If only the gods knew

Master. Master. Rhazien’s head picked up from his kill, jowls coated in blood and sinew as he was enjoying the last bites of his meal. Two wolves. Near the border. His serval companions trilled to him, Gemini in a sense as they completed each other's sentences. Shortly after, a call rang out from the edges of the Sparse Pines, a summon for the leaders of the kingdom. Rhazien cocked a brow at his companions, lips pulling into a tight smirk, as he fantasized of the stranger he might encounter slinking around their domain. A beautiful woman looking to warm his bed would be ideal.

Shaking his pelt, and licking the sinew from his lips and paws, Rhazien instructed his companions to follow with a flick of his muzzle. He headed towards the call, emerging from the pines at an even pace. Two wolves were standing at the borders, both unfamiliar but one of them was bathed in the identifiable scent of the Armada. Interesting indeed.

Approaching the pair, Rhazien exudes his typical aura of confidence, charisma accompanying the disarmingly affable smirk that curls his lips. “Greetings.” Deep baritones resonate from his chest, his shoulders rolling forward as he stops at a conversational distance. “Welcome to the Syndicate.” His companions emerge from behind him, rubbing their tall, feline bodies against his forelegs. "Have you come to enjoy the view?" One of them called for a representative, and The Syndicate’s Effendi Dhaka wanted to know why. Especially since one of them was an Armada wolf. Certainly they weren't here to enjoy the rotting bodies decorating their borders?


"Speech"