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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Trotting forward, Kaliskia flashed a toothy grin toward the newcomer. She was just about to slay the new femme over there, roughly twenty feet away. Her ebony coating burned through the wind, her jade pools seeming to stand out from her pelt. It was a grand joy to have so much pride in this world- kind of like an alpha. There was no one she could respect except Eric, for he ws of her own blood. She glided effortlessly across the domain, like a shadow hidden among the thicket. Smashing her didgets together as she approached, she had managed to huff out a thing of two.

"Hey Sky. Look's like you've brought me a meal. Who is he, may I ask?"

She had heard ol' Sky talk to this newcomer about how she always expected a full bow, and yes, Sky was absolutely correct. She had slightly feared that she had not gave herself a grand enough impression on the new fellow, so she let a low snarl rumble through her windpipe. Raising her flank up, she rose to her peds and then she raise her hackles for a feircer look. Her lyrics kissed the half-lit sky she hated so much, and she knew she should be resting, but why rest when you can murder?

"Bow."
Kaliskia



You can't spell s l a u g h t e r without l a u g h t e r .




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