Aplos Riverside

Moladion’s powerful, winding river...
Aplos River is a broad, slow-moving river originating from somewhere beneath the mountains of Spirane and feeding Iromar’s moors in the south. The northern parts of the river are known for their strong currents, with the water becoming slow moving in the south. The riverbanks vary along its course, ranging from soft hummock grasses to small groups of pine, and sometimes nothing but pebbles and sand. Crossing can be difficult at times, but it can be swam or bridged by fallen trees or boulders alike.

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Re(1): They Always Saw What I Couldn't See
IP: 50.50.175.116

What was this? Was she an idiot or actually just oblivious to social cues? The grey and cream puppy insisted on pursuing him, and arguing with him. Her logic was flawed. Just because there was an instance of something, didn't mean the thing existed in any other situation. Take vengence for example. A certain series of events had to take place to warrant the emotion. For magic, all Tychon would have to do is look at a fate determined female and his soul would be centered around her for the rest of his life... For better or for worse. He doubted his situation could get much worse with being the freak of Spirane. Oh, wait it just did. Now he was a ferocious freak being pestered by a puppy who thought he wasn't scary. He tried to ignore Masque blowing on his the hair tips of his tail.

His was difficult because of how ticklish it was! His face flexed gruesomely as he tried to resist the itch in his throught to chuckle. His ears flattened to the side as he grunted out irritable. Fortunately, she'd gotten bored of his tail quick enough to zip away between blowing on it. He adjusted to the sensation quickly enough to become stoic in dealing with the irritation itch on his tail tip. Tychon continued to ignore her preaching about magic. When he heard her pause behind him briefly, he thought in relief that he was did of her. But then she asked for him to look For magic with her.

Tychon felt both irritated by her Love of the fantastic and skeptical of her exuberance. She didn't want him along, he was certain. She probably would just take anybody who would believe her ridiculous fairy tale view of a cruel world. He curtly responded,

"Well your mom is wrong."

Masque did not appear to have heard him because she was so taken with her own adventure that she paused to look for the magic. All Tychon saw was a muddy River bank drying in the heat of the sun. There was not gloss or wonder around it. She hounded ahead of him next, and Tychon was unresponsive to her atteptiing to entice him to play. He searched instead for cooler water to soak his painful wound in. Mosque, apparently thought she was in charge of finding him a puddle. He halted in surprise when she jumped onto a rock as large as she was in front him. His ears flattened to the side at her declaration of their destination.

He barked, "Stop following me, brat. I don't want your company or your help."

He snorted into her face and then trotted further up the bank, leaving her sitting on her rock. He flopped down into the mud again and plunged his face back into the water. It was colder here than down stream. Maybe it was cold enough to numb his skin a bit more drastically to did hi. Of the agony of it.

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