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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He seems egotistical, begrudging himself to the ground instead of acting like its where he belongs. Marx watched the brute get the ground like he was afraid to get dirt on his coat, with narrowed eye slits. He listened carefully to what the brutus had to say, all the while not taking his eyes off him. Even when Kershov arrived, he didn’t dare stray a glance, this brute might not be trained as Marx was, but he was still something of an opponent if he got the upper hand- and surprise attacks could give him that. Marx simply nodded at Kershov’s words as a greeting, eyes still burning holes through the newcomer’s skull. If anything, the fact he would be harsher on this male as a soldier is because he saw more potential in him. He wouldn’t let him drabble by the wayside. He spoke of Marx’s soldiers and Marx actually physically took a step back, as if shying from being labeled as a separate entity of the pack.

Kershov’s soldiers. I was simply chosen to lead them. You want to be a soldier? Prove your worth and try to pin me.

While speaking, he circled the brute ominously, like a great white shark on its death approach, However, when he stopped and he was now in free mans land and Kershov was mirroring his position, but behind the border. He crouched slightly, back legs tucked up underneath and claws already dug into the earth. He wanted Grey Wind to attack him for all he was worth and get him on his back. He evened out his weight over all four limbs and would soon snarl if the brute didn’t hurry up and do as he ordered.


M A R X
High Commander of the Abendrot Soldiers


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