the grave-digger's handbook [Sorceror]

[laurellaurel]

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[atrb=background,http://img18.imageshack.us/img18/3941/pruepostingtablemiddle1.jpg] "Speech" :: Thoughts :: Actions

Quiet eyes peered up at the sky, willing the clouds to hold their moisture for only a short time longer. The bodies were scattered, and strewn about the straight bit, a long road that ran through the heart of Hexasol. The bodies sustained bloody wounds to their face and neck, and whispers of a battle cry drifted through the empty air. This had once been a place where canines and felines could mingle harmlessly, if so they pleased. Prue didn't know what it was now. It was a battlefield, and a graveyard. It was also her duty, as a soul of the dead, to let all these bodies sleep eternally.

She needed to bury them.

And hell, was that going to be difficult. The ebony colored feline drew herself around a rather large pile of mangled bodies, where they might have been thrown after being killed. She gazed at their feline faces, turning her head to the side. Her ears flicked, her gaze steady. There were five of them, all feline, together, of assorted colors and shapes. Prue couldn't help noticing a young, silver coated tabby, it's expression soft. Hesitating, Prue couldn't help but wonder if the feline was sleeping. She motioned a black paw towards the silver tabby, and prodded her softly. She didn't stir.

The black feline turned her head, feeling somewhat disappointed. Who was going to help her dig? True, it was her job, to dig graves and such, but she found herself rather incapable of doing so. All in all, she wasn't a good digger. If she had to do one grave, she was alright. But fifty was another case. Prue turned back to the small, silver feline. She decided that the tabby was lucky, she must have had her spine snapped. A quick painless death. Not like your own, a tiny thought whispered to her, or any other of these poor creatures. She made a small 'tisk tisk' noise, in relation to her thoughts. Prue pushed the thought aside, and steadied herself. She had a job to do.

Prue sunk her teeth into the silver tabby's scruff, carefully not to drawn blood. She pulled the feline from the pile of bodies, and set her down. Now, she could see the young cat's wound. And she was right, a crushing bite to the spine had killed the poor soul. However much she wanted to bury the creature right then and there, the ebony feline ran into a slight problem. No creature could dig a grave through concrete. And this was the cause for Prue's dislike for the nasty, hard, human substance. She had no idea how she was going to transport all of these bodies to a place where she could dig through the soil. The only place she had found was about a mile away, and it was a small lot that had long since been in disrepair, and had cracked through the pavement, and made a small garden of sorts. And she could not drag a fully grown German Shepard all that way.

Prue paused, looking down at the silver tabby. She was younger then her, and Prue could help but smirk. She held back her laugh, knowing that it was improper. Still, the though just made her smile. As the though crossed her mind, the black feline felt a wet drop on her back. She looked up, and was quickly assaulted with raindrops to the face. Prue lashed her tail, and grabbed the tabby by the scruff again, hurrying along. The faster she started, the faster she'd be done. Not that she had anything better to do, but... Prue had years of practice dragging corpses, and made sure not to trip over her dead companion.

She dragged in the direction of the empty lot, turning around other corpses that she'd be back for. A grisly dog with it's muzzle half bitten off. A orange cat with it's... head... ripped off and vanished. Prue stopped to stare at the once-was-a-cat, and became somewhat irritated with the death eating birds. They always messed with corpses that she was late in finding. Prue shook herself, rain already soaking through her fur. It was going to be a long day, it was.

