Blacktail Deer Plateau reporting the patterns row by line

He chuckled when she came up with a solution to the new found dilemna they found themselves in. Perhaps more entertaining was the prospect of green clouds, but the chances of them seeing such things seemed bizarre. Clouds were always the same set of colors, never green or anything. Though in the event that they saw green clouds, they would certainly know that the foulest of weather was upon them. Luckily for them, even that was a low possibility.

"Cloudereen," he said, holding back a laugh. "I like it. It's catchy and memorable." A good name for a spirit, he presumed. "I think that's pretty extraordinary for a spirit to have that name." It certainly made up for their shared failure of not being the best with naming conventions.

"Of course, later on it won't be a Claudereen, but a Klodren for short. Or "Cauldron" for those, who don't know their spelling," Osprey spoke from experience. How many great, long and beautiful words were shortened for convenience? She was "Oss", Peregrine was "Perry", Atticus had been "Atti" and March Owl, who might have started this tradition had always referred to herself as MO. But for now the work was done - The Blacktail deer plateau had it's own official home spirit. The last thing to do was to make it known to the spirit itself, therefore she spoke out loud to someone and no one particular at the same time: "Now spirit - you have both form and name - have a nice life!" And as if having heard this a mild breeze went past them, ruffling their furs along the way.

"This was fun," she told Mordecai. "Can you think of another being that the plateau is essentially missing? We have few trolls here, a home spirit and I bet some ghosts too. What else?"




ooc: would you mind having this thread as long as possible, until these two run out of things to imagine?

Definitely! This may almost be my longest thread now, lmfao. Dante and Mordecai had a thread that went for 50+ replies and I think we just surpassed that... >_>

He chuckled when she called out into the open air, wishing that spirit off into the wilderness around them. He found this endearing, at least for the reason that it was nice to simply pretend that things weren't as serious around them as it was. For a moment, Mordecai came crashing back down to his own earthly bounds, though it was a bit more graceful than simply crashing. He nodded in agreement; it had been fun, but Osprey was wont to let up the charade just yet.

"The Plateau has ghosts?" he found himself asking instead of suggesting something else. This intrigued him, if only for the fact that he thought it may have tied in with the history of the place. "What kind of ghosts are here?" This time around, he was more forward with his questions, delving back into the charade of their creations easily.

"Ghosts, yes," Osprey nodded with such excitement and vigour, as if she was the expert ghosthunter/-watcher/-whisperer around these areas and had seen every single spirit that hadn't found peace on Earth and therefore was rendered from moving on. Some may hold a belief that sinners were the only ones, who didn't go to heaven - she disagreed, thinking that it could not be that simple. Everyone got a choice, even in afterlife. So... palteau had ghosts and she, who in reality had seen nothing that would give a rock solid proof to this theory, had to come up with something.

"I don't know much about the beginning's of this pack or anything that could have happened here before that," because every ghost story usually was bound to some sort of tragedy or unhappy event, but couldn't it be so that a former living being had enjoyed the life on Earth so much that it had decided to roam in it even after death? And this very idea was the one that gave bones, flesh and soul to... "Caia - the fluffy ghost," she said with a lopsided smile. "It looks almost like us - except it is smaller and it's coat is thick and seems almost silky. It has small, triangular ears and round, black, bead-like eyes. Giggles and frolics around during clear nights, scares the living hell out of those, who don't know her," she paused. "She invites you to play with her."

Needless to say, he was convinced that there was ever anyone he needed to go to about the supernatural, Osprey was most certainly that wolf. He didn't mind that she didn't know much of the pack's history before her own arrival; Mordecai couldn't have spoken for much of the history of anything, including his own coming into the world. Time allowed it to escape from him barring some larger details, and why the mind worked that way was well outside of his consideration. He thought of the past fondly, but never too long at length.

