Disaster has struck!
The Crags are a series of rocky formations with small caves and crevices throughout. Many of the lower-lying areas of the Crags have been flooded, however, with water pouring in from the Northern stretches of Moladion. Some paths have been completely submerged, and some are nothing more than a few rocky peaks sticking out of the water. The water is fairly slow moving but begins to pick speed up towards the Grotto, becoming a series of intense rapids and waterfalls as it nears the Grotto's entrance.
The area itself is still traversible. However, it can be risky. Large amounts of debris can enter the waterway, creating bridges at times but also creating dams that break and cause ocassional flash-flooding. Be careful, travelers! One wrong step and you could end up finding out where the water goes.
Note: Susil Crags will return to normal once 25 posts have been completed (or at Staff discretion). During this time, new threads will receive a 'Surprise','Disaster', and prizes.
P. 202; CHAPTER TWENTY (Zharko) IP: 188.8.131.52 Posted on July 6, 2017 at 06:58:50 PM by GRiMOiRE
female . 37 inches . 120 pounds . loner
"Dance, my little puppets, set your soul free. Dance, my little puppets, dance just for me."
- verse iii, sandy nobody
Dense mist shrouded the lowlands, confining the existing world to a meter and translucent one to up to two. A hawk’s cry punctured the uncommon stillness, but the call didn’t disturb the weight of the fog. Unseen to the soaring creature, however, a single female wolf strode between the curves of boulders in the hidden underworld; she couldn’t see him soaring above, but she followed his voice. Her pearlescent eyes wandered over the cool shades darkening the gray ground while her paws softly glided over the damp stone up and up.
Grimoire followed the circular progress of the hawk with uncanny exactness as the pair of them drifted between thermals. Deja Vu. The phantoms had returned. Both terrifying and comforting, that attested the to the liveliness of her being. She watched the mist stir at their invisible passage, avoiding her physical senses so they could remain what they were; phantoms. The ebony wolf’s form shivered with an unpleasant sensation; she knew it was warning her.
Of what? As she made a second pass through a narrow portion of two boulders, her mind produced an intense flash of reddish eyes. He was ahead. Grimoire’s fur stiffened and her gait became long and low. The scent stirred the memory of his sultry voice. A game, he’d promised her. A fierce, vile grin formed over her clenched teeth. A game indeed. Her paws hardly made a pat on the stone as she scaled up a collection of boulders. He was bellow her now. Right… there! Grimoire leaped, into the fog, and at a shadow she was certain was solid. She would trap him beneath her paws. This time, she would win as the hunter. He’d have no time for suave words.