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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It was troubling- the mix of emotions that welled in his chest. For a split second he thought the doe was going on a suicide mission, but refrained from helping her as she struggled back. It seemed to bother her, the deer's suffering. Marx didn't see a difference between this death and a death by pack hunt- the end result was the same, but perhaps he was too much of a blunt tool to appreciate the means to an end.
Marx was a soldier- soldier do not plan battles- the fight them. Soldiers do not create orders- they are given orders and the carry them out flawlessly. Soldiers made up a bulk of Kershov army- the bread and butter so to speak...and at the head of them was Marx, giving orders, plannings spars, battles and going over tactics with Kershov. Kershov even trusted Marx enough to bring back his little puppet queen. Scarlet wasn't too fond of him since he had to kill one of her lieutenants to drag her home- which hadn't been easy and she had almost killed him on a number of occasions. Better not share that with Kershov....or Enigma.

He watched the pale doe rise, and lecture him of stopping the suffering of others. Eyes narrowed at the quip about' what if it was Enigma' . Enigma wouldn't be so stupid to get stuck in a swamp in the first place and if by some ridiculous hypothetical situation- she was in there? He'd rescue her in a heart beat of course, but she wouldn't need it, not even then. It was like Kobato couldn't appreciate the adversity and hardness of an Abendrot wolf. Some part of him deep, deep down, identified and understood what she meant, but kindness and mercy were foreign here in Abendrot. Torture, assassination and cruelty were the languages spoke within their pack borders. Kidnapping wolves, taking prisoners and becoming infamous- Abendrot certainly had things going for it. Marx was intrigued by this fae and followed her to the water. He lapped up a small portion of clear water to sake his thirst, then spoke up, not caring whether she was listening or not. Conversation- normal conversation, was hard to come by in this pack and while Marx was a wolf of few words- it was getting too quiet, even for him.

Oh Kobato, you have such a kind heart. Now I understand why Kenshin chose to keep you unconscious. Do you wish to return to that state?

If she faced him, she would see his hackles were raises, face stiff, edges of canines exposed- she had done something to piss him off. If he were hurt of injured on his watch, it'd be his back. He wouldn't hesitate to wrestle her down and cut off her air supply until she went 'sleepy sleepy'. He'd done it to all his trained soldiers to prove how effective the tactic was in taking prisoners. It took practice and done wrong- resulted in death. Slate eyes burned holes in her bodice as he closed the space between them, stepping into the water, murky from her body bring washed. When he was only only a hairs width from her face, he spoke again, his voice violent and low.

....because I can arrange that if you'd like.

He ticked the seconds down in his head- waiting for her to either attack him or submit an answer.
Tongue rolled over canines, readying them for whatever came next.



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