"Caia the ghost," he said, noting the similarity to Caiaphas, but didn't speak of the siren of the coast. "I suppose she would scare me if you hadn't told me about her. What other ghosts are there here? Surely more than just Caia," though if she were really the only one, that might have explained why she was trying to play with the living.

"Gallert - the moody one," after coming up with Caia the rest of the ghostly folk were easy to imagine and bring in the world among the living. "I don't know, what it is exactly - some sort of unknown tall beast with four long and lanky limbs, odd face and odd ears and he prowls the woods sometimes on two, sometimes on four legs," every place needed some sort of being that was hard to explain or understand. You had to see it once to know, what the person in question was talking about.

"Unlike Caia - he doesn't speak much, just looks sad and sighs," now that she had said it there was a potential for a story, why was it so, where had he come from. "And he has this tendency of appearing out of nowhere and standing still until someone runs through him," she shivered for the full effect. Running through a ghost was not a pleasant experience. "Maybe it is his own sense of having fun - can't say that I appreciate it much," she shrugged.

"In the whole spectrum of ghosts plateau could have - do you think we have anyone missing?" she asked Mordecai, wondering, if there was a special kind of ghost he wanted to see and have here.

The next ghost she explained was of interest, though Mordecai found it difficult to conjure up an image that may have suited this Gallert. Once again he listened with rapt attention, once more captured by the stories Osprey wove easily. But this story was a short one, nothing more than a description to a creature capable of walking on four and two legs. A sad, perhaps even miserable being. To Mordecai, it sounded purely like he had just wanted to be noticed — he thought that maybe one of his own sisters could have fit that ticket — but he made no comment on it, as she had prompted him for suggestions.

And he found that this time, he faltered a bit. But it only lasted a moment.

"What about a troll ghost? Maybe one that's angry that lives on the mountain, one who could be responsible for when there's an avalanche," he suggested, believing that for all good ghosts and goblins, there were also bad ones. "Of course, that's not on the plateau, but maybe he was banished by other ghosts for being evil. But he watches all around, angry but not wanting to hurt others purposefully." It would have been a nice tale about how avalanches happened, which truthfully Mordecai hadn't the faintest idea. He knew that they simply did and for the most part, could not have said that such a thing had happened while he had been near one.

"Hey, you are amazing, you knew that?" Osprey exclaimed and nudged her companion's shoulder in a friendly manner, when he had come up with the coolest type of a ghost ever. Troll ghost banished for being evil or something - there was a source material of a story. And one that should not be waiting for it's turn, one that should be told here and now. Even if it was a brief version.

"Since he has been a troll in his earth-life, he must have some abilities that other ghosts don't have," here she fell silent and, had she been a human, she would have bit her lip, while thinking about avalanches and, how this ghost could possibly cause the massive snowfalls. What had her father taught her about that... boy, did she regret not paying more attention, because that knowledge would have been so useful now. This meant that she would have to work with, what she had got at this moment. "Hey, I know! When he is very upset and feels angry, he trashes around mountains and kicks and throws snow everywhere," not probably the best solution, but still.



"But - what do you mean by being evil? What would he have done so bad to be banished?" she turned to him, asking for a more detailed explanation.

When she nudged happily for his attempt, a smile broke across Mordecai's face easily. He didn't think he had thought of something that great, but at least his attempt was appreciated. Or just maybe, he had a knack for this storytelling business after all, though he would not have wanted to going around putting Osprey out of business for it. She added easily to the brief imagery he felt he had conjured. He pictured the thrashing around of said troll, but this dispelled itself when she prompted him. Why had the troll been banished? That was a good question, but Mordecai felt he had an answer waiting in the proverbial wings. Perhaps her enjoyment of his story was enough to encourage him further.

