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: 12.231.36.2
Posted on December 26, 2012 at 00:34:49 AM by Enigma
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I still play back memories of my life on the tundra. My pack knew of survival, nothing more. The family was the pack. You didn't have individual families. Anyone who fell behind got left behind. We lived in freezing cold temperatures, with blizzards rampart and frequent. If we stayed in one place too long, we froze to death so we kept moving, only stopping to eat and sleep in short spurts. My own mother became victim to the cold. I had two brothers and one sister when we were born but even newborns were pushed to their limits. Many died. My siblings shared that fate. My mother could only carry one at a time so I watched as my siblings died one by one to the cold. I kept moving even though I wanted to stop so many times. I wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep just like my siblings but mother kept pushing me to go and so I listened to her, going against what my body wanted. We hunted snow hares and elk, whatever we could find in the cold. A mountain goat here and there. We ate what we could and then moved on, leaving the rest for the scavengers and the snow. My mother grew weak and when we woke from a short nap one day, she wouldn't wake. I tried and tried but when the pack started moving, I knew I had to go with them or die with her. I wasn't even allowed to cry because crying is considered weak and weak wolves always die. If a wolf injuried itself and couldn't keep up, it was killed out of mercy. The whole pack would jump the injuried wolf, tearing it apart until it breathed no more. They'd rather see you killed by the teeth of your family than by the strange fingers of the cold. Others may see me as shallow or unfeeling but this is beyond the truth. I hide my emotions to keep my sanity. I don't like puppies but it's not because I'm just full of hate. I failed my own. I had a litter once and every one of them died to the cold. I couldn't keep them alive. I was a failure as a mother. This was when I left my pack. I grew depressed and I knew it was only a matter of time before they saw my weakness and killed me for it. So I left first, waited until they were sleeping and snuck away. I hunted for myself and kept moving, just as they taught me, moving south until the weather grew a bit brighter and the temperature not so frigid. I notice the malnourished female moving into the cavern and maybe this memory tugged at me, making me want to help her when usually I would do nothing of the sort. I noticed her bloated belly and I know what that means. I'm sure she's giving into her weakness, going to lay down and hope for sleep or death, anything for the peace. Taking my cue, I turn on my heels and go to do some hunting. After some good tracking and an hour or so of running, I manage to catch the wild hare and break its spine. Licking my lips, I pick up the corpse and trot back to the cavern, sure that she'll be still inside. Going to the entrance, I lay the hare down and nose it further into the darkness. Then I move back and sit down, sure that the smell of a fresh kill to make her survival instinct kick in. |
Replies:
- FROZEN MASS GRAVE - By KERSHOV December 27, 2012 at 00:57:27 AM
Watch Me Come Undone - By Enigma December 28, 2012 at 06:32:13 AM
FROZEN MASS GRAVE - By KERSHOV January 5, 2013 at 01:46:14 AM
Watch Me Come Undone - By Enigma January 12, 2013 at 03:25:28 PM