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

Return to Lunar Children
THE EXECUTIONER: Ava
IP: 174.196.128.192
Posted on February 23, 2017 at 03:50:31 PM by Deathspeak

There was nothing to see there. The gathering of wolves from all different walks of life had left him with a different flavor on his tongue. Happiness had danced across faces and something akin to possession and obsession - he had felt a crackling itch beneath his skin as he watched it happen. It being something he had no name for, his head turning curiously as he eyed the couple. Their tentative reliance upon one another in ways they couldn't even notice themselves. He could feel it, some bond that connected them. Newly sprung and binding. It left him with a sort of ache within that felt hollow, curiously enough. It was his affinity for the rip in the veil that separates life and death and other that allowed him this sense.

As the spring days grew warmer and warmer and thus wetter, he found himself at the border of a pack rumored to be born of salt and sea. He can smell it in the air, hear the distant rush of freshwater rushing out into the wide gulf, and hear the caws of seagulls as they hunt. As he turns to head back into the wilds he sees her: she is older, that can be noted by her grace, and the poised angle of her head gives him pause. She feels ancient and sentient, strong and capable, and while death does not cling to her it hovers about her in a way that is abnormal.

Yellow eyes blink as he stares, wondering if she will notice him for her certainly is not hidden: his figure is large and robust, fairly bursting at the seams. Not to mention ion his tan and cream colored figure with white and black markings is not easily hidden. His muzzle has scars across it from were another wolf has bitten clean through the lips and his skin has healed back over, giving him a sort of ravaged visage that seems dangerous along with his stoic expression. "You are not dead but you carry death. How has this come to be?" He voice is deep, reverberating through his chest.

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