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 16, 2012 at 09:15:57 PM by KERSHOV
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“A slave, eh? My Firecrest, you have thought this out . . .” Kershov chuckled indulgently, admiring the lithe spy’s devious intuition. Abendrot’s take on prisoners had been somewhat lax recently; some prisoners were set free, others drifted away because literally no one gave a damn about them, and a few lingered within the borders as if they didn’t know what else to do. Presumably, a packmember shouldn’t bat an eye at the presence of yet another slave in the ranks. Enkeli could float under the radar. Undetected. Untraceable. “So would you claim her as your own servant? Do you own responsibility? Or shall we give her to someone else?” The thick perfume of Firecrest’s heat provided a momentary distraction, charging the air with alluring hormones and veiled hints of lust, but Kershov pushed such lush thoughts to the back of his mind. He was a calculating Alpha, nearly mechanical in how he plotted. That didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge himself by nonchalantly stroking Firecrest’s russet spine with the tip of his tail, of course. Ker was not so base to let something as trivial as casual fondling to interfere with serious planning. Ebony eyes speared once more into Enkeli’s tiny red-painted frame, assessing her, thinking. “We could call her a prisoner—but I still disagree with keeping the entire pack in the dark. Why not share Enkeli’s true purpose with the other spies? There aren’t many of you, and the spies will not be the first ones confronted if another pack suspects us of borrowing information. That will be left to the soldiers and assassins. Besides, it is a spy’s job to keep secrets. I would expect any secret explicitly told to stay within your faction would, indeed, stay within your faction.” Now Kershov peered back at Firecrest’s delicate face. The deadly severity of his expression meant that he would allow no argument. “Enkeli may be adopted as Abendrot’s new undercover agent. You will be responsible for her training and for keeping her true identity in the shared knowledge of the spy guild, as it was your clever idea to bring her in. You must tell Arsinoe of Enkeli’s purpose. And if Enkeli’s cover is blown, you are to speak to Enigma or myself before giving explanations to the pack.” Kershov added this last order as a safeguard to Firecrest’s wellbeing; if she accepted sole responsibility for her secrecy, the entire army might turn against her—but if the pack believed Kershov had ample reason to hide Enkeli, they might be more forgiving. He nodded a final time to Enkeli. “Follow Firecrest. She hold your life in her paws.” Another glacial stare slid toward Firecrest. “If she cannot be trusted to hold her tongue and operate as a tool, silence her. I’ll leave the method of doing so up to your imagination.” With that, the frost-breathing demon left . . . | |
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