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

A waste of a perfectly good, clean w r i s t [kershov]
IP: 75.118.108.125




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Breath barely managed to move between my lips, slightly parted in pain. Kershov's harsh tones sent shudders through my aching body, bringing on fresh waves of pain. Tears ran thickly from my pools, my fight giving out. Small yelps mixed with the gasps, getting slightly louder but never managing to reach the pitch of a scream. There was no energy left in me for such things as screaming.

But then he was on me again. I lay there prone, the corner of my eye detecting as his large frame came hurtling toward me again. There was nothing I could do as he slammed those monstrous paws into my rib-cage. Nothing I could do when his razor-sharp daggers bit into my soft neck. Nothing as he threw me, allowing me to slam into the ground once again. A strangled, weak scream finally broke over my kissers, though if it could actually be called a scream, I do not know. If it is, then it's a feeble excuse for one. Then again, everything about me was a feeble excuse.

Before I knew what was happening his weight was on me, in it's entirety. If I could panic I would right then, but there was nothing I could do. I was a hopeless, pathetic, broken girl. I had never thought Kershov would be one to rape a female but here I was, internally screaming and externally whimpering in a steady stream, expecting exactly that. And then his muzzle is at my ear and all I can do is shake my head in defeat and squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I would wake up from this nightmare. Wishing I could wake up and find Tamlin's navy orbs full of concern, watching me carefully, caringly. But no, this is no nightmare of that sort. And I will never wake up. I will have no solace, omitting death.

And I am hopeless. And I am broken. And I am unable to do a single thing about it.


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