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
Do not go gentle into that good night
IP: 174.196.135.41
Posted on November 3, 2017 at 01:16:40 PM by Blackthorne

It had been some time since the obsidian male had ventured into Iromar in search of his imprint. The sting of her bites had left long ago but he is content in knowing that he had put down his paw, so to speak. She was a fire demon, sparked by his own dominance, and it ruffled his feathers more often than not. Besides, he has been busy as of late, the insidious darkness that is Blackthorne having begun to branch ever further out in search of new... things. A careful, precise ploy here, a few enthralling words there. A chess board chock full of players in an unwitting game. It made it that much more amusing and satisfying to him.

But today, even as he watches Natiya spar with Zharko, his charcoal eyes slipping maliciously between the two when it seemed they grew too easy on one another, a tug begins in his sternum. It makes his ears flatten and his head turn. Then, swiftly, he pushes his body to a stand, scenting the ocean breeze and finding it lacking in what he assumed was there. Yet then she calls - It is decidedly different than HER voice but accompanied with this innate knowledge, he is almost certain it was her. And she wasn’t calling for HIM.

Immediately Thorne abandons his post as watcher, padding towards the border that serves as a warning to others. In the distance he spied a white wolf, one who had been lurking in Glorall for a minute but was not quite... one of them. He had largely ignored the other wolves of the pack but now his attention fastens upon him as he bounds forward suddenly... and then there before him is Azariah. The excited words of the male make his ears flatten once more. His signature fang appears now, the black on his crown standing up to back the silver cowlick as he strides towards them in a stalking manner. He does not conceal his presence, the burning within him intensifying at their CLOSENESS. But then a smirk reveals itself across his silver maw, eyes shining silver now and full of threat. “If she is fishing, I think she has caught her bait. Does that make me the shark?” His eyes slide to Arturio just to make sure he knew which one was the BAIT.

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