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 October 1, 2012 at 03:13:29 AM by KERSHOV
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Kershov frowned at the deplorable state of his once immaculate alabaster coat. Rust-colored patches were drying on his chest, paws, and muzzle, lurid and ugly against pristine white fur. The ivory warrior didn’t mind torturing others so much as he minded the mess; it was nothing but a shame that prisoners could not learn to bleed a little less while their skin was being torn open. Didn’t they have any dignity? Any respect? With a disgusted sneer, the King stooped to lap at the bloody tufts mussing the smooth expanse of his chest. Revolting. The gore of unworthy opponents tasted nothing like the sweet victorious nectar of a true foes. Kershov would have preferred to have battle splash is pelt—not some lowly slave whimpering and defenseless at every blow. Sigh. Being Alpha could be so difficult at times . . . After a few useless licks, Kershov deduced that a mere tongue bath would not restore his snowy robes to their formal glory. He needed fresh water, a running stream perhaps, to cleanse himself. Sturdy stilts carried the magnificent monster effortlessly through the undergrowth of Abendrot; he traveled silently on enormous paws built for skimming over snowdrifts, his weight quietly and perfectly balanced so that he barely stirred a pine needle. His very aura breathed death: even under the thick pall of blood and torture that veiled his natural cologne, Ker smelled of deep snow and merciless death. Deepest emptiness yawned in the bottomless pit of each pitch-black eye. Hard to imagine that such a demon actually liked being clean, and not soaked in the life of his victims. One of the many tributaries flowing through Abendrot like arteries strayed toward the eastern border. This is the one Kershov travelled to now: the river was secluded enough to afford some privacy, and was just the right depth to immerse his body without fear of drowning. Just as the frosted Pharaoh was about to pull himself past a tangle of bushes toward the stream’s bank, his sensitive ears alerted him to another presence. A small creature. A wolf. A pup. A stranger. Serrated teeth flashed in a full grimace as Ker altered his course, nose low to scent out whatever pup was making such a god-awful din. As soon as he saw a little brown bundle tripping along, the scars laced over the bridge of his snout stretched impossibly farther, showcasing the tattered side of the King’s muzzle where his velvets had been shorn away to permanently reveal a set of deadly daggers. “You have come at a bad time, young one,” the cold Czar hissed, stalking right up behind the chocolate-colored bird. One giant forepaw snaked out and stamped on the youngster’s tail, pinning her down. “Are your parents around? I would like to know if your death will bring any other irksome trespassers over my border.” | |
Replies:
- LIKE SPIDER SENSES TINGLING - By Ruhani October 1, 2012 at 09:30:36 PM
Cute As A Button, Sweet As Cocoa - By Truffle October 1, 2012 at 11:24:38 PM
LIKE SPIDER SENSE TINGLING - By Ruhani October 3, 2012 at 12:04:01 PM
Cute As A Button, Sweet As Cocoa - By Truffle October 3, 2012 at 02:15:50 PM
FROZEN MASS GRAVE - By KERSHOV October 5, 2012 at 03:05:23 AM
LIKE SPIDER SENSE TINGLING - By Ruhani October 6, 2012 at 00:40:49 AM
Cute As A Button, Sweet As Cocoa - By Truffle October 6, 2012 at 03:51:06 AM
FROZEN MASS GRAVE - By KERSHOV October 16, 2012 at 09:27:12 PM