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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Beg for mercy--I dare you
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Truffle was actually in a fine mood, under the circumstances.
Her conversation with Kershov was rudely interrupted when the challenger strutted by and nearly claimed dominance. Of course, his throat was most likely slit open at her King's orders, but perhaps he still lurked. Truffle had awaited him for a long while, growing more and more impatient by the minute. Now her tongue slithered over her teeth as the screeching howl filled her ears, and blue eyes closed for a moment. As they fluttered open, hardly anyone was there yet; she had time to talk to him in private. The bird's trot was brisk, for she didn't want any ordinary wolf to hear the surprise. Blood on her paws made prints in the ground from a simple duel with her last victim. He was large, powerful, demanding, and a perfect target. As they met, he nearly attacked her, but she insisted to have a true battle. If he won, she would have been forced to mate with him. If Truffle won--which she did, of course--she would have brutally slaughtered him with simply her dulled claws. It took a long time for him to die, but it was enough for his tortured cries to bring lovely chills down her spine. This was the simpler version of her little idea.

You see, out of ten or so prisoners, there is one or two who are...difficult. They will not speak, they try to kill themselves, and they try to fight. That was where Truffle came in. Since she was young, she would seduce any male prisoners with a virtuous act, and as they became more and more in her power, she would slowly tear them apart. It would be emotionally and physically--a living hell, caused by the girl they had loved. It would take one or more weeks for them to finally die, but the suffering would be music to her ears. The only little kink was if there was a female prisoner--the serpent needed a male to assist her. That was partially why she was telling Kershov, so that he could assign wolves--better yet, the King himself could do it--to break the females. The satisfaction of a working idea sent a shiver down her spine, adrenaline suddenly pumping through her. She trotted briskly to him, knowing that this had a certain amount of importance to it. After she lowered her head in respect, her maw opened to reveal her sharp canines, and the lyrics floated to him.

"Let us resume our earlier conversation."


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