When solid ground grows soft with emerald moss and rivulets of black mud, and coffee-colored water pours slowly around the trunks of densely carpeted trees, this marks the beginning of Laod Mor: the swamp of Blossom Forest. Time itself seems to slow to a soporific crawl . . . the humid jungle air grows stagnant, thick with the scent of rich flooded earth and an abundance of green things that can be found nowhere else—except perhaps Caidir Olc. In some areas of the swamp, water rises so high the only way to cross it is to crawl across fallen logs or massive roots arching from their liquid beds; in other places a wolf might wade easily through the mire—or find a fortunate stretch of mostly dry earth. Pieces of the great river, Glaesfaet Sceawere, also slice through from time to time: small falls that feed into surprisingly clear pools, only to terminate into tar-like pits. Of course, Laod Mor’s beauty shines brightest at night. Here, fireflies gather at all times of the year . . . suffusing the shadowy place with millions of twinkling lights.

Those looking to hunt here of course find a myriad of water prey, including caiman, turtles, fish, crayfish, otters, and toads.

Refresh/Reload

Hallowed be thy Name
IP: 166.137.240.23








The tattered beast felt nothing, nothing but pure spiraling anger. He stood rooted to his spot, limbs splayed, ebony daggers deep in the soft earth. Every hair on his towering body stood on end, auds flattened to his massive skull. Heterochromic ocean orbs continued to stare but saw nothing other than red. The world was just red. In the next passing moments multiple wolves and fairies like her arrived at the scene. With each new body Archangel grew progressively more tense. After Losa came another rainbow, he too cowered from the demon as he pressed against the latter. Archangel cared not, his expression showed no interest in changing. No one was about to touch the femme upon his spine. No way in hell, no matter who they were. After Scamander came Zawyne, to her he also remained stoic. His eyes watched as they all interacted with each other, they seemed to feel things differently than he did. Vera had spoken of their connection prior so this must have been what he was seeing. Still, he felt nothing and cared not.

When the first wolf arrived, one of the Tempests Vera had felt so mixed about, Archangel’s monstrous form reacted swiftly to him. Understandably the wolf had jumped to protect the three colorful creatures but the tortured demon didn’t see it that way. Though the other brute’s warning was brief, he responded defensively. With a snap of his jaws he prepared for an attack. Raising his lips again into a snarl he stepped back and lowered his head ready to defend his precious cargo. His eyes burned holes into the fellow warrior’s forehead and he kneaded the mud between his thick claws. Even when it was clear the other understood Archangel was no threat to them the brute remained poised and ready to fight.

The barbarian barely even noticed when Adara, another tempest, entered the commotion. His attention flickered to her momentarily and he adjusted his stance only enough to face all of them. They spoke, he stood. So much panic and pain drenched their varying features. On another day he might have cared, might have heard their concerns and maybe would have even noticed the second wave that hit them all signaling another death. But not today. Today he had one concern, one feeling. Vera. The little angel whose lifeless form still adorned his body. Shivers wracked his skeleton as the visual of her murderer standing over her again danced across his mind. But then someone was talking to him. Lightless orbs focused back to the group before him. One of them was talking about leaving, going to another pack. They wanted Vera with them. And then someone asked him to go as well, to help protect them. Fat lot of good that had done for his Vera. Another rumble rolled through his soul as his favorite quote skipped in circles around his head. The small one speaking to him finally caught his attention as her words made their way through his crimson fog. The beast cocked his head jerkily and glared down at her.

“I go where she goes”

Words of poison poured flatly from his clenched jaw. The blood covering his body was beginning to dry along with the mud as he had remained motionless for some time. He no longer noticed the burning itch of his mutated legs. If anything he had quickly learned to embrace the new armor. He was dangerous enough before but with the unique new defense no one was getting very far if he didn’t want them to. Who knew, now that he had nothing to do with himself maybe he would end up protecting his charges family one day.










Archangel
Our fathers who aren't in heaven
Hallowed by thine names
Thy kingdom come, Thine will be done
On earth
As it isn't in Heaven
He is..... The final option
Male || Lone || Teen || Vipera || Word Count: 622

Photo and Table by Pompeii





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