The Great Gig in the Sky

Ash-dusted brute watched as the Apollyon 's motions as he moved about the gathering, judging the participants. Glorified ear holes listened closely as his newly claimed leader spoke of the available roles for the rank he had currently held- Purgatorian. The choices provided were typical of a pack stature, in his honest opinion. However, what is it that he would choose to go after? Warrior, Hunter, or Scout?

Drakan's toes tensed in the dirt beneath him, grasping for the answer he so badly needed. While he was best suited for all three, at heart he was most self-recognized as a wardog. This was his calling in life, and so it was only fitting that he go for what he knew best. The male's nostrils flared as he took in Elias' masculine scent as he passed by. Drakan felt his body tingle from excitement of getting the taste of blood and the sting of wounds across his body once more.

The next step would be to obtain a higher up to accompany him to the sparring grounds that were mentioned.... And a sparring partner. However, with being so fresh to the ranks, his knowledge of the others in the pack was lacking. Perhaps that long-faced beast he encountered before would accept his proposal. Or one of the Apollyon's sons? Drakan remained silent as he looked over to the younger males, deep in thought.

"Speech." Thoughts.