"Well, maybe it's more tragic than that, a story of how he deals with it. Perhaps he was banished because he hurt someone and no one would believe it was an accident. So instead of trying to prove all his friends or family of the truth, he let himself be exiled. And over time, he grew bitter," he explained, pausing for a moment. "Eventually, that bitterness just became pure anger whenever he looked upon them from his mountain. He thrashed about and caused them avalanches until they were all gone, whether they were dead or had run away, and thus earned the notoriety of being evil." Now he was beginning to understand the fun behind making up a story; no wonder Osprey enjoyed it so much!

There was an old truth that the simplest things were the most ingenious ones. Mordecai might not have considered his idea as something extraordinary, but Osprey thought differently. Mainly because she had not come up with it herself and, where some would have found competition, she was happy that someone else had got a glimpse of how fun it was to create something or someone and by telling it's story, give it life.

"That's quite sad," Osprey nodded, feeling sympathy for the poor thing for being so misunderstood and alone, and envying those, who got to enjoy the life in the plains. She had never climbed the mountains herself, but thought that it must be very lonley up there. Who would want to live inbetween the cliffs and masses of snow, having the howling wind as an only companion.

"Do you think he would ever be able to befriend someone? Have redemption?" because every villain had a friend or person they trusted. Either it was a one-eyed parrot or a fluffy white cat, or a faithful and loyal minion, who they always treated badly, but who was the only one to bear with them in the end.

It was quite a sad tale and honestly if he had been asked, Mordecai couldn't have said where it came from. His experiences with sadness came once in a blue moon. Most of the time, he didn't let himself be bogged down by experiences of the past that were negative; he got over them and moved on, very much like he had done with most things in his life. His eyes moved to trace the mountains in the distance, wondering if things could really be that lonely up there. Silvertip hadn't been that lonely, though the varied height there often made it difficult to find others. But the vistas had been worth taking in, much like they were on the plateau, and of course, from the higher ridges and climes of the Spine and its squat ring of mountains.

"Perhaps," he said, suddenly less verbose than he had been. "But it would be a matter of letting someone in, or having someone approach him. Who would want to approach someone who had stories tossed wildly about them for so long that they became a mythical legend?" Rarely seen and always heard about, Mordecai thought his so-called villain in his tale was quite the opposite. Not a hero, of course, but simply misunderstood and left to be that way. "And who's to say that over time that he wants the company himself? Perhaps his banishment now is just a self-imposed exile for atonement." His brought his gaze back to Osprey with a tilt of his head, wondering if it all made any sense.

"You are probably right... those, who wish to be left alone, should not be bothered," yet Osprey, who wanted all of her stories to have at least a hope for a happy ending, didn't want to leave the troll ghost there in the mountains all by himself. Even if he wanted to be that way, it didn't seem right to her. She wanted to fix it and therefore she cast a half-expectant look at Mordecai, hoping that he would give in and continue on a more positive note. But - it seemed that this was not going to happen. Some folk - like the troll ghost - didn't want to be bothered.

"But say..." she said after a moment, deciding that she wouldn't be in peace at the turn of events, if she didn't at least try to find out, what options were there for this chap. "If someone stumbled upon him there in the mountains by an accident... and... well... talked," putting her impulsive indea in the right words proved to be more difficult than she had imagined. "... and sort of turned out to be a kindred spirit... wouldn't the troll ghost have at least a bit of change of heart?"

He felt the same; those who didn't want to be bothered should have been left alone. It was a stance he had formerly taken a time or two and truthfully, Mordecai was decent enough at not being found when he didn't want to be. But mostly, he sought out company on his own, not often needing someone to come to find him. So when Osprey posed her question to him, he fell into thought at once, debating whether or not his imaginary creation would have a change of heart.

"In time, I think he may," he speculated, though it was followed up by a shrug. "Who knows, though? Perhaps when folks come around, he doesn't want to be found. Maybe he finds kindred spirits in other things." Mountains were not desolate places entirely, not like some of the sprawls of the desert and bluffs of the southwest. He found that he liked the valleys and the mountains of the regions he found in this part of the north, versus the place where his parents had chosen to go. To think, even they had once lived in such a place like the one he found himself in.

