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
IP: 174.196.131.58
Posted on March 10, 2017 at 02:09:47 PM by Deathspeak

The female drifts closer with a grace of one who has mastered movement. The breath of wind that swirls around her legs is coiled, intense, purposeful. There is a weighted aura to her that gives him the impression of ready murder and soft nothings before a pointed assault. He is much less graceful in his purpose yet there is a calmness, a sense of understanding within his own skin, and so he does not flinch beneath her perusal. She is confident, if not vain perhaps, but he cannot blame one such as her. To be uncertain in ones prowess was a pitiable thing. He had come to understand his purpose in life so he would not shirk it nor would he be cowed or hide behind false humility. Humility was for those who wanted to appear weaker, usually with a purpose. He is not weak but neither is she.

She blooms before him like the sun rising. Tail high, head jutted, but he offers no subjugation for her. Her scent does not permeate the kingdom as Queen even when it favors the scent slightly. As such he would not offer her the respect such a title deserved. He is neutral - a bygone wanderer that claims to hold no part in hierarchy for the moment. Slowly his head tilts at her bold words, a slow spreading smirk appearing. It is not demeaning, nor amused, simply perceptive and offering acceptance of her words. "Death for the sake of death is not my purpose. I am the Taker and giver of words and last testaments and the ease of burdens for those stuck in between. So you see, our pursuits are linked but not exactly the same."

His tenor is deep, rich, and completely assured. How much death has touched her pretty lips? How much blood has stained her satin coat? Deathspeak had done the necessary ablutions in life and had found his calling and the voices that attach to her seem deep and ever flowing, ever changing. "What is your calling?" For a name is a calling, was it not?

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