Aplos Riverside

Moladion’s powerful, winding river...
Aplos River is a broad, slow-moving river originating from somewhere beneath the mountains of Spirane and feeding Iromar’s moors in the south. The northern parts of the river are known for their strong currents, with the water becoming slow moving in the south. The riverbanks vary along its course, ranging from soft hummock grasses to small groups of pine, and sometimes nothing but pebbles and sand. Crossing can be difficult at times, but it can be swam or bridged by fallen trees or boulders alike.

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Can You Feel It?
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Draygo tilted his head slightly. What a curious little female he had before him. He wouldn't admit it, but the fact she was interested in what he was doing was a little unsettling. The rusty red brute had never had anyone interested in or fascinated by what he enjoyed doing. That didn't stop him from it though.

"Little ones are good to practice on until you get better at the game," he said. Of course, a young deer was not exactly little, but fear tended to paralyze them quite readily, much like the one laying still with racing breaths beneath him. He looked down momentarily to the fawn before looking back to Eto. She was a strange but interesting one. Perhaps he may have found a hunting partner? Or future prey if she felt the need to keep being close and became problematic.

She wished to know how the game ended? Ah, there were many possible outcomes, but few of them were reality. "Well, that just depends, my dear. A stronger player might manage to get away, but not without my mark being left. Others, the pain is so much that it causes their death," Draygo said with a smile, "And sometimes, after the damage is done, I let them go, only to chase them and continue again later. Depending on how amusing they are." The fawn, sadly, was not nearly as amusing as any creature bold enough to struggle. He was half tempted to end the miserable creature now.

"In the end, they all become food. After all, who isn't hungry after a bit of fun?" The brute chuckled again, putting just enough pressure now on his prey's neck with his fangs, though his eyes never left Eto. A slow puncture, just deep enough to open the windpipe in two places. There was a brief struggle, but it didn't last, raspy, gurgling breaths eventually stopped. Many ways to end it the game. This one was ended somewhat prematurely, but it was not one of consequence, so he would not be angry about it.

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