You're always talking, but you're not playing

Things had been going well for Tyranis as of late. He had defeated Hannibal, his children had been returned to him, and his pack had been purged of the traitorous wretches Hannibal had accumulated. He felt competent and sure of himself for the first time in well over a season and carried himself with the grace and renewed pride as a leader. He ventured to the nook, hoping to find Kai on the beautiful summer day. He remembered the nook well as the place his mother had told him of his origins and now he reflected on how that single moment had come to shape his life.

He had been born a bastard and had by his own devices raised himself to the mantle of a king, he had fallen from grace, and returned to be met by his creator and had fallen into the madness of his pack. When Elias abandoned them he had chosen to raise his own pack and found that few of his own family were willing to aid him. By Elias’s second return he had carved a name for himself on the backs of wolves who would prove to be disloyal to him. As for Elias, he had left his supposedly cherished son to pick up the shattered remnants of his life without his aid. Abandoned just as his other children had been. Just as his father so often did. He shook his head to himself at his reminiscing and paced through the trees at a steady walk, above he heard the flutter of wings from his raven companion and around his neck coiled the cobra that was his familiar.

The three traveled amicably in silence, each searching for Tyranis’s paramour but instead the storm wolf found a pale man, perched in front of…Well he didn’t know exactly what it was. Some kind of array of sticks and stones. The man seemed quite pleased with his creation and Tyranis, with piqued curiosity approached him.

“Good evening.” He greeted with a cordial tip of his head. “Mind if I ask what you have there?”