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[sorcerer]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=style,background: url(http://i54.tinypic.com/ofqaug.jpg) top center no-repeat; background-color: #000000; border: 2px solid #474747;] His paws hurt. Rumor considered this as he padded through the street, avoiding corpses and giant, angry-looking black birds. And, as he wandered along, a nervous-looking little canine, who quickly jerked away from dragging off one of the bodies and dissapeared into an alley. How disgusting. The season hadn't been that bad. Not bad enough to eat other canines, at least, or Rumor would assume so. Then again, he'd heard of instances where large cats killed and ate small dogs, and vice versa. He supposed it wasn't too much of a stretch for dogs to eat each other. Cats, of course, wouldn't. Or not him personally at least. It was somewhat uncouth, and also, an entire dog would be far too much food for just himself. He stared in the direction that the small dog had departed and moved on, wincing slightly. His paws really did hurt. Rumor had decided to travel into the city earlier that morning, before it started raining. Although he wasn't sure why exactly. Something to do with... Foxes and..a tree squirrell..and..tarot card readings. Really, not something that was worth the trip for. Perhaps the remains of what Rumor assumed was a battle might be, though. He picked his way around an assortment of fallen canines and felines, lying side by side in puddles of dried blood and flies. He knew, of course, that there'd been some infighting or something in the dog pack, and that the cat pack had been fighting the dogs who broke away. Other details were somewhat hazier, though. One really couldn't get good information these days. The spies were terrible at remembering things. Their own names, for instance. The black tom found a dry spot and sat down for a bit, planning to rest his paws. Rain immediately started to fall, of course. He twitched irritably and stood up to find a different dry spot. Before all this blood started running everywhere, preferably. In the distance, another cat was carrying a smaller animal by the neck. Dead, probably. Another one of those people. Rumor twitched again, vaguely disgusted. After a moment, it occured to him vaguely that he might do something about it. He toyed with the idea for a moment, attempted to forget it, failed, and limped irritably towards the distant figure. "You there! Put that down; you don't know where it's been!"

[laurellaurel]

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[atrb=background,http://img18.imageshack.us/img18/3941/pruepostingtablemiddle1.jpg] "Speech" :: Thoughts :: Actions "You there! Put that down; you don't know where it's been!" Prue jumped slightly at the agitated voice behind her, and glanced over her shoulder. As she suspected, a feline was approaching her, dark in coloration, small, but too far away to really have a good look at. Prue's fur pricked slightly, and she gave a little flick of her tail. Many a times had she been stopped by an angry family member, and it was all very hard to explain what and why she was dragging about a dead body. It wasn't like she had ulterior motives or something. Gently setting down the silver tabby, for freedom to talk, she turned to face the feline. She was quite small, and from what Prue could see, looked a fair bit similar to herself. Of different body type and shape, of course, but her fur was a deep black. And her eyes, in a tight, agitated glare, a deep gold. "I beg your pardon, miss,"

[/color] Prue stated, giving a slight nod when the feline came closer, "but you must give me a chance to explain myself."[/color] A small smirk appeared on the feline's features, no matter how she tried to hide it. Keeping control of what her body did or did not do was one of Prue's weak points.

Prue gave a small cough, and hid the expression, trying in vain to look somewhat like she was not toying around. "You see,"[/color] she began, pawing at the wet ground absentmindedly, "It's my duty, as a soul of the past, to bury the dead, and send them on into the... other place."[/color] A look of mischief had come over the feline's expression as she murrmered the last word, however much she did not mean it. Prue straighten her posture, as she noticed she was becoming slightly hunched, in her pawing at the concrete. Speaking of which, Prue thought, wasn't this cat limping before?

Prue looked up from her paws, a wayward look on her dark face. She carefully examined the feline's legs, finding no crippling scar of any kind. Pity. The black feline raised her paw, examining a claw in the rain. "Do you, by any chance, know of a certain creature who is fond of digging?"[/color] Prue swiped her tongue over her paw, and placed it back on the ground. "Can't do it all by myself, you know."[/color] Prue said, rather fondly to the stranger. She shrugged, and glanced back at her body. Prue noted that it was becoming a lot wetter then she had suspected, as were the other corpses, and resolved to move as fast as she could, once finished with the stranger.

