Daryl Dixon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dirtyredneck) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
wilderlogs2018-04-03 08:53 pm
dirtyredneck) wrote in wilderlogs2018-04-03 08:53 pm
Entry tags:
Dreams ain't usually this clear [Open]
Who: Daryl Dixon and you
What: Scavenging and Hunting and Generally getting a feel for the group
Where: Camp 1: Melai Temple
When: second day of camp onward
Warnings/Notes: third prompt has a mildly graphic description of Daryl eating a dead animal with the express purpose of grossing someone out.
1. Arrival
Daryl wasn't sure if he should believe what he was seeing, what he'd been told during the dream, when he first woke up. What he did know was that he was someplace very different than the Hilltop and something was telling him to go a certain way.
That way led to an old, majestic building that seemed long since emptied despite being in excellent condition. Not wholly unfamiliar to him outside of it looking like it had fallen out of a movie set for some epic fantasy. Inside he found something a little more familiar: a mismatched group of survivors who didn't look at all like they belonged together and most who didn't know what the shit they were doing.
He stood at the entrance to the main hall the majority were gathered in and just stared at them for a while, eyes narrowed and clearly judging them in some manner. He, himself, looked much the titular redneck if anyone was familiar with that term: dirty, hair just a bit too greasy, dressed in clothes that probably hadn't been changed in days and covered as much with motor oil as they were the dregs of whatever swamp or forest he'd been stomping through, leather vest probably the cleanest thing about him and that wasn't saying much. On his shoulder was a crossbow of the sort found in modern-day America (or maybe way advanced, or way behind the times depending on era a body was from). It looked like it had seen more than it's share of action, but it was well-maintained despite this.
2. Scavenging the Temple
It didn't take long to figure out that most of the group didn't know shit about surviving off the land or in a world gone to so much shit that everything was abandoned and anything worth finding was probably going to be hidden. Daryl set out within a half hour of arrival at the temple and started going through every room and everything he could find in those rooms.
Clothing was pretty much shit, but cloth was cloth and could be used to make bandages or bindings for other items. Could have strips of it woven together for makeshift bags, too. Which, considering the lack of backpacks available to the group at large, was probably the better use. He grabbed a few armfuls and set it off to the side in one of the former bedrooms. Joining it a little later came what pots, pans, utensils, and especially: knives, he could find that were worth anything. There was little else to the place worth taking.
Once he had a stash, he sat down on the floor and started tearing the cloth apart to make those loosely woven bags, head lifting when someone wandered by.
A growled "This is my room, my stuff. Touch it and lose yer fingers." when someone got a little bold and attempted to come inside and look at what he'd gathered.
3. Dressing down the kill
Unfortunately for Daryl, the sorts of pots and junk he'd found in the temple weren't the sort that were good for carrying water. And if the group was gonna be walking around sometime soon, which had definitely been implied by the voices, it was going to need a way to carry water. Which meant finding something to turn into a decent canteen or killing something to get some hide. Wouldn't last long without being properly tanned, but it would be something.
It took about an hour to find tracks of a small deer and another two to follow them to where it was grazing. The actual kill had been easy. Field dressing it to carry back went far better than he was used to what with the lack of dead wandering about and attracted to the blood. Still had to worry about natural predators, but so far those seemed to act like ones he was used to and unless they were starving, stayed away from the innards he left on the ground until he'd hauled the deer onto his shoulders and started back to the temple.
Once he was there, he dropped the corpse on the ground next to the fire and began skinning it. There was still a lot of blood in the beast, but hell, it was fresh meat and soon-to-be fresh leather for the cleaning. Not to mention all the small uses they could put the bones to.
When he noticed someone staring, he lifted his head, then dug his fingers into the chest cavity and pulled out some of the bits that were stuck to the ribcage. Meeting and holding their eyes, he put the raw meat into his mouth and started chewing. If someone was gonna watch, he might as well make it a show.
4. Not a people person
Several days in, and Daryl still hadn't properly introduced himself to the group at large. He spent his time alternating between hunting, smoking his kills so they had some meat preserved for the coming trip, making what storage he could out of the cloth scraps, and basket weaving. Fucking basket weaving. He hated doing it, they didn't come out pretty or water tight, but damn if the reed fibers didn't make for better general carry storage than the cloth did. At least in small amounts. Like belt pouch sized. He couldn't get larger ones to hold together that well. Hadn't ever practiced the art much before and after, well, they could scavenge most of their bags and packs from the dead without much issue.
Daryl made a fairly concentrated effort to appear aloof and disenchanted with everyone in the hopes they'd leave him alone while he kept busy. But if anyone cared to pay even a little attention, they'd notice he kept himself close enough to keep track of the comings and goings. And at night, or in the early mornings, he could be found sitting in the temple entrance, bow across his knee, guarding the make-shift camp.
5. Wildcard
[[Daryl is gonna pretend not to care about anyone but he'll generally step up to help out if someone's having trouble with something and will stop to listen if someone wants to talk. So if you want something a little different than above, just tag and we can figure it out!]]
