Devil's Tower

Week Thirteen - Wednesday
WHO: Watts and Notch
WHAT: The two decide to go jogging and discuss a few things
WHERE: Somewhere in the Mountain Lion territory
WHEN: Wednesday, early morning
RATING: TBD

Sleep seemed to be something that was escaping Notch lately. He wasn't quite sure if it was because of the leaky faucet in the bathroom near to his room, the fact that lately everyone seemed to be more infuriating than usual or possibly because of the information that had been given to him earlier in the week. It had been made clear that he himself, Saint, Watts, Slick and Ace were to be going after that elusive drifter once more, who was now under the careful watch of Wolf and his cronies. While he was nearly elated at this development, what had happened the last time something of this caliber had been undertaken had been plaguing him. Nothing had gone as planned and in the end they had lost one of their own, while the drifter went free. That would not be happening this time, he would see to it.

Not being able to sleep had left his schedule open to other less productive things, such as pacing around the Lodge, staring down any one up at this hour. Or at least everyone except the short redhead he'd run into, who just gotten a raised brow and a nod. He could tell from the way Watts was dressed that she was going out for a jog, and had taken it upon himself to join her. There had been a minimal number of words exchanged between the two in setting up this little bout of exercising, as well as little to no conversation since they'd set out. His own thoughts were still set on what had gone on before, and just how he couldn't wait to get revenge against those lowlifes.

A glance was given to Watts, before he focused his gaze on the ground once more. The quite serene scene around them was a sharp contrast from his musings that were only fueled by his elevated heartbeat and his limbs swiftly carrying him closer to the edge of the Mountain Lion territory. He didn't know just how long they had been out here, and it didn't really matter. The plan had been set into action, and it was only a matter of time before it was executed, much to his delight. "We'll get him this time," Notch mumbled, before he picked up speed and went ahead of his companion in this.

Who: Gaia and OPEN to Mountain Lions
What: Exasperation? And sewing clothing!
When: Sunday, (around noonish)
Where: Her room at the Lodge
Rating: PG (I'm assuming)
Status: Incomplete

It was terribly quiet. Perhaps, unusually, could apply as a fitting word. Gaia barely glanced outside of her window as she efficiently cut a thread with her teeth. She was on her bed, surrounded by all types of clothing, and was sewing most of them by hand. If she could do it by hand, then she would do it by hand. There was a certain satisfaction of doing it herself; not relying on a machine to do the work her fingers could easy attend to. And her fingers did. Long, agile fingers moved rapidly along the seams … adding a button here, re-stitching a pocket there, and twisting the thread as expertly as possible, in such a way to leave it nearly unnoticeable.

Although her eyes were focused on her tasks, as was most of her mind, a part of her wondered at the silence. Even the weather seemed to hint at it with a sense of unease. Seemed to mock the stillness with an air of foreboding and with its dark clouds …

Quirking a brow more at herself than at the work in front of her Gaia let out a little sigh. She really had to stop reading Poe before bed. Had to stop reading Yukiko R.L. Stine for fun. It put her in the mindset of an overly maudlin melodramatic. Nevertheless, despite her typically practical mindset, Gaia couldn’t deny the fact that the current mood of the Lodge at this very moment was contrary to everything that was happening at Sundance. A lot of things were happening at Sundance if even half of the things she had heard were correct. If her sister hadn’t been half-asleep she would have been restlessly repeating that ‘a-fun is a-coming.’ Words that caused Gaia to sigh again, only this time in exasperation.

Why couldn’t anyone be into drama-less fun? Noooo, they all had to be into activities that’d get somebody in trouble. And they wondered why she preferred spending time in her room rereading classics or doing her duty as a seamstress. She didn’t mind listening to others problems, she didn’t mind lending advice … but really, there was only so much drama she could hear about (whether intentional or not) before began to question about people’s sanity or intelligence. Not nice questions at all, either.

Who: Watts [Narrative, or OPEN to anyone]
Where: Oh, who knows? Watts doesn't.
When: Very early Tuesday morning
Why: Meanwhile, on the Lions' end...Watts gets some bad news and spirals a bit further down into insanity.

