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: 70.57.169.112
Posted on January 18, 2013 at 10:41:18 PM by [ k e y ]
As soon as he picked up on the slight tilt of the cranial in his direction, key stood gracefully, a fluid motion. He stayed stoic, however… unmoving. His audettes were pricked forth, tassel flat against his hinds and his breath even and undisturbed. It was only when the darker male called out his title that key closed the distance between himself and the other wolves. He stepped over a root, or what looked to be, and found himself staring unconsciously at Marx. The radiating look of fulfillment was caught by the sage, and he put that into yet another thought process, delving deeper behind it. As he came within auditory distance of the two, his steps did not change. He would have liked to have walked slower, but seeing the situation as how it was, he kept the same pace and the same frame of mind. Collected and calm. Impassionate and yet kindly. Now as he settled himself down so that he was forming a triangle with the other two, he closed his eyes and only reopened them to listen attentively to what the dark one had to say. He did not make eye contact with him however, rather, kept to himself and just absorbed the conversation he had, moments ago, not been a part of. I will be needing the healer’s assistance with our current proposal of dueling the soldiers against one another. I’d appreciate a few healer’s attending each duel to patch up my soldiers as much as they will allow before being set to work. It was not that key was not being courteous to the fellow. Rather, he was watching the pair of mismatched eyes in the foliage nearby. She comes out of hiding and key’s lips stay silent. Oh, can I be first? Wouldn't want your General to be out of practice and not up to par with the standards. Whatever answer that was to be given to the General, of whom key had no recollection of her name (though her scent was familiar- he had picked it up near Vladya’s bloody den), he waited patiently, knowing that sooner or later, his turn to speak would arise. When it finally did, he turned to Marx, whose wink he had missed because of the female’s arrival, and he smiled, his gray and aquatic portals closing against the atmosphere, blocking the windows to the soul that would, in most cases, give the thoughts of their bearer away. Pardon my uncouth query, please. Should I be trusted enough to be tending to your comrades? Are you not worried that I will disobey your orders and do the unthinkable? His smile slipped from his lips, and the grave look was now accompanied by emotionless optics that had slid back open to take in the male who approved of his appearance, calling him over by name though the two had never met. When a pup is taught to obey, they are given a token of their adult’s gratitude for listening. What will I be given for restraining and behaving myself? The feminine figure tilted his dial and smiled, a huff of air escaping his narettes as he did so, his shoulders rising sharply, then falling back down softly, like snow on an ice-covered lake. The others have their own idiosyncrasy’s which I cannot speak for… in my case, should you choose to have me, I would like a promise, from either you or Kershov—preferable both, in return for keeping your friends and family safe and cared for despite their injuries. He paused for a moment, as if hesitating, and then spoke again. A promise that you will never intertwine my being with expectations that are interminable and made for immortals. There is only so much that I can do. He slid his tongue back into his mouth and waited for Marx’s (and Kershov’s for that matter) reply to this.  |
Replies:
- FROZEN MASS GRAVE - By KERSHOV January 20, 2013 at 04:30:28 PM
hryggjarsúluna - By [ k e y ] January 20, 2013 at 07:37:21 PM