Redhawk Caldera Dota 3 with zombies

Technically this is backdated to sometime not too long before the meeting but I'm rather flexible about exact dates. :P Thread title stolen from Draskyl's current stream title.  He's playing They Are Billions, zomg.

He'd fallen asleep in an awkward position and he wasn't quite sure when -- it was hard to tell from what must have at some point been an old lava tube from when the Caldera was spewing lava instead of being peacefully covered in snow.  Either way, that the particular offshoot he'd spent much of his time in was dark on a good day, and had a couple of odd looking scrapes and scribbles on the ground in the thin layer of silt that had collected through the eras.  There were two of them, one maybe recognizable as the pack's territory.  The other, an odd mess of scrawls that probably looked more like an amoeba than anything in particular.  It wasn't like wolves were artists.  There were a few other random things around -- sticks, rocks, an antler -- that were obviously collected rather than naturally occurring, but Quixote's footprints were neatly kept away from the scribbles.

The freshest set of footprints headed out to the dim morning light where their owner now stood, attempting to stretch the kinks out of his spine.  Had he rolled over onto a rock or something? Ugh.  Either way, he wanted to take another loop around the territory and make sure that he had things down accurately -- that he had a defensive plan in place in case enemies decided to take it upon themselves to make the first move.  A little paranoia was useful.  Besides, he'd make another actual scouting trip off the pack lands sometime in the next week or so.  He shook the dust out of his fur, though the mild snowfall would likely soon replace it on his ink black pelt as he started down the mountainside.

As he did so he mildly wondered why he even bothered anyway.  He left his birth pack because conflict was tiresome and now he'd gone and been drawn to another like a moth to a flame.  Idiot.  Well, at least here he didn't have to worry too much about running into someone who wanted to chew his head off.  Theoretically.

Colt knew that the male he'd run into - Quixote, yes? - had come here to dwell, but he hadn't really sought him out yet.  There was a lot of catching up for the uncle to do, and he had a hard enough time wrapping it, let alone connecting with a one time encounter, much as he'd like the gent.  But now, when he spotted the familiar form stretching in the snow, he grinned and headed that way.

"Long time no see," he hailed as he came up, both in greeting and to notify him he was there.  "Decided to chance it after all, I see?"  He hadn't made the most sterling of commendations about his sister's pack, but he was glad Quixote hadn't dismissed it after all.  It was good to see a friendly face.

Maybe rodents had the right idea -- he could line a section of his planning area with dried grass or something not-a-rock to lay on.  As he was contemplating the potential benefits, a voice snapped him out of his daydream.  Now there was a face he hadn't seen a while!  Yeah I'm apparently drawn to places with problems like a bear to berries.  You know you were walking into this chaos?  Certainly he'd have given a little heads up if so, but Quixote was curious what Colt thought of it all -- would the family connection balance out the whole "Hey I just showed up, what's this war" aspect.

Sorry I didn't go hunt you down after joining up too.  Been trying to not smell obviously like a Redhawk wolf going and scoping out stuff. Being social seemed counterproductive to that.  He rolled a shoulder -- no, still couldn't get that kink out -- and stretched again before continuing, Will be nice once stuff is over.  Hopefully with everyone still up and kicking so I have a chance to sit around and be boring for a while...  More boring?  Hell, I don't know. I sit in a cave and think too much.  But they weren't off on the battlefield yet and he'd be thankful for every bit of time that lasted.  At least for now.  Maybe later on it'd get to him.

Colt laughed at the initial words, shaking his head emphatically.  "Nope.  Though, knowing Finley, I shouldn't have been surprised."  He did guess he wasn't walking into smooth sailing, but he thought the fight would be internal, not another pack.  Maybe he had the conflict in part to thank for his own smooth entry back into his sister's (relative) good graces.

"No worries, I could've done the same, but I'm not really used to this." He indicated the pack as a whole.  "Run alone long enough and you get accustomed to not worrying about shit like introductions.  Believe it or not, I'm looking forward to a little action."  There was a teasing behind it; he wasn't antisocial, far from it.  But the thought of going around and introducing himself to every damn Redhawk on the territory sounded so boring.  He'd rather run into them by chance, as he had so far, and see where they went from there.  And while this war wasn't ideal, it was true; he was ready to shake things up some.  "Scoping, eh?  Seen anything interesting out there?"  Colt thought on his own recent jaunt outside of the Caldera.  "I checked out Blackfeather, or rather, the area near it.  Met this wolf with a real jacked up face.  She didn't say much."  

There were parts about the war thing that made him a little nervous, I already did this whole 'war that doesn't wanna end' thing once, and I'm not planning on doing it again, so hopefully this nonsense'll wrap up and go away, I'd prefer that. If only he knew what'd be be going on at Moonspear...  Yeah. He'd be regretting this whole thing right about now.

He shrugged, I was pretty much just checking out the route to that forest and stuff, wasn't too exciting.  Like, I don't think there's time to do proper training, so figured that was gonna give us the biggest advantage.  I'm not crazy for thinking that, right?   I mean.. I don't think that the bulk of the pack is all super experienced fighters and stuff unless I was really misled.  If they were, he wished someone had actually told him. He'd have refocused his efforts in other ways.  For now, though, he was pretty sure he was doing the best he could.

I kinda wish I'd ran into some of them while still a lone.  Would have been nice to have a bit more info about what they were like -- factor that in or whatever.  Other than just being the current bogeyman that can't play nice.  Quixote wasn't sure where their problem was.  It could be the leaders didn't vet people correctly.  Could be the leaders themselves were more socially defective than himself and had set up this figurative bomb on their own.  All Quixote knew was signs pointed to the Caldera wolves being goodish guys in this one, and his entry fee into the pack was to do smart tactical things, so that's what he was gonna do.

