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 December 11, 2012 at 09:33:37 PM by VLADYA
 | “I don’t claim to understand motives, lady. Do whatever the hell it is your supposed to do and leave.” As soon as he’d spoken, Vladya paused, silently amazed with himself. He could hardly draw enough breath to sustain consciousness, yet he still managed to drudge up enough energy to snark? Apparently. Ah, the perks of being a violence-raised bastard. At least he’d die with a snarl on his face. Another violent shiver wracked the ivory warrior’s broken frame, stealing some of his momentary satisfaction—but not before he forced a pyrite eye open to glimpse the pale bird’s irritated face. So worth it . . . More gentle pawsteps echoed in the cavern and the former gangbanger stiffened. What the hell was going on? Had Kershov decided that it was freaking show-and-tell time? Vladya’s pinned ears flicked back at the snowfall-soft voice of yet another intruder, one that must have been male even though his tone and inflection held the delicacy of a fae. An effeminate male was enough to have the arctic dog helpless with laughter—but pair that girly nature with a ferocious threat and it was all Vlad could do to keep from guffawing aloud. His cracked ribs groaned as his abdomen constricted, blocking any mirth that would surely destroy him with pain if unleashed. “Sounds good . . . but not happening,” Vladya managed to grate out. Turning over to expose his vitals by his own power was unthinkable; the sensation of twisting felt akin to ripping his body in half. Yeah. No turning for Vladya. What, did these freaks seriously think he was going to move? Were they blind? If they wanted him to go anywhere they could shove him their damn selves. Shove . . . . . . suddenly he was surrounded, red muzzles and burning eyes, the ground turned to mud and the sun staring down like an apathetic eye on bristling ice-pelts. Teeth all around. Snarling in his ears. Every word is a threat, and every threat is a promise, except each time he turns around to meet a foe another is already biting into his back, his haunch, his legs, everywhere until his skin is stitched together with pain and one of the circle breaks forward to shove him down— “Ah—!” It was a quiet scream, not enough air behind it to make it more than a shocked little gasp tumbling out of the corners of Vladya’s blood-limned maw. The healers didn’t seem to notice it; they were too busy listening to the pastel lass rattling off her list of plants. All Vlad could do was bite back any other pathetic whimpering that might escape and hope to god none of them tried to needle any information out of him. Just spit some shit on me and go away. Go away, go away . . . He didn’t want to hallucinate anymore. He thought the hallucinations were done. His fever surely wasn’t that bad, surely he wasn’t slipping into another damn delirium, because the agony assaulting him now was more than enough to deal with. If Vladya had to go through an additional week of dreaming up each and every single memory he’d survived on top of this shit—no. Just no. The thought shuddered under his welt-ripped pelt. Despite the insanity of the action, Vlad clamped his teeth around his right forepaw, biting down until the ache in his metacarpals severed the last strings of delusion and slammed him firmly back down on the frigid stone floor. Nope. No hallucinations for this guy, he was going to sit right here where shit made sense. “H-how about some painkillers, princess?” Vladya lifted his pathetically fierce glower back toward the female, ignoring the two other dudes that were standing over him. Maybe if they could just knock him the fuck out already . . . “And why the hell are you so close for, fairy?” This comment speared the soft-spoken guy right between the eyes as Vlad craned his sore neck around to face him, annoyance written over the scars of his mask. “You people bitch more than a couple of old hags. I wasn’t kidding when I asked you to cut the bullshit and kill me. This is the worse torture I’ve had all damn week.” His voice crescendoed, echoing off the cool sides of the cave with tenfold more strength than he actually possessed—and just like that, he was encircled by enemies once again with their knives too close and his body too weak and get the frick OUT and Vlad was baring his teeth and reopening wounds as he pushed himself away against a wall with a trail of blood and nobody, NOBODY was getting near him. |
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