Forward we March!

Following his meeting with the Warlord, Rhazien presented his findings to Sephiran; informing him of the Armada's neutrality, and proposing a friendly raid between their kingdoms. Which, as expected, was not received well by the Sultan. A voluntary battle, where wolves held back and practiced their skills wasn’t appealing to him.  But Rhazien, being the manipulative tactician who flourished in the eye of a challenge, convinced Sephiran to oblige. He was young, temperamental, inexperienced; and this opportunity, given their current state in the world of politics - being enemies with an empire and all - was something they couldn't pass up. A learning opportunity, to maintain neutrality with a neighboring pack. Truly, Sephiran would have been a fool to decline.

Their warriors had been preparing for this day. So when the scent of multiple wolves suddenly appeared at the borders, the ravens scattering from the trees to alert them of intruders, they were prepared. Basilisk’s battle cry followed, beckoning their wolves forward. And Rhazien wouldn’t keep them waiting. Pulling his grizzly coat tightly over his shoulders, he instructs Medulla to wait in the den. His two serval companions follow him to the makeshift battlefield, just in time to see Sephiran barreling towards the Warlord. He’s a little disappointed he didn’t get to the beast first; he would have loved to dance with the bear of a man. Perhaps next time. Scanning through opponents, he sets his eyes on a true oddity. A boy with bird wings. He’s never seen anything like that before.

Commanding his girls to follow, he approaches the boy, noting that he looks quite young. Stopping at a conversational distance, he flashes the boy a suave, charming smile, interest shimmering in his bi-colored gaze as it roves across his wings. “Show me how you fight with those, kid.”  He says, lips pulling back tighter to reveal the serrated fangs in his maw. He waits for recognition to settle in the boy's mind before he rushes forward.

Rhazien attempts to barrel into him, throwing his weight forward to disrupt his balance. In sync, he snaps at the side of his neck- a warning shot, if anything. He just wants to see how he plans to use those wings in battle. Meanwhile, Zemir and Zemra, his companions, are rushing forward to attack the boy’s companions.

"Rhazien Saxe"