The wind had picked up overnight, to the point where it whistled through the trees, or if one was unfortunate, through the cracks in the walls. Watts didn't hear it, and barely felt it whipping at her hair, or the cold biting at her face as she ran. The only thing she heard was the rhythm of her own worn sneakers on the pavement, beating out a steady, morbid cadence. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

She hadn't slept last night, instead staying awake to sit on the floor outside the room where the kid she'd gotten shot slowly bled to death. Azrael was no surgeon, but he was the best option available, to tend to the boy. To his credit, their leader hadn't bitched at her about failing in her mission to capture those drifters, nor had he blamed her. He hadn't slept either, and he'd come out of the room at about 4:45 in the morning looking as ragged as she'd ever seen him. He's dead. And then Azrael had gone to his room without another word, with blood stained brown on his blue dress shirt. In a different state of mind, Watts might've wondered if her cold and callous Boss felt as guilty as she did herself. She might've stopped to wonder how the news was going to be broken to the rest of the tribe, and what their response would be. The leaders would probably tell them to go about their business as usual - that was their response to pretty much any sort of catastrophe. Let's all pretend like nothing's wrong. There's nothing to see here. Move along. What would they do with the body?

Watts had seen dead bodies before. She'd shot people, and she'd killed people. Four, to be exact. She'd shot that drifter yesterday, but he hadn't died. Would she feel worse than she did now, if she'd got him in the heart? No, she decided. No, it wasn't the same. That boy, he was counting on her to protect him. She was supposed to keep him safe, and she'd failed. It wasn't as bad when killing another person meant she lived to see another day, when there was only one person whose security she had to ensure. Throw other people into the mix, with a bunch of crap like duty and loyalty, and things in her head got muddled. She hadn't even liked the boy, but now he was dead. Younger than she was, and dead, because of her.

She'd left the Lodge when she found out, and ran. She felt like tearing out of the place, screaming like a banshee, but no. It was just Watts, out for her regular morning jog. Only she ran farther than usual, following the roads until they weren't familiar anymore. She could probably find her way back fairly easily - just follow the street signs - but she could've been in the middle of Wolf territory for all she knew. She could've run straight into Hell and wouldn't have known it, though she thought that maybe she'd be right at home there. It couldn't be much different from what the world had become. Maybe that boy was better off, wherever he was now. Watts wasn't a big believer in a higher power, but she sincerely hoped so.

Feet thudding on the pavement and arms pumping, Watts stuck to the sidewalks. Running helped; after all, it made her too breathless for hysterics.

Who: Watts, Bishop, Jace, and a team of four lower-level Mountain Lions
Where: A shack on unclaimed territory near Highway 90
When: Monday, late morning
What: The Mountain Lions send out a team to round up some suspected thieves. Conflict and bloodshed ensue.

If Watts didn't know Azrael better, she would suspect that she was being punished. There were a number of things she would admit to doing that probably warranted punishment, but being forced to hike past the Outskirts in below freezing temperatures with an even colder wind chill stepped quite close to the realm of outright torture. Watts, an Arizona girl for the majority of her life, despised Wyoming's winters.

She wasn't alone, today; four boys accompanied her, all sturdy soldier-types in their mid-to-late teens. All five of the Mountain Lions were bundled up in various articles of clothing that weren't exactly winter wear, but reasonably warm when combined in layers. Each of them carried an easily-accessible knife, and Watts's gun, omnipresent but woefully low on ammunition, stuck out of the back pocket of her jeans. She seriously hoped they wouldn't need their weapons, but knew it was probably naive to think so.

They weren't in search of parts and supplies, but thieves. Well, one thief, really. Supplies had been going missing from Mountain Lion stores, and with the onset of such wretchedly cold weather, possible culprits were scarce. Watts didn't know who had provided this intelligence, but apparently there was a drifter in the area with a liking for pickpocketing, and her ever-so-very wise leaders saw fit to bring him in as their main suspect. Knowing said leaders, they wouldn't spend much time actually confirming their accusations. Poor bastard. She didn't envy him his fate. Well, she amended, poor bastards - plural - because this drifter allegedly had an accomplice, with whom he'd shacked up in some rundown shed out by Highway 90.

This was the reason she was out here in this godawful weather - because her commanders had a bug up their collective ass over some drifter. They'd assigned Watts to do the dirty work. For one, she guessed, because she was a troublemaker. For another, because she had leadership experience, and had proved herself capable of running operations like this one without fucking shit up. So she found herself in charge of this little retrieval jaunt, grudgingly, but she would do as she was told, though she'd really rather just fix the boiler twenty more times.

It was a great relief when they finally located the shed in question. Watts, in the style of most great leaders, stood slightly removed as her team removed their weapons and prepared to enter the feeble shelter. They were told to expect two drifters, and thankfully the little building didn't look like it could house many more. With a curt nod from Watts, one of the boys slammed open the door.

