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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IF ICE COULD BURN (continued)
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Arriving at the boarder, the Limbo between loners and packmembers, Kershov languidly lowered his haunches, reclining in the thin blanket of snow dusted over the ground. His imperious posture relaxed into one of unafraid, assured power as he contemplated his next move. He knew he wanted to be an Alpha again: ever since the horrific gang war that had separated him from his fellow warriors, Kershov had missed his status as King. He was malevolent, yes, but disliked the life of a lone wolf with no subordinates to lord. He wanted to dominate . . . but he'd always seen his underlings as equal part necessary pawn and precious asset. He didn't love his subalterns--Kershov was incapable of loving anyone--but he cared for them in his own way. Mess with one of Kershov's gang, and you had Hell to pay. The pitiless dragga shunned any emotion that fell short of violence, since most emotions got you killed on the unforgiving tundra . . . but he held loyalty as sacred. His soldiers were his soldiers until their dying breath. Kershov didn't like turning on his men, unless of course they forced him to. The only way a wolf survived in his world was if he were without mercy, and totally committed to the gang.

And if Kershov won this pack . . . these wolves would be strong. They'd train as true warriors, as lords of the forest. The most feared army in the world. He might even let the faes stay, so long as they showed the same undying fierceness the females of the arctic possessed. Kershov could not respect a weak femme who only lived as a feeble slut. Though he'd had plenty of his share of lovers, every one of them had been capable of holding her own in battle. As for weak males--those would be killed on spot. No water-blooded brutes to dilute true wolf stock.

If he won.

Lifting his head, Kershov summoned all his untamed inner power and sang.

"ALPHA OF MUNASHII GEKKO! I HAVE COME TO CLAIM THIS LAND OF SHADOWS AND DEATH! I COME TO FIGHT YOU FOR YOUR PLACE AS KING OF THE WOLVES WHO CALL THIS FOREST HOME! Accept if you DARE!!!"

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