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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When The Night Bleeds, The World Shall Fall..
IP: 71.237.51.99


The vixen was pacing around, the thrill of her murder still glinting in her bright yellow orbs. Night Blood was an assassain, serving her king, Kershov. A shudder raced through her strong bodice as she walked, still feeling the glorious power as she slaughtered that idiot, the girl named Swan. Oh, what a horrible death she had. But she protected another, and doing good has consequences. Her soul felt no grief, no guilt of what she had done. If you had ever managed to shift through the ashes and coals that remained of her soul, you could only see something that was darker than her own pelt. And that grotesque, barely-beating creature that resided in her chest was her heart. An assassain's heart.

The girl didn't run away from her past, from the torture she had endured, like everyone else would. She had not killed the demon inside, but instead nourished it like a child. Night Blood fed it with the blood of her kills, with the souls of the dead. She let it consume her, let the beast inside give her a bloodlust like no other. It gave her an instinct that could only be called a sixth sense, but it was so much more than that. The 'pain' that she had pushed through was only a mere memory, one that was promptly discarded from her mind. It only distracted her from her job, but she didn't have one, at least not right now. So, she let the terrors seep back into her head, then shrugged them off as a mere story. Then, she let more recent memories flood her mind. More exciting ones.

She had slunk into the Cavern of Secrets to wait for a kill. She was good at it, waiting. Soon, a white girl came along, and she climbed up on a rock, silently scrabbling on the surface of it. As Night Blood lunged, the girl's shoulder had a chunk bitten out of it. She aimed to break it, but she would get better at her brawling. The girl ripped off the tip of her ear, making the vixen laugh. She pounced on the white one, breaking her other paw. Just as she was about to deliver another blow, the streak of grey and white knocked her over. With a growl, Night Blood gave her a slash to the throat. That gave her a chance to see her. The girl was slender, unfed and already close to death. As the once-graceful body thudded to the ground, the white one had escaped. Instead of going after her, Night Blood simply watched the girl as she slowly bled to death, the life-giving substance staining her paws and giving her the sensation of her first kill for Kershov. Now, the dead wolf's fur was chilled, and she picked up the body, carrying her prize back to her home.

She tensed a little as she remembered the pure glory of it all, and it made her feel satisfaction above all. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. She wanted something exciting. With that, she thought of the beast that was so fascinating to her. The one that had been so mysterious. The vixen still did not have the pleasure of knowing the demon's name, which somewhat infuriated her. Pondering about what would happen after she found him, her paws drove her toward the denser part of the ghastly forest, the canopy looming over her like a predator, ready to lunge. A weaker sort would never step foot in this kind of place, but Night Blood was not one of the weaker sort. Not at all. As her orbs shot up ahead, she suddenly saw the brute and caught up to him.

"So, you're the new kid, aren't you?"

The vixen asked teasingly, her voice filled with a strange sort of emotion. A desperate longing for the fun time, something even better than slaughtering. The brute might, perhaps, become an aquaintance of hers, or simply a rival in having Kershov's top opinion. Her gaze had the demon trapped inside of it, thrashing around and rattling her hollow soul. Night Blood was not mad, at least, not as much as Burning Chaos, yet there was something very dangerous about her. If the brute wished, he could find out what it was, but it all depended on his reaction of her start of the game. It was the card in her deck, the first move. It was the beginning of something treacherous, something simply horrible, or--if she was lucky--both.

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