You A Ho And I Ain't Talking Santa
12-15-2018, 04:42 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-15-2018, 04:48 PM by Valentine.)
Seasonal Skill Prompt - Intellect
Ugh, it was time to dig out his den under the tractor. Valentine had been putting it off. The task was so mundane, taxing and boring that he'd done everything except this one thing. In fact, the only reason he was doing it now was because it had occurred to him that if Rhythm wanted to den with him, one of them would have to lay on the other for them both to fit - which was totally fine with him, but he thought she might object after awhile.
With a sigh Valentine got to work. Thankfully he had plenty of rage inducing material to think over and fuel his activities. Another reason he wanted to have his den ready was so that if he didn't return from the battle with the slavers, she would be prepared for winter. No doubt, without him holding her back she'd join Abaven, but on the off chance she didn't he wanted to leave her with enough things to get her through the snow season.
With the help of Amadeus, his grandson's mustachioed monkey companion, he planned on smoking and storing meat. Again, not for him. He was kind of a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy and usually never thought about things like that for himself, but if he died in the conflict he would be leaving a blind lady to fend for herself. And if both Rhyme and Shaye fell with him, who would look after Rhythm? Jupiter had said he would keep an eye on her, but that didn't sit well with Valentine. While his grandson had good intentions, Valentine doubted Jupiter would provide her the case he wanted her to have. And if they all were captured and killed, then what? He just wanted to be prepared.
With a growl Valentine paused to shove a pile of freshly displaced dirt out of the den's entrance. He would use it to block some of the bigger holes around the tractor's belly to better insulate the den. Later, anyway. For now he still had more digging to do and it was proving to be more difficult than he'd originally thought. The ground under the tractor was uncharacteristically rocky for The Range. He coldn't get more than a few inches without scraping his claws on a stone. Inevitably he then wasted precious time trying to pry the stone from the ground so he could continue digging.
Valentine huffed and then scowled at the far wall. He was going to have to find something to pad the floor with. While it may have worked fine for him to sleep on the ground, if he was going to continue the trend of improving it with Rhythm in mind he could certainly do better in the comfort department. Perhaps the hides could be collected from the animals he was going to preserve.
Okay, he needed to get back to work otherwise he was going to be at it all day. His thoughts went to his winter plans and he was able to attack the dirt with glee.
If all went according to plan they would attack when the seasons changed. They would wait until a heavy snowfall gave them cover and then they'd make a mess of the camp. In the beginning Valentine had been content to massacre them all, but now that he'd had time to cool down he had half a mind to take captives himself. Wouldn't that be some shit? Find the bastard Rhythm hated the most, neuter, blind and pull out his tongue, and then keep him as a pet. He could use a jester to brighten his days.
The rest who survived the onslaught, he mused, could be sold. It seemed a fitting end for those who had stolen from him and subjugated his son. They would get a taste of what they'd done to his beloved and their child. Valentine ached to think of what had been taken from his son. Valentine would have raised him to think he was capable of anything. To be fearless, proud of his heritage, and to think himself a prince. That Rhyme had grown up weighed down by the yoke of slavery saddened him deeply. Now, years later, he couldn't give him those things. It was too late.
Thoroughly disquieted by his thoughts now, Valentine finished his den and exited it. He stood outside it and stared down the entrance. His mind was elsewhere and it showed on his face. The old king's expression was broody. He'd fixed his thoughts on the slavers to motivate him, but his thoughts had gotten away from him and taken him to a place he didn't want to be. Honestly he couldn't wait for the day it was over. Then, if he wasn't dead, he could rest. Maybe then it would be easier to put such painful thoughts out of his mind.
In the meantime, he needed a distraction. He ached for something, anything, to take his mind elsewhere. If Cascade had been alive- NOPE, there was yet another subject he needed to stay away from. Valentine steered his thoughts away and focused on putting distance between himself and the tractor.
--------OOC: if you want to reply to this, this bit is all you need to know---------
After adopting an easy lope, Valentine set his sights on the distant Battlefield. It was terribly unwise to invite injury on the eve of a big battle, but he needed to get his mind off the thoughts that plagued him. Only two things could do that reliably and the old casanova thought it significantly more likely that he'd find a fight on the battlefield than a flirt on the prowl.
