#oakydeer

@oakydeer

Closed Starter with @oakydeer !

A twig snapped underfoot, and Arthur winced at the sound. Everything felt so loud, when the woods were this quiet. And while normally he wouldn’t be worried about making noise, today was a special occasion. Reports of some person with a rabbit mask had filtered down the grapevine and ended up being sent to him, but by the age of some of the reports, it’d be weird for it to be just one guy. A lot of people seemed to think the place was haunted, and speculation continued to circulate even today.

Arthur knew where he bet his money. Which was exactly why he was tromping through greenery, trying to be quiet. After all, after the camp shut down, why bother sticking around? If it was a person causing issue, the middle of nowhere didn’t make much sense as a ground to mess with people at. But a spirit....? Sometimes they were anchored to the world in one spot. Sometimes they didn’t know they were dead, and sometimes it was just easier to be surrounded by the familiar, even as it changed.

Either way, the marked disappearances were more than enough reason to check the place out. If someone-- living or not-so-much-- was causing trouble, he’d  make sure it’s safe for the next person who reads about it and decides to come up here. Probably some amateur ghost hunter or a couple of thrill-seekers. He was no expert, he wouldn’t go that far, but he certainly had more experience at this point than most. More than enough to know what to do and how to help. More than enough to get the job done if they were dangerous and more keen on killing and maiming than assistance.

More than he’d ever wish on someone else.

It wasn’t a bad job, if you didn’t care about almost dying sometimes. Most people did, as far as he was aware, which was why only the naive or the fucked up tended to be on the case. But he didn’t mind it. It made him feel..... good. Like he was doing something worthwhile. And with his friends-- away, he had even more of a responsibility, when it came to sticking with it, even if he didn’t want the job. Someone needed to take up the mantle, and it wasn’t going to be a bright-eyed team of mystery incorporated wannabes who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. Not on his watch. No, he needed to make sure someone else didn’t get his experience. Or at least not the way he did, where it haunted your every idle thought. He was built to do a job like this. If it hurt sometimes, that just meant someone else didn’t have to suffer in his stead.

Arthur tugged on the strap over his shoulder, and the leather bag resting on his waist bounced. It used to be for tools, but now it was repurposed for gear. He wasn’t sure what he’d need, so he packed a myriad of tools. The first he’d pulled out was the flashlight, with the overhead canopy blotting out much of the sinking sun.

The beam danced over the vegetation with a shift of his wrist, and it helped him avoid making more sound than necessary. The incline bordered on what he’d call steep, and at least some of the leaf-litter was gone in patches, presumably washed down the mountain in the rainy season. Most of the trouble was sticks and branches, so the flashlight helped. He cupped his hand over the head’s lens, to keep it dim and subtle rather than a dinner bell. His presence was only announced by the rustle of grass, and the occasional thump of his bag on his hip.

It took a few hours of wandering and consulting a packed compass and map, to find what he was looking for. Eventually, the treeline had opened up into a clearing, and he’s spilled out of the undergrowth onto a dusty dirt road. The path went two ways, but one led further up the mountainous terrain, so he had an idea of which was was the right one. Arthur took to the road at a brisk pace, still keeping his light down, especially as twilight started dimming out the sky in reds and purples.

He was right. Arthur reached what had to be the camp as the stars started glinting overhead, the full moon casting pale light over him and the surrounding. It looked like--- log cabins. A few had roofs caved inwards, and leaves scattered  inside. The ground also had loads of them compared to further down. Probably since here it was flattened out more and they were harder to wash away. Hell, trees from further up probably had some of their runoff getting deposited here. Some spots looked deep enough to wade in.

Not that it really mattered, but if he wanted to stay on the quiet side, he’d probably need to watch his step.

This had to be the abandoned camp, right?

Probably. It felt like a ‘no shit Sherlock’ question to ask himself, but it wasn’t like it was impossible for another place to be around. But it was pretty clearly deserted. He chanced uncovering the light, and flicked it over the buildings. The dirt had turned to bits of gravel, and they crunched underfoot as he started to move. But at least that was only the main road. As soon as he moved onto the paths further into the camp, they were dirt again, and dampened his footsteps.

The first thing he checked were the cabins. A quick shine of his light didn’t reveal anything amiss. But after looking into a few of them, there was clearly a pattern. The mess hall and other main buildings didn’t share it, but all the cabins with dilapidated beds all had carvings and markings of a different animals as a motif. Once cabin had nothing but squirrels, one with bears and another with wolves. The third one he spotted was a rabbit of some kind. Maybe the cabins were sorted by them?

The sightings had mentioned a rabbit ears on the mask (some claimed they were devil horns instead, but that was the internet for you), hadn’t they?

Hey howdy, some other art people and I are doing a silly little stream this Saturday, come along if you'd like :)

It’s Valentine’s month💕

❤️-Hold hands with my muse

“Hm? Oh hallo there! Ye havin’ a nice Valentine’s Day?” Lucan asked, squeezing his captured hand and grinning.