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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Again the girl spoke- except she took to addressing them separately. First to point out Kershov's 'condition' and ask him his progress. Marx took her words with a grain of salt- prisoners say the darnedest things, you know. When she looked at Marx and left his 'description' unfinished, he didn't feel much at all- but a smile slid on his features and he mockingly bowed, as if she had complimented the onyx gentleman. No words or sounded came from Marx- a wolf of very, very, few words. Grey Wind seemed to take immediate disliking to Kobato's words about him and felt the need to vocalize this- as if to prove her point of him being nervy. Marx's orbs flickered to him, ready to body block him out of the situation- knowing Kershov would want the little princess all to himself. Grey Wind's feelings did not matter here and Marx was far too leveled to care about an outsider's prisoner's observations.

But his mind wasn't a still void, like it often seemed. Rolling thunderclouds were forming in his temporal lobe. Something about the situation spoke of danger- but he wasn't sure exactly to whom or what. Marx certainly didn't feel in danger, but he knew better than to let his guard down...ever. The danger was outsider's and what they would think of Abendrot who was again taking names and chewing up prisoner's like they were going out of fashion. Kenshin again punished Kobato for speaking, but stopped and seemed to wait for Kershov to direct him. Like a true beaten dog. Marx watched, the slient knight, observing, noting and ready to sink his fangs into the nearest jugular at the drop of a word. Outwardly, he looked positively cheerful, a small smile dripping from his lips. His slate orbs were not smiling, but rather emotionless...and they were trained directly on the prisoner's throat. Cruel thoughts forming, Salvia building.

13th vertebrae down. What a gusher, metallic, salty red. Lovely.

Ripping a jugular out wasn't as easy as he made it seem. The fangs needed to encircle both forks of the carotid to perform a perfect incision along the throat. Voice box was crushed, then torn from its place, leaving several delicate sprays of scarlet to coat the attacker, while the victim caught up with what happened to them. Done 'properly', it was actually a quick death, but their were so many variations to make a victim suffer- to crush and not tear, leaving them from voiceless to their own longs filling with crimson. Marx delicately licked his chops, fangs exposing, realizing it had been a little too long since he'd sunk his teeth into something living. Perhaps he'd find his lovely bandit and take a bite out of her- she seemed to enjoy a modicum of pain every now and then.




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