[[Will match tagging style]]
What: Scavenging and Hunting and Generally getting a feel for the group
Where: Camp 1: Melai Temple
When: second day of camp onward
Warnings/Notes: third prompt has a mildly graphic description of Daryl eating a dead animal with the express purpose of grossing someone out.
1. Arrival
Daryl wasn't sure if he should believe what he was seeing, what he'd been told during the dream, when he first woke up. What he did know was that he was someplace very different than the Hilltop and something was telling him to go a certain way.
That way led to an old, majestic building that seemed long since emptied despite being in excellent condition. Not wholly unfamiliar to him outside of it looking like it had fallen out of a movie set for some epic fantasy. Inside he found something a little more familiar: a mismatched group of survivors who didn't look at all like they belonged together and most who didn't know what the shit they were doing.
He stood at the entrance to the main hall the majority were gathered in and just stared at them for a while, eyes narrowed and clearly judging them in some manner. He, himself, looked much the titular redneck if anyone was familiar with that term: dirty, hair just a bit too greasy, dressed in clothes that probably hadn't been changed in days and covered as much with motor oil as they were the dregs of whatever swamp or forest he'd been stomping through, leather vest probably the cleanest thing about him and that wasn't saying much. On his shoulder was a crossbow of the sort found in modern-day America (or maybe way advanced, or way behind the times depending on era a body was from). It looked like it had seen more than it's share of action, but it was well-maintained despite this.
2. Scavenging the Temple
It didn't take long to figure out that most of the group didn't know shit about surviving off the land or in a world gone to so much shit that everything was abandoned and anything worth finding was probably going to be hidden. Daryl set out within a half hour of arrival at the temple and started going through every room and everything he could find in those rooms.
Clothing was pretty much shit, but cloth was cloth and could be used to make bandages or bindings for other items. Could have strips of it woven together for makeshift bags, too. Which, considering the lack of backpacks available to the group at large, was probably the better use. He grabbed a few armfuls and set it off to the side in one of the former bedrooms. Joining it a little later came what pots, pans, utensils, and especially: knives, he could find that were worth anything. There was little else to the place worth taking.
Once he had a stash, he sat down on the floor and started tearing the cloth apart to make those loosely woven bags, head lifting when someone wandered by.
A growled "This is my room, my stuff. Touch it and lose yer fingers." when someone got a little bold and attempted to come inside and look at what he'd gathered.
3. Dressing down the kill
Unfortunately for Daryl, the sorts of pots and junk he'd found in the temple weren't the sort that were good for carrying water. And if the group was gonna be walking around sometime soon, which had definitely been implied by the voices, it was going to need a way to carry water. Which meant finding something to turn into a decent canteen or killing something to get some hide. Wouldn't last long without being properly tanned, but it would be something.
It took about an hour to find tracks of a small deer and another two to follow them to where it was grazing. The actual kill had been easy. Field dressing it to carry back went far better than he was used to what with the lack of dead wandering about and attracted to the blood. Still had to worry about natural predators, but so far those seemed to act like ones he was used to and unless they were starving, stayed away from the innards he left on the ground until he'd hauled the deer onto his shoulders and started back to the temple.
Once he was there, he dropped the corpse on the ground next to the fire and began skinning it. There was still a lot of blood in the beast, but hell, it was fresh meat and soon-to-be fresh leather for the cleaning. Not to mention all the small uses they could put the bones to.
When he noticed someone staring, he lifted his head, then dug his fingers into the chest cavity and pulled out some of the bits that were stuck to the ribcage. Meeting and holding their eyes, he put the raw meat into his mouth and started chewing. If someone was gonna watch, he might as well make it a show.
4. Not a people person
Several days in, and Daryl still hadn't properly introduced himself to the group at large. He spent his time alternating between hunting, smoking his kills so they had some meat preserved for the coming trip, making what storage he could out of the cloth scraps, and basket weaving. Fucking basket weaving. He hated doing it, they didn't come out pretty or water tight, but damn if the reed fibers didn't make for better general carry storage than the cloth did. At least in small amounts. Like belt pouch sized. He couldn't get larger ones to hold together that well. Hadn't ever practiced the art much before and after, well, they could scavenge most of their bags and packs from the dead without much issue.
Daryl made a fairly concentrated effort to appear aloof and disenchanted with everyone in the hopes they'd leave him alone while he kept busy. But if anyone cared to pay even a little attention, they'd notice he kept himself close enough to keep track of the comings and goings. And at night, or in the early mornings, he could be found sitting in the temple entrance, bow across his knee, guarding the make-shift camp.
5. Wildcard
[[Daryl is gonna pretend not to care about anyone but he'll generally step up to help out if someone's having trouble with something and will stop to listen if someone wants to talk. So if you want something a little different than above, just tag and we can figure it out!]]
[[Will match tagging style]]
2
So he's curious about what other people thought worth stockpiling. Robbie was pretty pleased with the flesh hook he'd acquired from the kitchen - the History Channel taught him that boiling was about the best way to safely prepare meat at this time. He who has the flesh hook knows when dinner will be.
"Cool your jets. I'm not here to steal your junk, Sanford." Robbie crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. Daryl looked tough as nails - and acted it - but Robbie wasn't worried about the threat. He held up his broken, bandaged hand. "How do you think I'm going to run away with all that weight in one hand? I was looking at what you were doing."
