Braided Crossroad (SP-RP8/9) 01/2017 - 01/2019
Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:14 pmMae
The town of Reknab Bend. It was a small town situated at the base of the northern mountains, a place far out from any liveliness of any sort. Its closest neighbor, the sister town of Middlecrest, might have been considered the younger and more illustrious of the two, for its ambition to keep up with the style of Pinerich city and the modern era had given Middlecrest a variety of restaurants, elementary schools, and a prominent shopping mall. Yet Reknab was behind the times, and seemed content to stay that way.
The first settlers of Reknab Bend had arrived in the early 1800s, led by a man named John Edward Stone. It was established as a rural ranching community shortly thereafter and grew steadily with a population that did not now exceed two thousand residents. It was said that the town's greatest industrial days had ended sixty years ago when the town had failed to keep up with a growing modern economy and most of its population had moved off to more promising communities. There were some few who still remained to remember those days, the town's oldest resident, Sophia Buttermilk, was one of them, but for most the town's history had no significance and the greater part of the community was now made up of new arrivals and passers-through. In fact, the greatest thing the town was now known for was its kindness to strangers, and a curious legend about mountain wolves.Most often a fellow who had gambled away his livelihood in Pinerich would find himself out here in Reknab Bend, working the rugged work of a rancher's farmhand or whatever janitorial job he could find in town until times were good again, when then he might return to the city. Such was the way of things, and of folks, and as long as the fellow could keep the good will of the small community, he was naturally treated with the kindness that strangers seldom gave each other in large towns and cities.
Many people had passed through on such ill fortune and had left in better condition, particularly in recent years, but there were few drawn in to that small city along the Phantom Mountain range who never left, and their stories were as varied, complex, and mysterious as the people themselves...
Mae
The town of Reknab Bend. It was a small town situated at the base of the northern mountains, a place far out from any liveliness of any sort. Its closest neighbor, the sister town of Middlecrest, might have been considered the younger and more illustrious of the two, for its ambition to keep up with the style of Pinerich city and the modern era had given Middlecrest a variety of restaurants, elementary schools, and a prominent shopping mall. Yet Reknab was behind the times, and seemed content to stay that way.
The first settlers of Reknab Bend had arrived in the early 1800s, led by a man named John Edward Stone. It was established as a rural ranching community shortly thereafter and grew steadily with a population that did not now exceed two thousand residents. It was said that the town's greatest industrial days had ended sixty years ago when the town had failed to keep up with a growing modern economy and most of its population had moved off to more promising communities. There were some few who still remained to remember those days, the town's oldest resident, Sophia Buttermilk, was one of them, but for most the town's history had no significance and the greater part of the community was now made up of new arrivals and passers-through. In fact, the greatest thing the town was now known for was its kindness to strangers, and a curious legend about mountain wolves.
Most often a fellow who had gambled away his livelihood in Pinerich would find himself out here in Reknab Bend, working the rugged work of a rancher's farmhand or whatever janitorial job he could find in town until times were good again, when then he might return to the city. Such was the way of things, and of folks, and as long as the fellow could keep the good will of the small community, he was naturally treated with the kindness that strangers seldom gave each other in large towns and cities.
Many people had passed through on such ill fortune and had left in better condition, particularly in recent years, but there were few drawn in to that small city along the Phantom Mountain range who never left, and their stories were as varied, complex, and mysterious as the people themselves...
Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:15 pmOxer
-- Memphis
{the wanderer’s wandering daughter}
The answers to unexplained questions cannot be explained themselves.
What now?I never thought this could happen to me-- me, out of all people. Miss Cryptid Hunter Extraordinaire, who had come face to face with El Chupacabra and Mothman and lived to tell the tale! Memphis Jay Harvey, who had traveled the world and stowed away on ships and airplanes and could find her way in a foreign city with only a map, a dog, and her instinct!
Memphis Jay Harvey, out of all people, does not get herself lost in the woods. Memphis Jay Harvey does not meet up with a group of… creatures like herself, panic, and leave her instrument right in the middle of their den. I’m lucky; if that had been a nest of goatmen it’d for sure be toast (mostly because goatmen, as a hobby, like to smash cars with their axes. A ukulele looks quite similar to an axe).
Do goatmen even live in groups together? Is there more than one goatman? I pause my anxious thoughts and tell myself to answer that next time I am near Maryland.
Anyhow, instead of goatmen, I had left my instrument in a nest of… werewolves.
I continue pacing around through the birch trees, pulling leaves out of my hair and then crunching them up in my hands as I try to think.
