Susil Crags

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.

Return to Lunar Children

Rage rage against the dying of the light
IP: 50.200.175.154

It is clear to Thorne that his method of preaching was working. Slowly Possum peels himself away from the wall, turning fully to take the brunt of his charisma, and the wicked grin he gives Possum is infectious but also self-pleased. This is a crowning moment, to have used his words in such a way to win, and he tucks this silent win deep within him as a trophy of sorts. The way Possums eyes glisten lets him know that he sees this future that Blackthorne lies before him - a future of strength and fear and not-so-Little glory. It is what pushes his words, a slithering thing, faster until the boy responds.

Pity. Now the word would be synonymous with disgust. Never would Possum take anyone looking at him with pity with kindness, which was just as well since Thorne would never pity him. He would groom the bastard boy into a whirlwind of fury and a machine of stealth and death. In this regard, he would become a close confidante of the kingly Thorne. One of his core companions. So long as his loyalty remained intact then they would flourish and grow, and with it, power.

“You are,” Thorne replies calmly, glancing around at the den. “You’ve made it this long without a pack and that takes strength. I bet the expect you to be dead right now, but look where you are. On the cusp of something greater. Something worthy.” Now he grins again, all teeth and vicious delight. “You know how to survive now you need to learn how to fight. Fighting isn’t about just strength but intelligence. Who cares if you are honorable if you lose? Honorable blood bleeds the same as dirty blood and we... we are dirty blood.”

Not that anyone had ever called him that but Thorne is making connections with Possum. Saying what is true and what will work too. A dual thing that makes his blood stir. “You can call me Blackthorne or Thorne, as it were.” He says his name proudly, as if he was a monarch. “What shall we call you? Ah, how about Ripfang.” For his mouth seemed full of fangs ready to rip out or rip others. “This is what you can do for me. You will stay here because I cannot have others mowing into my business just yet. I have delicate plans to unfold and we can take no risks.” A stern eye is given to Possum, a threat. “But when the time comes I will call you to my side and you will come to begin this new era with me. In the meantime find me another you think worthy. Weakness to one might mean strength to another. Can you do that?”

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