At one point in time, Misty Mountain stood opposite of Rainbow Cliff, and these rose to the sky as the only peaks in Blossom Forest. Since the magical change of the land, an entire chain of peaks rose from the bowels of the earth to become the Culter Unlaeddod - the Teeth of the Gods. Misty Mountain is still of the peaks, but many others exist as well. They run from north to south, from east to west. Atop some of the peaks, snow covers them year round, making the paths slippery and hazardous. Others are lower in altitude and are extremely humid, covered in thick, dense forests with mists swirling between each of the trunks. Others still are bare - naked boulders rising and falling haphazardly.

These chains of peaks do connect many of the packs, and they hold many things to explore - forbidden forests, deep and mysterious caves, beautiful scenic cliffs. However, one must have care - if you fall, it is a long, long, long way down...

Due to the varying terrains, many prey options are available. For those scared of injury, you may find ptarmigans, ravens, crows, squirrels, dormice, or rabbits. The adults hunting alone can find mountain goats... but for those hunting in a pack, there are elk, moose, and Bighorn Sheep.

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{Pompeii} INTO OBSIDIAN
IP: 154.5.63.177







Now I see fire, burning the trees. And I see fire, hollowing souls
~yreo: A large fire




The thunderous growl that slipped through the white phenomenon’s throat was accompanied with a few droplets of blood; they scattered in a ominous painting upon the snow. The wounds from his battle with Abendrot’s finest were fading; no, it was a new habbit of his that colored the snow red. Pyreo had taken to chewing through the flesh around his tongue and cheeks. The queen had dragged herself away, broken and defeated yet, but she had GOTTEN AWAY. He was paying for his flawless control. Should she have strayed into his sight now? Pyreo thrashed at the air, head swinging back and forth like an irritated beast and jaws clashing shut. SNAP. Should she simply reveal a paw to his seething eyes… the carnivore would have ripped her open, jaw to belly, in pleasure and relief.

The alabaster fiend turned a pitiless gaze down hill. He knew it he was too far but still the scent of Abendrot drifted through his skull. It was the King he wanted to “see”. This white icy bastard whose FREAKING BRAIN was probably black with the devil. Great rumbling thrummed through Py’s chest: he was writhing at his restraints of grace and elegance. Every moment of thought was consumed - ravaged by the festering evil that lay below.

None can be trusted. They are weak - susceptible. It was only with tremendous effort that the obsidian souled creature turned and continued up the mountain. His shoulder still burned - that miserable whore pissed him off with her stupid luck. Py lashed out again - this time his treacherous daggers seized around a hanging branch. The beast whipped his powerful neck back and the branch tore off in a screeching keel. Throwing it aside, the varg hunched his shoulders and ploughed on. He was exhausted and self mastery was leaking from his veins to reveal the ebony wires underneath. Pyreo threw himself forward, leaving a massive trench behind - he would work it off, until his stone placidity returned.

And why must he leave his mission untouched? The canine snarled, baring icy daggers at the world. This time he had plans, ones that would help him with his objective. Yes. By himself, eliminating the infected souls was tedious… but with an army? Much easier, much faster, much more effective. He wanted a tool. How very ironic, he snorted, that the very problem was to become a solution. Py doubted very much that the wolves within Abendrot had one independent thought - not with that monarch drinking in his quota of power until his very stench reeked of steroids. His thinking: eliminate the source and the material is still salvageable.

So very satisfying. unlike insufferable warlords, Py’s mind was always calculating. No matter how much BLOODY FRUSTRATION consumed him, Pyreo could always wrap his mind around the ignorant fools he sought to eliminate.

Fur emaculately polished from the snow, the pallid carnivore jolted to a stop. Ragged breaths left steam in the air. He was a fire breathing dragon for all anyone could tell. It wasn’t working - this trek. Like an elixir of adrenaline, the itch still persisted. At that moment he very much wanted to rip someone’s head off. Its not like it would matter who; they are all victim’s in the end. But, as there was no one to give him this pleasure, Pyreo stood - still as stone but coursing with liquid energy - and worked furiously to regain control of his mask.

He had heard the King was a snowy guy, just like himself. Funny, though white and thick, the dragon’s fur stood out in the elements. Come out, come out, where ever you are, my fat snow rabbit. Unlike the ivory monarch, HE was not some bulky animal, born on nature’s soft cushions. He betrayed no sense of cold; the snow was like an old, mocking friend, the only thing that would return to his mountain after it had been set on fire. That was okay though, Pyreo had always preferred the unyielding ash of his volcano.

X . x . X . x . X

.:. Pyreo .:. Male .:. Loveless .:. Soare .:.





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