Do I go back? Of course, that’s not even a question, I have to. I don’t know where I’d come across another ukulele like that one, all pretty and multicolored. I’d put so much work into spraypainting it! It even has my little logo on it, the purple silhouette of bigfoot I always tagged buildings with when I went to a new town.
I reach into my pocket, past the dog collar, and hope the mysterious totem will give me guidance as I touch it. I’m totally lost right now, sans compass and ukulele, and could very much so use some direction.
Lo and behold, nothing much happens that I can tell, and I shake my head and chide myself for putting faith into something so… magical.
I then decide in my aimless wanderings that I can at least look for signs of bigfoot some more.
~ - ~ -~
I somehow find town.
How this is, I can’t say, but I come through the treeline and there it is, a bunch of sleepy wooden buildings crouched near one another like slumbering beasts in the twilight. The whole place is eerily quiet compared to all the cities I usually frequent-- it doesn’t have the constant chatter that New York does or all the music that mixes in the air and becomes a cozy blanket of noise as in Rio de Janeiro.
Everything is still. A little too still.
Thus, as I pull out my purple spraypaint, dart into the shadows, and look for a nice wall to tag, I feel like I am being watched by each and every one of this little town’s inhabitants.
Oxer
-- Memphis
{the wanderer’s wandering daughter}
The answers to unexplained questions cannot be explained themselves.
What now?
I never thought this could happen to me-- me, out of all people. Miss Cryptid Hunter Extraordinaire, who had come face to face with El Chupacabra and Mothman and lived to tell the tale! Memphis Jay Harvey, who had traveled the world and stowed away on ships and airplanes and could find her way in a foreign city with only a map, a dog, and her instinct!
Memphis Jay Harvey, out of all people, does not get herself lost in the woods. Memphis Jay Harvey does not meet up with a group of… creatures like herself, panic, and leave her instrument right in the middle of their den. I’m lucky; if that had been a nest of goatmen it’d for sure be toast (mostly because goatmen, as a hobby, like to smash cars with their axes. A ukulele looks quite similar to an axe).
Do goatmen even live in groups together? Is there more than one goatman? I pause my anxious thoughts and tell myself to answer that next time I am near Maryland.
Anyhow, instead of goatmen, I had left my instrument in a nest of… werewolves.
I continue pacing around through the birch trees, pulling leaves out of my hair and then crunching them up in my hands as I try to think.
Do I go back? Of course, that’s not even a question, I have to. I don’t know where I’d come across another ukulele like that one, all pretty and multicolored. I’d put so much work into spraypainting it! It even has my little logo on it, the purple silhouette of bigfoot I always tagged buildings with when I went to a new town.
I reach into my pocket, past the dog collar, and hope the mysterious totem will give me guidance as I touch it. I’m totally lost right now, sans compass and ukulele, and could very much so use some direction.
Lo and behold, nothing much happens that I can tell, and I shake my head and chide myself for putting faith into something so… magical.
I then decide in my aimless wanderings that I can at least look for signs of bigfoot some more.
~ - ~ -~
I somehow find town.
How this is, I can’t say, but I come through the treeline and there it is, a bunch of sleepy wooden buildings crouched near one another like slumbering beasts in the twilight. The whole place is eerily quiet compared to all the cities I usually frequent-- it doesn’t have the constant chatter that New York does or all the music that mixes in the air and becomes a cozy blanket of noise as in Rio de Janeiro.
Everything is still. A little too still.
Thus, as I pull out my purple spraypaint, dart into the shadows, and look for a nice wall to tag, I feel like I am being watched by each and every one of this little town’s inhabitants.
Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:15 pmShea
Rook is the type of individual that can’t help but be anything other than ecstatic! He was ecstatic about the chilly breeze, and the birds nesting within trees, and the smile he received from that elderly woman moments ago.
Anything that could bring him joy within his own perspective, no matter how simple -- or otherwise arbitrary to others -- would indeed do just that; grant him happiness.
Rook found himself in a modest town. It wasn’t at all large; it seemed rather small and closely knit between citizens to him. And though he had only been here for as long as the sun had risen -- Rook had already decided this was a most pleasant place, and he’d love to visit all it offered.
So it is the mindset of a happy wanderer.
Rook tilted his head curiously into an alleyway he heard faint noises of spraying coming from, and letting his impulses of adventure take lead, he entered intent on finding the origins of such strangeness.
It wasn’t long before he came upon the scene; a woman was scribbling with paint cans onto the wall. Rook wasn’t about to go tattle, it wasn’t like him.
