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.

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The she-wolf had been resting behind the curtain of a small waterfall, distancing herself from whatever was going on in the world outside. Her thick coat kept her fairly warm, despite the breeze and mist, and she was comfortably asleep on her side, paws twitching as she dozed. Even awake it was hard to hear anything beyond her damp, thunderous refuge, so when a sudden cry pierced her dreamless slumber, Fathomís eyelids flew open, jade eyes wide and darting. She rolled into a sitting position, listening hard, wondering if she hadnít imagined the sound.

Crack

Fathom stood, nostrils flaring, certain now that she was right. There was something going on just outside her resting place. She needed to know if there was danger, and she was no coward. Cautiously she followed the rocky path out into the fading sunlight, her toenails clicking quietly against the stone beneath her feet; it was so hard to be silent here. The final corner of her cave-like sanctuary would force her into the open, otherwise she could see, hear, smell nothing, her senses drowned by the falling water.

A final breath, and she stepped out, body low and taut in preparation for a fight or a quick getaway. She hugged the inner edge of the wall and blinked into the setting sun, searching for a shadow. Before her eyes could adjust she smelled the blood, hot and heavy on the evening air. The smell did not make her hungry. It was too familiar. Threatening. She became very aware of the life that coursed through her body and shrank a step back, unwilling to venture any closer to the bloodied carcass, or the creature rifling through it.

Another wolf.

He was set against the horizon, his body in shadow. He raised his head from the kill to take a breath and the blood dripped from his muzzle. The victim wasnít moving. He was certainly dead. Fathom had heard him die; she had heard his body being broken. The killer wasnít aware of her yet. She could back away and seek safety behind the waterfall. There was time. As she backed away, something passed along the cliff above her, disturbing a rock which clattered down into the entrance behind her. The sound, however minimal, rang in her ears. It would be enough to draw the murdererís attention, if he chose to address it. But she couldnít make herself run.

Fathom froze, eyes locked on the shadowy, bloody figure.

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