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...?

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FROZEN MASS GRAVE
IP: 76.243.46.249

frozen mass grave . . . four-legged dancers


The Alpha’s ears flattened as she threw his old nickname at him—“Kershie-Wershie”—and he had to restrain himself from gagging. Only this fluff-brain could have thought of something so damnably, SICKENLY adorable . . . only . . . for some odd reason, Truffle didn’t seem so fluff-brained anymore. No . . . in fact, Kershov could swear that something had fundamentally changed within the lithe brown bird, transforming her into a creature that might actually be dangerous. It wasn’t a difference that Ker could easily name; it hid in the slippery craftiness of her voice, the fatally playful light flickering behind her eyes, they way her facial expressions appeared to mock her cutesy words as she spoke them. Despite his most concentrated attempts, the ivory warrior failed to detect any trace of Truffle’s old mindless sweetness. Her charm had warped and wilted inside her. Now Truffle was . . . twisted.

When she spoke, Kershov slowly felt his annoyance peeling away, revealing a new sensation of deep curiosity. Who was this girl? Surely this wasn’t the same pup that Ruhani had brought in from the wilds? The cold King cleared his voice before speaking—all traces of irritation utterly gone. “If neither name suits you, choose another. That is your right as an adult.” Foreseeing a better conversation, Ker folded neatly into sitting position, tail stirring the fallen leaves behind him. His pitch black eyes appraised the odd creature before him. “What precisely is this ‘torture device’ you speak of? Andy why would you think I’d be interested?”


.:.leader of Abendrot – lover of Queens – tied to Sil – father of none.:.




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