Domino Effect

Several weeks ago, Aresenn approached Rhazien with valuable information. There was a change in leadership within the Armada. Given they were now neighbors, and the possibility of a raid had been discussed between the alpha and The Syndicate’s Emir, Rhazien felt it was necessary to visit the Warlord. He was The Syndicate’s diplomat after all. This was his job. He’d left the sanctuary of The Polar Sound earlier that morning, warning Medulla to search for him if he didn’t return by nightfall. So far, his journey had been uneventful.

Beneath the canopy of pines, Rhazien traverses across freshly fallen snow, creating a trail of impressions that vanish almost as quickly as they are made. Snow continues to fall from the heavens, immersing the north in a blanket of white that stretches as far as he can see. Even the towering pines are heavy with snow, the hushed stillness of the forest broken by the rustle of branches breaking or the occasional gust of wind. Pulling his grizzly pelt tighter around his neck, he feels his companions rustling underneath, riding on his back in their usual fashion. Their warmth is a welcoming contrast to the chill of the frigid air, and it seems to worsen as he nears the market Aresenn described to him. The soft glow of lanterns illuminates in the distance, guiding him to the neutral grounds that are bustling, even with the weather.

The air is alive with conversation, vendors calling out as he passes by, curiosity driving him as he saunters through. He wants to make a complete sweep of the area, to complete an assessment of the market and its valuables, before he teeters towards the borders of the Armada. Weaving through the crowd, it starts to dissipate as he reaches the designated location. Guards are standing by, and Rhazien nods to them, expressing his neutrality before tipping his head back and calling for the Warlord.  

"Speech"