Slip away

Basilisk smiled, pleased at his son's bravery. His strength would get him far through life, and Bas intended to help that strength grow. The Warlord came to a stop at the cliff's edge, his paws dangling the dangerous drop as he took in the impressive view of their home. Balrog settled in beside him and the Warlord leanes slightly over his son. Protective. Loving, in his own way.


“It is. These lands are considered hostile and cold to some, but the Armada found its strength and used it. These lands belong to us, we have tamed them and we will keep them. While these lands are a little newer, the Armada is the oldest pack to hold territory in this world. Remember our strength, little Balrog. That strength is yours as well.”