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 IP: 126.96.36.199 Posted on July 20, 2017 at 00:27:45 AM 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
Through the mist, Grimoire saw the small motion of his head, and realized that despite his youth - he’d already been through the rough enough to have some battle experience. She anticipated a eventful chase - but was instead rewarded with crass refusal. No? Her mind whimpered with such distress that she felt gravity suck her paws flatter to the ground. Even when her teeth sliced through flesh, the pain wasn’t enough to scare him up the crags. Instead, her eyes widened as she watched him dive… under her. What?! He was a gray blur, and for only an instant, the peculiar pattern of his dark legs and white tipped paws struck her as familiar.
Grimoire stiffened, quite ready to leap off him should she feel teeth on her legs, but when none came, her stupefaction rounded her eyes and she tucked her head to look under her stomach. Without the mist to cloud him, she recognized the face of the puppy. Anarck’s pound of flesh. The gift she thought she’d lost track of.
She exclaimed, her viciousness trumped by astonishment. Her tail waved as she quirked a brow at him. Grimoire lowered her butt, intending to quite squash him in place if he wasn’t quick enough to scat. Well, wasn’t she being showered lately with all sorts of spectacular gifts. There was that sienna and blond wolf she met in the woodlands - and Angel, by Grimoire’s standards - and now Scamp, her ward. Or previous ward. Grimoire had honestly thought him scrap meat when she’d lost him somewhere. It was clear he’d been intelligent of fortunate enough to survive on his own. Remarkable! Why, she just might congratulate him… might. He had just ruined her hunt.