"Maybe," Osprey nodded, mulling over Mordecai's line of thought, seeing the troll spirit now not only as the evil and misunderstood one, which was responsible for avalanches, maybe even snowstorms and heavy snowfalls, but also a creature, who had a life that no one knew about. His secrets. For a moment she saw clearly, how a troll spirit like this could easily make friends with the wind or... talk to the ancient rocks that formed the mountains... or on good days sit on a tall mountain ledge together with a dragon. The most fascinating thing was that no one would probably ever know that.

"Alright - we have three ghosts and a home spirit," she quickly went over the profiles of Claudereen, Caia, Gallert and now the troll spirit. "Now, what this forest needs, is a monster," if they were to make Blacktail deer plateau a memorable and extraordinary place in the world, then they had to have one too. Not a big, evil and scary one. Maybe something along the lines of Disney's Monster Inc (had Osprey had a chance to ever see it). "Did you believe in boogie-man that would steel your feet or tail or whatever body part that were left outside the den at night?" she asked, recalling something that had felt very real and scary during her early weeks in the world.

ooc: regarding monsters that live under the bed. I remember reading a good joke about this: "I stuck my foot out from under the blanket during the night. And what courageous things have you done lately?"

That joke always makes me laugh, though I have to admit Mordecai and I are somewhat one in the same. Belief in the tangible, but we don't dispute/claim that other things don't exist.

When it came ot things like this, Mordecai wondered if their creations would be better off without the introduction of a monster. He almost felt like his own invention could have served the purpose, but it was a spirit. Spirits, he felt, were perhaps not the same thing as monsters. And truthfully if there was one thing that he did have a tangible belief in, it was monsters. Not the scary yeti from skifree or the kind that pulled them screaming and kicking into the woods at night, but he knew there were creatures of all walks that could have served with the title of monster, and with distinction. He had never truly encountered them and hopefully, never would.

"I can't say that I ever had to worry about that myself, though I think a relative of mine was convinced something lingered out there. Something that would come and drag them off across the sands and leave them," he said with a chuckle, for a moment recalling parts of that memory with clarity. Who had the problem, he couldn't remember. A cousin, perhaps. Maybe a sibling. "We had actual worries of puppy snatchers though, and all they needed was a foot or a tail to grab." A smile stayed on his face, though he was serious about it. Rogue wolves, even large coyotes, they were brazen enough to snatch whatever they could make off with. It was but one of several continuous feuds of Sedona and its surrounding landscapes.

"What would you consider a monster, Osprey?"

Puppy snatchers were not unfamiliar to Osprey, who had been the one in charge to take care of the kids, while MO and Aether had rest. There were all kinds of dangers lurking around - not only those that crawled the earth, but also those that lived underground or soared in the sky. She had heard tales about eagles and hawks coming to steal the little ones and at that time it had seemed a bit odd to associate the pack and it's ranks with the birds of prey.

"Well... monsters are of different kind," she said, having the tone of an expert again. "I mean there the ones that look awful or so very distinct from the rest of the folk that they have no other name for them," they weren't neccessarily bad. Somehow, what people did not understand, they tended to associate with something evil, even though it might not have been the case. "Then there are monsters of heart - those, who do horrible things without any remorse," what she wanted to say was that appearance did not matter. It was, who you were inside.

"I thought about plateau having the first kind - somebody good at heart, but having an otherworldy... alien touch to him... or her," she explained. "Well... maybe not entirely nice, but not evil either. You know, like boggarts. They scare you for the sake of scaring, not that they can actually do something bad to you."

There was truth in what she said. This was something he knew all along, but in a way it was nice to know that someone else saw it the way that he did. There were always two sides to a coin and much in the same way there were two sides to everyone. Their appearance and their personality. Even in his short while in the Wilds, Mordecai realized that some of the most normal wolves were capable of some of the most dark things, while some of the more Frankenstein appearances were genuinely good. Much in the same way, this was to be expected with monsters too.

