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 looked on in curious astonishment as Scorpio transformed from hardened soldier to doting father in under three seconds. Son and sire embraced warmly, a gesture that the ice-carved King had not witnessed in . . . ever. Ker had not shown many signs of physical affection toward his parents while they lived, and they had not extended any fond touches toward him; his pack had been small, so there were no other families with children he could have possibly observed openly caring for one another; Kershov sure as hell hadn’t seen any touchy-feely moments while he ran his all-male gang—even when his warriors were out trying to court vicious tundra females. Wolves where the frigid Alpha had once lived were not soft. In any way. There was simply no room on the frozen surface of their hearts for a spot of tenderness. Everything in life had been chiseled out into blunt necessities of survival: showing love failed to promote survival, so it was not practiced.

The frost-breathing Pharaoh caught himself studying the father-son pair a little too closely, head actually tilted as if to concentrate better—and he stopped just in time. After swiftly recovering his composure, Kershov opened his maw to answer his Head Soldier. “Do you not think your familiar tie will obstruct useful training?” No accusatory tone marred the alabaster gangster’s cool, formal voice; he simply wanted to ensure that Scorpio knew what he was getting himself into. If the smoky brute was moved to embrace his lost child, how could he be expected to put Barrett through drills of merciless difficulty like the rest of the soldiers? Scorpio wouldn’t be allowed to let emotion cloud his judgment. “If you wish to train Barrett separately, I suppose I cannot argue against it—so long as you do not abandon your duties to the rest of the army. Barrett will be expected to drill alongside the rest of the soldiers when not under your wing, you understand . . .”




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