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.


I Solemnly Swear That I am Up to No Good


Sshhh... Do you hear that sound? He growls into your ear.

For so long the brute had been bored with life, just wandering around aimlessly, constantly bored. He thought that he had found something with a seemingly unique, his kind of unique anyways, female, Aviias. But it had been a long time since the two had spent any time together, and even though their time together had been good it had been brief. Padfoot was not the type to get attached and to fall in love, so he was quickly moved on and thinking about things and focusing on other femmes. The next femme that caught his interest went by the name of Macaria. She had been a fun one for sure, making him work before she even gave him her name. But that was what he did. The brute knew he was a handsome fellow and that his charm was affective on most vargs. He went from female to female, usually growing bored with them after just a night together. But he had spent a decent amount of time with Macaria, she had been a particularly interesting brand of fun that kept him entertained longer than most did.

And so today the brute woke up and decided it was time to go out exploring again. It was not good to sit around in one area too long, which is why he was constantly on the move. The midnight colored brute padded through the trees, nothing in particular on his mind as he let his tongue lazily hang out, strolling decent but not taxing pace. His thick plume hung lazily behind him, not paying much attention to what was going on around at all. A scent caught his attention though, another varg was nearby. Often times Padfoot would head in the other direction, not often in the mood to be around others, but today he decided not to do that and to head in. His scarred face spotted the form of a female in the water of the falls, the opposite color of himself. An easily smile came upon his features as he approached, listening as she spoke out loud to no one at all. ”Do you always talk to yourself? Or are there voices that talk back to you?” His vocals were teasing and joking, not meant to sound mean or rude, and his smile showed that his intentions were not harmful ones.

That's the sound of your death. His claws scrape against stone.
Picture and table credit to Alesana <3


【Padfoot – Soldier – Chained by None – Violet】


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