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: 116.251.130.89
Posted on July 18, 2014 at 11:06:00 AM by Aerten
Aerten had always been an assassin at heart; the girl could be charming, shy, flirtatious, whatever she needed in the situation, however she had always preferred to skip such games, instead allowing her blank carefully crafted mask to rest upon her palette, shielding her inner workings and thoughts from those around her. Many would fall, trying to call upon whatever they thought may rest in the crevices of her chest, whether it be guilt, or a hidden desire to be a hero, to be the good guy for once. The russet femme fatale in these cases, would always allow one thing to break through her careful façade; the slightest of smirks. One did not survive in this world by being a hero. Aerten did not have or want any claim of heroism. The only thing they would find in her heart, in her mind, in her very being would be more along the lines of anger, chilled to the core. Emotions were unnecessary on her face, because they could instead be displayed through her work, in the tearing of flesh like silk, and the macabre ideas she could inflict upon her victims. When an unfamiliar scent drifted in from the direction of the border, the russet head assassin had moved immediately to intercept. It was about time she had something to do. Her pace was cool, controlled, and held a level of grace tempered with practised skill. Her face was unreadable, a portrait of russet lit up by a pair of amber orbs always watching, noting whatever they could. And they did so, when they landed upon the newcomer. The girl was pretty, she supposed, a cream gem with darkened stockings and a seemingly timid demeanour. Aerten stepped forward until she was in front of the girl, watching without reaction. It was too soon, too soon to know what she was dealing with her. "Aerten, Epsilon of Abentrot. State your name and business." The words were impersonal, not necessarily giving off hostility, but not giving the ess a chance to grasp at any form of friendliness and kindredness either. She waited patiently for the response, watching everything about the girl. She wanted to learn how this one spoke, how she moved, and she wanted to learn what exactly was happening in this newcomers mind. It paid to be prepared. OOC- |
Replies:
- THE MAD KING - By KERSHOV July 23, 2014 at 10:00:47 PM