Another pack to visit, this one further North but she had been hearing whisper and word about 'em and she had to admit, she was mighty interested to see what they were all about. The Wraith made the journey up North to lands she was more or less familiar with from her travels. Oh, and she had also lived here briefly and hunted 'round these parts before. She didn't know what the alpha looked like, and vaguely remembered his name from the whispers floating around on the winds, but in all honesty, she still didn't have a clue who he was. So might as well make a visit, no? Approaching the heavily scented borders, Medusa tilted her head and scanned the territory. It was clear many wolves lived here, and she couldn't help but be impressed by how quickly one of the latest packs had grown. But alas, no more dilly-dallying! She tilted her head back, calling for the alpha or whoever she could meet! "Speech"

Redrum moved gracefully through the forest, his musculature twitching slightly as he followed his mother's footsteps. The journey northward had been long, but he relished every moment of it, eager to learn and absorb all he could from her.

As they neared the borders of the new pack's territory, Redrum's ears flicked back and forth, catching every sound. It wasn’t like he would know what packs were new or old, so instead he listened to his mother’s words as they went. He steadied his breathing, instincts sharpening as they moved closer. The scent of many wolves filled the air, telling of the pack's size. The caw of ravens overhead caught his attention for a moment, but he assumed they were just a natural part of the north. There was another scent that intrigued him, the smell of decay; perhaps the reason so many beady eyes watched them from the canopy. Golden eyes flashed as he bore witness to the carcasses and effigies marking the border of this pack, a grin curling the edges of his maw as he peeked over to his mother.

Medusa stopped at the border, her sharp eyes scanning the territory with an appraising look. Then his mother tilted her head back and let out a call, her voice echoing through the trees. Redrum watched her, noting the confidence and authority in her stance. He mirrored that from her, tall ears perking atop his skull as he stood just a pace behind her and to her side.

This was a chance to see how another pack operated, to understand their strengths and weaknesses, and to learn how his mother handled, what was it… politics?


"Redrum Xanthos Mortem"

Cleaning the remnants of a kill from his paws, Rhazien is lounging near the heart of The Polar Sound, enjoying the company of his feline companions and the warmth of Medulla pressed against him. Occasionally, he would shift his grooming to the beautiful woman at his side, delicately licking her ears, head, cheek, lips, until… my, was it getting warmer by the second? He was draped over her now, grooming down her shoulders, enjoying her embrace and fantasizing about what came next. Until a call from the borders forced him from his playtime.

He considered ignoring it, figuring Sephiran, Kaino, or Aresenn would answer it. But something about the voice was.. familiar. He was having a deja vu moment. Hmpf. Pulling himself away from Medulla, he informs her that he will return shortly. He shakes the dirt from his pelt, motions for his serval companions to join him, and heads to the border.

Emerging from the treeline, The Syndicate’s Effendi-Dhaka strode forward with an air of confidence, exuding charisma and assurance in every step. His stride is smooth and controlled, suggesting natural athleticism and grace, while the rhythm of his gait is confident, a suave smile curling the corners of his lips. He stops at a conversational distance, immediately recognizing the woman from the battlefield. What did she refer to him as? Pretty boy? That was many seasons ago, but he still remembered it like it was yesterday. He never got her name, but he remembered the sweet, sickly taste of her blood in his maw.

“Ahh, skeleton woman. I thought I’d never see you again.” He hums, eyeing the woman closely, pretending to be playfully hurt by her absence. His gaze shifts to the large, red male beside her, a silent acknowledgment flashing in his eyes before he turns back to Medusa. “And now you’ve shown up at our borders.” A short pause, as his lips curl into a sly smirk. “Welcome to The Syndicate…” Another pause. “Your purpose?” It was only a matter of time until Sephiran arrived- if he could decipher the woman’s motives beforehand, it might benefit them all.

"Speech"

Deep in the labyrinth of The Syndicate's cave system, Sephiran is sorting through the pack's stores of poison, meticulously organizing and rearranging. He’s going by harvest date and potency, his serpent companion acting as his aid, guiding him through the process until he is content with his work.