Actually, he was rather hypnotised by drawing. It was fun to watch -- he had never seen someone in the act of drawing graffiti. He pondered for a moment on why such art was illegal anyway? Often times he assumed it took a great deal of care and skill to craft the pieces..
Perhaps there was something he was missing, though.
In any case, he didn’t leave -- and instead watched. Getting comfortable by leaning on the opposite wall as he watched carefully. Unbeknownst to the man he was actually intruding silently..
Despite Rook’s size -- he had rather made a habit of sneaking up on people unintentionally. It would seem Memphis had become the next unfortunate victim of such a habit.
He said nothing. Quietly watching in a hypnotic trance.
Shea
Rook is the type of individual that can’t help but be anything other than ecstatic! He was ecstatic about the chilly breeze, and the birds nesting within trees, and the smile he received from that elderly woman moments ago.
Anything that could bring him joy within his own perspective, no matter how simple -- or otherwise arbitrary to others -- would indeed do just that; grant him happiness.
Rook found himself in a modest town. It wasn’t at all large; it seemed rather small and closely knit between citizens to him. And though he had only been here for as long as the sun had risen -- Rook had already decided this was a most pleasant place, and he’d love to visit all it offered.
So it is the mindset of a happy wanderer.
Rook tilted his head curiously into an alleyway he heard faint noises of spraying coming from, and letting his impulses of adventure take lead, he entered intent on finding the origins of such strangeness.
It wasn’t long before he came upon the scene; a woman was scribbling with paint cans onto the wall. Rook wasn’t about to go tattle, it wasn’t like him.
Actually, he was rather hypnotised by drawing. It was fun to watch -- he had never seen someone in the act of drawing graffiti. He pondered for a moment on why such art was illegal anyway? Often times he assumed it took a great deal of care and skill to craft the pieces..
Perhaps there was something he was missing, though.
In any case, he didn’t leave -- and instead watched. Getting comfortable by leaning on the opposite wall as he watched carefully. Unbeknownst to the man he was actually intruding silently..
Despite Rook’s size -- he had rather made a habit of sneaking up on people unintentionally. It would seem Memphis had become the next unfortunate victim of such a habit.
He said nothing. Quietly watching in a hypnotic trance.
Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:15 pmMae
Across the street from the alley was a small tobacco store, and right outside was a bench whereon a stringy, unkempt gentleman was seated. The man sat rather lazily with his arms spread out over the back of the bench and his legs sprawled out in front of him, his head was craned back as if basking in the light of morning sun while his jaw moved to and fro like a cow chewing cud.
Having sat in his usual spot that morning, and having sat there quite awhile, the man had of course seen the two strangers dart into the alley way. When after awhile the said strangers failed to return, it warranted the curiosity of the old fellow who presently sat up and scratched his bristly chin. Narrowing his eyes at the alleyway, the man continued to wait.
When again the two strangers failed to return from the alleyway, and having noticed the peculiarity of both strangers, the man rubbed his hands on his dirty, worn denim-jeans and looked up and down the street. No one else seemed to be present, as was the usual quiet hours of the morning. So, at last the gangling man stood up and crossed the road to the alleyway.
Mae
Across the street from the alley was a small tobacco store, and right outside was a bench whereon a stringy, unkempt gentleman was seated. The man sat rather lazily with his arms spread out over the back of the bench and his legs sprawled out in front of him, his head was craned back as if basking in the light of morning sun while his jaw moved to and fro like a cow chewing cud.
Having sat in his usual spot that morning, and having sat there quite awhile, the man had of course seen the two strangers dart into the alley way. When after awhile the said strangers failed to return, it warranted the curiosity of the old fellow who presently sat up and scratched his bristly chin. Narrowing his eyes at the alleyway, the man continued to wait.
When again the two strangers failed to return from the alleyway, and having noticed the peculiarity of both strangers, the man rubbed his hands on his dirty, worn denim-jeans and looked up and down the street. No one else seemed to be present, as was the usual quiet hours of the morning. So, at last the gangling man stood up and crossed the road to the alleyway.
Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:15 pmDeseree
A white crown Victoria rolled her way along the streets casually. She paused or slowed here and there as her driver stopped to examine different places - never breaking any traffic laws, and still should onlookers take notice, suspicion might yet be raised.
Chapman was aware of this, so he rolled along the old streets with the window drawn down and his arm rested over the door that he might not appear closed off or as though he's trying to conceal himself.
