The VERDANTURF Team

With his short claws and squat body the Cubone can’t climb the tree as agilely as the Buizel had; his short nails were more rounded than pointed for digging in the earth not holding on to anything. Instead he nudges the Weavile, climbing onto the ice type’s back as Zhen climbs. Holding on tightly around the dark-furred neck the little Ground Type looks around. On the horizon the bright tangerine orange sphere of the sun turns the clouds gold and rose pink as it sinks downwards. Soon the night will come…
The Buizel, apparently over his mania now he is no longer dwelling on it, locates a sizable hollow and starts to line it with a bed of leaves for insulation against the cold of night.
This tree is both large and rather old with thick spreading branches he can balance on. Helping out the nest’s construction Vier plucks a few softer leaves to line the nest being constructed. The afternoon air is warm…
“Nearly done.” He states as he blinks in the harsh sunlight. A sizable nest for the night has already taken form in the hollow.
Clutching his leather satchel close to him the Cubone steps into the leaf lined nest, bone club safely stored in the leather bag, and sits down.

With a prompting nudge from Vier the Weavile’s body starts to move. Long hooked claws dig easily into the bark to give him a grip as the Dark Type agilely moves amongst the tree’s branches, his body numbly going through the motions of gathering leaves regardless of the strange blankness of the thought that still filled his head. His claws trail across the bark, cutting disconnected squiggly lines in the surface, mere disjointed fragments of the symbols he would usually carve for his pack. Moving on habit he starts to climb higher into the branches of the tree until he can look over the entire area.
The bright light of the sunset dazzles his bright red eyes but he doesn’t notice, merely performing the action out of habit rather than actually scouting.
Leaving gashes in the bark as he clambers back down Zhen looks at the nest for a while with Vier curled up and ready to sleep before he simply flops over in the leaves. The cubone picks up one of his arms and curls it around his own shoulders.

((OOC: One more post then time-skip to morning?))

The sun rises over the horizon, turning the sky a pale shade of ducklett wing blue as it spreads light into the horizon. Dawn was a gradual process and the increasing brightness caused Vier to awake long before the sun had actually fully risen.
The diminutive ground type yawns and stretches his body out. His stubby spined tail twitches as he gathers the worn leather satchel up in his arms. It's scarred surface has warmed faintly from where it has been pressed against the Cubone's sleeping body. Carefully Veir plunges one stubby clawed hand into the sack and rummage around. finding a pock-marked but otherwise perfect Pinap berry is still good to eat he carefully uses the sharper edge of his shattered clubs to cut through the fruit's tougher and very sour skin to the warm spicy flesh underneath. He knew that most pokemon may not like the strong tasting fruit but the spicy flesh of a Pinap always warmed him up inside and made him feel happier. Hopefully the Buizel wouldn't mind...
Carefully he cuts free a chunk of dripping flesh from the fruit and eats it happily, a strong of juice running down the curves of his mask of bone.
There is a rustle beside him as the Weavile rises. Veir couldn't remember the last time he had seen Zhen sleep properly. Those red eyes were always watching him...
“Good Morning Zhen~” He says cheerfully.

Zhen seldom slept anymore. His disease ridden body didn't require the rest, his fogged brain never recovered from its blurriness no matter how long it rested. Instead he rested with his eyes open, sinking deeper and deeper into a foggy state while he waited for the flicker of movement that meant danger.
At night the woods had come alive with the sounds of chirping insects and hunting noctowls. The eternal guardian Zhen had simply waited, curled up in the nest of grass next to Veir. The Cubone's living body had bought some trace of warmth back to the Weavile's chill corpse. As the Cubone had woken up and moved away from him to eat the Weavile slowly called life back into his dozing limbs and rose also. His one visisble crimson eye scanned the treetops. The sunrise turned the fluffy clouds beautiful shades of rose and gold but the undead can't appreciate the sight or the smell of fresh berry being carved for the morning meal.
He doesn't reply to the Cubone's cheerful greeting. Rather he simply waits for any sign of attack from the nearby branches.

“Good Morning Baloo.” The little Cubone says cheerfully as he looks at the remains of the berry. Pinap's weren't the biggest berries and but there was plenty here for two provided the Buizel didn't mind the strong taste of the fruit.
Carefully he opens up his leather satchel and looks inside. There wasn't much left in the way of food so maybe it was best to go searching for some more berries after all. Even if Zhen didn't eat berries anymore there was only enough for three, maybe four more days. Well it gave them something to do while they were on their way.
The little Cubone smiles.
"Mr. Buizel, would you like some Pinap?" He asks, offering the untouched portion of the berry as he wipes a dribble of clear juice from the corner of his mouth.
He had a feeling today was going to turn out just fine!
Turning around he smiles up at Zhen.
"Are you hungry?" He asks the Weavile, wondering if the Dark Type would like one of the dead bodies that still litter the ground.