He indicated the weaving quickly. Robbie tended not to leave gaps in his speech, steamrolling along from one topic to the next in mini-monologues. "What are you making?"
no subject
He gave a soft snort and shook his head, "Knew someone with one hand who'd kick your ass for even suggesting he couldn't take that without breaking a sweat."
There was a moment where he laid the first section of woven strips down and shuffled over to the side to start the next section where he went completely silent. Then he looked back up, "Makin' a backpack. Or something close to it. Ain't got no proper sewin' kits that I could find, so you break the blankets and shit down into strips, weave 'em together, tie the edges up to make the sides and bottom and you got yerself a bag that'll do for the time being."
He quirked his head up to study the kid again, "And 'fore ya ask: Ya could just toss everything into the middle of a blanket and go, but it ain't exactly secure or easy to carry or easy to get inta without droppin' everythin'."
no subject
Watching the progress, Robbie nodded along at the explanation. He thought he could see how it would work. It was like one of those potholders kids made at summer camp, but he can’t see the way to shape the sides. “It’s an interesting idea… I don’t know about ripping up good blankets because everybody's not as warmly dressed as me.”
His hoodie put him in the upper echelon as far as that was concerned. Robbie was worried about the kids in t-shirts. “But bags are almost as useful. Maybe if we just rip up the scratchy ones… okay, I’m sold. Teach me how to do it? I’ll help you with this one – which is 100% yours, bro – and then I wander off in search of itchy blankets proclaiming the good news of the Manbag Messiah. Deal?”
no subject
He did however jerk his head toward the pile, "Grab a blanket and cut it longways inta three inch strips."
no subject
Picking the material that felt worst against his skin happened to coincide with it being the thickest, strongest material in the heap. After pulling it free, Robbie helped himself to a knife as well and began alternating cutting and tearing the length of the blanket into strips. He could've used his pocket knife, but this one looked sharper. He thought it might be the kind of knife you could put an edge back on, if it got dull. "How do you know how to do this, anyway? No offense, but you don't look like the arts and crafts type."
no subject
"It ain't arts'n'crafts when ya gotta make do. It's just makin' do." He looked over to see how far along Robbie was with the cutting. Not very far, but kid was doing decently even strips, which was better than nothing for someone that ain't done it before. "When ya get the blanket broken down, trying folding the strips longways inta three times. Should get a thicker, inch long strip that way. Don't worry if it don't hold. Can always twist 'em up when we get ta weavin'em if we gotta."
no subject
Folding the thick material isn't as simple as it sounds. The narrow strips don't want to be forced into tighter confines. "I wish we had an iron or pins or something. I'll keep an eye out for them. How's this?"
no subject
He reached out and took one of what Robbie had and set his foot on one end, then folded the part closest to it into thirds. Then he moved his foot up to hold onto that part. Then he folded a little more and rested a knee on that part. Then he took a hand and made a fist and ran it between his knee and foot, forcing the crease to stick. When he was done, he lifted his knee, raised his toes, and pulled the fabric down to start on a new section. Through it all, he'd only used one hand.
Daryl lifted his chin at the others Robbie was having a hard time with, "Just take yer time and do it like that. The crease'll hold long enough to get some weaving done."
He finished out the strip he'd started and added it to the weave he was working on. Between the time Robbie had begun his part of the project and now, Daryl had managed to mostly finish the second half of what was going to be something the size of a 'tote'. He laid it over the first half with the 'bottom' of the pieces, were the weft was secured becoming the bag opening and the strips along the sides and 'top' tied together to create the 'seams'. Once they were secured to his liking, he cut the excess strips to use on another bag of about the same size. Save for three pieces he braided together for the handle.
It wasn't the prettiest thing in existence, and had no real closure but it was damn sure better than the nothing most of them had.
"You can have this one when ya go off to find yerself some blankets. Should hold a few if ya roll 'em up tight."
[[OOC: the woven sides end up looking kind of like this, except not quite as neat or pretty, with the edges made from tying the loose parts that stick out from the warp and weft.]]
no subject
When it's complete, Robbie got back to his feet and then stopped. The offer caught him so off guard that there's a few seconds where he legitimately didn't know what to say. That was a rare occurence.
Sure, the bag would simplify things, and it wasn't like Daryl didn't have his fair share of supplies. But on the other hand... "Nah, man. I told you - you showed me how you made the bag, and I helped. That was the deal. I don't have anything to trade except my rep and changing the terms'd mess that up, so thanks, but that one's yours."
no subject
He finished tying the handle to the bag and tossed it so it hit him in the chest, tone not so much chastising as it was 'I can't believe you're being this dense', "Makin' more'n'one, dumbass. And didn't say nothin' about trade. If this group's got any chance of workin' together and survivin', there ain't gonna be no scratchin' each other's backs. It's gonna have to be a what the group needs it gets and fuck you if you get in the way sort of thing. You need a bag. You can't make one on yer own right now. You get a bag. So stop being a dumbass, start ripping up the next blanket, and make this go faster."