She spoke of boggarts and he found himself wondering what they were. "Like boggarts? Can't say I've heard of those." She still reigned as the expert in these things; his question was meant to prompt her to further an explanation. To think of something as not being so nice and yet incapable of really hurting — at least directly — seemed rather alien to him. Usually hurting someone and not being nice were synonymous.

ooc: I googled "boggarts". References to Wikipedia and Harry Potter universe.

"You haven't?" Osprey appeared to be a bit surprised by Mordecai telling her that he had never heard a thing about boggarts. Everyone knew them, but then she had to remind herself that not all were such mythic creature nerds as her. Not everyone dug that deep as her. "Well, there are many tales. Some actually imply that they are angered home spirits that turn very evil. There are those that believe that boggarts do nasty things, while you are asleep - like put a cold and clammy paw on your face, pull you by the ears or tail," she shuddered at the thought of this.

"However, I prefer the theory of them being "non-beings". Meaning that you can't actually explain, how they are made, but the most likely theory is that, wherever there are a lot of people together, there are some residue suppressed emotions and thoughts that accumulate over time and eventually take a form," she paused looking at Mordecai, giving him time to dig in, what she was telling and then continued. "Even though many kinds of non-beings - depending on the material - can form, boggarts are the ones that take form of whatever you fear the most."

"If you meet him and fear him, then he grows stronger. However, if you find a way to laugh at him, then the boggart disappears."

"Interesting," was about all he could supply initially about what boggarts were. Beings made from residual emotions, all that between the lines nonsense that existed in the world. It brought an interesting theory to Mordecai, though it was hardly hatched in comparison to any other notion that had occurred to him in the past. "I wonder what kind of boggarts we've created over our lives." If such a thing were to appear, would it still exist even when the source of that being's energy disappeared? He imagined so, because it existed in that space between reality and fantasy, it existed in that realm where only those open to the belief would spot them more importantly.

"Do boggarts stay where they are made? Or do they follow their creators, like shambling, cobbled together monster?" Cue Frankenstein, or lack thereof. He couldn't help but ponder the theory that perhaps all those that carried misfortune with them happened to have it continuously come about because of an actual boggart than just continued bad luck.

"I never gave much thought about that," Osprey replied, lifting her gaze to look at the distant treetops and patches of sky that was not hidden by the thick crowns of fir trees. What were things she was most afraid of? Other predators, death, losing a sibling or anyone close and dear in that matter? Maybe something more traditional... such as water, heights, lightening and storms? The list grew longer and, even though there were some that she deemed either unpleasant or that could make her sad, there was no fear. In the end she decided that she would have to dig very deep to find, what was that she feared the most. In that sense... a boggart - if it should appear before her - would take her by surprise.

She shook her head and looked at Mordecai again, pondering, whether she should ask, what shape would his boggart take, but he was quicker in asking a question of his own. "I don't know for sure - you would have to ask this to a boggart-ist," she said with a smile. A science about boggarts. Why not? "If you ask me - then... probably the latter is more likely. The sole purpose of a boggart is to scare, therefore they need people. Whenever there are many, there will also be a boggart. Then again... there are tales of people running accross boggarts at abandoned places. So..." Osprey shrugged. The boggart itself could give the correct answer, but these non-being weren't known for an ability to talk. Or... think. They just scared people and that was all.

That was interesting — boggarts existing in lieu of actual wolves lingering around. As she trailed off, Mordecai placed this under consideration as well, though he couldn't help but continue to briefly entertain the thought that they followed after their creators too. And in the same notion he thought if they were really there and he was simply too narrow-minded to actually spot them, he hoped none followed him.

