06-17-2018, 01:42 PM
In the depths of the jungle, Paper had caught sight of a squirrel.
The rodent was engrossed in the nuts it had found on the ground, paying no heed to its surroundings and thus not noticing the jackal a short ways away. Paper glanced down at the ground, trying to judge the distance between them. It was only a few feet; he could make the jump from here. Tensing his muscles, he prepared to pounce.
A loud screech startled him out of his position, and sent the squirrel scurrying into the shadows.
With an enraged snarl, he whipped his head up to flash a death glare at whoever had scared his prey. His eyes settled on a large bird perched in the branches above, a rolled up piece of parchment in their beak, their bald face glaring right back at him. Looking down and seeing the bright red bandana around their leg, he quirked his brow.
”You’re with the Red Fangs,” he observed, twitching his good ear. ”Why are you here?”
The vulture opened their beak and let the parchment fall out. ”Boss man told me to come here. Said there’d be a shrimp with a blue eye, yellow eye, and a face scar,” they answered, blinking slowly. ”Said big boss told ‘im to do it, n' 'e just couldn't refuse 'er.” With that, they turned and flew off, adding as they left, ”Don’t worry ‘bout signing. ‘E ain't worried.”
Paper sighed and walked over to the fallen letter. ”Sounds like Stormyheights, alright,” he muttered, forcing the rolled letter open and reading it.
To whom it may concern, it began, eliciting a double take from the jackal. Stormyheights typically began his letters to others with a personal greeting (or insult), based on old letters that Paper had found in the trash and had read through in search of blackmail material.
The Pack Leader is ill, and unlikely to survive another week.
He flinched, reading over the words multiple times to make sure he hadn't misinterpreted it. His mother- the boss of the most feared mercenary band in the desert, and the strongest creature he'd ever known- dying of something so mundane as an illness was simply unthinkable. Yet the severity of Stormyheights' tone, and the fact that he had even bothered to send a letter to the Red Fangs' biggest disgrace (even if under orders from his leader), only made sense if the situation was just that dire.
The Pack Leader requested your presence at the Northern Camp as soon as possible. You will not be attacked while you are there. Should you accept, come to the raised brazier- a squadron will escort you to the Pack Leader.
-Stormyheights
Paper had, just over a week prior, gone on a day's journey of self-discovery that ended with him deciding to leave the past behind, and here fate was, telling him to go back. He wasn't even sure he was capable of this, of returning to a den of thieves and murderers who all thought he ought to have died in place of his brothers, of facing his past shame and weakness up close. Moreover, he had a future here, with his crewmates; he had a genuine shot at becoming leader of the Blackjack Rats, and even if Vanessa won the position of Dealer over him, he would probably be next in line (unless Keona came of age first, in which case he would be second in line). He didn't have everything he had ever wanted, but he had enough.
Yet, he would never have had the courage to leave the pack in the first place were it not for his mother's encouragement. Had she not insisted that he could become stronger, that he didn't have to wallow in his own weakness, then he likely would have remained there, an outsider in his own pack. She had given him a second chance, and with it had come a new home, and a future.
If he left, it would take him roughly two and a half days just to travel back to the desert. Between the trip there, saying his final goodbyes, and the trip back, he would likely be gone at least six days- and that was assuming none of the pack's members tried to kill him. Leaving would almost certainly mean giving up the Dealer position, and he would be doing it for the sake of diving into what was essentially a pit of vipers, to deliver a sendoff to one good person in the midst of a cesspool.
With a sigh, he rolled up the letter, picked it up in his mouth, and turned around and walked back to his hut. He could just decline to show up, stay here and keep at his efforts to rise to the top. No one besides his mother would miss him- in fact, they'd probably be glad he hadn't showed up. His mother would be hurt, but she would understand if she knew what he was about to accomplish.
Entering through the doorway, however, he took some ink, set down the letter and started writing on the back.
To whom it may concern,
Mom's dying of some sort of illness. I'm going to see her. I'll be back in about six days, tops. Vanessa, you'd better do a good job as Dealer. I know Keona will make a great Croupier. Pincher, make sure you're doing what the medics tell you, don't die.
-Papercutter
Part of him couldn't believe he was doing this, giving up on power for the sake of a person, but he was resolved to doing it anyway. He couldn't let himself be scared off by a couple of angry thugs, highly-trained and deadly thugs though they may have been. Besides, if you weren't willing to be patient with power, you could lose it in an instant. Sticking the letter to the doorway with tape, with the side his message was on facing up, he then turned and left, heading for the railroad.
By the time an NPC spotted the letter first, the jackal was already long gone, past the railroad and out in the wilderness.
