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

WHO'S SO PHONY?
IP: 74.92.44.41

Dimitri wasn’t sure how he felt about the strange, slow sleeping famililarity. It wasn’t the right familiarity. It wasn’t familial, but it was… weird. It didn’t feel right, but he liked it all the same. Dimitri was going to be attentive to the task at hand—the conversation at hand. His dark tail swished slowly, if only to generate the heat that would come from using the muscles of his body. That would make sense—he would generate his own heat, though he longed to lean into the other creature. It wouldn’t be right—it would be quite wrong. It would be weird. Weird wasn’t the way he wanted to go today.

A faked demon. A false demon. He wasn’t a demon by breeding, but a demon by association. That was the strange thing about it, still having a fading semblance of a good heart. It was something that he could try to put up with or try to kill off… either way. Either way would be good. Dimitri just needed something that he could fall back on once and for all—pick a personality, damn it all. He wished it was that easy. He wished that things were that simple, and yet they weren’t. That would make things too easy on the shadow’s son. The wayward youth, right.

There’s a chuckle, a far higher and more delicate one, that rests in his throat as the creature beside him speaks once more. It’s something easy—to laugh. To laugh at what isn’t funny, to be perfectly honest. It’s not funny, and he doesn’t care to make it funny. There’s a sort of bitter quality to it, and that’s more true than anything else in the world. Bitter, stinging, slightly caustic. It was that sting, the fine burn of alcohol, that rolled around between his teeth and sunk into a cut on his tongue. The burn was more than good. More than great. Right.

“Dimitri.” The introduction is quick, his name chipping off his lips like something that wasn’t often said or heard. Hell, it felt weird saying it himself. Dimitri rarely did say it himself—what was the use in saying your own name? What difference would it make? “It is winter.” A slight measure of sass, falling in with a certain sarcasm. It’s something that he doesn’t bother messing with… a joke. Poking the sleeping bear.


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