At one point in time, Misty Mountain stood opposite of Rainbow Cliff, and these rose to the sky as the only peaks in Blossom Forest. Since the magical change of the land, an entire chain of peaks rose from the bowels of the earth to become the Culter Unlaeddod - the Teeth of the Gods. Misty Mountain is still of the peaks, but many others exist as well. They run from north to south, from east to west. Atop some of the peaks, snow covers them year round, making the paths slippery and hazardous. Others are lower in altitude and are extremely humid, covered in thick, dense forests with mists swirling between each of the trunks. Others still are bare - naked boulders rising and falling haphazardly.

These chains of peaks do connect many of the packs, and they hold many things to explore - forbidden forests, deep and mysterious caves, beautiful scenic cliffs. However, one must have care - if you fall, it is a long, long, long way down...

Due to the varying terrains, many prey options are available. For those scared of injury, you may find ptarmigans, ravens, crows, squirrels, dormice, or rabbits. The adults hunting alone can find mountain goats... but for those hunting in a pack, there are elk, moose, and Bighorn Sheep.

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Night Will Fall And Drown The Sun [OPEN]
IP: 108.36.85.55

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When she watched her brother die before her eyes, it was as if he had been dead for years. She felt no sense of remorse, or loss, he was just gone. When her home lands caught fire and left her alone to face the world, there was no sadness, she had been homeless for years at that point. It's called Temporal Dysplasia, a condition in which the affected has no sense of time. 1 minute can be an hour, an hour a minute, it makes no difference. She follows "time" as the sun follows the moon. Memory and logic are her clock, as the sun rises it is morning, as the sun sets it is night. It's worked for her so far. Despite her lack of time, she still has somehow kept kindness and compassion.

Everything about this girl is soft, honest, and clever. Think of the first word that comes to your mind when you think of motherly love and you've got your girl. She doesn't have some hidden anger issue. She doesn't really need to, she's kind, gentle and understanding about everything. So if ever comes a time when you see she is not in control, calm and sweet, you might want to run. As the saying goes, "Demons run, when a good man goes to war". Frey is loyal and protective towards anyone she meets. She has her baggage just like anyone else, but she has allowed it to shape her for the better instead of letting it tear her down.

The night is still young as the small fae brushes through the dying leaves strewn across the hard ground. It is the time of year when colors erupt from the foliage in a massive, glorious paintings. It is her favorite season.

Her breath rolls in clouds from her slim maw. Her amber eyes drowning in the golden haze of the sunset. The pads upon her dainty paws are raw and dry from walking. She assumes it's been a good length of time. No one has worn feet from a short stroll down the river after all, and she had begun her journey two sunrises prior. A chilling breeze dances across her spine, her downy cream coat following suit. This is the first mountain she has come to since leaving home. It is largely relieving, the thin air and the lower temperatures, the darker nights, the silence of the altitude are all wonderful in her book. And the views, you can't beat a mountain overlook across a vast valley. You can see life, watch it roll along, not stopping or slowing down for the worst of disasters. It's beautiful.

She brushes her way through the thick, low hanging branches of a still green pine. Leaving the more obvious path of prior inhabitants. Her muscles are weary, trembling mildly from the undoubtedly long trek. She stops and allows a spasm in her right flank to pass before shaking herself and carrying on. If it was night it was time for rest. She had already satisfied her hunger with a rabbit. How long ago that was she has no idea but her stomach is not protesting so it couldn't have been long. She hops her way across a jagged, broken portion of a drop off on the side of the mountain. At some point there must have been a rock slide that damaged the edge and separated the sides. No trouble to her, she skips her way from stone to stone balancing carelessly with her thick tail. The other side opens almost immediately to an outlook of sorts, a small area of mountainous stone thickly guarded by thick green pine and spruce. She settles herself against a fallen tree whose dead branches hang out over the lip. Curling herself into a delicate ball, she rests her head on her tail and watches the world exist.


"Hello Sweetie





Gallifrey
Night will fall and drown the sun,
When a good man goes to war.
Friendship dies and true love lies,
Night will fall and the dark will rise,
When a good man goes to war.
Female || Lone || Young Adult




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