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: 174.22.149.57
Posted on December 5, 2012 at 04:46:43 AM by [ key ]
IT SUCKS.
IM SORRY.
O-O I cant get in character today...
As beautiful a creature as the gargoyle was, he was not, as many are, engulfed in pride and self-awareness. His appearance did not matter to him... although he had been informed that to have his shapely, petite bodice, was to be a walking joke. He did not mind however, and that is all that mattered. Beautiful and petite like a femme, but with all the male parts and the even the low voice that symbolized his transition into adulthood.... that was what key looked like. Supernova eyes slipped over the boundaries of the territory he'd been welcomed into with a grateful embrace. Kershov, as he was called, had not found the healer's actions to be in the wrong when he dared to take a good look at the King that ruled over Abendrot's streams and burrows. The regal... key had not seen his reaction, as his eyes had been closed, but he supposed that perhaps he had shown the monarch just what he wanted to see, and... perhaps even more. But the demon did not dwell on things such as this. He had no need to. key was simply there. He had promised, as was necessary in his own lands, to stay a virgin, and had also pledged to not kill no reason. Which, that, did not make sense...but alas, nothing ever does... and that is how life is run.A mission had been given to him, a little post-it note that would have read in chicken scratched letters, “go to this place.” Rather, it was just a small piece of information that had travelled on the gales through the conifers that key had picked up on… a small chance to show what one could do, or those in the life-saving business at least. He may be shy... but, when business was a must, key was eager to please... and his inability to be social seemed to disperse into the atmosphere, disappearing without a trace. The scent of blood, and the sharp tang of bruised flesh came quickly to the angel's narettes... instantly, the gargoyle's listeners pricked up attentively, and he followed the stench down into the earth's mouth. Two others were already there, bustling about like busy little bees that were on a tight schedule to make honey for a hungry bear. But in their midst... was a soldier the same coloring as key himself. It was obvious he'd been messed with. Scratches bled out crimson rubies that had dried on his pallid cloak, and bruises spotted each and every open space. Key's expression did not change from it's state of non-expressiveness. As always, the male did not judge. The situation was merely as it was. And the goal was to help the demon get back on his feet... but as the sage neared the bodice, ignoring the fact that he may be interrupting the others' work, he picked up on a rather pecuilar and familiar musk. Kershov... had the regal himself done this damage? Key couldn't help but let a small flash of emotion flutter through his electric-veined optics. “If you’re going to kill me, cut the crap and get it done. I’m tired of this bullshit.” It was the first thing key heard anyone say. A small smile slipped unconciously onto his pallet, and he danced towards the vampire with the grace of a french danseuse. But it was not kindness that filled the air around the stranger. It was... a... cold feeling... and any onlooker was sure to have felt it. As soon as he was close enough, key paid no dues to the bubble of space that souls usually felt obliged to... and rather, he pressed his fore on the soldier's side. If you want to die so bad, expose your stomach so I can rip out your beating heart and feed it to the crows. The words... vulgar and rude, came out with a very kind tone... which completely screwed the situation. Then, with that smile still dominating his palette, he turned to the male beside him, of whose title he did not know, and he opened his eyes slowly. Do you know this territory? I am new... and it would be a shame to get lost in such a wilderness... his voice was mono-tone... and no emotion underneath could be distinguished from the mass. But... in a way, it was a soothing voice... just as warm milk and honey is to an infants parched throat. After the wounds are cleaned, he will need cobwebs to clot his wounds that still may be bleeding... and also keep any injuries from becoming torn up again after the blood has stopped. He paused for a moment, a small chuckle stuffing itself into his throat. Unless, of course, you would like to take the job of running your tongue over his blood and guts. Whatever the boy answered, key would respond later. Although it would seem that key was pushy and, obviously, wanted charge of the situation, he gave off no aura that suggested such. He was calm and collected... and his frailty also helped to let him become the lesser man that let others take the glory from his gentle fingertips. Next was the female, who had paused many feet away from the injured czar. key turned to put his eye on her from over his left shoulder, his tassel slashing through the stuffy atmosphere. The space here was crowded... but his motion for her to come closer with whatever she had was a definite movement. No one could miss that. He spoke to her in the same emotionless way that he had to the nameless male. Dear, come closer. Even if he were to lash out, he is so weak to the point that he could easily be knocked back down. You have nothing to worry about. Manners are not needed here. The gargoyle tilted his snow-white dial to the side a bit, a friendly gesture. Come, tell me, what have you in your grasp there?  |
Replies:
- hope is a frail thing - By Verity December 6, 2012 at 00:50:32 AM
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I HATE MY LIFE - By VLADYA December 11, 2012 at 09:33:37 PM