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


He's not the devil 'less there’s fire in his eye

His teeth bared in a grin that looked more like a snarl, orange eyes feasting upon the subtle inclinations of inner turmoil. It was a pleasing thing, to watch one's very being fight against itself-- to see the black beast's true nature cracking open that fragile shell built by social mores and a perceived sense of nobility. Onias rolled his shoulders, his tail curling like a pleased cat, the shadows nipping and prodding at his backside. They were excited, they wanted their prophet to bring another into the fold. Not like the Mimic, no, not another thrall to do the bidding of his master mindlessly. Drogon could be another like himself, perhaps, with his own shadows and rituals. Onias had hardly forced him to stay, after all. A few little pushes and the male might just be enveloped in the shadows himself.

The question was, perhaps, not unexpected. Many shied away from purpose, from the thought that their life might not be wholly dictated by them. They rejected Fate, and, as such, they rejected the pleasure that came with aligning destiny and the desires of the self. Of course, Fate was just an idea. Onias knew the truth-- he always had. His tongue slid over his top teeth and he tilted his head, leaving his study of the stranger quite plain to see. It would be foolish to hide such a thing, after all. When one knew they were being dissected, they tended to overcompensate-- but Drogon, despite the bristling of his hackles and the movement of his ears, seemed to rise to the challenge of it. Onias' grin grew wider, his head tilting to rest the other way, tail curling languidly around his paws.

"Of course." He replied, his voice emphatic-- almost as if praising the stranger for his response. "We all are but slaves to the passage of time. Every wolf grows old and dies and leaves just bones behind." He paused, musing over the statement as he considered what came next. What little push would be most effective? The grin began to dim into a more thoughtful expression, almost sagelike in the way his eyes softened and the muscles in his face relaxed. "Purpose, Fate, destiny, whatever one calls it-- it is a platitude, a way to assure one that their life was not in vain. But time turns onward, like you said. When you die, the sun will still rise again the next morning."

Onias chuckled, then, a nihilistic sort of noise. "So, then, Drogon-- perhaps there is no purpose for our meeting today. But maybe there is a reason." And what that reason might be would be revealed the beast if he so desired, but Onias had never been one to divulge too much information all at once. Let the man seek, let him decide just how far he wanted to follow-- things always worked better that way.

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