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

ICE KING
IP: 76.243.46.249


Kershov had literally just finished up greeting yet another newcomer when a shrieking, alien howl rocked into his eardrums. He crushed his ears against his skull and tried to shut the unholy noise out. A vague look of distaste entered his fathomless black eyes. What in the hell . . . if that had been a joining howl, the stranger was in desperate need of singing lessons. But no matter. Whoever had just assaulted Ker’s hearing had certainly won the Alpha’s attention. Although the Ice King would have preferred going on about his day without meeting the freak capable of such a horrendous sound, something told him he’d better check the newcomer out. Abendrot couldn’t afford to turn away potential fighters . . . besides, if this wolf turned out to be worth Kershov’s effort, that voice alone could be used as a weapon. How would Tamlin react to an ear-splitting attack?

Tall white columns charged through the forest, carrying the cold Czar down the length of his territory’s fence with awesome ease. The first scent to reach him was Enigma’s: of course. The Beta had earned her place long ago and continued to earn it with her efficient patrols and never-ending stream of wisdom—not to mention a cool serpentine sense of humor. Kershov felt that no one else, save perhaps Arsinoe, would have prevented him from tearing the smart-mouthed face off of one new recruit, Wolverine. Had another warrior been on the scene, Ker’s wrath might have gotten the best of him. Abendrot would have been short one more potential soldier. Thanks, Enigma.

The second cologne to present itself to Kershov belonged to a male. The frost-born phantom couldn’t help but be slightly pleased; at one point in history, almost all newcomers to his kingdom had been female—not that there was anything wrong with that. Sometimes, however, it helped to have the extra brawn that males inherently possessed. Whoever waited on the other side of Abendrot’s border didn’t disappoint. Kershov’s calculating stare raked over a fairly sturdy-looking brute who was crouching on the ground, as though he’d just submitted. Ker had entered just as the soldier gave his name: Lore. An interesting title . . . Kershov just hoped the apathetic way this “Lore” spoke was the extent of his possible rudeness. It sounded almost as if he were trying to talk down to Enigma. A grin tugged at the un-shredded corners of Ker’s maw. He’d already dealt with one wolf that thought he could insult the Beta. The next wolf to try might not receive as much mercy as Wolverine had.

“Greetings, Lore. You seem awfully unfazed for a wolf that is about to join the greatest army this forest has ever seen.” Kershov tilted his regal head, trying to discern any ulterior motives in the other gentleman’s flat yellow gaze. “What are you, a mercenary? I am afraid we have nothing to pay you with other than your own life, so if you’re here, try to convince me that your loyalty actually matters.”





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