"Who knows then," he said, shrugging to match her own gesture. "I mean we may never get the chance to corner one and talk to it. And maybe it's something better left worth not finding out too. Some questions aren't meant to have answers." At least that was what he wanted to think and believe. Some questions weren't supposed to be asked either, because often the answer was not the most ideal knowledge to carry.

"Every being has to have it's own secret," Osprey agreed, recalling a saying about jokes - that the funniest part is the one you never say, but understand. It was the same with magical creatures and people too. "I think that, if we dig too deep in order to find truth... the mystery itself loses appeal. Sometimes things are the way they are and we should take them as such," take boggarts, for example. Their purpose was to make you meet your deepest fear. Why and how they did that - did it really matter?


"What do you think about prophecies?" she asked, finding a related subject in terms of "questions that weren't meant to have answers". "Do you believe that someone - anyone can predict one's future? Or our fate depends on our actions and environment alone?"


ooc: let's try to reach 100 posts with this thread? 28 to go - 14 to each of us. We could manage that and be the record holder in Wolf for the longest thread.

Sounds good to me!

Did every being have to have its own secret? Mordecai could not have agreed or disagreed; he simply didn't know. There were wolves that had their secrets no doubt, and this more than likely extended to other creatures as well. When it came to himself though, Mordecai didn't really think he had any secrets; perhaps the definition of secret was simply subjective by that regard. There were things he did not like talking about and would avoid politely one way or another, and those were the things that one may have been inclined to call a secret.

But he did not dwell on this for long, as the philosopher in Osprey brought another thing to his attention — prophecies. "Sometimes I wonder, to be honest," he said, finding this a much more familiar ground than ghosts and goblins. "I don't know if I believe that we all have pre-determined fates or not, but I think our fate is connected with our actions and the environment. Every action has a reaction, right?" He shrugged. "I think everyone makes their own kind of luck though, and sometimes we gamble with it." Any time he had left the creature comforts of a pack, he gambled with the possibility of some misfortune coming to him. Cara could have tried to tear his face off for turning up around the Spine, or Dante could have told him he had no room for those willing to move on at a whim. The desert of the south could have simply swallowed him whole in his youth.

"What do you think?" he decided to inquire, finding that even when it came to talk of things he had discussed before with others, Mordecai was relatively lacking in the eloquence department on it. Though he had his beliefs of things, they were scant and dusty; he was so very rooted to reality that leaving it had only came in brief glimpses or in dreams from deep sleep.

"Well... I have to agree with you in this one," Osprey replied after a bit of thought. "I have never heard a prophecy that would have stated directly, what would or would not happen. Take the simplest of the simplest as an example - you will meet a tall dark stranger," she paused, giving Mordecai time to imagine, what his stranger of this kind could be and then went on with her own speculations. "What can you tell from it exactly? It can be either a tree you blindly run into during the night, it can be an enraged moose, chasing you, it can really be a tall wolf with black pelt, maybe it's a metaphor for death - my point is it can be many things - which is the right one? The true one?"

"Although... I have always found it a little odd, how fate unfolds sometimes," the polar opposites fell in love, the good person suddenly became evil and so many more. "And, even though I think that you alone ar responsible for your fate... there is this mystery/miracle factor. That doesn't depend on what we do or don't do..."

All those thoughts that she placed out ahead of him seemed to be near overwhelming. She spoke a lot of truth he decided, though just how much he could only guess. Perhaps it was some sort of predetermined fate that had brought them altogether, or maybe it was what brought them all back together. Either way, he could have reckoned that the universe was full of infinite mysteries and coincidences.

"Who really knows," he said, thoughtfully bringing his gaze to the sky in a moment of wonder. "And maybe we'll never know just what makes the world go round or what some things do what they do. Maybe we aren't meant to know." All in all, they were bound to be simplistic creatures bound by instinct alone. Instinct that at times, brought them together and drove them apart. Intrigued them to do something more, or tuck away hidden from the world. But sure, there would always been that element of luck lingering around that brought random chance into place.