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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Another disappointing fight left Red bitter and spiteful. When she returned to Munashii Gekko, it was to the smell of other wolves at the border and, pleasingly, Devil's Angel's scent as well. So she had been keeping shop while she was gone, very refreshing. It's always good when pups do as they're told. And pressingly, she smelled a male in her midst. A male? Well, that was certainly new. And as she sensed her little watchdog was with him, she turned on her heel and set immediately to his direction.

Red Star made no attempt to be subtle as she pushed from between brush piles, just in time to hear the tail end of the light-and-dark male's introduction. Red Star stood behind her subordinate, a stark contrast. While Devil's Angel was a statue of femininity, with a clean and silky pelt, Red Star was a haggard old wench with a coarse undercoat and marred features. She even held herself like a beaten down old bitch, shoulders in a high arc and face practically sweeping the ground, even with her tail held high as a nation's flag. A face that resembled blood on asphalt turned first to the omega in acknowledgement, then turned its half-gone gaze to the dog who introduced himself as Shrillex. Shrillex, the kind of name that just rolled off the tongue like a particularly bitter herb.

She swung her head to bump Devil's shoulder a bit, taking a step forward to present herself fully to the outsider.

"Our pack accepts all sorts, provided they aren't prone to weakness," she growled out. "Your appetites aside, as you could guess. It's true that some among us don't have your conventional dinner fare, but they are dedicated. Can I say the same for you?"





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