During the day, sentries guard the sleeping. When the sky is dark and the moon dances with the stars, this is when the real fun begins. Munashii Gekko's forest is the only haunt where you can find your local misfits all in one place. A land of the forbidden and forgotten, a place that is riddled with dangers of a whole different kind. The wolves here have long misplaced their rightful minds, and now live like creatures damned to prowl and lurk through the night. It's easy to lose yourself here, sanity was sure to fade away and wither; there was never anything normal about this nefarious nest. The silent threats that whispered in the breeze were enough to deter even the largest of demons around. It was not strength nor wit that ensured your survival here with Eric, and challengers would be torn down with a morose lethality - there was nothing left in his cold blue eyes that promised mercy to anyone who dared to overstep their worth. So, would you give up the sun for the moon and stars? Do you have enough vigor to become a well regarded sentry? - Put on a game face to step up and pass the sepia king's test or turn and leave before he catches your scent. You never know who wants to snack on your delicious blood in this forest.

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Tears pour from empty sockets
IP: 68.6.182.238

Smoky gray blurs wove between the tall trunks of the towering canopy as I made my way toward the pack borders. Ebon/gray appendages moved smoothly enough so that my figure seemed to float over the rich, frosty terra-firma. Nothing could be heard except my steady breath while I traversed my way closer. My nose tingled with the oh-so-sweet scent of fellow lupines. I must be getting closer then, but like my other pack, they would probably never give me a higher rank than Omega. My slim bodice was undersized for my age, and lacked the luscious curves that belonged to my sisters. Maples shifted to the left, and sorted the light oranges from the deep reds and browns that now littered the ground. Winter was coming, as evident as it was. Almost any wolf, discluding those with thick pelts, could feel the creeping chill in the morning, and the piercing winds in the night. What made it worse, was that I have a very thin, and fragile pelt. Besides that, well, my life was pretty much crap. Nothing ever seemed to work, none of the brujos even glanced at her. She was unusually small, and was still a virgin. Crap.

My smoky haunches lightly met the moist earth and my gray-ish maw lifted toward the sky. A haunting melody played from her lips, and seemed to sing, "darling, you know it's hard to be faithful, with the lips of an angel."

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