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
Rage rage against the dying of the light
IP: 50.200.175.154
Posted on November 7, 2017 at 02:49:23 PM by Blackthorne

There is undeniably something different about Blackthorne than his father. A keener sort of intelligence that isn’t based simply on instinct, although it rests heavily upon it. Ambition is what the boy calls it. Underidge enjoyed the yoke of being a follower. He rather seemed to like being beneath the paw of Eden and the puppet of the Shade, however much Thorne disbelieved such a notion. If Thorne thought about it, it wasn’t that he hated Eden. The alpha never really had done anything to get on his bad side yet there was this cunning about him that got his back up. Blackthorne liked the Work cunning especially when applied to himself, but he knew a threat when he saw one and Eden could be the very thing to bring down the tower before it had ever been built. So he had to be careful and learn his own stealth while he wallowed in his pride. Besides, Underidge worshiped Eden and that spoke volumes to Thorne about why he should not be trusted.

Eden smirks and speaks with that prideful cunning of his own that makes the obsidian boys eyes sharpen with intent. Threat lurks there, hidden beneath the youthful coil of his muscles, and it is tempting. Tempting to challenge a monarch to see how he might fare - Eden had sat prone on his throne for many years without question. Might it be fun to stir his fire once more? But to do so would only draw more attention so Thorne does what his father never could have - he restrains himself. It is an effort considering his brash nature at times, his need to dominate and to possess. “Well then,” he shrugs dispassionately yet it is obvious in the flick of his ears that the words are met with his own form of derision. Young, impetuous, but learning. One must ever learn.

So he spits out his game, his truth, his tightly held secret on such falsely innocent tones that it is clear Eden knows his game. He wants him to - wants him to see that Thorne is not a fools boy, for the most part, and there is a wicked delight in it. In toppling the sturdy pillars of his foundation or, at the very least, his fathers. They were a tornado and hurricane - one force ready to swallow the other - but which was which?

Is that delight in the eyes of Eden? Does he LIKE finding out his faithful servant is the source of his frustrations? Aster apparently was all bark and little bite for he had not heard anymore save the Queen had given birth. Maybe motherhood had stolen her pep. What would a mother do when her motherhood was stolen from her? What an interesting theory, one Thorne resolves he might one day experiment with. He did so love to experiment.

Thorne is alert as Eden steps towards him, that careful glide met with a suspicious stare, though he keeps that one fang grin which could taper to a scowl in an instant, if need be. He moves alongside Blackthorne and the silver cowlick on his crown stands to attention, backed by black, the electricity between them making his blood stir in aggression. It is Edens right as monarch to do as he pleases but Thorne’s dominance is hard to keep in check in these moments as Eden speaks, slithering and hissing his games.

Yet it is so interesting....

“Already, I am,” He pronounces with a hiss to his own voice. Cunning - he was much more than that. He turns his head now to catch the slight turn of Edens, a malicious grin burgeoning across his face. “That is for a King to decide, is it not? If I were King, I would not like my subjects to cause unwanted attention, I suppose. Punishment seems a fair price for disobedience. Don’t you agree?” There is a slight rise in his voice, a pompous one, that denotes his feelings on his own rank, but otherwise remains quizzical in that saccharine manner.

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