they should call me icarus, flying this close to the sun

The Warlord huffed a soft laugh at that. He understood all too well, he didn’t do well alone. He surrounded himself with those he called his for a reason. Now, for better or worse, Dream was one of those wolves. Mine. He wondered if his new pack wolf knew what he was getting himself into.

Dream, trying to figure out how the Armada worked, asked a good question. The Warlord didn’t slow his gait as he looked over his shoulder and responded. “There are a few pre-dug dens near the central camp. If none of those are to your liking, I can help you dig your own. Alternatively, if you prefer company, wolves like my son Mortis prefer a dog-pile type bedding situation.”

They reached the heart of the Plains then, and the Warlord turned his gaze to the obelisk. The stone pillar that stood before the pack's main camp. “here you will find the written laws of the pack. You’ll do best to make yourself familiar with them” He warned, giving the other wolf a chance to digest them.


"Speech"