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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never shall we die---
IP: 71.77.215.83
Posted on March 25, 2014 at 00:44:34 AM by SCALLYWAG



To be perfectly the pirate wench had no idea what hit her. The lack of surprise on the part of the brown wolf who didn't even have enough manners to open his eyes to her perplexed her. Was she not being quiet enough? She'd have to work on that. No pirate could go raiding and be heard before they wanted. It would be a surefire way to lose the booty and plunder that she had every intention of taking. She felt a little disappointed in herself that she was unable to scare him, and he didn't have the common decency to open his eyes and acknowledge her existence...well, she would make him notice her. She opened her jaws in a rush to bite his leg when there was a crash of foliage, a hard hit to her side and then she went tumbling. Thankfully not into the water. The seadog could hardly stand to have a sea-soaked coat. Not that the river was all that salty, but one could pretend. She gasped, finding herself a bit short of breath and unable to catch it until she gave in to never breathing again. It's only then that her breath returned to her heaving chest. She lays where she was sprawled out, taking inventory of her personal effects and deciding then and there that little harm was done to her body.

She glances over to the brown wolf, knowing that if she went sprawling, then he most likely was at least lightly trampled. She then looks over to the river's edge where a muted gray wolf was curled up into herself as if she was thinking that she'd be tarred and feathered. Scallywag got up, shook off the pieces of grass and the chunks of mud that she could. If it was possible she looked more haggard than normal. A singular good eye watches her as a tail wags happily and her head tilts just slightly to the side. "That was a better scare than I mustered for sure..." She glanced over to Isander. "Even Ole Grumpyface here has to admit that. Bravo! Bravo!" She laughed lightheartedly, amused by the destruction that Denali haphazardly created.

Creeping down the embankment towards the embarrassed she-wolf, Scallywag nudges her. "You know, if we team up, we could take Grumpyface down for sure. I'm Scallywag by the way. Who are you? Do you know him?" Her tail wags as her single good eye scans back and forth between the two unknown wolves. It wasn't that she didn't realize that she could be a bit of danger, it's that she hoped she would be. She knew the freelands like the back of her paw, having been born and somewhat raised in them. As for her parents, well, they weren't the sanest of creatures, each having a hearty lust for the darker aspects that life offered. It was hard to see it now, as a yearling was hardly different from a puppy, but Scallywag also craved the darker aspects of life. She wanted to feel tooth and claw, to earn her scars, to be brought to the brink of death only to seemingly conquer it. It was hard to see now, masked in the lightheartedness of youth, but the sea witch was not all there. For now, she was a gangly yearling, disproportionate and unknowing of the ropes--but there was that potential. There was that darkness, swirling behind the depths of her blind eye, coursing through her veins and laying dormant in the musculature that had yet to develop.

HOIST THE COLOURS HIGH



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