This was the town his granddaughter would come to know, and with any luck - nay, it would take a lot more than luck - the pack of Alpha Kratos would be free to venture in and come to know the name of it's citizens.
"Those kids need more help than that man's got soul to share... self awareness, conviction, a sense of duty to their kind, the people around them..."
He uttered into the phone of his car, and the other end of the line was quiet for a long time. Chapman breathed a long sigh as he slowed to a stop by an old tobacco store, surveying the are briefly.
"Don't get me wrong, he can do it - but not alone. Everyone's going to have to do their part, but I just don't know if their hearts are in it. It's an all or nothing situation, you have to be dedicated, committed. I get this feeling that there are a lot of reservations."
"What do you want me to tell you, Bob?"
A somewhat frustrated woman's voice responded.
"I'm going to stay in the town tonight, and I'll be back sometime tomorrow." he replied with some disdain, nearly flinching as he waited for the response.
"Alright then. You're not a young man anymore, be careful. Love you dear."
"I love you too."
The phone was clicked off and Bob leaned back in his seat briefly, before rolling up his window and stepping out of the car. His eyes at once went to the man crossing the street and staring into an alley across the way.
"Excuse me sir," he called out, looking both ways before making his way across the street.
Deseree
A white crown Victoria rolled her way along the streets casually. She paused or slowed here and there as her driver stopped to examine different places - never breaking any traffic laws, and still should onlookers take notice, suspicion might yet be raised.
Chapman was aware of this, so he rolled along the old streets with the window drawn down and his arm rested over the door that he might not appear closed off or as though he's trying to conceal himself.
This was the town his granddaughter would come to know, and with any luck - nay, it would take a lot more than luck - the pack of Alpha Kratos would be free to venture in and come to know the name of it's citizens.
"Those kids need more help than that man's got soul to share... self awareness, conviction, a sense of duty to their kind, the people around them..."
He uttered into the phone of his car, and the other end of the line was quiet for a long time. Chapman breathed a long sigh as he slowed to a stop by an old tobacco store, surveying the are briefly.
"Don't get me wrong, he can do it - but not alone. Everyone's going to have to do their part, but I just don't know if their hearts are in it. It's an all or nothing situation, you have to be dedicated, committed. I get this feeling that there are a lot of reservations."
"What do you want me to tell you, Bob?"
A somewhat frustrated woman's voice responded.
"I'm going to stay in the town tonight, and I'll be back sometime tomorrow." he replied with some disdain, nearly flinching as he waited for the response.
"Alright then. You're not a young man anymore, be careful. Love you dear."
"I love you too."
The phone was clicked off and Bob leaned back in his seat briefly, before rolling up his window and stepping out of the car. His eyes at once went to the man crossing the street and staring into an alley across the way.
"Excuse me sir," he called out, looking both ways before making his way across the street.
Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:16 pmIndy
A throaty growl filled the still air of the new day as a cloud of dust was kicked out in the fresh blue sky. Zoom ! A shape moved swiftly by way of the dirt road into town, in the form of a man riding a motorcycle. It was a simple pleasure to feel the ground move beneath him, the bright light of a new day beat on his skin, and the rush of wind on his face. Such a feeling was unmatched in this form. Zander titled his head up for a moment, as though to take a sniff of the fresh air, yet the helmet blocked the new scents.
The engine roared and, almost undetectable, there was a faint rattle. It wasn’t much farther to get into town and there should be enough gas in it’s tank to make it that far… yet the voice of her engine concerned him. It would not be the first time his ‘steed’ had left him abandoned on the side of the road… nor would it be the last. She was old. Older than him, even. The rims of her wheel were in many places rusted, the black paint had begun to peel, and the seat torn -- and that was on the outside. Maybe someday he’d make enough to replace her.
The town was steadily approaching, so he let his momentum slow. The buildings were starting to crowd around him, like judgemental onlookers. But there were absolutely nothing wrong with being in town. He let his gaze settle quickly on each person he spotted passing by, so as not to be caught unaware.
Finally he caught sight of something familiar. He moved to accelerate once more, yet found his rate only slowing. He gave the pedal a strong shove, yet the engine only spluttered and died only a few yards away from a white crown Victoria. He bowed his head and said nothing as he watched the man inside the car get out address a man across the street.
Indy
A throaty growl filled the still air of the new day as a cloud of dust was kicked out in the fresh blue sky. Zoom ! A shape moved swiftly by way of the dirt road into town, in the form of a man riding a motorcycle. It was a simple pleasure to feel the ground move beneath him, the bright light of a new day beat on his skin, and the rush of wind on his face. Such a feeling was unmatched in this form. Zander titled his head up for a moment, as though to take a sniff of the fresh air, yet the helmet blocked the new scents.
