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

Tripping The Rift
IP: 74.124.117.235



I do not know what it is to 'Play'. The notion is as foreign and alien to me as the surfaces of the moon. My brother and I were separated from one another when the Meteor fell, and even though my mother and I searched and searched for him during the long nuclear winter that followed, we never found a trace of him. She died shortly there-after as well, and I was left alone to fend for myself.

When you're too busy trying not to starve to death there's little room for thoughts of play.

But I Do know that loud noises stress me out. And when I'm stressed out, I get pissed off... and when I get pissed off, well that's when the blackouts happen. And that's definitely, Definitely not good. Not only can't I remember anything that I've said or done during that time... but I always wake up in a nightmarish horror scene of blood and guts strewn about me like a bed of bloodshed.

Bi-toned gems of Amethyst and molten gold fixate on the gathering of wolves near the river, eyes that seem far more raw and feral with beastial savagery then even most average wolves. Vertical pupils refracted, heckles spiking as nerves begin to frazzle and I stalked along the ridge of stones higher up the river bank, watching the odd interaction taking place from afar.

I was a tall varg, and if ever I was given the chance to flourish in a pack and pack on the pounds I'd be a massive giant of a creature. But as it was, I was still lanky and lean with youth, paws looking almost too large for my virile frame that hadn't quite filled out yet. My fur was covered in dried blood, mats and debris.... tangled nearly beyond redemption and thus I'd stopped trying to groom the gore from my coat long ago.

I knew I was a bad wolf, even if I don't remember the bad things I'd done. Once, I awoke to find a pair of eyes, ripped from their sockets, staring straight at me, as if to mock my amnesia. They'd been the eyes of a wolf.

Radars flatten against my silver helm, whip lashing irritably against my haunches as I pause along a perch to stare down at the group below with an anxious expression. A voice calls out, making me jump with a startled, leering jeer as lips peel back in a silent snarl. Skull whips to one side, and I discover that another female is sprawled across another ledge of stones very near where I stand.

Her voice hints at sarcasm, yet another notion I am not very familiar with... What can I say? When you grow up from a pup of only four months to a three year old, half deranged recluse you tend to have Zero social skills. But I can still detect the mirth that drips from her tongue with the haphazard statement, just before she rolls to her other side.

I grunted. "What is....er....'Fun'?" I ventured to ask, voice calloused and rough as gravel, betraying it's clear lack of use.




† D ' M A N A C O †


T R I P P I N G T H E R I F T




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