Zhen stays still, looking warily over the tree tops. Even the faintest rustling of leaves draws his attention before he discards it as the action of the wind. Even with his bloodlust satisfied by last night's massacre the Weavile is on edge. This forest was not his forest. There was no snow or sharp needles. The air here was warm and stunk of a hundred different plant scents rather than the clean notes of snow and pine.
The Weavile drags his claws subconciously over the tree bark, carving a distorted little squiggle that is indecipherable as a hunting sign.
This is not his home, the dark type did not know what here was danger or not.
His one eye watches the Buizel climb. His scattered thoughts have still not come to a conclusion of wether the water type was a friend or food.
Vaguely Zhen becomes aware that he's hearing Vier talk and looks down at the little Cubone. His mind is too fogged to understand the meaning of the noises coming from the Ground Type's mouth.

Vier smiles sincerely.
“Glad you like it.” He says with a wide grin as he chews a bit on the fruit's tough sour skin. The powerful taste wasn't particularly pleasant but unlike before Epidemic times he couldn't be wasteful and just discard it. Still chewing on the pulp he wipes then sharp end of his bone club clean and slips it back into his satchel. Adjusting the leather strap across his shoulder the Cubonen stands and lightly taps his undead guardian's knee with his hand. Turning bright red eyes on him the Weavile obediatly kneels and lets Vier scramble onto his back. Resting on the Ice-Type's shoulders and peering around the bright scarlet frill that topped Zhen's head like a crown.
Even if the Weavile didn't talk anymore Vier could tell that he probably was hungry. Time to go down and find him something to eat before they continued on their journey to Mt. Chimney.
Holding on tight to the Weavile's back he lets the larger Dark Type carrying his down the tree. His tan hands with their short nails were made for scooping away at dirt not climbing.
Scrambling down fom his guardian's back as the Weavile fixates on the corpses Vier bounces lightly on his heels as he surveys the area.
"Let's get going then~" He says cheerfully. This place was bad luck, he'll feel better once he's left it behind.

The Weavile's nose twitches underneath the dirty covering of white bandages as he picks up the scent of old congealed blood. The hunger that often consumed his thoughts had ebbed after last night's feed but in the fog of his undead mind he already found himself moving towards the body.
A Poochyena, grey fur tainted with purple, lies in the sticky pool of its own blood. The Weavile's sharp claws had carved an angry red crescent in its throat and the creature had bled to death unable to even think of stemming the flow of blood. One wide eye, bright red even in permananent death, stares blankly at the sky.
Zhen reaches down and tears of a leg with the sound of ripping skin and flesh, bracing one clawed foot against the corpse as he wrenches the limb free.
Raising the layers of white cloth from his face he digs sharp teeth into the skin, ripping the grey fur loose from the flesh and discarding it.
With no sign of bloodlust in his visible crimson eye the scarred Weavile digs his teeth into the bare flesh and begins to feed.

“That would be nice.” The little Ground Type sighs.
True the overly sweet Pecha berries weren't his favorite but it would be good to be in a place were all kinds of berries could actually grow. After all berries weren't only food, they helped at other times as well. If either of them got poisoned they'd need the sweet tasting Pecha's to cancel out the poison.
He only had a few berries left and none of them would be much help if they got into a real fight.
Vier straightens his leather satchel across his back, the human made bag falling to one side of his stubby tail.
As he walked it thumped lightly against his back.
"Come on." He says cheerfully to the Weavile, reaching his hand down to the tall ice type.
There is blood around the undead's mouth and the thick shape of his scars can be seen but Vier is far too used to the sight to be scared of him.

Zhen swallows the last shred of rotten meat, dropping the picked clean bone to the ground as Vier approaches. Pulling his bandages back up to once again conceal the scars on his face the Weavile stands back up and looks down at Vier with his one red eye.
If there was more emotion in his gaze he would have looked expectant.
Instead he flicks one red feathery ear and slowly starts to walk after the little Cubone.
His large hooked claws are still covered in blood.
Absentmindedly he raises them to his jaws and tries to lick the blood off. His severed stump of a tongue twitches pathetically but cannot quite reach the smear of blood.
Instead he inserts his claw tips into his mouth like a Teddiursa with honey and sucks off the blood as he walks.

((ooc: vier looks at the rocks and sighs then asks what they can do))