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...?

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Usually, at this time, Burning Chaos would wallow about in one of his blood puddles, or stare idly in his cave. It was always the same, until that--that vixen came along. Oh, what was her name again? Arsinoe, yes. She escorted two soulless creatures to a place known as Abendrot, where King Kershov ruled. The alabaster king even gave the bloody brute a title: soldier. He would fight to the death for his king--especially for the blood. You see, Burning Chaos kills for fun. He puddles their blood, he drinks it. Simple. Blood, the most tantalizing liquid of all. He preferred it over water, but he was forced to have both. Water, such a boring liquid. What a pity that the only way to survive was to drink it. A pity, indeed.

He was thinking these thoughts as he walked, assigned to be mentored by two other vargs--Scorpio and Marx. His eyes were cold stones as he walked, expressionless. His walk soon turned into a trot, and then a sprint. He slowed down once he reached the ebony and silver varg, and then simply sat when he finally stopped completely.

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