Occam's Razor (OPEN : CHECK OOC)

[StellaTheMutt]

This is the RP thread for Occam's Razor.


Please don't post unless your character has been posted and accepted in the companion thread.


https://www.thefurryforum.com/forums/index.php?topic=36503.0

[StellaTheMutt]

"It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood
A beautiful day for a neighbor
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?" - Fred Rogers



The walls of the courthouse needed painting. The chipped grey enamel showed a layer of tan and white underneath, and the dark wood wainscots that lined the lower half of the walls were dull with a build-up of dust and grime. There had been a time, probably about the time the century old building was brand-new, when craftsmanship and quality were highly prized, when people respected the Courts of Law and the government and fought to protect them. Varia had felt that way, too, once.


At that moment, Ghost felt like the neglected courthouse. She walked along Historic Main Street, passing haughty store fronts and eaves laced with dead ivy. The 19th-century cobblestone clicked underneath her workman's boots.


The rich center of Moorefield was completely and utterly deserted.


The fox continued trudging through the quiet town, shouldering a dusty but sturdy duffle bag, picking up discarded bottles or cans that the traveling passerby thoughtfully forgot. Glass, aluminum was going to become scarce soon enough, and they would be useful to trade.


She never quite imagined that the end of the world would be like this. Except it wasn't really the end, it was just making room for the next uberspecies to inhabit it. Nothing personal.


Ghost left Main and began making the ascent to her new residence. It really was a hike without a vehicle, along a dirt road flanked by beautiful clapboard cabins, flanked by farmland.


The house that she lived in was a modest affair, with two bedrooms and two stories and ugly furniture. Yet there was an old-fashioned ice box that didn't require power to keep cold, a water pump in the backyard, and a rusted Ford pick-up that had enough gasoline to get her to a settlement if she needed to. But there were no hospitals in this old farming town, none for miles, and no point in going anyway. She knew they were out there, with supplies and probably running water and electricity. But women were traded along with the merchandise and everything had a price. Nothing personal.

[Blaiiine]

In the mountains just outside Moorefield, smoke trailed off above the tree line. Blaine sat in front as small fire, with a salvaged coffee pot boiling above. His rifle laid near by, a Remington 700 rifle with a mahogany body. The morning had just begun and it was almost time to hunt, maybe with enough to spare for going into town to trade.


Blaine's camp was small but efficient. A small one-man hammock, cooking rack and various tools. He was trained to rely on the bare necessities, to live on the edge of civilization. As well as being a veteran, his family were survivalists. Obsessed with the idea of nuclear apocalypse, and riding out the fallout. They were right about the apocalypse. Just not the virus.


The pot began hissing and steaming, catching his attention. Blaine removed the pot and filled an old, chipped porcelain cup. He put the coffee pot down and walked to the edge of his camp, looking around the woods. It was relatively quiet, apart from the occasional predator catching it's prey or random gunshot near town.


After finishing his cup and smoking a cigarette, Blaine put his flannel shirt on and fetched his rifle. He headed off into the woods, a predator hunting it's prey.

[StellaTheMutt]

Ghost reached the edge of town, and ducked into the treeline. The orange, red, and yellow forest filled her line of sight as she scanned the dense undergrowth. It was a routine for her to check her traps every four hours or so, keeping track of time by the position of the sun and her own intuition. She trod past fallen logs and moss-covered boulders. It was a cool but comfortable autumn day, allowing for the perfect time to explore more of the area. She kept her gun holstered but she was well aware of its presence at her side--she wasn't naive enough to mistake beauty for security.


Stumbling into a clearing, the fox's eyes first went to the hammock, then to the black shadow in the earth where countless fires must have been made. Taking a sniff, she inhaled the stale but unmistakable scent of another creature. By the smell of meat it was ringed with, the visitor was a carnivore, and a big one at that. She didn't care for competition in these woods, it was all too likely they would steal her game. Taking a step back, she turned her head to where the scent trail was strongest and took off, releasing her gun from her belt and pursuing the scent on foot.

[Blaiiine]

Blaine slowly crept through the brush, keeping his rifle ready and head on a swivel. Wild game was the least of his worries, it was the predators and raiders that were to be feared. He stopped at a few broken sticks, checking for any sign of game. The scent was clear, a buck. And a big one at that. Blaine smiled slightly. This'll be an amazing catch, he thought to himself.


Setting off through the woods, he tracked the animal down to a small pond. It stood there, alone and drinking, never the wiser of Blaine's presence. He stopped and lifted his rifle, taking a deep breath and sighting in the buck. Aiming for the heart, he fired.


A loud crack echoed through the woods and the beast dropped immediately. Blaine exhaled and sighed in relief, pulling the bolt of the rifle back and loading a new round. Walking to the carcass, he took out his knife and got to work cleaning the fallen buck.


As he cleaned the buck, he looked around and listened for any responses to his gunshot. Sometimes, it went ignored. But other times, it brought along a whole lot of hell.