The engine roared and, almost undetectable, there was a faint rattle. It wasn’t much farther to get into town and there should be enough gas in it’s tank to make it that far… yet the voice of her engine concerned him. It would not be the first time his ‘steed’ had left him abandoned on the side of the road… nor would it be the last. She was old. Older than him, even. The rims of her wheel were in many places rusted, the black paint had begun to peel, and the seat torn -- and that was on the outside. Maybe someday he’d make enough to replace her.
The town was steadily approaching, so he let his momentum slow. The buildings were starting to crowd around him, like judgemental onlookers. But there were absolutely nothing wrong with being in town. He let his gaze settle quickly on each person he spotted passing by, so as not to be caught unaware.
Finally he caught sight of something familiar. He moved to accelerate once more, yet found his rate only slowing. He gave the pedal a strong shove, yet the engine only spluttered and died only a few yards away from a white crown Victoria. He bowed his head and said nothing as he watched the man inside the car get out address a man across the street.
Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:16 pmMae
The thin, gangling man must have been caught off guard to be called out on such a quiet morning, or must not have seen nor expected anyone else to be around, for when Bob called out to him he staggered visibly and then gave three uncomfortable glances over his shoulder as the other man approached.
"Eh, ah, yeah. What can I help ya with?" The fellow was quick to appear more natural, scratching the loose skin of his neck and dusting off his jeans.
Mae
The thin, gangling man must have been caught off guard to be called out on such a quiet morning, or must not have seen nor expected anyone else to be around, for when Bob called out to him he staggered visibly and then gave three uncomfortable glances over his shoulder as the other man approached.
"Eh, ah, yeah. What can I help ya with?" The fellow was quick to appear more natural, scratching the loose skin of his neck and dusting off his jeans.
Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:16 pmDeseree
Bob was preparing his response and nearly across the street when his voice caught and he found himself in a coughing fit, shortly doubled over with his hands on his knees. Somewhere amidst the hacks were low rumbles as he tried to clear his throat, until at last the fit had passed and he stood up straight.
"Ahh.." he caught his breath a moment before proceeding. "I don't remember signing up to get old." he chuckled dryly before closing the distance between him and the stranger. He took a moment to examine the mans features before offering a smile beneath that nearly trimmed mustache.
"Bob Chapman, sir. Say, I came down here to pay an acquaintance a visit - I used to know Mr Chandler, I'm sure you know the name? He was a good man; I bought a couple of cattle off of him back in the day. I understand he passed away, but I thought his daughter had inherited the ranch... do you know, did she move off?"
Deseree
Bob was preparing his response and nearly across the street when his voice caught and he found himself in a coughing fit, shortly doubled over with his hands on his knees. Somewhere amidst the hacks were low rumbles as he tried to clear his throat, until at last the fit had passed and he stood up straight.
"Ahh.." he caught his breath a moment before proceeding. "I don't remember signing up to get old." he chuckled dryly before closing the distance between him and the stranger. He took a moment to examine the mans features before offering a smile beneath that nearly trimmed mustache.
"Bob Chapman, sir. Say, I came down here to pay an acquaintance a visit - I used to know Mr Chandler, I'm sure you know the name? He was a good man; I bought a couple of cattle off of him back in the day. I understand he passed away, but I thought his daughter had inherited the ranch... do you know, did she move off?"
Quote from Adriana on August 25, 2018, 1:16 pmMae
A light of piqued interest came to the man's eyes the moment the elderly Bob Chapman bent over to clear his throat and stepping forward as if to offer the gent a pat on the back the man seemed all the more at ease than before.
"Mister Chandler died and was buried at the east cemetery, more than that I don't know - not about any girl o' his or anyone." The bedraggled man replied, scratching his chin with disinterest though his brows were knit in suspicion. Then with a sarcastic toss of his head to throw off the matter he said, " ' reckon she felled off the earth likely as he did!"
Mae
A light of piqued interest came to the man's eyes the moment the elderly Bob Chapman bent over to clear his throat and stepping forward as if to offer the gent a pat on the back the man seemed all the more at ease than before.
"Mister Chandler died and was buried at the east cemetery, more than that I don't know - not about any girl o' his or anyone." The bedraggled man replied, scratching his chin with disinterest though his brows were knit in suspicion. Then with a sarcastic toss of his head to throw off the matter he said, " ' reckon she felled off the earth likely as he did!"
