<font color=999967 size=1 face=arial>it doesn't exist if you can hide it behind your teeth.</font>

Glorall

Disaster has struck!
Flooding from the north has taken its toll on Glorall. The large tides combined with the increase in water draining from the Ruieze River has flooded the lower regions of the pack. The sandy soil, compounded with so much water, has toppled a lot of trees. Traveling is difficult even when the water is shallower, with the sandy soil below being difficult to find traction on. The daily tides seem to keep the level of flooding fairly consistent, too.

During the low tide, wolves may be able to move around the higher dunes (with some difficulty) but during high tide, the pack is almost impossible to safely navigate. Swimming is possible, but the risk of currants and surges from either the ocean or the river are very real. The island off of the coast of Glorall is untouched by either issue, although it is incredibly difficult to find your way there without being an adept swimmer with plenty of good luck!

Note: Glorall will reopen once 30 posts have been completed (or at Staff discretion). During this time, new threads will receive a 'Surprise','Disaster', and prizes. Glorall is currently not open for challenges.

THE HERE AND NOWALPHA OF GLORALL

Elohim

how long will we blame the devils on our shoulders

His weight is no easy feat to shift, my muscles seemingly straining as I shove into him, uprooting him like some forest beast. He hits the earth with a satisfying thud, my own weight crashing down atop him and into a writhing mess of limbs. I take my prize without hesitation, my head ducking between legs until I find the thick fibrous muscles of the hamstring. It is a bundle of muscle so very important; we take it down first when we hunt for prey, after all. I take it as if plucking a flower, gently at first before digging into it. Blood practically seems to erupt from the initial wound and I swear I can taste the adrenaline on the back of my tongue. The crimson bleeds out across my face, the warmth of it all a stark difference to the brisker winds of autumn.

I feel him squirm beneath me but I do not stop; I merely swallow down the blood and fur. I have taken from him his greatest strength, his trump card over me. This is success. This is the product of my efforts finally come to fruition. It is the pinnacle of several years of life. Who would have thought such a moment might still feel and taste like a mere hunt.

He kicks me, then. It is a hard blow to my face, dislodging the flesh from my jaws. It pulls away neatly, my eye forced close by the impact. It is why I do not see the way he rises so defiantly until I turn to face him with a snarl, my jaws red and teeth bared for the world. I take a slow step forward, feeling the tensile strength of my leg failing behind me. It quivers before jutting back closer to my body, a seemingly useless thing now. Still, I stand braced and as ready as ever, my fur standing on end, tipped and matted with dirt, saliva and blood.

"We all live through taking the lives of others." I respond levelly to him, my lips rising into a sneer, an almost chuffed laughter forcing its way from my ragged breathing. "If I am evil, than you are too. Living itself is evil."

There is silence then between the two of us, a battle of willpower. It turns the air stale. It is then that I hobble forward once more, forcing speed out of myself as I lunge. This time, it is for the throat. I make it clear, a clear warning that I will not hesitate to tear it apart. Then, I will take two burdens from him. If he is so concerned with evil, than I will show him it, and I will take it from him.

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