The hell-stricken monstrosity beats down against the earth on massive paws, his skull swinging from left to right as he takes in his surroundings. The plains are surprisingly lifeless at the moment, and he is searching for someone to... entertain him. He has been rather bored lately, unsatisfied with the lack of brutality within the pack. The first time around he had been constantly fighting and training to better his skills, but now, now he has sat around waiting for the queen to give him something to do. He has been itching for a fighting, itching to taste the sweet warmth of blood trickling down his throat. Surly someone in this godforsaken plain will want his company. He surges on, thoughts of destruction swarming within his devious mind. He is sure that he will find someone eventually to... 'play' with. Walk "Talk" Think

Marquis… Marquis Aerndís Thyre…. she had to admit the title had a ring to it.  Grinning like the cat that gutted a canary Aerndís strode through Arcanum with just that much more of a spring in her step.  Any thoughts of hunkering down in a pack til her prey once again appeared had all but left her.  As much as she enjoyed the life of a gladiator her settlement in Arcanum was much more desirable and for the first time in awhile she could wholly taste her freedom.  And how sweet it was.

Nostrils flared at the scent of one of her compatriots. Well, she supposed she ought to get to know her charges, especially as she didn't remember seeing this male at the fight training.  Eyes narrowed, he must be new.  The brute in question was a massive beast but not the first of that size she'd seen.  If anything Alacritis just seemed to beed large wolves.  What was odd about him was the ridiculous…. well… she hadn't even the words to describe what he was wearing.  

"You must be new.  I'm Aerndís… you need any help getting out of that thing?"


"Speech"