with some glue and thread, Gem had managed to pull things together for the most part. She'd mad a run to the farm, with an escort of course, to get supplies that had been looted from the house. Thank goodness they'd gotten food on that supply run. She was in the mood to make breakfast.

Stretching cat-like in her bed, Gem sat up and straightened the long white t-shirt she'd slept in. Nova's- Her room (she was beginning to feel as is she belonged there) had been left relatively unharmed and most of her clothes had been with her at the farm, thank goodness. And her favorite pair of knee-high socks had been left in the top drawer of the dresser. The soft grey wool had been woven into the shape of socks by her mother and she had kept careful track of them through all her travels. After slipping them on and up over her knees, Gem crawled out of bed and leaned over Callum, pattin his head until he roused.

"Come on, you big lug. Let's go make breakfast." He followed her as she tiptoed down the stairs, his nails clicking lightly on the scarred hardwood floor. The kitchen was empty, sort of bare but clean at least. And they'd managed to get some spare dishes and cookware from the farm. Enough, at least, for Gem to make biscuits and gravy for breakfast. She got to work, humming an old Scottish hymn under her breath as she mixed dough together on the counter and let bacon sizzle in it's pan. As Callum settled in under the table, scents wafted through the house with her bell-toned song. People would be waking up soon. Hopefully breakfast would make them a bit more willing to listen to her plea. It was about time she set up her shop.

Who: Wolf, Libby (Saint and Gemini want to join a little bit in??)
Where: The white house
When: Sunday late afternoon
Why: Libby returns... with a Lion!

The last six weeks had been unimaginably worse than the first conflict between the Wolves and the Lions three years earlier. Many more people had died and the Wolves had ended up trapped at the farm for weeks. Once Wolf had gotten over the initial shame of having lost the city, and smoothed over the problems between Grey and himself, everything had become all about mere survival: survival of the tribe. He'd tried leaving several times to go after Libby on his own but each time he'd been held back by others that told him he had to stay and lead the tribe.

They had been right, losing either one of the two leaders would have been a crippling blow to the tribes. The first rescue group had only been able to get to the northern border of the city before they were discovered and killed. As the weeks passed and things grew worse, the Wolves couldn't afford to risk sending anyone else on such a long and dangerous journey. When it came down to the end they could only sit at the farm and wait it out, hoping that the Lions and their army would retreat in hunger.

Something had made the Lions retreat, but Wolf wasn't quite sure what had happened. Wolf spies had returned to the farm with the news that the city had been deserted and that someone was occupying the Mountain Lion Lodge, but that it wasn't the Lions. After a long deliberation the Wolves finally decided to return to the city with a small group to clean things up and see if they could figure things out. It seemed almost too good to be true that they could take the city back so easily. Wolf knew that the drifters that the Lions had recruited had long since become unimpressed and had mostly deserted, but everything seemed sudden, and oddly quiet.

Wolf's team stayed Friday and Saturday night in town, keeping a low profile, and when Sunday came they brought more of the city members back into the town to start picking things up. The town wasn't in too bad of shape, but mostly everything had been looted, especially if it was something edible. When Wolf and his group finally made it to the apartments and the white house it was clear that the Mountain Lions' army had made their home there. Things were filthy, but still functional and mostly in one peice.

On Saturday Wolf had made a promise to himself that if things stayed quiet in town that he would go to find Libby on Sunday evening. He didn't care what the others had to say, he had to know if she was all right. He couldn't bare not knowing what had happened to her- and he feared the worst.

( On Sunday... )

***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: Gemini, Callum, Open.
Where: An old pub just north of the Apartments.
When: Thursday evening.
What: Exploring.
Rating: TBD

Gemini didn't know when she had turned to the North. But she had been wandering for some time now and she was relatively sure the she had just passed the apartment buildings a few moments ago. She slowed slightly, knowing that Mountain Lion Territory could not be all that far away, and looked around at the street she was on. It seemed that the buildings got nicer the farther north you went. Huh... leave it to the rich kids to keep their surroundings from looking the least bit disheveled.

Gemini took note of the abandoned buildings. She was pretty much smack dab in the middle of Sundance, or so she thought... It would be nice to set up shop here. One building in particular, on the very north end of the block, was almost ideal for the work she had in mind. It was a three-story building, with a tiny apartment in the top, and a two-story pub below. It was in lovely condition, its sign still proudly bearing the title of Shipwright's Arms and it's white and green paint mostly intact. Wandering closer, Gemini peered through the dusty windows. She could only imagine the possibilities... if she kept her furnace and her workshop downstairs, it could heat the entire building, making a third story apartment quite comfortable... and she could keep her finished products in a sort of shop on the second floor where they could not as easily be looted.

