Firefly Glen The words hung above
497 Posts
Ooc — Java
Master Ranger
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#1
All Welcome 
Travel thread dated around April 10th.


He'd been this way before; it wasn't like he could recognize any particular routes with extreme clarity, but he had begun to see the world differently since being smacked in the head. Maybe that was why he'd given in to his primal lust mere days after accepting the aid of the Firebirds — and then with his guilt ripe in his heart, he fled from them. It was nothing he should have felt poorly for, although the knowledge that he had fought one of their upper-rank members was a pretty strong indicator that he couldn't go back. His roaming was effective; he made good progress away from the hinterlands and the further he got, the more he forgot about the encounter with the lustful black-phase wolf. All he could recall by the time he found himself within the glen, was that he could not go back, whatever that meant.
7 Posts
Ooc — Eekerz
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#2
He didn't like the coast; it was stupid. Full of stupid wolves who didn't pay attention or were just plain rude. Snarling, Dracula moved inland, hoping for better prospects there. People sure weren't this nasty back home. Dark and scary and evil, sure, but certainly not annoyingly rude. It was really depressing to be in a place where no one seemed to want him.

He needed some blood. Not to drink, maybe, but just to smell. Like a really expensive wine but one that is quite poisonous and deadly.

The glen was dark and mysterious, but his eyes adjusted and he saw the wolf that had been by the big barking creatures by the sea. They'd parted without a word, and Dracula wondered if he'd be amenable to a fight. Of course, a fight that Dracula would win. His ego was too fragile for any sort of defeat.

Ei, tu! Drac called out, lashing his tail as he trotted through the glen. Vieni e prendimi, figlio di puttana!
497 Posts
Ooc — Java
Master Ranger
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#3
Sorry about the last thread! Just needed a fresh start.


It wasn't dark enough nor late enough for the glen's namesake creatures to begin their ember-like dance, although as the wolf prowled among the trees there were tiny shapes shifting acrobatically around him. He passed through shafts if spring light that managed to creep through the gaps in the canopy overhead; suspended motes of dust made the glen seem more and more ethereal. It was a beautiful place. Calm and idyllic - until it wasn't. 

The stranger called, using words and sounds Yellowbelly didn't know in this life or the last. Hhe man paused and shot a glance towards the carrier of the voice; they were approaching at an amble, and sensing some hostility from the other creature caused Yellowbelly to bristle. He wasn't sure what to do, or to say. There was something vaguely familiar about the way they moved -- and his mind concocted a tiny memory of sea water paired with strange barking; but then that was gone too.