Aplos Riverside

Moladion’s powerful, winding river...
Aplos River is a broad, slow-moving river originating from somewhere beneath the mountains of Spirane and feeding Iromar’s moors in the south. The northern parts of the river are known for their strong currents, with the water becoming slow moving in the south. The riverbanks vary along its course, ranging from soft hummock grasses to small groups of pine, and sometimes nothing but pebbles and sand. Crossing can be difficult at times, but it can be swam or bridged by fallen trees or boulders alike.

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in the pursuit of happiness
IP: 108.254.112.58





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

The situation could have been worse, he figured. Sure, he was in a bit of pain, but it wasn't unbearable. Even if he couldn't wriggle himself free, he was in a position that he could wait it out for quite a while until someone else stumbled upon him. Preferably one of his own Gypsies, as it would be a little too embarassing for anyone else to catch him in such a position. He had even been contemplating howling out to one of them, in hopes that one was close enough to hear, when a pale ashen creature approached him with a most contemptuous look.

He knew who the Angels were, as most of the wolves of Old and New Moladion did, and he remembered many faces from their Exodus. Names didn't come to him, and many faces were a blur as his memory held plethoric numbers of them, but he knew that he at least vaguely recognized hers. It was a little difficult to mistake Heyel's children.

Despite her sneer, the smile he gave her was spritely and warm and just a little bit sheepish as he stilled his struggling to try to regard her with at least some composure. "Well, ah, truthfully... yes. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, I'm afraid," he admitted with that goodnatured grin of his, not easily put off by her overbearing attitude. He knew how Heyel's children were raised to view themselves, and couldn't put any fault on them for it. It was simply how they were. "Got my ankle stuck, it seems..."

He glanced back at his wedged leg with a contemplative twitch of his nose before turning his deep sea gaze back to the young masked lady at the bank. "I don't suppose, Miss Angel, that you could, ah... well..." he trailed off, the slightest frown tugging at his lips for a brief moment before he was all smiles again. "Aha, no, it wouldn't be... right to expect you to wade in here and get all wet just to free me... I'm likely a complete stranger to you... I'm sure, ah, one of my Gypsies will find me eventually..."

"... So, tell me... Is your day treating you well?" Right to the pleasantries and polite conversation, despite the awkward position he found himself in.

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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