Board Thread:Mythical Roleplay/@comment-34928186-20181014015705/@comment-34928186-20181021184703

Otis days ago had shot at what he thought was a migrating flock of large swans until the one he hit seemed to reach out with another limb and cried out in a human scream. He sat there in his karavan in the arm chair with his beer and the football game on sipping on it keeping the recliner up thinking about the situation. He was an avid bigfoot hunter as well now thinking he caught something otherworldly. Otis grew up as a hard redneck down South until moving up in the Apalachias where he found his wife and their passion for big foot hunting. Otis trained his sons well even if the youngest Clayton was a disappointment to the family. The oldest son Brandon set the standard and kept his father's interest going. Otis's favorite at heart was his daughter who was his little girl he wanted to protect. He wrote something down on his notepad looking at his rifle and coughed inhaling a drop of the beer until he finally relaxed.

Rucoa looked around for yet another day she woke up under a teacher's desk and crawled out in her tattered dress. She hadn't found anything to wear but mice and rat skeletons darted the room from her cleanly eating the flesh out. Occasionally she would get a big meal like a raccoon or a deer that wandered in, but nothing bigger than that. It would last her quite a while but the hole through her wing and the shattered bone it caused enabled her not able to escape.