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

dancing with the devil in the moonlight [OPEN/ENiGMA]
IP: 101.98.186.59



Sliver and grey robes rippled over muscle as he stretched for third time, hearing satisfying pops and feeling clicks of bone and ligament aligning themselves back into their proper place. Marx shook out his coat, which had just been groomed after a nice swim in a small stream on the border of Abendrot. He trotted down the western border, stopping every now and then to hear nothing but silence. No cries of pain nor howls of curiosity, just pure golden silence. Marx stopped moving and decidedly flopped into a sunny patch of long grass and immediately felt a are urge of playfulness. He snapped wildly at the grass stems and lolled on his back like a fool.

If only life were always golden sunshine in the meadows.




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