With a sigh Valentine got to work. Thankfully he had plenty of rage inducing material to think over and fuel his activities. Another reason he wanted to have his den ready was so that if he didn't return from the battle with the slavers, she would be prepared for winter. No doubt, without him holding her back she'd join Abaven, but on the off chance she didn't he wanted to leave her with enough things to get her through the snow season.
With the help of Amadeus, his grandson's mustachioed monkey companion, he planned on smoking and storing meat. Again, not for him. He was kind of a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants kind of guy and usually never thought about things like that for himself, but if he died in the conflict he would be leaving a blind lady to fend for herself. And if both Rhyme and Shaye fell with him, who would look after Rhythm? Jupiter had said he would keep an eye on her, but that didn't sit well with Valentine. While his grandson had good intentions, Valentine doubted Jupiter would provide her the case he wanted her to have. And if they all were captured and killed, then what? He just wanted to be prepared.
With a growl Valentine paused to shove a pile of freshly displaced dirt out of the den's entrance. He would use it to block some of the bigger holes around the tractor's belly to better insulate the den. Later, anyway. For now he still had more digging to do and it was proving to be more difficult than he'd originally thought. The ground under the tractor was uncharacteristically rocky for The Range. He coldn't get more than a few inches without scraping his claws on a stone. Inevitably he then wasted precious time trying to pry the stone from the ground so he could continue digging.
Valentine huffed and then scowled at the far wall. He was going to have to find something to pad the floor with. While it may have worked fine for him to sleep on the ground, if he was going to continue the trend of improving it with Rhythm in mind he could certainly do better in the comfort department. Perhaps the hides could be collected from the animals he was going to preserve.
Okay, he needed to get back to work otherwise he was going to be at it all day. His thoughts went to his winter plans and he was able to attack the dirt with glee.
If all went according to plan they would attack when the seasons changed. They would wait until a heavy snowfall gave them cover and then they'd make a mess of the camp. In the beginning Valentine had been content to massacre them all, but now that he'd had time to cool down he had half a mind to take captives himself. Wouldn't that be some shit? Find the bastard Rhythm hated the most, neuter, blind and pull out his tongue, and then keep him as a pet. He could use a jester to brighten his days.
The rest who survived the onslaught, he mused, could be sold. It seemed a fitting end for those who had stolen from him and subjugated his son. They would get a taste of what they'd done to his beloved and their child. Valentine ached to think of what had been taken from his son. Valentine would have raised him to think he was capable of anything. To be fearless, proud of his heritage, and to think himself a prince. That Rhyme had grown up weighed down by the yoke of slavery saddened him deeply. Now, years later, he couldn't give him those things. It was too late.
Thoroughly disquieted by his thoughts now, Valentine finished his den and exited it. He stood outside it and stared down the entrance. His mind was elsewhere and it showed on his face. The old king's expression was broody. He'd fixed his thoughts on the slavers to motivate him, but his thoughts had gotten away from him and taken him to a place he didn't want to be. Honestly he couldn't wait for the day it was over. Then, if he wasn't dead, he could rest. Maybe then it would be easier to put such painful thoughts out of his mind.
In the meantime, he needed a distraction. He ached for something, anything, to take his mind elsewhere. If Cascade had been alive- NOPE, there was yet another subject he needed to stay away from. Valentine steered his thoughts away and focused on putting distance between himself and the tractor.
--------OOC: if you want to reply to this, this bit is all you need to know---------
After adopting an easy lope, Valentine set his sights on the distant Battlefield. It was terribly unwise to invite injury on the eve of a big battle, but he needed to get his mind off the thoughts that plagued him. Only two things could do that reliably and the old casanova thought it significantly more likely that he'd find a fight on the battlefield than a flirt on the prowl.
NOTE: Valentine has a female striped skunk companion named Lefty. Unless stated otherwise assume she's present.
Current time: 11-21-2024, 01:57 PM
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