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...?
IP: 76.243.46.249
Posted on September 7, 2012 at 00:44:24 AM by KERSHOV
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Kershov had slept well—and that never happened. The alabaster gangster hardly allowed himself to fall prey to the vulnerability of total sleep, opting instead to keep one eye open while he rested. Sleep wasted time. And worse than wasting time, it lead to dreams. Nightmares, actually. Great beasts of nightmares, dark and wretched things that only dared torment Kershov in his most defenseless state, their many talons and tentacles raking madness down his brain and terror through his thoughts, twisting in flooded oceans of distorted memory, shadow, drowning. Ker loathed his nightmares the way most wolves loathed enemies of flesh and blood; at least real-life foes stayed dead once you killed them. But for some reason, for the first time since he could remember since he’d been a pup, Kershov had woken up refreshed. No lingering poison burned the edges of his consciousness. He didn’t awake with the tang of blood in his maw or phantom agonies throbbing in his bones. The ivory warrior simply opened his black-as-night eyes—blearily, slowly—and stretched his legs, feeling the soft pop of sinew over his skeleton. A giant forepaw mashed against the un-ravaged side of Ker’s mask. Renewed. “I could get used to this . . .” The massive monster rose to his paws and immediately set off for his borders. He doubted that the fences needed reinforcing; his pack’s musk had seemed strong enough when he’d returned last night from his latest “escapade” . . . thinking of Minaj, her espresso pelt and those venomous amber eyes, Kershov had to chuckle, the sound deep and dripping from his throat. She was delicious. And after all the fun they’d had together, it came as no wonder to the cold King that he had slept so peacefully. Minaj had taken all of the winter dragon’s pent up rage and violence and lust and relieved it, taming him like one would tame a tiger. He ravished her mercilessly. . . and in return, she wore him out. In the best way. His ghostly pale form wove under the cover of morning shadow; forest silhouettes dappled his glacial hide, offering the barest camouflage to the glimmering Czar. It was under this cloak of mottled dawn darkness that Kershov heard the female’s call. The ringing sound brought a smile to his forever-grinning maw. Wonderful—a new recruit. Abendrot grew every day, it seemed. Quickening his pace, Kershov angled his path so that he galloped parallel to his territory’s boundaries. Soon he came upon a young cocoa-powdered fae. She looked like a delicate thing: her slender frame resembled that of a fawn, hiding in long meadow grass. But her eyes revealed strength utterly at odds with her otherwise dainty physique. “You called, dear?” Kershov stepped forward so that he stood completely illuminated by the sun’s rosy light. Suddenly, his bone-colored fur shone around him in a feathered halo, bright and glorious, etching out the sculpt of his muscles— And his face— Kershov never needed to consciously showcase the right side of his visage: it was a show unto itself. A past villain had shredded his muzzle in such a way that the velvet curtain responsible for shielding his teeth no longer existed; his fangs glittered beneath a tapestry of vicious scars, pearly tissue raked over his snout and up his cheekbones, ending just beneath his obsidian window. “Submit, and tell me your reason for stopping by Abendrot’s doorstep.” | |
Replies:
- can you feel the sting? - By Scorpio September 11, 2012 at 03:50:36 PM
the cavalry returns - By B A R R E T T September 12, 2012 at 05:26:49 AM
ICE KING - By KERSHOV September 13, 2012 at 01:08:05 PM
can you taste the venom - By Scorpio September 13, 2012 at 01:26:57 PM
are you going knumb yet? - By Scorpio September 13, 2012 at 01:38:50 PM
ICE KING - By KERSHOV September 20, 2012 at 10:17:47 PM
can you taste the venom? - By Scorpio September 23, 2012 at 08:47:35 AM