When she tried the door, Gemini was glad that it gave way. She really hadn't wanted to bust another piece of valuable glass, like she had in the junkyard the other day. The large black furnace in the corner, behind what must have been the bar, was too heavy to carry off, so it was still intact and looked to be in working order. There was running water in the tap, but it was a ghastly shade of brown, so she let it drip, hoping it would clear. Other than that, the first floor was empty, so she turned to what appeared to be a sturdy, wooden, spiral staircase, leading up to a green door. Carefully, she mounted it, Callum close at her heels, experiencing only a squeaky step the fourth time she foot her foot down. At the top, she gingerly tested the knob.

"Crap..."

It was locked. Sighing, she took out her thinnest knife and slid it under the catch in the lock. It clicked easily open, though in squeaked when she pulled open the door and gasped. There, piled on the second floor, was box after box after box of liquor and alcohol. She turned to look at Callum.

"It's an absolute wonder that this place hasn't been looted, Callum. I can't wait to tell Wolf and Libby."

Gemini quickly ascended another spiral staircase and investigated the third floor. But all she found was an old Murphy bed with a moth-eaten mattress and a tiny bathroom with a rusted showerhead. So, locking each floor behind her, Gemini rummaged around in the boxes until she found a rather nice bottle of the Scotch her mother used to drink on cold winter nights. After turning of the tap and locking the first-story door behind her, Gemini sat down on the first concrete step, with Callum beside her and took a gulp of the Tamdhu Cutty Sark. She leaned against the door behind her and let the warmth of it spread all the way down to her toes.

Who: Saint and Straight
When: Wednesday morning
Where: The terrace on the mountain lions lodge property
What: Saint's taken a shine to Straight and is feeling rather resentful and, as always, sadistic.

Saint found the breeze running through his hair to be only a fraction as calming as it had been before.  The worries on his mind weighed until they were plastered all over his face and if he were home right now he'd be bombarded with questions and investigations as to what was wrong and probably have his issues sorted, by either himself, or by his brothers.  However here in the tribe Saint's place was simple, lowly to an extent, and he was either thought of as dangerous...or weird.  Though not as dangerous as some, mainly the particular muscle he'd been observing since he'd joined, now there was somebody Saint could use.  There was someone who could use Saint.  Now Straight, oh yes, he was a lost soul if ever Saint clapped eyes on one.  A gaunt face, empty eyes and heavy swagger he was everything Saint knew was wrong but just might salvagable in a person.  He'd seen soo many turn from God as soon as these times had hit, he'd often found himself wondering what on earth God was doing up there on high while the rest of his creations suffered down here but he would remind himself, constantly, that suffering was testing and if they pulled through it would pay off eventually.  Eventually.  It was a word he'd come to hear quite alot, things would get done eventually, they'd get the gambling hall sorted eventually (not that he really cared for the gambling side, though the females were definately an intriguing factor) and the drifters who had shot one of their men would be brought to justice....eventually.

He was starting to hate that word.

'Thou shalt not kill'

'An eye for an eye'

Two conflicting statements that even Saint himself could not quite find a loop hole in, and he'd read the bible a couple dozens times or so to really claim that he'd tried and tried.   But what was one to do when faced with such a travesty? Who was going to deliver them from evil?  To punish the actions of the devil?  To make an examples out of those evident non-believers and show the world that God was still here, he was listening and helping through his diciples here on earth in this very day and age?

Saint was listening, and he was willing, and Straight was just the person to help him.  Quick with a knife, ruthless and willing to follow anybody smart and confident enough to give him orders.  He was that man.  This young, seemingly and more likely, souless person would be saved for aiding the lord, for helping Saint clense the world of these people.  And if he was to do it without the help of the heads higher...well then so be it.  It had been too long since action had been taken, too long spent waiting for somebody else to lead the road to retribution.

Gathering himself Saint pushed off from the barrier and circled the porch round the property avoiding eye contact, or being avoided, by many of the other Lions milling around.  Walking down the steps he continued round the building until he spotted the collection of guards standing by the 'front' doors.  Off to the side he spotted Straight, smoking a cigarette (he presumed) and kicking dirt into the ground.  Swallowing a breath he continued forward, ignoring the wary and nervous looks of those around him as he approached.  Whispers and words of warning flying into his head, ones that had been circulating throughout the tribe ever since it had been formed.

"He's not right,"
"He killed his own parents,"
"I hear him scream in his sleep,"

Perfect.  Obviously Straight was the man to help him, a confused lost soul.  It was so perfect he wanted to kneel down and thank God again for making him realise.  "You got any more?" the question was fired just as he stepped beside the boy.  His grin was content and not overly enthusiastic and his body language suggested he was as relaxed and he hoped he sounded, "I don't have a straight trade with me but-" he laughed a little "Generosity goes a long way around here,"

Who: Saint
When: Friday afternoon
What: Saint is bored as hell and up for smiting.
Where: His room at the Mountain Lion's "mansion"

To say it had been a slow week would have been the understatement Saint needed to make the day perfect.  He hadn't seen Flower in days after she'd been locking herself in her room lately, he worried slightly about her behaviour but mostly he woried about the others stumbling across her and becoming victim to her irrationally murderous side.  Perhaps it was a good thing the others could still be afraid without knowing exactly what she was capable of.  He'd never felt the need to divulge just what she was like he only requested that they have rooms at least near eachother and that nobody stay too close to her for any length of time.  She was like a wild pet he had to look after, no, that was exactly what she was like.

