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: 75.118.108.125
Posted on October 9, 2013 at 09:29:02 PM by Venga
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I used to be a strong wolf. My strength was among the greatest in Tamlin's kingdom, rivaled only by Ambrosia's. Growing up in Bright Moon had only proved to hone the finely crafted connection between me and the alabaster regal. No one knew how to read me quite like Tammy had. I had been his best trained soldier, never leaving his side, acting on his every whim. I was his pet, his little guard dog, though he hardly needed one. I admired his strength and wisdom while I myself had less than perfection. The walls from my lone years in my youth never really did come all the way down. With them came the sharp tongue and strong mistrust of others I so often felt. I was such an imperfect creature, among my own kind even. But still Tamlin too me in, devoting his patience and hopes. I grew from a hateful, shifty-eyed teen into a proud, strong, clever adult. I had found my place in the world and there had been no other place I wanted to be for so long. So what was I doing here on Abendrot's land when I should be at home, looking after the pack until someone came to restore it? Just as Tamlin had done and Satowra before him. The sadistic grin stretching handsomely on the whole part of Kershov's face cut deeper than any knife ever could. As much as I hated the dragon, even from the first moment we met, there was a sort of respect we felt for each other, thin as it may be. Sharp words were a mere game we played with one another, knowing no harm would come. But now something was different. Something had happened to Kershov that pulled the deepest recesses of his hateful venom out to be directed at me full force. Something-- or perhaps someone-- had crushed Ker in the same way I had been shattered. And now he was taking his revenge on the only thing he could: Me. I saw the malice in his glittering obsidian pools as I launched myself at him and the disappointment when I adverted the attack. What he wouldn't give to kill me right now-- ripping me limb from limb, torturing me until I begged him to end it. It's what he seemed to want. But I wasn't ready to give myself to him like that. I wouldn't be reduced to nothing more than his play thing. I hated the way he watched me, those endless orbs scrutinizing my every agonized breath. As if my vast, sudden emotion intrigued him. Like he was the scientist and I was a mere lab rat, here only to sate his curiosity. I wanted to spit in his marred little face right then. But I had already more than overstepped my bounds and if I did as much, I would surely be made an example of. Maybe he would do that anyways, who knows? I had gone and made it all too easy for him. The arctic tyrant's cold words sliced through my panicked thoughts. Only then did the realization of what I had last said to him sink in. No words came to counter his rhetorical question, only the slow, almost dazed, shaking of my head. No. I did NOT want his help. Right? I had no more time to think about it before he again parted that lethal maw. The words he spoke seldom phased me as I merely bowed my head, even as he approached me, whispering words that cut like tiny daggers to the mind. Their truth rang through me, solemn and deafening. I was a fool, for coming here at all and for ever seeking out a home in the first place all those moons ago. And, yes, he could destroy me. But honestly, what was left to destroy? Just a shell of wolf, a warrior? I felt the graze of his teeth as they dragged over my fur and I let them, knowing both that I was helpless and with a broken spirit. I had no more fight left in me, no more resistance. All this came slowly, deliberately, to my mind as I rose my clashing luminaries to search Kershov's icy face. His final words washed over me with the warmth of his breath, but no recognition sparked in my brain. I had heard his seductively venomous question, but the words were nothing more than a jumble of syllables to my auds. Pain. Suddenly it was shooting through me, purely physical this time. I felt the tug of his ivories in my flesh and the unpleasant zing they brought with them but still I did not resist. Right now, I was nothing more than Kershov's life-sized rag doll. I could feel the crimson liquid oozing from inside of me onto my honey fur. The pain was blurring my vision, sending my head swimming. Slowly, my lids slid closed, just as a large paw thrust my jaw upwards. I gave a single, surprised jerk but the motion offered no release and I gave up as soon as I had started to try. He is going to kill me now. He'll rip out my throat and leave my corps here for the birds... The blunt thought caught me like a right hook, sending a wave of panic through me one time. A slight whimper echoed through my semi-choked throat, orbs still squeezed shut against the pain in my shoulder. But then it wasn't the tearing of teeth that plagued my exposed neck. When cool wetness instead kissed my silky fur, I froze. Confusion blossomed in my mind, strong and wary. Reluctantly I slid my pale lids open, peering up at the face of my tormentor which had now been pulled away from my tender skin. His orbs searched my own with self assured withdrawal. If he hadn't been positive before, I had just given him what he needed to be 100% sure now. His wicked lyrics shuttered through me, echoing in my mind. Who on earth is protecting you now? Who, indeed. I met the dragga's hard gaze with my own emptiness. My voice drawn and accepting, I spoke. No one, Kershov. No one at all. |
Replies:
- FROZEN MASS GRAVE - By KERSHOV November 5, 2013 at 03:03:47 AM
It's a cold and it's a broken h a l l e l u j a h - By Venga November 27, 2013 at 05:16:11 PM