Susil Crags

Disaster has struck!
The Crags are a series of rocky formations with small caves and crevices throughout. Many of the lower-lying areas of the Crags have been flooded, however, with water pouring in from the Northern stretches of Moladion. Some paths have been completely submerged, and some are nothing more than a few rocky peaks sticking out of the water. The water is fairly slow moving but begins to pick speed up towards the Grotto, becoming a series of intense rapids and waterfalls as it nears the Grotto's entrance.

The area itself is still traversible. However, it can be risky. Large amounts of debris can enter the waterway, creating bridges at times but also creating dams that break and cause ocassional flash-flooding. Be careful, travelers! One wrong step and you could end up finding out where the water goes.

Note: Susil Crags will return to normal once 25 posts have been completed (or at Staff discretion). During this time, new threads will receive a 'Surprise','Disaster', and prizes.

Return to Lunar Children

in the pursuit of happiness
IP: 108.240.160.182





GONE IS THE PALE HAND OF WINTER
HERE IS THE FIRST FLUSH OF MAY

Gypsy paws made it only natural that Hawthorn had as thoroughly explored the novelty of the land of New Moladion as he could. He, too, had tested the air, water, and perhaps even the spirit of their new world, noting all the the vast differences and pausing over the few similarities. Those similarities, however, didn't come in the form of visibly recognizable landmarks. They were more feelings and intuition - a taste in the back of his mouth that was not quite any flavor. He could feel Old Moladion, in places where perhaps what had been the soul of the land had not yet been able to let go.

Perhaps it would never need to let go, and it was up to them to simply patch it together and heal it. They had to bring the life back to a once dead kingdom.

Orca, he had decided, would make an excellent ingredient to New Moladion's salve. She was young, she was vibrant, and she was growing into a beautiful young wolfess. Her bearing had morphed since they had salvaged her and she had grown a knack for observation and understanding - two key precursors to wisdom. At times she seemed intangible and ethereal - just as any piece of a greater soul should be - and then at other times she was very much there, with subdued wit and good humor. He knew she was still hurting, just as the land itself was, and he could only ever hope to say the right thing to bring her a little more happiness... A hope that someday New Moladion would feel right again.

"You feel that, too, then... hmm?" He questioned as he lifted his head towards what appeared to be a coupling of caves a distance ahead, watching her out the corner of his eyes so that the deep, ocean blue of his irises pooled on her and her quirky little smirk. "Moladion certainly doesn't... look the same anymore... but it doesn't feel entirely gone. Mm... It had a soul, I think... A big one... but perhaps made up of all of ours put together?" His ears twitched and flickered as he spoke, usually an indication that he was thinking deep and likely close to zoning out. "Perhaps it is up to us to put it back together again..."

The long bridge of his nose wrinkled up slightly, the dusty rose of his wet snout twitching, as he realized he was likely boring the poor, young soul with his theoretical and spiritual talk. He turned his head back to her unlevel, slightly tilted, with an abashed and drawn out grin. It was a wordless apology that simmered down into both concern and understanding. Even then, the smile did not completely abandon his face, because he felt hopeful for the future and he wanted to reassure her. He couldn't look at the pure, unwavering honesty in her suddenly delicate eyes and not try to fix this.

"Have I grieved?" He reiterated the question slowly, considering, and then nodded his head a single, gentle time. "I grieved when... well, I grieved for everyone we had to leave behind. I know I did not know most of them... so should I then have the right to grieve for them? ... Nonetheless, I do... It was partially my responsibility to save them... I've grieved for my niece and nephew I couldn't save... For Cassidhe and her children... For, ah... the man who sheltered this band two years ago, and his children he died trying to save..." There was a grief, a dull sadness he tried to not let reflect too strongly in his naturally expressive eyes, because though Hawthorn was a gentle and soft man, he was also a strong and steady one.

"But listen..." he spoke again, brighter, after taking a little breath and he leaned a little bit to press his large shoulder to hers. "Grief does not have to chain us... it is as tangible as our hearts allow it to be... The fact that we... well, that we remember the ones we have loved proves that they are not gone... They are still here, somewhere... In us, around us... above us... Watching us and willing us to keep going, to make the... the most of this second chance we've been blessed with."

His smile was broad and earnest - he truly believed the words he spoke, and they were probably a large part of what kept a man such as himself pushing on every day. "They will never leave us alone, Miss Orca... why grieve for those who are right here beside us?"

AND SOON I WILL DISCOVER
WHETHER BIRDS OF THE SUMMER
FLY IN CIRCLES OR JUST... FLY AWAY

HAWTHORN, The Shepherd
Medicine Man of the Gypsies


wolf credited to lakela @ deviantart.com


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