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[sorcerer]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=style,background: url(http://i54.tinypic.com/ofqaug.jpg) top center no-repeat; background-color: #000000; border: 2px solid #474747;] So she buried dead bodies. Well, Rumor thought there were wierder things in life to do, like being the "alpha of a pack" and, um, he supposed holding people for ransom was strange too. That whole soul of the past thing he wasn't sure about. It was like saying you were the soul of an abandoned building or an angel or God or whatever. Meant nothing unless you could walk through walls. He eyed this odd cat curiously. Could she walk through walls? Would it be considered rude to ask? Rumor wasn't really sure about how spirits of the past were about etiquette. "Well." He frowned darkly. He didn't really know anyone who liked digging, except dogs, and they didn't count as people any more than mice and frogs did. Random had been known to dig on occasion, although not very seriously. Also he had no idea where his brother was. Probably running around yammering about communism and Lenin and how morality was relative, etc. Crazy person. This past spirit person was better off without him. That left..nobody that Rumor knew who liked digging. The polite thing to do would be to volunteer himself. Ugh. Rumor hated helping people, almost as much as he hated dogs and door-to-door evangelists. "Well, I guess I can help you find somebody, shall I?" He attempted to smile encouragingly and looked around in the rain for a likely person. Nobody was in evidence. He grinned maniacally. "Oh look, there's someone! Let's ask him." The black tom stared around a bit and spoke to the air, in a bizarre and very fake bass voice. "Oh, hello mister. This kind lady is in search of a person of the digging persuasion, or a gravekeeper. Would you be one of them?" He grinned again, voice changing pitch into a falsetto squeak. "Well, I am actually a mortician, which is not exactly the same.." "Ah," he said in the bass voice, "But this lady is quite desperate - you see, she cannot bury all the bodies by herself." "I suppose so, if you are quite sure.." "Yes, very, and thank you very much." The black tom twitched slightly, stared at the grey sky, and returned his attention to the female in front of him. His tone of voice returned to normal. "Well, shall we? Burying bodies is a very complex business, of course.."

[laurellaurel]

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[atrb=background,http://img542.imageshack.us/img542/5194/pruepostingtablemiddle3.jpg] actions "speech" thoughts Prue cleared her throat, shifting as she did so when the feline addressed her. She met his gaze with a stare as equally curious. The ebony feline wasn't sure if this stranger was a female, as she had originally. She moved her head back, and tilted it, giving a perspicacious look. By now, Prue was almost sure that it was a male she was talking to. However, he didn't seem so upset that she called him by the wrong gender. Ah, well, maybe he was a... whatever they were called. She couldn't remember the word, exactly. The tom smiled encouragingly at her, and Prue noted she hadn't been listening to what he said. He looked around, and the inky feline figured he was trying to find a digger for her. However, Prue's expression fell from observant to confused. The tom carried out a rather odd conversation with... himself, perhaps. Whoever he was talking to, Prue certainly couldn't see. He finished the conversation that somehow left himself offering to help her. The black feline wasn't sure how this came about, something about morticians and desperation. "Yes, you're right." She stated, reaching to grab her dead companion. The tabby was heavier now that the rain had soaked through it's fur, but Prue didn't mind. She had pulled dogs three times as heavy. She dragged the body a few more steps before turning to look at the stranger. "Phith way, phleash" She murrmered around the tabby's scruff. Hoping he would simply follow if he didn't understand, Prue turned and walked faster, as the rain was becoming more tormenting, and cold. The inky feline had reached the garden-lot a lot faster then she had expected. Maybe she thought it was a longer distance because she had stopped to follow a rather ugly looking dog. It had proved to be a painfully boring experience, as the canine simply sat in a box and fallen asleep. Prue set down the dead tabby, noting it's fur was more of a grey then silver. Prue flicked her tail. Does that mean your fur is a darker black then it was? Prue paused, looking of her back, as to examine her fur. It looked the same as it always had, to her. Is that even possible? She wondered. Prue turned to look at her not dead companion. The tom looked just as dark as he did when she first saw him. "Well," The feline started, planting herself on the ground, as she was a bit tired from dragging a body all the way she had, "The first thing we need to do is find a stick. A good stick, sturdy, but not too big." Prue recited as if from a book, as she had memorized the code of grave-digging long ago. She nodded at the tom, whose name she still did not know, and set off in search of this stick.