"Guess that depends on how we do."  He replied somewhat flippantly, though he fervently hoped the same.  A little excitement was all well and good but only an idiot would hope for an all out war.  "And, to be honest... I'm not sure.  Haven't really been doing the introduction rounds myself.". He thought of Finley, and Elwood, and the domestic feel they had now.  The alpha male was downright wholesome. "Doubt it."

"Least this way they aren't friends.  But I hear ya.". Personally he was glad not to know the wolves he would soon be maiming, or maiming him, as it were.  "So you are experienced in this sort of thing? I mean, I've had my share of scraps.  But war isn't really a thing where I come from."

Since he'd met Colt before either were residents of the caldera, Quixote's tone was more like speaking to a coworker at a bar.  Though he covered similar topics with other wolves in the pack, he'd approached them with a bit more formality, Yeah, idiots where I grew up lacked the ability to get along.  Damned if I knew what initially set them off, but they'd start the whole tiff up again because someone caught something 'too close' to someone else's land or they got looked at funny or hell if I know.  Then you get people trying to get revenge on others for what they did and it would just go on and on 'til the most aggressive ones got too beat up to fight.  Quixote had felt like the only one seeing things the way they actually were there.  He'd kept himself fairly safe through the tumult and had left when the world suggested it was good.  He didn't regret it a bit.

The signs of it happening again worried him, though, Dunno if they just got so wrapped up in pack pride that they lost their sense of reason or what.  Probably that and have enough trees burn down and you won't have a forest to hunt in any more.  It was the best metaphor he could think of without the knowledge of burning bridges.  The longer he'd been in the Teekon, the more he'd thought that the wolves from his birth pack and the neighbors there likely didn't have enough humility or sense to try and bring peace to the table instead.  And likely none would agree to it.

Sure, there are times when you gotta go beat someone up or kill 'em because it's better for the world if you do, but if I get that blind to reality and act like my old pack, just kill me then 'cause I must've lost my mind and ain't coming back.  It was, perhaps, a little too vicious at himself, but with a dry chuckle, he concluded, Think I'm just a sucker to see if I can stop it from happening to someone else.  Or who knew, maybe the coming seasons' pups would end up with a childhood like his.  Great fun, that.

Colt snorted at the mental picture Quixote brought to light; it was amusing, if not ideal as far as pasts went.  He wasn't too worried about causing offense with the reaction however.  Colt rarely worried about that sort of thing anyway.

"Fr- Fin's got a short fuse, for sure, but I don't think we gotta worry about that.  Less these Blackfeathers get a taste and come back looking again." He supposed that could happen, though he doubted it. "Seems to me, one of us wins, the other won't be quick to try again."

He was intrigued by his mention of stopping this, though.  Did he think maybe Fin and Elwood were wrong in wanting to go? Colt himself wasn't sure on the reasoning; after all, the wolf who'd been wronged wasn't even of their pack.  But the few things he'd heard got even his back up somewhat.  When the neighbors were that fucked up, sometimes it was about being able to sleep peacefully at night. The part about offing him was pretty grim too, but as always, Colt took it as a joke in stride and smiled.   "Its a deal.  But you don't think we should go?"

Do we wanna wrap this one up soonish if you want another thread? :P

And so the group of ragamuffins was confirmed.  Totally the best soldiers.  The fight itself, though, seemed almost a sure thing, even if he did have some serious doubts about their hand in the game and what it would all boil down to.  I mean if it's a one time thing and beat the hell out of them, hopefully that's it.  But I mean, they've screwed with like two packs, right?  Or was it three? Either way.  If they keep doing that without someone getting angry, what are we telling them? That it's totally ok to chew on other packs' members?  Quixote was not a pacifist, but nor was he a bloodthirsty savage either.  He'd just appreciate it if everyone cooperated relatively close to social norms so they could have things easy, please and thank you.

Just.. Ugh. One and done.  I don't suppose we could just kill them all with this lot, then, and make it permanent?  It was obviously not a serious comment, even though a dark part of him wished it was possible.  Had any of them ever killed anyone?  Even gotten close?  Would they be willing if the proper, disgusting throat was offered?  Or would they shy away and they'd have to go through this all again?  There was something to say about a good threat, but if things had been going on as long as it sounded, they were past that point.

A sigh, Hasn't even started and I'm ready for it to be over.  A wry smile crossed his face.  It was gonna get worse before it'd get better, wouldn't it?

wrapping! Feel free to archive or reply!

"I'm certainly in for the old one and done.  Just gotta make it stick."  Hit Em where it hurt and get out.  And if they did end up killin a few, well, they'd brought it on their own heads. Colt wasn't much a killer, and he was glad his a friend's suggestion was a jest for the most part.  But he also wasn't naive enough to not believe it sometimes necessary.

 "Likewise.  After, we gotta celebrate.  Chase some deer, or just take a nap honestly.  Between you and me, I'm getting too old for this shit." He grinned, half-serious.  He didn't feel old, per day, but it was obvious he had some years on most of the others there.

Sounds good to me.  I wanna know what it's like to just be some normal dude living a life.  I wanna make some dumb mistakes that won't end up with me dead, for once.  What was that gonna be like?  He'd probably screw up stuff a few times, but he was looking forward to that adventure far more than he was looking forward to cracking some skulls.  He wanted normal and would be clutching at that future until the battle had ended.  Catch you then, yeah?  There was much to do still, much to plan.  Once he'd gotten a bit of physical activity in, he'd have to go back and make sure he didn't miss anything.  They needed to win.