BACK FOOT + MASK VIGIL

[toboggan]

The moon made no home out of the sky tonight. No light emanated from the town, and the stars were draped in a stygian blanket of cloud. Needless to say, it was dark as fuck out; a perfect night for a mask vigil.

The rules were addressed earlier on in the day. Everyone that doesn't have a mask, they get a cloth. Once the cloth is tied securely around their midsections, the unmasked will make for the graveyard. If a participant makes it through the night with the cloth still fastened to their waist, they get to choose a mask. However, if that isn't the case and a participant loses their cloth, they don't get a mask. Those with masks are the hunters, and must rid as many participants of their cloths as they can by any means necessary - barring straight up murder or assault in a sexual sense, of course.

Those with masks were to stalk the cemetery until all participants entered. Leroy, wearing his balaclava, took the forefront and would give the go-ahead for the initial attack when the time was right. Those without masks greatly outnumbered the individuals with them, so the general didn't predict to take many cloth sashes tonight. But oh well, he'd legally get to beat someone up, and that was always fun.

[wormwood.]

i was born, on the highway, in a train wreck

with a heart, that was beating, out of my chest

It wasn't exactly unusual for it to be dark at night. In fact, that was actually one of the main traits that made night nighttime. Still, Aurum wasn't quite used to everything being so fucking dark out within Tanglewood territory. With no moon in the sky, the lion could barely see a few feet in front of him, and immediately a worried feeling settled in the male's chest of whether or not he was actually gonna be able to do this. Sure, it wasn't the end of the world if he didn't get his mask, but still, it was a matter of pride. Who would respect a proxy he couldn't even get through one night for the mask vigil? Shaking off these uneasy feelings, the angel found himself padding slowly into the graveyard, occasionally glancing back at the cloth tied securely around his waist. A soft sigh left his lungs as he settled down next to one of the small makeshift headstones, glancing around. He knew there were many others without masks as well, and he found himself faintly wondering how many of them would make it through the night successfully. He doubted everyone would make it, especially without issues, but it wasn't as if there was anything in the rules barring them from trying again at the next vigil. That was a comfort, if only a small one.

template by orion

[trojan g.]

[align=center][div style="bgcolor= black; width: 500px; font-family: Times New Roman;font-size:10pt;text-align:justify;"]The last time there had been a vigil, Moth had gotten her own mask. It had been maybe a week after she had joined then, and she had made it, surprisingly. No one had gone after the small island fox back then, though timid and an easy target, and for that she had been appreciative, but now that she had grown, she wished she didn't get it back then, so that she could try again now, with her newfound mentality, but it was fine, she could now go after those around here, even if they were almost all bigger than her, she'd be able to take at least one cloth, right?

Her own mask set upon her head, the half beak pointing out forward and antlers sticking out from the top, the female would make her way into the graveyard, slowly becoming invisible until it was only her mask remaining, waiting for the go-ahead from their leader to begin the hunt.

[THEM]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]He had a plan, maybe. He knew how these sorts of attacks went, how simple constructions tended to play out - this was no different. Capture the flag was a game as old as time. The goal was simple. The assault on the defending team - the maskless, including him - was uncoordinated, based in one-on-one random attacks, with no formal rules to tie them down. Find somebody and incapacitate them, take their flag, work your way over to the next. A child's game, like tag. He'd trained harder than this, orchestrated more vicious training exercises, worked out more complicated scenarios in his head. Easy.

Who was to say they couldn't shake things up a little tonight?

The graveyard is a wide playing field. The headstones are old but vary in size and shape, offering fair cover, and the overgrown weeds would improve camouflage to those with the advantage of a natural fur pattern. It's dark enough that he doesn't need shades, and appreciates that - the mirror finish would reflect the moon and give away his location, anyway. A few mausoleums dot the landscape, stout and ivy-covered; they'd make good lookout points if he could move between them without interception. He chooses a thicket of dense bushes, first. Once decorative but now overgrown, the brown leaves still clinging to the branches alongside the yellowed, winter-dead grasses made for good cover against his tan, mottled pelt. Kazuhira keeps low, pressing his waist to the ground to obscure the yellow sash around his middle.

He waits, then, for the ambush to begin.

[Blazic]

[ABATHUR .]

Masks - if he were a poet, or someone else with a grudge against society, his mind would've jumped to the thought that most people wear masks, but not just the physical kind. Luckily for him, despite his monotone and general lack of socializing these days, he was not quite so antisocial. Just coping.

It was dark, and his eyes were taking in nothing but shadows, the light of the moon dim in the background, blurry, not providing him with enough light to see, only enough to remind him that he couldn't.

The fabric signalling his participation was wrapped tightly around the part of his thorax leading to his abdomen, the cloth soft, but chafing against his hairs nonetheless.

Quietly, he hoped that his black carapace would give him a natural camouflage, though he knew within himself that was a false sort of hope - most of the people in this clan could see in the dark anyways. Damn felines. He was limited to touch, even ignoring semi-recent developments in the seeing department, which left him at a sore disadvantage - though, at the same time, he saw it as a chance to practice for the near future. Navigating by touch would soon become a necessity, after all. So he crouched, hanging down from an overhang, occasionally tapping the ground to 'see' anyone approaching.

tags - "speech"

[deimos]

Hunting wasn't very easy, yknow, because she had hooves. Deer legs were good for two things, escaping, and escaping. They weren't meant to spring after prey, but they were damn fast. Now, her front half was good at the other half of the situation. Claw, and kill- not that.. they'd be killing for this. Right? Anyways.. Sam had her hooves wrapped in soft moccasin, torn up from a pair of leather boots that weren't being used for damn shit anymore. She had taken her watch at a corner of the cemetary, her skull mask mudded so it was camoflauged.

