Ruieze Fields

Open fields and soft grass...
Ruieze stretches far in the midlands of Moladion, laced with streams that feed into Diveen and out of Asteraia at times. The fields are vast, filled with wildflowers and tall, soft grass; trees are sparse, as are rocks, but one can find small shrubs to hide amongst, and the grass itself. To the south of the fields, a Ruieze River widens, and the ground becomes sandy. There is a small, grassy island that can be reached from the banks, with water-birds often congregating on the island rather than the riverbanks.

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when justice isn't enough
IP: 173.209.211.246

Ever attentive, my ears catch the faintest of sounds, the air breezes her scent at me. My masked face slides in her direction as she comes at me, an easily read smile glancing across my face at her raised hairs, and biting look. The lavender and multi-color-speckled eyes meet the deadly intent in hers, blackened ears sliding back as she encroaches upon my solidly maintained bubble, upon the prodding of my instincts, I give a deep and vibrant growl - the tone of which is imbued with all the warnings I could arrange in a single tone.

"I would be able to answer your question more accurately, my lady, if you could tell me just 'who' you are referring to. I am afraid I have only just made it so far into this vibrant land, and you are the single body of wolf I have encountered thus far in my journey." My tones are brisk, matter of fact, and informative - as well they should be when one is speaking the truth. I have not and most likely will refrain from revealing just all of my vivid past, but just as well if she does not ask the questions I am unwilling to give. I speak no further on the matter, simply answering and waiting for her to retort.

At first glance, the young woman is fairly attractive. Her chest speaks of an ability to protect and dismantle, her physical attraction was undeniable, but that attitude. The scars spoke of a warrior, but the tone she used when speaking spoke of a broken spirit. Nasty business, breaking spirits of who could have previously been the most gentle of creatures, those are the worst. From begging and sickeningly sweet and innocent, to nasty and caustic and vicious. What can I say, broken spirits make the best attack dogs and enemy fodder.

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