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: 75.172.193.135
Posted on December 6, 2012 at 05:37:00 AM by i v e v
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It had been some time after my engagement with the members of Abendrot. And I couldn’t say if I had a particularly comfortable impression from them- especially the regal. The lady, Enigma, seemed dangerous enough on her own, fazing me as I had no previous experience with these dark-hearted individuals. And now I found myself in the middle of a profoundly different world then I had ever known- yet lurking on the outskirts as a newcomer. Tall grass tickled my pale frock as I stepped cautiously along the short stretch of meadow. Trees arced on either side, their spindly fingers bare in the winter, casting long, cold shadows over the turf. If snow wasn’t already on its‘ way, I was sure the frost would take the earth first. Ice formed daily in the early rays, coating branches and dead leaves. And now, in the late sun, I enjoyed the wintry feeling of the golden hues and pale grass, little insects flying their last days before the cold truly froze the blood under their skin. Scents of the others reached my nostrils, and I could only assosciate two with actual faces. It was a reminder if whether I had truly been indoctrinated as a healer. I picked up my pace, trying to wipe the anxious thought from my mind as my lithe but small frame wove between the bare branched ashes and maples, nostrils quivering. My muzzle was low as I moved through the forest, trotting parallel to the border, investigating the aromas around me. The air was rapidly cooling, condensating my breath and distilling the perfumes on the air into a musty, homogenous mixture in which I could barely discern several warm scents. Recent enough, a sign of traveling over the terrain several hours before. I noticed, slowing to a halt, that one particular trace stood out. Blood. Why was there blood? The same rotting stench permeated through the trail was the perfect match to the aroma hanging about the kings‘ jaws. I blinked, lips tugging down into a frown. My body was halted, standing over the mix of pawsteps that had perambulated a short while ago, some heavy enough to press dimples into the earth. But the oldest was the most harrowing, laced not only in crimson but an unmistakable fear. I had only arrived at Abendrot a waxing ago; no healers were yet placed into the lines. Therefore, I wished to be of service in return of protection, but unnerved by the thought of what I would stumble upon. These other wolves, following the blood, might just be torturing whoever this soul was. Or torturing him for the lack there-of. Finally, my legs began to move again, slower and cautiously, white peds pressing softly into the dirt. Leaves whispered softly underfoot, as if I was only a gentle breeze. It was what most wolves strived for- a soft, sultry gait unable to be detected by others. However this trait was merely a side-effect of my heritage; royal blood, Dovev’s. Enough of his features reflected in me. The pure arctic pelt, unscathed by blemish, sinewy frame that was small and compact. I tracked the previous wolves, and after a short while, walking close enough to hear voices. My iced orbs shone, glancing up from the earth to peer softly into the depths of the wood. There, I knew the reason of my anxiety. A coat, similar to my own was undistinguishable from the wretched lacerations over his frame. They shimmered red from freshly hewn blood, tearing into the tissue and veins running close under the skin. Easy to infect, the smell of rot already hung from him like chains, reminding anyone in range to what he was. A scrap of nothing. I glanced over the trio crowding his prone form, strewn in the clearing. Two females and a male- wait. I studied the lean form, and was suprised to see ivory canid was in actuality a brute. A tentative flicker of my ears drew me closer, holding back a placid sigh from the bickering virility of the fae’s tone. These were lupines I had never had the pleasure of being aquainted with, and if I was one to judge by first impressions- they were not exactly ones I would like to know deeper. Catching snippets of conversation and puzzling them together, it seemed the torn heap of blood in the center begged for death to come quickly. I couldn’t blame him, as the wound covering the sensitive muscle of his chest and shoulder tendons would cause excruciating pain with each movement. But, I merely watched with veiled contentment for the snowy fae to rattle of herbs. As if leaves would bring this wolf back from death’s clutches. Instead, I waited for the trio to sort themselves out- or I would and focus on the actual problem. |
Replies:
- I HATE MY LIFE - By VLADYA December 11, 2012 at 09:33:37 PM