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 wasn’t eavesdropping technically. As soon as he observed such a quick-snap change in Kershov’s nature, the sliver and ebony leader circled silently from his hiding place, leaving the border of Abendrot and pacing back in a hunter’s stalk to come in at Kershov’s left. Marx nodded to Kershov on arrival as per his usual habits, but his eyes didn’t stray from the two lovely femmes that lined their border. Whether or not they were lying, Marx had yet to make up his mind- but he believed that if Kershov thought they were bullshitting- it was highly likely. Now the arctic alpha planned to plunge them, head first, into the darker depths of Abendrot. His stance was, as always, graceful, soldier-like, however he moved with ease, as if a weightless objects, free from the constraints of gravity. A sign of a great fighter.

My welcome to you, Aurora wolves. I am Marx, Head of the Soldiers, mind if I help you sniff out your suspect?

His tone was his typical gentleman’s clipped accent, charming, nothing but charming.

To ask them for permission in front of Kershov would have typically been stupid and a one-way ticket to a beating- not that Kershov was in the habit of beating his soldiers. Marx punished the soldiers that disobeyed and Kershov preferred to ‘play’ with the prisoners, like he was wiping the gum off his shoe on the bottom rung of the ladder. Marx knew Kershov better every moment he served under him and the only way to learn faster, was to trust in him that he would know Marx had just joined his little game of ‘play the stupid wolf’. After the wolves responded, he glanced at Kershov, his features said nothing, were a cold impassive ice sheet, as if he were waiting for an order. However, he simply turned away after two seconds or so and walked beside the bigger of the two fae’s. The glance wasn’t meant to send any message, only perceive Kershov’s reaction. They want to play games. Let them have games.

The grey-eyed beast was leading them to a main game path that led into the centered clearing of the pack- where a far more dangerous game awaited them. Abendrot had gained an alphess recently and Marx viewed her as more unpredictable and much more…toxic, to life itself.


M A R X
High Commander of the Abendrot Soldiers


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