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: 72.201.103.35
Posted on November 18, 2013 at 07:00:52 AM by i v e v
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It seems like almost yesterday, when this estranged pair of wolves arrived at Abendrot to welcome their new additions into the world; far from the safety of their own pack. I could almost taste the palpable smell of new puppies that had eluded from the den my hospitable pack had loaned them, but for a hefty price. And they had come on this chilly autumn day to repay their debt. The young familys' scent roamed the air, mixing in with the other heady seasonal aromas. I had stopped to smell the fresh decay of leaves, which lingered on the moist earth in vibrant, colorful hues. There was the nutty smell of pinecones and acorns, the musty purfume of snapped branches, and the rich fragrance of dried grass. The atmosphere had given out gusts of breezes that stirred the fallen maple and oak leaves into playful little whirling devils that chased each other through the trees. The crackling wind was the only sound I had picked up for awhile, save the occasional caw of raven. And I was content with it, being in silent solitude admist the changing forest. I had slept in the crooks of old, gnarled oaks, their canopies bare, and scoured the earth for fungi, my only medical remedy that took on a physical form. But the faint aromas of Channing and Henadin, as I had come to know the pair, had tore me away from my slightly riduculous reverie of autumn frivolity. I moved stealthily through the barren trunks, my pallid form like tepid water running over rocks. It wasn't long before I reached the small gathering, and hung back to first assess the situation. The jumbled scents had confused me while I had picked my way here, but I could see the true occupants; not just Abendrot warriors. There was Marx, the loyal and faithful general, his nose twitching with the scent of Saw Tooth. Enigma was not far behind, stepping up to be shoulder to shoulder with the grey male. There were greetings on their lips, but my ears swiveled towards the dominating femme as I avoided looking at the pup. Her voice was a poisonous honey, venom dripping from it. Only something so dangerous as she could be born like that, not taught. Under different circumstances, I would have been more than happy to see what other qualities the queen possesed- but from afar. Her words were locked directly onto the young form at Channing's feet. The mother had forced replies to Abendrot's queries and comments, but the real emotion in her voice poured out when addressing her waybound son. I love you. I could then only imagine that pain is like a double-edged sword; it stabbed not only Channing, but her mate and child. It was hard for me not to experience a mirror reaction, having given up a litter. But perhaps this is where Channing and me have a deliniation in commonality. I drew closer, my icey crystals locked onto the small figure of Roheryn. Marx seemed a little taken by the sheer size of the pup, and I could imagine why. There had been none since Cocoa and her siblings had grown up. It would be interesting to see each of Abendrot's nurturing side, however twisted they may be. ❄ i v e v ❆ |
Replies:
- When the days are cold - By Roheryn November 18, 2013 at 06:42:04 PM
FROZEN MASS GRAVE - By KERSHOV November 19, 2013 at 11:36:59 PM