But she was freezing him out and he was concerned he wouldn't be able to weedle his way back in.  After all what good was a shepheard without his sheep?  His fellow apostle?

Currently Saint was sitting in his bed, having gotten up hours ago and finding there was borderling fuck all to do he had turned back to the once warm comforts of his blankett and had gotten cosy all over again.  It was strange for him to think that even though he'd been with the Mountain Lions for a fair while he had never really made many friends amongst them.  He had spoken to Danni only a handful of times but suspected she found his company less than comfortable and although it hurt his feelings a little bit he saw the way she acted so under Ace's thumb and decided he'd rather not spend time with somebody who seemed very weak willed.  Perhaps it was his fault he hadn't anything to do today, sure he'd heard about some weird travelling circus had come into town, boasting of great tricks in an effort to gather better supplies.  Sure he would have gone, but seeing things like that made him guffaw and tut, and nobody wanted a spoil sport in their vicinity.  So he'd stayed at home.

As his head lolled back on the pillow he had the chance to stare at the cream ceiling above him, the rosary tattooed around his neck seemed to grow warm and he traced his fingers over the ink absentmindedly.  He hadn't really had a chance to talk to anybody about the drifters he'd overheard gossip on, he heard about what they'd done and grown angry to hear of such things, to hear that one human who had stolen from them before, had now stolen again but a life.  A life that needed repaying now.  He'd run the idea by Flower before but she'd been less than eager to take it on, however her saying no did not sate his desire to avenge the lost soul.  He had to do something about it.

Who: OPEN to all Mountain Lions
What: Christmas festivities!
When: Christmas Day, from mid-morning to night.
Where: The main room of the Lodge.
Rating: We've got it all, man - language, sexual references, very heavy drug use...

Azrael sat in an armchair by the fire in the main room of the Lodge, looking out at the people milling around the room. His people - all of them. There seemed to be more of them than he remembered, when they were all together in one room, but nobody was out of place. He remembered each one, and the circumstances under which they had come to be a part of the tribe. Not all of them lived in the Lodge, though, and those who lived elsewhere he saw even less often than those who lived at home base.

They had all gathered together today to observe that most wretched of archaic holidays. If Az had his way, Christmas would've died out with the adults. He had hated this time of year when he was growing up, because it meant that everybody who was anybody felt compelled to throw ridiculous and redundant parties, which he in turn was compelled to attend. His family never spent any more time with each other than was absolutely necessary, even at Christmas, but they went through the motions of tradition for show, and there were a good eighteen years of picturesque greeting cards of the attractive and perfect Fraser family out there to prove it. Azrael had thus spent every Christmas he could remember since his family bought the Lodge in this building, with too much brandy and eggnog and forgettable girls who managed to corner him under the mistletoe. He'd spent each one of those parties preoccupied with plotting as quick and inconspicuous an escape as possible.

Now that he was in charge, Az could've just decided that Christmas would not be celebrated in the Lodge. However, he had to accept the fact that the holiday was an element of the old world that wouldn't be easily forgotten. Those with happy memories of the day liked to carry on their family's traditions, or take the time to reminisce. Those who were like Az - those who didn't like to remember, for whatever reason - tended to appreciate the opportunity to drink as much as possible. Surveying his tribe, Azrael had to admit that even though he thought the holiday itself was useless and outdated, it did put most people in better spirits than normal. There was a Christmas tree, decked out in the decorations preserved in the basement of the Lodge, and holly and garlands and mistletoe, and food, drink and alcohol enough for the entire tribe to have an all-day party.

People had been wandering in and out of the Lodge as they pleased, but as lunchtime approached, they had pretty much full attendance. Several had said hello to him so far, and most who took notice of him seemed to be waiting for him to do something. It was understandable; most of his tribe only saw him when he had something to tell them. Really, Azrael just thought that he should make an appearance, and wasn't really planning on saying anything. He would've been perfectly fine just sitting with his drink - which may have been intended to be eggnog, but it tasted kind of funny, and then he'd added a generous shot of moonshine and after that he couldn't taste much of anything - but what was one more Christmas toast? He'd only had to make one every year since he was about fourteen, after all.

Azrael heaved a quiet sigh, and then stood up. The people nearby grew quiet, looking at him expectantly, and the hush spread gradually throughout the room. It always amused him when he didn't actually have to do anything, and he held back a smile.  "To the Mountain Lions," Az toasted, raising his glass to his audience. "Merry Christmas." He knocked back the remainder of his drink as the words were echoed throughout the room. It wasn't exactly a profound oration, but it was short and sweet and very Azrael.