Who: Anyone who attends the cage fight (all are invited!)
Where: Mountain Lion Territory, largest warehouse on the Vance Copper Mine property.
When: Saturday from dusk till late into the night, remember there are snow flurries so dress warm!
Why: Because gambling and bloodshed is fun!
(((OOC: This post is simply a starter for those of you who want to attend the cage fight. Please post all cage fight related threads here. If your character would like to be one of the fighters please post and wait at least one RL day for an opponent before posting your fight with an NPC. Only two characters are allowed to fight so it will be on a first come first serve basis. :))))

The week had been long and uncertain for the citizens of Sundance, Wyoming, especially for the Mountain Lions. When the power restored itself yesterday morning there was much rejoicing within the Mountain Lion tribe. The thought of losing their main source of sway over the peoples of Sundance had haunted them terribly the past few days. Though of course they’d done their best to maintain their usual airs as if they had everything under control.

The moment the power came on word spread throughout the city that the Saturday cage fight was still on. The fight was scheduled to take place in the same place as before. The largest warehouse at the Vance Copper Mine.

In the center of the fluorescent lit building was an enormous chain-link cage. It’s a square cage of simple construction, complete with a roof to keep competitors from climbing out should things get too intense for them. The Mountain Lions have announced only two rules: There are no weapons allowed and the first person to be knocked out cold loses. The prospect of gambling, even if it is only for minor supplies, drew even more of a crowd than last time, leaving the warehouse almost full as people huddled inside to keep out of the snow. There were a lot of drifters there and faces unknown to many of the tribes.

A few hours before dusk people started to arrive by walking, the River Runners, or the Mountain Lions’ own horse caravan. When the sun finally set there was quite a crowd and the warehouse had become noisy with anticipation. Betting was encouraged by all those who showed up. However they were required to register any bets with a Mountain Lion at the door. A Mountain Lion Bouncer circulated the crowd to keep tabs on the bets.

One of the Mountain Lions came over a loudspeaker they had managed to rig up. He explained the two rules, encouraged betting and welcomed everyone that had showed up. Then he opened the floor for two volunteers to be the first fighters.

WHO: Watts and Otter
WHERE: Somewhere along line between ML and Wolf Territory
WHEN: Saturday afternoon
WHY: Watts needs a smile.

It was drizzling outside, but there was a veritable stormcloud over the very red head of a particular Mountain Lion today. Okay, Watts understood that not everybody could be their own boss, and she was used to taking orders. It was a necessity, and she got that. But she was damned if she spent her days working her ass off, just so she could be condescended to by some spoiled little rich shit who'd probably never worked a day in his life.

Watts prided herself on her logic, and understood that that wasn't exactly a fair judgment. The ML leaders may have had an unfair advantage to begin with, but they had the brains to stay ahead in the game, and had done pretty well for themselves before she came along. And yes, she knew that she'd spent ten minutes being lectured to because it was dangerous to be wandering around outside their tribe's territory. It was the principle of the thing that had her doing just that - yes, again - on this cheery fall afternoon. She could have waited for one of the guys to accompany her on her foray for parts, but hell, she was a tough girl. Unlike her contemporaries, Watts had learned her combat skills from a drill sergeant rather than Arnold Schwarzenegger.

She carried a knife in her belt and a military-issue Beretta 9mm with two bullets left in her back pocket as she wandered down a long-deserted road close to the highway along the border of Lion-Wolf territory. Her hair was weighed down and slightly less vivid as it collected water from the intermittent showers, but a jean jacket kept her warm enough. Over her shoulder was slung a bag filled with scavenged parts and tools acquired that morning - nothing particularly great that would buy her out of trouble when she got back to base, but the point was to get away.

Who: Morgan and whoever comes along
Where: Between the Outskirts and the Trading Post
When: Afternoon
Why: Morgan is entering town


Morgan had been walking for about three days.  Was it three?  She had lost count, even after such a short time.  Morgan figured it was just the sun getting to her.  She wiped the gathering sweat from her brow before it dripped down her face.  With a frown, Morgan stopped and fished the folded piece of paper that was her map from her back pocket.  She traced a finger along a red line, then stopped and looked up.

"I just passed this abandoned buliding, and right here is the old hospital...maybe five miles down; maybe more," she murmured to herself.  Morgan folded the map and slid it into the back pocket of her ratty jeans once more.  She knelt in the grass and slid her knapsack from her shoulders.  Pulling a canteen from the side pocket, she unscrewed the cap and tilted the bottom towards the sky.  The last few drops of water she had slid into her mouth and trailed along her throat.  

