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...?

Refresh/Reload

I am the sword in the darkness
IP: 101.98.186.59



The arctic white monster trolled into the clearing, a stark white, beaten up plank followed him and collapsed near forty yards from where Marx stood. Marx lowered his stance and head and bowed to his king and listened as Kershov repeated what Marx had said. Fail him again and they would lose their heads. Marx spoke up as everything went silent, respectfully keeping his icy gaze on Kershov’s phalanges.

My king. Who is to get the….

He stopped, the scent of Fallancy finally drifting over him, the novacula stepped into the ring and silently sat like the apparition she was near her master of arms. His gaze slid over her like a marksman inspecting a rifle. Marx shut his mouth because the answer was obvious and there was nothing more to be said until an order was received from Kershov. He’d probably order Fallancy after Falk and then Marx would, with his kings pardon, return to training the pathetic excuses for soldiers. His glance passed over them, yes, eager recruits and he had to train them so that this would not happen again- for all their sakes. Deep down, a fury had built in Marx and his eyes bore so fiercely into the ground that his temples pounded. Marx was all the qualities of a soldier, he obeyed, he was loyal and he protected the territory fiercely, ready to give his life to save another if need be.

But these were all qualities that were trained into him, not who he was born to be.




Replies:
  • FROZEN MASS GRAVE -
    The Killer of Autumn -
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