Putting the last vial away, the Sultan inspects his paws for any droplets. His serpent confirms they are clean, and with a huff, Sephiran travels out of the catacomb and emerges into the daylight. It takes several moments for his eyes to adjust, the musky, damp smell of inner earth swathing his pelt, adding to his usual cologne of rotting decay and iron. He’s intent on patrolling the borders now. And, if by some divine intervention, a call resonates from the edge of his domain, requesting the appearance of the kingdom’s leader. Of the Sultans' presence. Sephiran commands his falcon forward, the bird screeching and flying to the borders, his panther falling in stride beside him as he lopes to the borders.

When he arrives, Sephiran is surprised to see his Uncle beat him to it - though, the stoic expression on his face does not portray his musings. As he enters their proximity, Sephiran slows his pace into a purposeful lope, an air of dominance accompanying his arrival. There is a palpable shift in the atmosphere, his aura commanding and sinister, as he demands the attention of his uncle and the strangers at his borders.

His gaze shifts to Rhazien, who seems to know this woman. “I am Sephiran- Sultan of The Syndicate.” He declares, shifting his attention to the woman. There is an expectant gleam in his eyes as he waits for her to explain herself. He also notices the large, red wolf lingering in her shadow, observing the meeting.

"Speech"

Code by Sea

She waits someone (im)patiently for someone to arrive, and in the meantime, she shifts for a moment as Red joins her. She glances at him, a gleam in her eye and hint of a grin on her face as her fangs gleam in the Northern light. Her body vibrates with anticipation, wondering who is going to show up. Her attention turns back to the border as she eyes the many marks surrounding them. The air smells like death and decay, the air vibrating with violence and darker tendencies. Honestly, she didn't know there were others out there who enjoyed what she did! What had started out as a an activity that stemmed from boredom in her puphood, had turned into a rather obsessive hobby. Only, out of respect for those in her pack, she hadn't put all of hers on public display...but maybe that'd change, after all, it seemed to give a warning. A deterrent, perhaps. It was no secret, after all, that she took the skins and parts of wolves and not just other predators or prey. After all, her own armor was built out of the skeleton of a wolf who had dared step up against her. Now she wore him as a tropy. Teehee! The pair would stand in silence before a guttural croak from her vulture alerted her at last to the approach of someone...familiar. Though she couldn't recall his name, but she could never forget that handsome face of his! Her lips twitched up into her usual Cheshire grin as the handsome male spoke, referring to her as "Skeleton woman" which, honestly, she didn't mind at all. He called the place The Syndicate, and it piqued her interest even more. An unusual name for a pack, no? What was their purpose? "Oh, it is the handsome man! Did he miss Medusa?" She teased with a wink, a light cackle slipping past her lips. Before she could continue, another would arrive. This one just as handsome as the first. So far, this pack did not disappoint with the handsome faces, did they? This new male introduced himself as Sephiran, the Sultan of the Syndicate. She assumed that was the title of his alpha role. She quirked a nod to him, her own stance as confident and commanding the same as him. Though not in a challenging manner, mind. But rather, she was an equal. An alpha same as him. And soon, her son would be, too. A slight tilt of her head first one way, then another, as her grin never left her face. Observing both. She half expected another to emerge, like shadows out of the darkness. But it would appear to just be these two. "Medusa has come to see who the new pack is, and she is not disappointed. She remembers you," She glanced toward Rhazien for a moment before it shifted to Sephiran. "You are new to Medusa, but she has heard of him." Indeed, she heard many a whisper about this man. She briefly turned to glance at her son, "Medusa has brought Redrum to join her. She is teaching him to be the next alpha of Insomnia. Medusa knows he will not disappoint her." She had a feeling he'd do great things! Now that introductions were out of the way, she returned her full attention to the pair. "Medusa is curious about the pack. She heard how...The Syndicate...came to be...but she also knows words can be twisted by those who fear." Yep. Happened plenty during her time in Habari all that time ago..."Medusa did not hear a challenge call~" Her gaze gleamed with a knowing eye, but she oh so wanted to hear it from them! "Speech"

Medusa was her name, and she was just as quirky now as she was when they first met. She even referred to him as handsome man, which earned a slight twitch of his lips, that suave, charming smile pulling tighter. His jaws part to speak, but suddenly, the atmosphere around them changes- bending beneath the oppressive weight of the monstrosity about to appear.

