Bright Moon - a land sullied by mystery and the ravaging scars of a terrible fire. Abandoned as a pack land for years, the terra has been used as a gathering place for the brazen and bloodthirsty drawn there by the lingering pall of death. Yet from the ashes there comes an unordained phoenix, the rainbow hues of hope glinting in her mismatched globes. Through the obsidian drapes obscuring the scenery, she alone was able to catch the perfumed aroma of new life on the breeze and hear the sluggish streams flowing ever swifter into the morning.

Thus, with a purpose, she set out to map the incognita, discovering daily the extent of the reawakening and unearthing within herself a desire to return the landscape to its former glory. Now she stands tall as privileged Alpha of the lands, lording over the rock-strewn prairie and bountiful forests with a firm but gentle paw.

Having finally realized her deepest longing to be a queen, Satowra is focused solely on the revival and maintenance of the Bright Moon Pack. Her question to each prospective warrior that comes to the border is simple:

"Do you have what it takes?"

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Obsidian robes unfurled as he ran, eating up the distance between him and his goals. That tree, the next one, then the one after that. He leapt and slashed, teeth and claws, marking the foliage best he could. Enigma made a one pass to see he was doing his job, but no words were passed between them. A cold, subtly mad silence had ensued between the two old friends, perhaps once more than friends even. That one tender, passionate moment after the brujo ripped the throat clear from an intruder when Sidorio took one of his longer absences from Abendrot. Being alpha, this was not meant to be, and he had soon taken up residence at his old pack, not Demonican lands, but Malignant. Perhaps the alpha would agree to a truce from their boundaries as well, as the were a closer pack and Queens did have a few things in common with Ker, least of all the opposite sides of a vanity mirror. Marx smirked and then dropped that smirk almost as fast; a call came from Ker to close in on the other Abendrot warriors. Marx turned, dipped and laid his claws into the soil, letting it fly until appropriate traction had been made. A light sprinkling of moisture left him cartoon-like for a few moments. He soon gathered speed and quickly arrived behind Enigma for the next order. Following her leave, he spread to her right, watching the Bright wolves gather and speak up.

The apparent alpha, different to the one thought one in power, appeared. Marx cocked his head in a friendly, comical way and made sure his posture was friendly, if nothing but perfectly neutral. His face held a calm façade, like always. Nothing given away, nothing left to guess, he was a cold, heartless beast to anyone who passed his or her glance over him. A cold heartless, harmless, very good-looking beast that generally attratched quite the bit of female attention. But who wanted to screw or even talk with the latest prisoner of Abendrot. Marx gave up on even the chance for communication.

He resigned himself to silence. Like a good solider.




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