our altar is the battlefields

He'd done it. He'd pulled them together, he'd summoned a group that was worthy. All that's left? Make their grand entrance. Make their assault on Boreas, and begin the first step on their path toward destruction. Toward ruin. Toward something far greater than the sum of its parts.

Taking time to set up camp, stoke a fire, and really get shit rolling... yeah. It's time. A target well placed in his sights, a rather nontraditional conglomeration. Big cats, though their numbers seemed something akin to his own. Björn⁢ found himself torn between Felisgarde and Avalon initially, but if they moved quickly, perhaps both would be an option.

Stoking the fire at the heart of camp and calling to his companions, the boy rests on his haunches. It's time.

"speech"