The palpable shift in the atmosphere announced the Sultan’s arrival, Sephiran’s larger, amethyst silhouette materializing beside Rhazien. Tsk. Sooner than expected. His bi-colored gaze shifted towards his nephew, the young Sultan boasting his usual air of dominance and superiority, commanding the attention of those around him. Rhazien dipped his head out of respect- he would not overstep in his role, and he would not speak out of turn. Once Sephiran announced his title, he granted Rhazien the opportunity to lead the encounter. He was the political face of The Syndicate, after all.

Shifting his attention to Medusa and her appointed heir, The Syndicate’s Effendi-Dhaka fell effortlessly into his role. “Medusa,” He says, dipping his head down, acknowledging her title of alpha. Despite the burning fact that she was a matriarch, which went against Saxe beliefs. “It’s good to finally know your name.” He turns to the boy next. “And Redrum - Insomnias appointed heir - it’s a pleasure. ” His deep, baritone voice is smooth and articulate, boasting the right amount of warmth and cadence. “I am Rhazien Saxe; The Syndicates Effendi-Dhaka. A politician, if you will.” He explains his role within the pack. His importance. If she came searching for information, he was the right brute to ask.

And when she asks about how The Syndicate came to be, stating words can be twisted by those who fear, Rhazien’s smile pulls tighter. “Fear can be powerful.” He adds, building on her observation.“It can warp minds… create dependency… exploit vulnerabilities. It is true, psychological warfare.” With a tip of his head, he motions for his two, Serval companions to retrieve a welcoming portioning of their dried meats from their storage. “I cannot deny that we have used fear as a weapon- it was our catalyst in the overtaking of Norad.” A short pause, as he gauges their reactions. “But unlike the rumors spreading throughout the kingdoms.” He motions for Medusa and Redrum to take a seat, and make themselves more comfortable. “We do not wage war against wolves who approach our borders peacefully.” There was no telling the variety of rumors that had spread about their kingdom, given its upbringing, and Artorias’ declaration of hatred towards their bloodline. His threats of genocide and bloodshed.

Reclining onto his haunches, Rhazien focuses on Medusa. “There was no challenge call.” Confirming her observation, he finds no benefit in concealing the truth behind their pack's upbringing. “Survival is a wolf’s primary motivator- the continuation of bloodlines, the safety of one's lineage - it's a driving force.” A short pause “Do you agree?” He asks, wanting to poke into the philosophical corners of Medusa’s mind. “Just as nature weeds out the weak - as a sickly fawn will grow more fragile with each passing day, eventually dying to provide food for those higher on the food chain - we decided to take on a more… naturalistic approach, in attaining our empire.” His companions return with baskets of dried meats and fruits, presenting them to Medusa and Redrum before slinking back to stand between Rhazien’s forelegs.

“Put simply- we discovered a pack on the brink of failure, and we made a trade with its alpha.” He’s speaking at a deliberate pace, articulating each word clearly, ensuring his message is understood. “The safety of his son - the continuation of his lineage - in exchange for his packlands, with the assurance that we would not harm a hair on his subordinate's heads, if they left promptly.” Another short pause. "Of course, the Norad King's admirable sacrifice could not be understood by those with opposing beliefs. With our achievement came the declaration of enemies." He falls silent then, inviting their guests into the dialogue, now that he’d painted them a picture of how The Syndicate came to be.

"Speech"

ooc: TR said its ok to skip Red in this round c:

At first, there is an eerie silence that settles between the group. Sephiran uses this time to analyze Medusa and her company, roving his wandering eye across her body. His gaze is intense, sharp and penetrating, focused intently on a peculiar accessory that adorned her body. The skeleton of a wolf. A flicker of recognition flashes in his eyes, a gleaming mix of reverence and malevolence, as he scans each bone with an almost tender admiration.

The intricate vertebrae, the artistry of its structure. The ribcage, draped over her lightweight body, was polished to perfection and yet, there were blemishes etched into the marrow- serving as a trophy of her triumph over life and death. And Sephiran wanted it.

As Rhazien speaks, he boasts that honeyed, silver-tipped tongue of his, using grandiloquent phrasing and euphemisms to explain his kingdom's rise to power. He doesn’t chime in- he allows his Effendi Dhaka to fall into his role. From the start, Sephiran had instilled his faith in his Uncle, and that devotion was wholehearted and perhaps, fanatical.

"Speech"

Code by Sea