MONEY. POWER. GLORY

he hears the call, and he heeds it. it is the drumbeat of war, the sounds made only before imminent bloodshed and death. his heart races to the bass of it, as he moves into the tortugan lands- seeking none only to destroy those opposing them. his scarred white form is a ghost among the lands, glowing as he approaches the meetings. he follows his tryrant- his goddess of a sister, and enters the crowd of wolves with an air of indifference. his eyes study each wolf in presence, taking in their forms- as they are his allies for the day- for the war. today, at least, they are not his enemies but tools to further their means. He stops among the crowd, glancing at the wolves he halts beside, his eyes straying to the armada leader. they will dominate, they will win.

the gods will rule