Morgan removed the canteen from her lips and returned it to the pocket in her bag.  She stood and slung the bag over her shoulders, continuing along her path.  As she walked, Morgan watched her feet, in their dirty, torn, sneakers, clodding along the path.  It was all she could do to keep her eyes open and her mind focused.

WHO: Watts and OPEN
WHERE: Trading Post
WHEN: Friday morning

Her original intention had been to make an early start to the trading post, but Watts had been confronted with yet another emergency late last night. There seemed to be no bounds as to how the incompetents who passed for her "apprentices" could fuck up, and fuck up they did, on a regular basis. The boiler had blown out at three in the morning, and the basement of the lodge had undergone minor flooding before somebody thought to go wake up the mechanic who, in the midst of many yawns, glares, and violent curses, had fixed the thing in twenty minutes flat. She hadn't been able to get back to sleep for hours.

Watts usually woke up at the crack of dawn, went jogging, and then headed down to the power plant to make sure no major catastrophes had occurred overnight. Today, she didn't particularly care - if they were stupid enough to screw up more than once in less than seven hours, they deserved to be frantic for a little while. She felt she deserved a bit of a lie-in, and she was in desperate need of several supplies, most of them tools that people had carried off and lost. Cigarettes were another necessity, having smoked the last one the night before.

Her tribemates would not be pleased to hear that she'd gone off on her own out of Mountain Lion territory, but Watts, though small, was of the opinion that she could take care of herself. Besides, while not one of the most prominent members of the tribe, people usually remembered the Mountain Lions' mechanic - she could be found at the trading post at least once a week and was always willing to pay very well for the parts people found for her. Her bright red hair made her easily recognizable, her fair methods and the excellent goods she brought to trade with made her likeable, and her status with the Mountain Lions made sure nobody messed with her.

It was a cloudy day, and it looked as though it might rain, so the trading post wasn't as crowded as it might normally be on a Friday. Watts hitched her bag up on her shoulder and gathered her jacket around her, looking around for some of her usual suppliers. Though she was later than she normally was, perhaps some of them might still be around.

WHO: Watts and Ace
WHAT: We'll see.
WHEN: Thursday afternoon
WHERE: The Mountain Lions' lodge
RATING: Probably not more than PG-13

Watts shone her flashlight on the circuit breaker and blew out a breath that lifted wisps of flaming red bangs out of her eyes. As usual, she was in the power plant, and as usual, she was fixing somebody else's screw-ups. If she could figure out exactly how this person had screwed up, she could probably correct the mistake, but as it was, she wasn't quite sure what the problem was. Her eyes scanned over the control panel, checking buttons and lights and the position of switches. Everything seemed to be in place. Watts flipped a few switches for good measure, but nothing doing.

Having worked at this particular power plant for a good year now, she knew the ins and outs of it well. Watts hadn't been an electrician specifically, upon coming to Sundance, but it had been easy enough to learn; most operations of the power grid required nothing more than a basic knowledge of mechanical engineering, a subject in which Watts was more than proficient.

Power was fluctuating in certain sectors of the city, and Watts wasn't quite sure what to do about it. Everything looked normal. It didn't help that the bare, swinging lightbulb overhead in the control room had blown out a few days ago, and Watts hadn't had time to hunt down a spare -- if there were any. So she was forced to use a flashlight powered by precious batteries. Even that seemed to be against her, the beam of light growing dimmer and dimmer as she pondered the switchboard. Finally it faded out completely, and Watts cursed, throwing the torch across the room. Could anything else go wrong today? So without light and without any clue as to what the problem was in the first place, Watts shoved her hands in her pockets and left the plant, unsure whether she had given up for the moment or whether she was in search of a new light source.

The power station was deep in Mountain Lions territory, and Watts rarely had any reason to go anywhere outside of their sector. She really divided her time between the lodge and the station, as those were the places she could make herself most useful. And Watts liked being useful; she knew it was the main reason she was kept around. Even after a year with the Mountain Lions, sometimes she still felt like an outsider. This was probably due to the fact that she worked more than she socialized, but Watts did like being a Mountain Lion, even if she was sometimes required to participate in things she would rather not. Like burning people. She did recognize the necessity of establishing superiority, especially in a world like this, though she didn't always agree with her commanders' methods. But she was a good soldier, and did what she was told most of the time -- although usually not without making her opinions heard.

Upon completing the walk back to the lodge, she came in out of the wind and removed her jacket. She was considering heading to the stockroom to look for lightbulbs and batteries, but turned the opposite direction instead, moving toward her room.