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: 208.105.96.250
Posted on August 8, 2013 at 02:01:35 PM by KERSHOV

frozen mass grave . . . four-legged dancers


He was tired, and he was tense, and he wanted nothing more than to make something break and bleed between his jaws. Kershov ground his sharp knives as he stalked aggressively down hidden forest paths, feeling tooth slide over tooth without release. He needed to hunt. He needed to kill. If the pale Alpha could not murder each and every Saw Tooth wolf at this moment, then he’d have to make do with slaughtering some foolish prey. At least he’d be able to eat his kill afterward . . .

This whole ordeal with the pregnant fae had stirred Ker up more than the cold-hearted brute cared to admit. It revealed the worst in wolves, sending the Saw Tooth warriors into an unforgiveable and rather pathetic display of anxiety and accusation. With a simple misstep, Channing had thrown Abendrot’s balance out of whack. Snarling savagely, Kershov lashed out at a tender branch blocking his path and snapped it ruthlessly in half, imagining that it was someone’s bone. Feckless bitch, his mind seethed. I’ll ensure you and your pack never trifle with Abendrot again . . .

Only the familiar scent of two of his she-fighters brought Kershov from his bloodthirsty musings. He halted, massive white form poised like a breathtaking sculpture of alabaster—all rugged angles and lean musculature. Aerten and Winn Dixie. The one he saw greatness in and the one with blue fire in her eyes. A far more relaxed grin slipped smoothly over the still-whole half of Ker’s ravaged muzzle; here was the company of two femmes the King would not object to.

He glided with surprising grace over the soft, springy terra, enormous paws leaving the slightest impressions where he stepped, claw marks like deep constellations over oval toe dips. He found Aerten’s rich russet coat first; the wolfess had reclined somewhere in the underbrush with blazing eyes focused on Winn Dixie. Kershov quietly stood beside her, his masculine frame shading her where flimsy branches and whispering green leaves could not. He fixed bottomless black eyes on Winn’s mottled pelt as she stalked her prey.


.:.leader of Abendrot – lover of Queens – father of Kirastasia and Kavik – LSVK.:.



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