Western RP: play thread

Luis followed, watching his step carefully.

You slog through the heavy growth of reeds and weeds and soft earth, until you eventually reach an upward slope in the land, and the underbrush thins making way for craggy foothills. Finally bounding up above weed-height in the foothills and castina glance back over your shoulders, you notice an imprint, a depression, a clearing of some sort you must have passed within 10 feet of.

Chayton has been at times anxious and skittish in the hunt, on the scent of his prey surely, but someone, or something, else has the wolf on the alert. After that casual moment glancing back over the soft moist, marshland you take note of Chayon, who has become as a snarling statue, facing up the foothills, and glaring, growling toward a point just ahead....

... Buddy is close, but so is danger... what to do? which way to go?

Greg cocks his shotgun and crouches beside Clayton. "Whats wrong, what do you smell?" He stands up and slowly and silently moves ahead, sweeping his eyes back and forth looking for danger.

Through the brush and up the sloping foothills, you see a small cave gouged into the rocks. The clearing in the weeds is too far away from your position on the rocks.

There is no sign of life in either direction, that you can tell...

Greg moves up the slope a bit, hoping it will give him a clear look at the clearing, keeping his eyes, ears, and gun alert.

A man screaming from the weeds, near the clearing alerts everyone to danger...

Lily moves around and tries to make out the noise.

"HELP ME!" screams the voice. "ANYBODY?! HELP ME!! AAAAAHHHHH---"

...then, only a long drawnout silence, and the whisper of the wind across the flowing waves of grass...

Greg jumps into the clearing, gun at his shoulder ready to fire.

As Greg leaps into the clearing, the ground around a sinkhole gives way even more, and Greg finds himself suffering a strange sinking feeling...

..he is slipping, falling into the sinkhole!!! AAAHHHH!

Fortunately, the long strands of grass offer some repreive from the fall, and Greg (hopefully) takes hold, and holds on for dear life...

...unfortunately, the strands are thin and crisp, and withering away strangled in Greg's panicked deathgrips...

..in moments, Greg will meet his fate...

((hmmmm, not happy, very very not happy))
Greg grabs the grass with one hand, and shoves the barrel of his rifle in the ground as much as he can for extra help.

(((btw)))))
Greg shouts, "HELP!!!!!!"

Catori runs towards Greg. she is careful that her feet fall lightly...more so than normal.

Luis pauses for a moment, then thinks of his lariat. He hastily uncoils it from its spot hanging on the saddle and throws a large loop of it to Greg, standing well back from the hole.

Greg grabs the loop and holds on.

Luis ties the other end to his saddle horn, and backs his horse up to pull Greg out of the hole.

Greg stands up and wipes himself off. "Luis, I owe you one. Thank you." he faced the pit. "Whoever it was, is gone now. Lets get up to that cave."

"Be careful, gringo. You don't know what's in there."

Soft-stepping Catori pauses, sighs and casts her gaze down upon the grass around the hole, now glistening in the moonlight...

... there, tangled amidst the dewy strands, the Comanche child spies a sparkle of silver and gold.

2 gold rings, strung upon a silver chain on the ground, in the grass, near the sinkhole....

((and its not a sinkhole sinkhole, exactly... its more like a crack in the ground, that's growing larger, not like people are swallowed up never to be seen or heard of again... its just also dark out now, so there's no seeing the bottom...))