Fir Chilis is the name given to the dense string of forested land that fills much of Blossom Forest. There are two different populations, depending on where in the land you are. To the north lays the deciduous forest, full of maples, oaks, birches, and beeches. To the south lay a coniferous forest full of pines and firs. No matter where you are, the trees shelter you from the sun and the rain and the snow. Take care not to get lost in the woods however - you may never find your way out. There are other dangerous here too - predators waiting for their own prey. While the land is prosperous they do not pose too much of a threat, but whenever famine or drought hits, they will attack anything... even other Putnar.

Those looking to hunt will find the forests well stocked - there are white-tailed deer, turkeys, red squirrels, chipmunks, mermots, and moose.


Thunder Killer [Cerviad]

Hurricane of Mexico’s eyes shoot open all at once, sharp light and color shock his vision in a rush of hazy shadows and intense burning. “what. the. fuck.” the massive midnight titan blinks slowly and looks around. The massive beam of light and trembling of the earth had ceased, and all that was left was silence, and piles of confused wolves. The massive beast grunts as he collects his bearings, ears flickering irritatedly as lightning optics flicker wildly, anxiously. a groan pulls itself from his shadow painted lips, and the massive brute scrambles to pull himself to his feet, heaving, once, twice, three times he staggers upward, legs trembling, muscles screaming.

The colossal beast wobbles forward on unsteady legs, unsure where he is going, what he is doing. Disoriented and alone the midnight warrior moves one pace at a time, heading hesitantly in the direction from which he came. Hurricane of Mexico was unsure what exactly had just happened, or how long he had been asleep, all he knew for sure was the incessant burning, the pull, the innate desire to follow whatever this was, had vanished. But Hurricane of Mexico himself, felt unchanged.

He stumbles toward the spot he left Losa in, however previously it had taken him several days to make the journey, and Hurricane of Mexico was running on empty with nothing to eat on what was bordering on weeks, his vision swam again as he staggered away. Trees towering above with bare branches, skeletons, intertwining, touching and scraping together as pretty, fragile snowflakes dance and swirl to the ground. Hurricane of mexico was suddenly aware of how cold it was, and he had left Losa, sleeping alone in the forest. Determination filled the massive hessian as he pushed on, braving the weather and his own imminent starvation aside and braved the oncoming snowstorm. Whatever had just happened here was irrelevant, Hurricane of Mexico had to get back to Losa. He had to get back to his life.


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