Moonsilver In The River

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Moonsilver In The River

Post by Demon Testicles on Sat Jun 04, 2016 4:09 am

Character: Corban Beckett/Searing-Moon-Silver-Justice

 How far up the river  did someone have to go to find the origin? Was it about as deep in the forest as one had to go to find the roots that anchor the first tree? Flora and fauna had long since reclaimed this territory for itself. As if to never have rule disputed again, had taken a particularly robust evolutionary path. A place so savage that neighboring countries even fortified against it's primal threat.

The first battle that had to be won was against the surf. His means of approach was canoe. Out of the mouth of a great river, there was a grand bay that had to be crossed. A journey that consumed the entire day. By the time his boat had touched the shore, the sky was already shifting from warm hues to dark shades of night. The sky was clear and from the origin of the darkness, clusters of stars dotted the sky in strips and clumps.

He arrived at high tide; there seemed to be not even twenty feet of beach before the forest stood tall like the walls to a xenophobic kingdom. Taking a deep breath, The titanic doge-man pulled his ride the rest of the way out of the water to a place he was sure the tide would not claim it.

As night was already upon him, Corban figured that the first priority was camp. A place of solace and shelter. From supplies in his canoe, He would put that notion into action.


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Re: Moonsilver In The River

Post by Rasca on Thu Jun 09, 2016 2:14 am

Rasca the Pleasure Prince, a man in search of the best drugs, the best women, the best loot.  Of course something like this called the Solar Exalted.  It was his nature to conquer anything he saw, or die trying.  So here he was on a primordial ruined island, smoking from his hookah and enjoying the dusk into night, his time.  Though that seemed to be interrupted by a traveler that had the very same idea.

He looked over the canine man, and felt the very small tug of familiarity to the caste of assistants.  Leaping from his tree he landed and would approach cautiously.  Rasca was small, only in height standing hardly five foot and four inches, he wore a floppy brown hat with a few multicolored hawk feathers in it.  A brown vest and same colored shorts and sandals showed off an impressive tanned physique that traditionally had most women swooning.  Even if small, he was a good looking fellow.

What set him apart was the massive orichalculm hookah he held with one hand, easily a foot larger than him, and with Hose in mouth he gusted a cloud of smoke from his mouth.  The neck of the hookah in set with hearthstone of power.

He raised his free hand in greetings to the traveler, before coughing and grinning.  "Bro, you here for treasure too? "  the red in his eyes spoke of his current mental state, high as a kite.  As he approached a small corgi trailed behind him, yipping at the new comer.

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