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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ICE KING
IP: 76.243.46.249


Kershov bristled at Ruhani’s arrogance, his alabaster fur spiking into a halo of ice around his massive frame. Still she had not tamed her tongue! Did the lass want to eat her own organs? Rather than baring his fangs in anger, as he so dearly wished to do, Ker settled for narrowing his pitch-black eyes, silently warning Ru to curb her impulsiveness. She might have had faint traces of Abendrot threaded in her fur, but the junior assassin had been gone too long to automatically be considered “pack.” Kershov had every right to flay her alive so long as he stood within his territory—and the blizzard-breathing monster did not easily forgive.

“Killed a few wolves? Worked for a few wolves? Sounds like you were busy . . .” The King commented dryly. Kershov began to circle Ruhani, inspecting his property, checking for damage. “You said all that quite nonchalantly, Miss Ruhani. I thought you knew me better—I want details. Why did you kill the wolves you killed? How did you kill them? Who were they? Did you enjoy it?” He finished his revolution and sat before the russet-hued girl, studying her critically. He wasn’t sure he liked what he saw in her eyes . . .

“You are not to leave Abendrot territory without alerting me first, understand?” The frigid Czar suddenly ordered. “Welcome back to the pack. I am putting you on parole. Put a paw out of line, Miss Ruhani, and I’ll have the Head Assassin take care of you.” Ker was of course referring to Deadly Mamba, the ivory warrioress usually so busy taking care of the Regal’s outside “business.” “Training is always going on—but while Mamba is seeing to her duties, you are to report to either Marx or Scorpio to see if the army has any tasks in need of completing. I am not joking, Ruhani: stay within pack boundaries. I may have need of you . . .”

With that enigmatic little order, Kershov rose to his paws and turned to leave, feathered white banner stirring the air behind him.




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