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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I never said you'd survive your fall
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A familiar howl rose up not long after the king received another challenge. Scorpio. A brow raised, orbs narrowed and the varg turned him wearily towards the border. His tail flew at half-mast, signaling his rank of Commander…High Commander he supposed, now that the other was now howling for entry back into the pack. Scorpio must have a reason, or several, for having left and wanting back in. Marx could sympathize with his situation, but he didn’t expect Scorpio to be treated any kinder than Marx himself had. Kershov would decide his judgment, if there were any to be had. More interesting than this half torn piece of commander crawling back, was a high note that matched his. Marx changed into a lope, seeing this situation complicate just slightly in his cranium. Even if the situation went badly, the commander did not fear a two on one deal, if fact, it made for a rather entertaining battle for himself. He hadn’t been properly entertained since Kershov has brought in the half chewed, half alive piece of flesh he called V….Vad…something. Marx didn’t care for the likely now dead wolfs name. Marx didn’t take pleasure in torture, but it didn’t mean he’d cringe at another’s misfortune.

Scorpio, I do believe I was beginning to miss you.

He spoke upon entry to the scene, eying Scorpio’s wounds, shaking his head a little. He wasn’t giving the pack many reasons to take him back, the lady may have a chance, but the way they stood together told Marx that they cared for each other. Howling together wasn’t known for acquaintances. Marx ran his eyes over Scorpio once more, as if looking for some vital ingredient that wasn’t plainly visible to the eye. His ebony and slate robes shifted slightly as he turned his lookers upon the ess that sat with him. A real beautiful thing, she was, he enjoyed the few moments he looked at her, looked deep into her eyes. As quickly as he had looked, he then shifted again, as if realizing something finally and smiled lazily at both of them.

Aren’t you going to introduce me to this fine looking creature, Scorpio?

Before he could speak, Marx made up his mind and called for Enigma, knowing Kershov was away fighting, yet another, challenger. His howl was bold and strong and voiced the small authority he had over the soil beneath his paws. The general herself would decide the couple’s fate.




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