/tl;dr: Paper gets a letter from his old pack telling him that his mother's dying, so he decides to give up on his hopes and dreams go see her, and leaves a letter behind telling everyone where he's going and that he'll be back in six days
The rodent was engrossed in the nuts it had found on the ground, paying no heed to its surroundings and thus not noticing the jackal a short ways away. Paper glanced down at the ground, trying to judge the distance between them. It was only a few feet; he could make the jump from here. Tensing his muscles, he prepared to pounce.
A loud screech startled him out of his position, and sent the squirrel scurrying into the shadows.
With an enraged snarl, he whipped his head up to flash a death glare at whoever had scared his prey. His eyes settled on a large bird perched in the branches above, a rolled up piece of parchment in their beak, their bald face glaring right back at him. Looking down and seeing the bright red bandana around their leg, he quirked his brow.
”You’re with the Red Fangs,” he observed, twitching his good ear. ”Why are you here?”
The vulture opened their beak and let the parchment fall out. ”Boss man told me to come here. Said there’d be a shrimp with a blue eye, yellow eye, and a face scar,” they answered, blinking slowly. ”Said big boss told ‘im to do it, n' 'e just couldn't refuse 'er.” With that, they turned and flew off, adding as they left, ”Don’t worry ‘bout signing. ‘E ain't worried.”
Paper sighed and walked over to the fallen letter. ”Sounds like Stormyheights, alright,” he muttered, forcing the rolled letter open and reading it.
To whom it may concern, it began, eliciting a double take from the jackal. Stormyheights typically began his letters to others with a personal greeting (or insult), based on old letters that Paper had found in the trash and had read through in search of blackmail material.
The Pack Leader is ill, and unlikely to survive another week.
He flinched, reading over the words multiple times to make sure he hadn't misinterpreted it. His mother- the boss of the most feared mercenary band in the desert, and the strongest creature he'd ever known- dying of something so mundane as an illness was simply unthinkable. Yet the severity of Stormyheights' tone, and the fact that he had even bothered to send a letter to the Red Fangs' biggest disgrace (even if under orders from his leader), only made sense if the situation was just that dire.
The Pack Leader requested your presence at the Northern Camp as soon as possible. You will not be attacked while you are there. Should you accept, come to the raised brazier- a squadron will escort you to the Pack Leader.
-Stormyheights
Paper had, just over a week prior, gone on a day's journey of self-discovery that ended with him deciding to leave the past behind, and here fate was, telling him to go back. He wasn't even sure he was capable of this, of returning to a den of thieves and murderers who all thought he ought to have died in place of his brothers, of facing his past shame and weakness up close. Moreover, he had a future here, with his crewmates; he had a genuine shot at becoming leader of the Blackjack Rats, and even if Vanessa won the position of Dealer over him, he would probably be next in line (unless Keona came of age first, in which case he would be second in line). He didn't have everything he had ever wanted, but he had enough.
Yet, he would never have had the courage to leave the pack in the first place were it not for his mother's encouragement. Had she not insisted that he could become stronger, that he didn't have to wallow in his own weakness, then he likely would have remained there, an outsider in his own pack. She had given him a second chance, and with it had come a new home, and a future.
If he left, it would take him roughly two and a half days just to travel back to the desert. Between the trip there, saying his final goodbyes, and the trip back, he would likely be gone at least six days- and that was assuming none of the pack's members tried to kill him. Leaving would almost certainly mean giving up the Dealer position, and he would be doing it for the sake of diving into what was essentially a pit of vipers, to deliver a sendoff to one good person in the midst of a cesspool.
With a sigh, he rolled up the letter, picked it up in his mouth, and turned around and walked back to his hut. He could just decline to show up, stay here and keep at his efforts to rise to the top. No one besides his mother would miss him- in fact, they'd probably be glad he hadn't showed up. His mother would be hurt, but she would understand if she knew what he was about to accomplish.
Entering through the doorway, however, he took some ink, set down the letter and started writing on the back.
To whom it may concern,
Mom's dying of some sort of illness. I'm going to see her. I'll be back in about six days, tops. Vanessa, you'd better do a good job as Dealer. I know Keona will make a great Croupier. Pincher, make sure you're doing what the medics tell you, don't die.
-Papercutter
Part of him couldn't believe he was doing this, giving up on power for the sake of a person, but he was resolved to doing it anyway. He couldn't let himself be scared off by a couple of angry thugs, highly-trained and deadly thugs though they may have been. Besides, if you weren't willing to be patient with power, you could lose it in an instant. Sticking the letter to the doorway with tape, with the side his message was on facing up, he then turned and left, heading for the railroad.
By the time an NPC spotted the letter first, the jackal was already long gone, past the railroad and out in the wilderness.
/tl;dr: Paper gets a letter from his old pack telling him that his mother's dying, so he decides to give up on his hopes and dreams go see her, and leaves a letter behind telling everyone where he's going and that he'll be back in six days
[font=trebuchet ms]some weirdo
