When solid ground grows soft with emerald moss and rivulets of black mud, and coffee-colored water pours slowly around the trunks of densely carpeted trees, this marks the beginning of Laod Mor: the swamp of Blossom Forest. Time itself seems to slow to a soporific crawl . . . the humid jungle air grows stagnant, thick with the scent of rich flooded earth and an abundance of green things that can be found nowhere else—except perhaps Caidir Olc. In some areas of the swamp, water rises so high the only way to cross it is to crawl across fallen logs or massive roots arching from their liquid beds; in other places a wolf might wade easily through the mire—or find a fortunate stretch of mostly dry earth. Pieces of the great river, Glaesfaet Sceawere, also slice through from time to time: small falls that feed into surprisingly clear pools, only to terminate into tar-like pits. Of course, Laod Mor’s beauty shines brightest at night. Here, fireflies gather at all times of the year . . . suffusing the shadowy place with millions of twinkling lights.

Those looking to hunt here of course find a myriad of water prey, including caiman, turtles, fish, crayfish, otters, and toads.


Behind These Castle Walls



Stone cold eyes take in the scene as a whole, but my mind runs on overdrive as I pick apart every tiny detail. This chance encounter has put me on high alert - game on. The first thing I notice is the unusual coloration of the wolf standing before me. And that's saying something coming from the girl who's marked like a common cow. When I scent the air I discover that my companion is a male, and a rather emotional one at that. But he appears to be of average stature, and judging by his emotional state, not much of a current threat. I can nearly breathe in his pain like oxygen. And did I hear a sniffle or two? Closer examination finds that he is, indeed, crying.

Puh, figures. I stumble upon the heartbroken. There's no fun in playing with broken toys.

Still, I keep my posture low in a crouch; ready to strike if need be. If this guy has come unhinged, he has the potential to be a ticking time bomb. Anything could set him off, and he'd be one hell of a battle. A mindless killing machine looking for any excuse to hurt something. Or someone. Looking for any way to release his own pain, to get revenge. Desperation is a funny creature. Suddenly I'm excited, but I keep my body language that of a warning to him to stay where he stands. Even still I wonder what has caused him so much pain. He does not appear wounded. No blood, no scars. Could he be just that weak? My suspicions are confirmed when he finally looks up and whimpers out a feminine name like a pup calling for it's dam. Hope and then realization flash in his strange nautical eyes, and again the tears fall. I watch as the brute flops like a deflating balloon and mumbles something along the lines of an apology. The more I watch, the more I realize that this could be more fun than I had previously thought. A heart this empty is prime real-estate for evil bidding. A lost soul can be easily molded into a thoughtless minion - if done so by a skilled master. Running into this downtrodden boy may have brought me more than I initially bargained for.

I figure the best approach isn't exactly a flirty one, but that's really all I know. So with my wits about me I begin to move forward, paw after paw. I try my best to look innocent and welcoming. At this point I have no doubt that this sobbing boy would run from a dominance battle, tail tucked. From his quiet body language I've realized that he is not yet at the stage of guiltless, coldblooded murder. Not quite read to snap... but all he really needs is a solid push off the edge. Won't take much, he's halfway there. A canvas to paint with bitter rage. I resist the urge to cackle and when I am close enough to feel his heaving sighs on my muzzle, I begin to speak. I fight back the initial acidic sarcasm, my signature lingo, and opt for a softer approach. Here goes nothing...

That's quite alright big boy, I didn't mean to startle.

Not quite what I was expecting, but it'll do. I know it's a lie, but he doesn't of course. And for the next, however long it takes, what he doesn't know won't hurt him. He can't be let on to what my true intentions were when I found him. What luck, really. I take another tentative step and, preparing to spring into action if he snaps, I rub my body along his shoulder. His space is now mine. My coal tipped tail wraps under his clenched, tear-stained jaw as I turn my head slightly to make eye contact again. The words fall from my mouth before even I can stop them -

I can be whom ever you'd like me to be.


/ Fae / Adult / Mate / Offspring / Pack / Rank / Morgin /


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