It pulled low over both of her eyes and she stared into the great, great mass of dark tombstones. She gave a shudder, thinking her old body might've been buried like that.

"SPEECH"

♡♡♡
tags

[toboggan]

Though various Tanglers situated themselves within the graveyard, only three distinctive targets stood out to the general. There was Aurum, his second in command, Miller, an esteemed chaser who had demonstrated an aptitude for hosting official events (such as weekly tasks, and potentially training sessions), and, last but assuredly not least, Snarl, a chaser that had been present for many a major circumstance. Abathur found himself positioned alongside those previously mentioned names, yet for all Leroy cared, the arachnid wasn't a tremendously important victim; it's just the legs, there's way too many of them, you know? As for the canine's target of topmost significance, Aurum ranked the highest out of everyone there on the priority-o-meter. When he'd discovered that the lion never acquired a mask for himself, the male's jaw fell ajar in bewilderment. How an individual as renowned, as acclaimed, as remarkable as him had yet to procure a mask was completely beyond the wolfhound. The oncoming onslaught would be completely ruthless, and perhaps the single-eyed feline existed as the best person to make an example out of.

Buoyant, confident strides carry the leader towards his target, making no effort to conceal his person whilst entering the cemetery. This is mainly done as an attempt to extract the attention spans of those present, so that the smaller (and stealthier) Tanglers who hid outside the site's grounds could get the drop on the unmasked. Firmly planting his soot-coloured paws a good few metres out of the Proxy's reach, Leroy halts his movement and looks the lion into his cerulean eye. "Alright, here's the deal," he declares, in an announcing sort of voice, as if he wished for everyone else to hear as clear as day, "I want some cloths. Erm... yeah, that's pretty much it."

And with that, he lunges for [member=6881]aurum.[/member] in pursuit of the male's fabric sash. Pain is not his intention - establishing an unshakable hold on his mark is. Assuming that he's successful in his attempt, the cur would wrap his limbs around Aurum, and make an effort to remove the feline's cloth via wildly kicking around his midsection and hoping that connecting punt kick would remove it.

[wormwood.]

Everything stays, right where you left it.

But it still changes, ever so slightly, daily and nightly.

Aurum wasn't exactly sure who he had expected to get attacked first, if he was being honest. After all, they were all pretty decently open targets in the graveyard, and they were all pretty recognizable as well. He supposed it was natural for him to be pounced on first, considering he was the highest profile one there, along with his large size that was easy to pile up on. What he wasn't expecting, however, was for Leroy to come straight at him. One minute the angel had been resting there, trying to figure out what he would do until the vigil was over, and the next minute, the masked hound was in front of him, looking awfully nonchalant for the situation. Blinking his one azure eye down at the general, Aurum cocked his head to one side, rumbling, "Hey there, Leroy..." His tail was flicking behind him as his body tensed, and he listened intently to what the other was saying... before the hound came flying forward at him, lunging forth for the goal of the entire game.

Aurum let out a roar as Leroy did so, although it was less of a roar and more of just a yell of surprise. The canine ended up on top of him, and he could feel the wild flailing attempting to knock his sash off. Scowling a little bit, the lion pulled his midsection quickly to one side, moving to snatch [member=1538]leroy[/member] by the scruff of the neck. If he was successful, he would attempt to fling the male carefully into an empty direction. He didn't throw very hard, not wanting to break anything or hurt Leroy for the little game. That was the entire reason he had chosen a more open location, and not one of the clustered together headstones that the leader could crack his head open on. If he was successful in chucking Leroy off of him, the male would then turn and rush off, flapping his wings a little bit to carry him to another part of the graveyard. At least if Leroy gave chase, Aurum would know well where he was coming from, and would be able to counter without the other getting the jump on him. Although in all honesty, Leroy had less gotten the jump on him than just sort of surprised him by his blatant boldness in trying to get the sash.

template by orion

[deimos]

Now, spiders were not necessarily Sam's favorite. but they weren't her worst fear either. With this in mind, it was dark, and the sound of tapping was cause for easy fear in Sam especially. The Grey Men always sounded like tapping, dragging feet and wheezing, despite them being mouthless. Her ears swiveled as she heard the call sound. A quick grin splashed over the dark pelted feline, her mask pulled tight over her head, antlers peaking from it. The mask itself was pulled down tight, the skull of the mutated stag's teeth painted brightly, the rest muted colors.

A warning, like a moth to other predators. A bright sign, to tell the prey they were done for. Leroy's call immitated this, but so did Sam's mask. She stalked forward directly after the call, using her eyes, ears, and pelt to detect where tombstones stood. It wouldn't be long before the deer-cat crept upon [member=1431]ABATHUR .[/member], eyes narrowed and body hairs on end. Steady, she told herself, the breathing too loud and too nervous. She settled herself. Sam wasn't much of a hunter, she was half prey for fucks sake, but here she was, hunting the giant spider.

Sam didn't waste much time after that. She had saw the flash of the cloth, despite it blending into the pedicel there. She bolted forward, her hooves silent, aiming to slide between Abathur's legs, one clawed paw reaching up to grab into the fabric, attempting to unravel it and pull it free as she continued to slide.

"SPEECH"

♡♡♡
tags