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 [parte dos]
IP: 76.243.46.249


The bleached beast raised his skull to drink in the sight of a blood-stained Mamba. “Perhaps Deadly Mamba is the culprit?” Kershov knew that his Head Assassin and Abendrot’s Epsilon had been far too busy “taking care” of a few troublesome wolves to have had the free time to bring in Starship. “I trust you enjoyed your vacation, Ker chuckled at the green-eyed fatale.

Savage glee. Anger. Sharp glances to and fro. Amidst the simmering energy of the meeting, Kershov hardly heard the copper girl when she spoke her name. Molly? The white warlord watched as the timid thing crept closer to Wolverine, her entire aura nothing but quietness. Unlike the bloody brother-and-sister duo that followed right behind her. Kershov tilted his head at the pair. He still wondered how to incorporate the violent inclinations of Blood and Chaos . . .

“You there,” the massive Alpha barked at the young creature. “Miss Molly? How about you come closer and show that pretty neck of yours.” He waited patiently for the small female to answer . . . until a familiar face limped through the throng, her pale canvas torn by vicious wounds and blue eyes like twin bruises. Kershov’s shadow eyes widened in frigid rage. One of his own had been harmed. Unacceptable. Barely able to speak without roaring, Ker merely shook his head at his precious subaltern, silently promising to speak with her later in private. Her agony would not go unanswered.

Like a fool, the cyan-staring prisoner opened her foolish maw. Kershov turned on her like a predator on prey, icicle hackles spiked, tail raised high as a war flag, a snarl warping his fatally handsome mask. When he spoke, each word was chiseled—tightly and perfectly controlled—slipping past his ruined lips like daggers. “How dare you, you little slut? Does that appallingly pathetic little walnut of a brain of yours function enough to make you aware of your status here? You are a slave. You are filth. Packmembers might squabble amongst themselves, but slaves are to crawl beneath us like quiet puny insects. The Ice King had been inching toward her, looming like a snowstorm—and now he struck. His skull rammed toward Starship’s delicate shoulder with enough force to slam to the earth like a freight train hitting a rag doll. Then he stood over her, bared knives glittering above her throat. “Apologize to ‘Lolani,” Kershov ordered. His lyrics seethed. “Or I’ll tear you to pieces in front of an audience. Actually . . .” A merciless grin stretched his maw. “I’ll let my pack have their way with you. How does that sound, prisoner? Does that sound fun to you?”

Kershov was snarling, the guttural sound rumbling seismically through his chest. His sudden laughter was dark thunder crushing the world. He stole a quick glance at the wolves gathered around him, old members and new, wordlessly expecting them to partake in punishment should punishment be necessary. “If any of you are squeamish,” the arctic devil purred, “you may want to run off to Spring Grounds.”

Imminent carnage hung over them all. Starship had her life in her paws—yet who was Kershov to deny his soldiers if they wanted to rip the chatting cur anyway? He chuckled again, reveling in a delicious moment that was interrupted by a prancing girl literally falling into the clearing. Ker’s ears flicked in the new lass’s direction but he refused to stop staring at the garbage between his paws. “Say sorry, sweetheart, I have shit to get done.”


[OOC: ranks next time Ker is posted >.>]




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