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 December 2, 2017 at 12:37:13 PM by Blackthorne

It is rather unexpected that Eden does not go on a full assault of the obsidian boy. The boy who bites at his chin without restraint so that he can taste the hot, rich tang of alpha blood on his tongue. It washes across his gums like an aphrodisiac, spurring the flames of bloodlust to rise even higher in him. If he had been a year younger then he might have coiled his legs beneath him and lunged at the throat of Eden. Might have tried to rip his jugular clean from him. But Thorne merely attacks his face and withholds such violence as a death blow. Eden was a skilled fighter - he knew the story of his own rising. Years of peace might have made him complacent yet he was still in his prime and Blackthorne, for his sleek young body, was not primed and prepped yet. No, he had plans. And plans required patience.

He expects Eden to grow furious at his threats, laying them bare with the flashing of his pristine white teeth, as of yet not yellowed with age. Despite his own savagery and the singing of blood in his ears, he tests and pushes. What boundaries can he cross? Where did Eden draw the line? He is both a mix of intelligent intent and impetuous energy. Seemingly sporadic in nature but always swirling in a grand design. They are alike but opposites - heads to tails. Their goals might align but with different approaches. Slow and steady does not always win the race when a fire consumes the trail.

Edens words do make his ears escape to the sides, his lucent eyes telling. He listens. What could the alpha possibly want from him? This is Thornes game. To probe our secrets even in the midst of it all and Eden does the same. Together they are a conflagration filled with interest. So. Eden wants from him but he will give in return. Even as the male recoils and his jaws split in his own aggression, Blackthorne withdraws from his attack with measured movements. His own tongue washes across his muzzle, lapping up his own blood with a feral, hungry expression. “What can you do for me?” What Can I do for you? The implied question is there too, lingering between them as he stares at the dominant male. For the moment, he has grown slightly sated. Their power struggle has unleashed energy and calmed the stormy waters inside of him.

In return he is given a threat, which sees his own bloodied silver muzzle split into a wicked grin full of sharp teeth and predatory intent. “One of many. Where one falls another takes its place. You cannot eradicate shadows.” The tension begins to ebb as Thorne slowly lowers back into his haunches with that haughty grin. “For now,” he agrees. Eden wasn’t his goal and if he didn’t stand in the way, then he wouldn’t be perhaps. His plans had to be flexible and his movements imprecise to all but himself. A careful game, Blackthorne.

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