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...?

Refresh/Reload

It's a cold and it's a broken h a l l e l u j a h
IP: 75.118.108.125




 photo vengaa_zpscbd51726.jpg

Is that so? His harsh tone was laced with satisfaction. Somehow I found a last ounce of resilliance left in the depths of my being. Did I stutter, Kershov? No one is here for me. If anyone ever really was. The words would have been spit at the dragga, had I any fight left in me. But I didn't and so the lyrics passed from my lips with only a stony push. I was shutting down. Not even the snow dragon's frozen touch could rouse me. His nose against my skull only resulted in me weakly pulling away from him. I wouldn't allow Kershov's words to unsettle me. He had total control over my body, but I would not let my mind be poisoned.

He would not give up. His words ensued yet again, poking and prodding at me. Hoping for a reaction. But all I gave him to work with was a weak scoff. Even I, myself, didn't know if I wished to survive or perish. I supposed I was really just curious as to what my enemy would do to me. Such a sadistic curiosity was what had led me to this godforsaken place. That's what kept me here when all I had to do was get up and run...

But suddenly I couldn't run. I could barely even breathe. So this is what Ker would do to me? This is how he would punish me for my very existence? No, I had a feeling he was just getting started. I held my body very still, taking in shallow, ragged breaths. My pulse jumped wildly at the sudden constriction, as I tried my best to calm it. Of course, there was nothing I could do. It was all I could do to keep my mind from panicking totally. Trust me, that was not an easy feat to accomplish. When he pressed down, a sharp gag wretched from my throat. His words passed through my auds and it took a minute before my mind could comprehend them. Why don't you then, Kershov? What's holding you back? You'd never give me a place among your pack, but why not still use me?

The words would not come out past the pressure on my trachea. But suddenly the pressure was gone. Before I could utter the words for real, the tundra king was slamming his paws down on my chest and I was yelping with surprise and pain. My duo-toned gaze bulged in my cranium and I was gasping for breath that I couldn't draw in. His nails raked across my skin and I was surprised when I glanced down and no ribbons of blood adorned my pelt. I was fighting so hard to keep from crying out in pain, my willpower strong. But even I could not keep all the pain at bay. Small yelps and cries issued from my mouth every so often. Kershov was an expert at torture and I was his unlucky victim. I wasn't sure if he would let me out of this alive.

Use me. The words twisted out with a fresh cry of agony.


This is really short and totally not worth the wait. I'm soooooo sorry !!

Replies:
There have been no replies.



Post a reply:
Name:
Email:
Subject:
Message:
Password To Edit Post:




Create Your Own Free Message Board or Free Forum!
Hosted By Boards2Go Copyright © 2020


<-- -->