What Have We Here?

Medusa was her name, and she was just as quirky now as she was when they first met. She even referred to him as handsome man, which earned a slight twitch of his lips, that suave, charming smile pulling tighter. His jaws part to speak, but suddenly, the atmosphere around them changes- bending beneath the oppressive weight of the monstrosity about to appear.

The palpable shift in the atmosphere announced the Sultan’s arrival, Sephiran’s larger, amethyst silhouette materializing beside Rhazien. Tsk. Sooner than expected. His bi-colored gaze shifted towards his nephew, the young Sultan boasting his usual air of dominance and superiority, commanding the attention of those around him. Rhazien dipped his head out of respect- he would not overstep in his role, and he would not speak out of turn. Once Sephiran announced his title, he granted Rhazien the opportunity to lead the encounter. He was the political face of The Syndicate, after all.

Shifting his attention to Medusa and her appointed heir, The Syndicate’s Effendi-Dhaka fell effortlessly into his role. “Medusa,” He says, dipping his head down, acknowledging her title of alpha. Despite the burning fact that she was a matriarch, which went against Saxe beliefs. “It’s good to finally know your name.” He turns to the boy next. “And Redrum - Insomnias appointed heir - it’s a pleasure. ” His deep, baritone voice is smooth and articulate, boasting the right amount of warmth and cadence. “I am Rhazien Saxe; The Syndicates Effendi-Dhaka. A politician, if you will.” He explains his role within the pack. His importance. If she came searching for information, he was the right brute to ask.

And when she asks about how The Syndicate came to be, stating words can be twisted by those who fear, Rhazien’s smile pulls tighter. “Fear can be powerful.” He adds, building on her observation.“It can warp minds… create dependency… exploit vulnerabilities. It is true, psychological warfare.” With a tip of his head, he motions for his two, Serval companions to retrieve a welcoming portioning of their dried meats from their storage. “I cannot deny that we have used fear as a weapon- it was our catalyst in the overtaking of Norad.” A short pause, as he gauges their reactions. “But unlike the rumors spreading throughout the kingdoms.” He motions for Medusa and Redrum to take a seat, and make themselves more comfortable. “We do not wage war against wolves who approach our borders peacefully.” There was no telling the variety of rumors that had spread about their kingdom, given its upbringing, and Artorias’ declaration of hatred towards their bloodline. His threats of genocide and bloodshed.

Reclining onto his haunches, Rhazien focuses on Medusa. “There was no challenge call.” Confirming her observation, he finds no benefit in concealing the truth behind their pack's upbringing. “Survival is a wolf’s primary motivator- the continuation of bloodlines, the safety of one's lineage - it's a driving force.” A short pause “Do you agree?” He asks, wanting to poke into the philosophical corners of Medusa’s mind. “Just as nature weeds out the weak - as a sickly fawn will grow more fragile with each passing day, eventually dying to provide food for those higher on the food chain - we decided to take on a more… naturalistic approach, in attaining our empire.” His companions return with baskets of dried meats and fruits, presenting them to Medusa and Redrum before slinking back to stand between Rhazien’s forelegs.

“Put simply- we discovered a pack on the brink of failure, and we made a trade with its alpha.” He’s speaking at a deliberate pace, articulating each word clearly, ensuring his message is understood. “The safety of his son - the continuation of his lineage - in exchange for his packlands, with the assurance that we would not harm a hair on his subordinate's heads, if they left promptly.” Another short pause. "Of course, the Norad King's admirable sacrifice could not be understood by those with opposing beliefs. With our achievement came the declaration of enemies." He falls silent then, inviting their guests into the dialogue, now that he’d painted them a picture of how The Syndicate came to be.

"Speech"