I'm Stronger Now Than I Ever Was Before- ERÖVRARE RECRUITING

Tyranis stepped onto a high boulder,  snow falling all around him as he made his grand entrance into the world as an alpha once again. An alpha stronger and wiser than he had been before, this time determined to bring a nation of equally strong and feared wolves into the world. When he had raised Dauntless it had been amid a storm and he had hoped the inclement weather would have attracted wolves with true grit to join him. He had been wrong. It was a strange contrast, now that he had the loyalty of wolves he knew would prove worthy of him, to raise his new pack on a calm late autumn day.

With a mighty howl Tyranis called for those that had already sworn their allegiance to him and an invitation to those that wished to join him. The Praetors were scattered now, and his father’s bastards were gone as well. With bitterness he recalled that two of his siblings had been taken from him by his uncle. There would be time to deal with that later. For now Erövrare was his only priority, and when they had grown in strength and size they would take as they pleased. He stood with his head raised, his golden eyes looking forward to the future. He had already made some contact with Abaven, now that it seemed to be in more sure hands, although the subject of his uncle’s treachery was still a sore spot for him. That was the fault of his uncle however, not the dark male that lead the pack. He would make a claim for his younger siblings however, but he intended to use as much decorum as possible in the process.

He contemplated his next move in silence as he waited for his call to be answered. At his paws Moses tapped at the stone beneath them with his beak and muttered disconsolately. The bird had brought him news of the Abraxas, and their vast numbers in the southern continent. He would need to establish an alliance with them quickly, according to the bird they were something of superstitious fanatics, he decided then his best course would be to introduce himself with the title his father had given him. Blood of Apollyon, the first wolf.  His own conception had after all been divine, that he knew, and proof of it shone in his eyes, that reflected the nature demon that lived inside him. Some might have simply written off his family’s lore as the ravings of a madman, but Tyranis had taken it to heart. Why else would his mother have given him a name that wasn’t true to the source; Taranis, yet uncomfortably close to the Latin word for tyrant; Tyrannis. Latin was after all the language of his Father.