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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hoist the colours high---
IP: 71.77.215.83
Posted on March 19, 2014 at 01:21:28 AM by SCALLYWAG



The bilgerat navigates the treeline along the river, picking and choosing with careful steps the twists and turns. Being born blinded in one eye did not really bother her too much, but she ventured a little slower, she tilted her head slightly and on occasion Scallywag had a hard time judging distance. Hunting was a task that would require a fairly significant amount of practice. But, if her rascal of a father could manage it, then the silver wench had every intention of also mastering such a venture. The yearling harlot moved along side the river, taking solistice in the sun and warm. Her winter coat had yet to completely shed, giving her the appearance of one poorly kept. Then again, Scallywag didn't really fit the ideals of youth and beauty that her sister Maud did. Instead, her insides seemed to match her outsides. She was a little unbalanced, a little off her rocker, and between the ear that never really managed to unfold and her blind eye, well....Scallywag was a monster. Yet none of this managed to bother her too much. Her mother was proud of them, and largely taught them to survive thus far. And Scallywag thought herself to do a pretty good job of doing that.

She stops for a moment, pink tongue lolling as she shakes out her fur sending a fury of silver fibers into the air. She needed a place to roll around and dislodge the loose fur that clung to her. She saw the open meadow, and as she approached it she eyes caught sight of a bit of a mahogany. She recognized the way the fur fluttered in the winds. Her nose raised as she scented the winds and caught the scent of Isander. Foreign. Never before smelt. Perfect! Her muscles tensed, her single working eye trained on where he was and she crept forward. She was practicing her stalking, carefully placing her feet in a fashion that she was no louder than the wind that rushed through their ears and trying not to disturb the grass too much.

When the pirate wench gets close enough she lowers herself, staring at the boy that was before her. He was bigger than her and probably older. Perhaps he was already dead. Scallywag then noticed the way his chest rose and fell. Ok, still alive. She shifts her weight and decides that she would pounce on him. Why? Why not? He was the one laying there exposed and not paying attention. If anything, the yearling was teaching to always pay attention to his surroundings. She was helping him survive. She got her legs beneath her and then sprang forward, unfortunately landing short of her target. The wench could not be deterred. She nudged him hard with her muzzle before yelling at him, "BOO!"

HOIST THE COLOURS HIGH



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