The forest stands tall and lush here; ancient trees reach weather-twisted arms to the sky, fighting monster-like storm clouds back with their interlacing fingers. Shadow seems to lurk everywhere you look, but it spills calmly, coolly, inspiring a sense of stealthy calm or protection rather than unease. That is, if you've forgotten what kind of creature might be stalking just out of sight...Abendrot is a land cradled by the dark woods on all sides; in the center, some of the larger trees stay behind to reveal a small plateau - a citadel where this pack can gather and defend itself from invaders. There are, of course, softer sides to the land. Clearings here and there allow the sun to throw down its rays in incongruously resplendent gold showers. Ignore the lingering scents of blood spattered here and there along the borders: those do not concern you. The river on one edge of the territory is playful enough when it hasn't been gorged by violent rain. You can choose to note the ragged claw marks raked down tree trunks and the forest floor as friendly "Home Sweet Home" signs, if you wish.

All who treasure loyalty, order, victory, and the occasional indulgence of raw visceral pleasure are welcome, once they've been approved by the ever-watchful eyes of Abendrot's Alpha. But keep one thing in mind: no matter what your motive, this is not a fool's Paradise. This is the land of soldiers, assassins, and spies. This is ABENDROT.

Make up your mind quickly and prepare to prove your worth. You wouldn't want to add to those blood spatters, would you...?

Refresh/Reload

don't be such a sore LOSER [Kershob, Lobo, Bianca & Pups CNT.]
IP: 101.98.135.168







The encounter had left tension so thick it felt like he was swimming through the air of Abendrot. Now that they had made their name as a defiant pack, an Abendrot wolf would be treated differently. All the packs of Blossom seemed fluid, if not compromising, towards each other. Abendrot wouldn’t be the first to step out of line, thinking of Malignant, but they would be the first to make demands of other packs. The deer had proved no trouble and he hadn’t been gone long. He sensed the king was with his prisoners and the sickening smell of afterbirth still wreaked the entire glade out. There was a thicket not far away that was dry and offered protection from the wind. He’d be damned if he allowed them a den anytime soon. He didn’t want to hand them a temporary shield on a sliver platter.

His rump entered the clearing first, Bianca and Lobo was conversing, seemingly happy, although the tension was still there. Ker seemed rather pleased, if not a little too simply to be anything but a mask of emotion. Marx dragged the deer, a small doe, perhaps only just matured, into the clearing, but left it far enough away from the prisoners as so they would know they weren’t just getting a meal thrown at them. Visceral discomfort came from his flank where a kick had landed, but he didn’t limp and simply bore the pain, it was far less than he’d previously endured. He scented the air, looking for Enigmas scent, but she was far away on the borders, greeting and no doubt toying with the minds of wolves.

He paced up to Kershov, dipping his head at the alabaster male. He was of opposite color to the ebony and sliver mix of Marx and they were around the same height, although Kershov was a little broader in the shoulders. Marx was muscled and lean, if only a little too lean. He had been successful hunting, but he expected little of his latest catch to enter his gut, if any.

Greetings, my king. As is custom, I offer you the deer, to take for yourself or refuse and allow the whelps to eat.

By whelps, he meant all of them, they seemed so childish, trying to ignore their situation, their leader and charge and trying to fool themselves about how much danger they were all in. Sure, Kershov had promised them safety, but safety had consequences and freedom wasn’t really free at all. Marx desperately wanted to ask about the bright moon front, but he felt it improper to discuss in front of Lobo and Bianca. He looked at the nursing mother and pups and cocked his head with a blank, cold stare on his features. Pups were an unknown thing to him; he didn’t even remember a day where he was looked after in such a careful, delicate fashion. He gave a malicious grin at Lobo and let his clipped gentleman tones congratulate the new bride.

Pretty things they are. Careful not to lose them, for they are so little.

He turned back to his king when he answered Marx.






M A R X
3 Kills- Two Quick Deaths


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