Veteran's Plateau Altar

The scarlet and onyx blended wolf trudged across the charred and battle worn terrain. He was alone, and he walked in total silence, moving with purpose in the direction his pair of jet black raptors led him in. Reports of the strange statues of long-forgotten deities and their familiars springing up across Boreas had not escaped his attention. But where his family had all gone off to pay their respects to one of the more grisly entities, he had a far more suiting paragon he wished to offer tribute to. Saracyn arrived to the altar as sunset set the sky ablaze in a sea of fire. A fitting time, he reasoned, to be offering up his praise to the figure his icy cerulean eyes were now affixed to. Centered amongst bloodstained grass and broken weapons stood a wolf effigy carved of dark stone far larger than he had ever seen—even more so than himself or his dire father. Paws carrying him through a wet puddle of gore, Saracyn approached the altar. He paid no heed to the impatient cat urging him to hurry along. He would take his own time.

For a long moment, the Mendacium prince studied the statue's features, meeting its sneering gaze with a cold calmness that came from a lifetime of experiencing others looking down dismissively at him. The wolf stood proud, clad in its cape and armor, wearing its battle scars like trophies. Perhaps Saracyn would one day stand at his sister's side during their reign in much the same posture. At least he could hope. "You look like the kind of wolf who accepts nothing less than perfection. Superiority. Dominance. The kind of wolf I can respect." Sara approached the statue until he was toe to toe with the large stone base, then extended his smooth-edged dagger from his bracer. Pressing the blade to his central paw pad, the adolescent sliced through his flesh until thick crimson poured between his digits. Looking up into the entity's eyes with a solemn reverence, Saracyn placed his paw on the base near the statue's gargantuan paws and left a trail of blood at its feet. He signed his offering with a bloody paw print pressed to the end like a macabre punctuation mark. "Perhaps one day I'll get to meet you—when I've proven myself worth your time." Or when he'd sent enough wretched souls to the afterlife. Taking a moment to wrap his cut paw in lamb's ear for the trek home, Sara bowed his head to the entity, then took his leave.

"Saracyn Mendacium"