Greek Takeover

The call that rang out brought a confusion to her. Who the hell would have a problem with her Master? Why would they call for the Warlord in such a uncertain time? The skies red and she had heard words from others around and felt the tremors. The world could right be ending and someone wanted to fight the massive man that was Basilisk Fatalis? What fools.

A quick cleaning of her paws from the flewer(flour) and her baking, and a quick snatch of her trauma kit as she began to the short but long(for her) walk. A gaze of purple settling on the scenery. Basilisk had only briefly given her his permission and she followed in his wake. The permanent limp slowed her compared to his long legs. Not that she minded, she was learning that walking at her own pace and keeping to herself mostly and in a kitchen was relaxing. The pastry cooking was likely giving weight to many who came and snuck a snack from the kitchen, not that she could blame them. She was beginning to make so much she likely could speak to the Warlord about figuring out how to preserve them and possibly sell or trade them for more books and maybe even some herbs to plant in the kitchen as ingredients. She wasn't sure the Consort would appreciate it though.

She entered behind Basilisk and looked about. The pelts of those behind the challenger were many of the same, family then. The challenger was a big guy, but Basilisk dwarfed him. She turned silently and settled herself behind her warlord. Some might expect her to support someone else or to be neutral especially as a slave, but the dame was more a fan of the known than the unknown. At least Basilisk had offered and dangled her freedom before her. The other if he won and kept her and the others she wouldn't know her own fate and she disliked that. A look to those supporting Basilisk but ultimately she settled on Basilisk's form. She would likely patch him up before they left today when he won. Because he would win. He must to keep everyone safe and for his wife and children. She set the kit at her paws and lowered herself to her haunches. "You got this Master Basilisk." Words whispered on the wind under her breath. She didn't want to make a fool of herself by shouting her support of him, nor draw attention to her from his supporters.

"speech"