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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maybe tonight..i'll call ya..

It was a pleasant enough day. Sunshine drenched the terra instead of the usual dreary atmosphere and Marx stood, allowing his rich, ebony coat to soak up the vitamin D. He began to let himself think about Sixth, his only brother, only blood related family he ever identified as actual family. Sixth left Abendrot after Krutch disappeared. Krutch trained both of them and while Sixth had taken a rebellious turn and began to reject the lessons, the training, the wisdom. Marx thrived on being taught, being educated in the ways of everything. His claws sank into the earth, kneading into it, feeling the earth mush between his webbed digits. Slate eyes scanned his peripherals and then closed, exhaling slowly, feeling the air, the terra, hearing every little sounds, the birds, the breeze...and Enigma.

Near silent paw steps approached and her clearing her throat made him break into a grin, but his eyes remained closed a few seconds more- as id reality wouldn't live up to his daydream that had been the last few, fleeting seconds.

..when my...blood...turns to...alcohol

He turned, just in time to see her spin and take off into the woods after a playful wink. The very sight of her needed appreciation beyond words. Without another seconds hesitation, he launched after her, limbs galloping, heart racing with adrenaline and lust. The sliver and onyx demon is on her heels within seconds, because he knows she wants to be caught, but she also wants to be chased. He snaps playfully at her flank, teeth coming together with a metallic clip and she veers towards the stream. She launches in without hesitation and Marx slides to a semi halt and runs a further few meters along the bank to a higher point and then launches himself into the clear, cold water. The streams depth varied, they swan, ran and waded through the better part of half mile, churning the water brown and cloudy. At a shallower point, Marx almost tackles her as the chase is suddenly too much chase and not enough catch for him. As if interpreting his very thought, his bandit veers and spins and then launches herself at him and he slows, rearing on his hind legs to allow a perfect collision of fur, mud and water. They roll several times in the shallows with Marx coming to a rest under his masked bandit.

no, I just wanna hold you


A slight whine drips from his maw as he reaches up and traces her jawline with his tongue. He had followed that damn bitch for months and when she finally discovered his purpose, they had a roaring fight. Newly formed scars were still pink and fresh across his throat- Marx was a good fighter, but his objective had been to detain Ker's little queen and bring her home, not kill her. Kershov seemed rather fond of his little blood splashed bitch, perhaps it was her demonican genetics he prized more than her sassy personality. Either way, Marx didn't ask, he simply obeyed order, like the good little solider he was. Honestly, considering he'd almost given his life for his queen, Marx felt the need to rebel a little. Typically he would have sought out Kershov and reported his findings immediately...but..

He snapped back into reality, realizing he'd just been staring blankly at his beautiful Enigma, god, how long? How long had he been vacant? Just lying there like a suffocating fish on dry land...
He smiled at her softly and got up, quickly pinning her to the damp ground, giving an evil sounding chuckle, lyrics finally broke forth from the wolf of few words.

Now your all mine.

He didn't apologise from his disappearance, just pressed his head against her as if to telepathically communicate the thought of apology. He didn't like to leave her and would definitely try his damnedest to make sure he didn't do it again. He nuzzled her grooming her face and neck, enjoying being saturated with her scent and the feeling he only got when he was with her. If someone were to walk in on them, he might just rip out a jugular or two- much like when they first met.



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