Glaesfaet Sceawere is the name gifted to the mother river that flows through the center of Blossom Forest, bringing life and sustenance to all of the lands. It breaks off in many places, giving birth to smaller streams and estuaries, but the main body flows from the lake high in the north in Dierne Hrof all the way south down through Uyaraut to empty into the ocean. It is a fresh water river, but down through Uyaraut, the salt water does taint it. In places, parts of the river are underground and run through caverns unseen from aboveground.

Water buffalo grace these shores - with plenty of meat, though at a dangerous cost. Many river trout leap upstream daily.


The Way of the Warrior

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The Way of the Warrior

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She had cried out and when he turned around to face her, he saw that she was on the offensive, her withers raised and pinnae lain flat upon her cranium. Her orbs studied him, and when she finally spoke, it was in rhetoric. Do you always run over girls in the middle of the day, or did you make an exception just for me? Aindreas’ head jerked upward and he shook it slightly. His arctics lowered downward as he searched for words, and coughed once, trying to clear his throat. “No, miss, I have never before ran over one such as yourself. Truly I did not mean to, I am sorry indeed that I did. Are you quite alright?” Having not grown up around other vargs, thing like sarcasm, rhetoric, and jokes were often lost on him. He took words for their exact meanings, and replied as such.

The ivoro brute extended a single limb and pushed his weight backward, leaning forward slightly to bow toward the femme. He paused for a moment in his lowered position before rising once more. His arctics caught onto her ambers and he let loose a small whimper in apology. “I am Aindreas, if it pleases you, miss. Is there anything I can get you or do for you to make it up to you? If you are injured, there is a skilled healer in my father’s pack. She can be… rude at times… but she is good at what she does.” He coughed again, his throat getting dry from talking so extensively. Never did he talk so much if he could help it, but alas most wolves preferred talking over simple body language.

Aindreas still and fell silent, slowly lowering his haunches to the earth but then he rose quickly as he realized that he had sat in the cold mud that had been moistened by the river that was winding mere feet from him. Apparently, although it was almost frozen over, its waters were still seeping into the ground. Aindreas’ lids widened and he switched his gaze from the femme to his own derrier and saw that his bright white pelt was now a dirtied brown. “I… oh…” His scratchy throat cleared a final time before he sat down again, wincing slightly as the cold mud once more contacted his pelt. His choices had been to either ignore the blemish on his pelt or to wash it out in the cold, frigid river… and that was not a prospect that he relished, especially when the warmth of his den was so far away.

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||Aindreas|| ||No Mate|| ||Moondown Shadows - Epsilon|| ||Adult|| ||*Azura*||


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