MONEY. POWER. GLORY

It hummed in the springtime air, the tension and excitement. D?gmar moved with fluid, trained movement as she followed her Tyrant to the meeting place. They were gathering with their allies and soon the Praetor of Tortuga announced the reason? w a r. D?gmar could almost purr with the word for what else would a warrioress long for but the hymn of battle? Emerald eyes lingered over the faces of the gathered wolves, taking in the sight and sent of those that pledged to fight, memorizing them. Though the pack scent was fairly obvious and difficult to mistake. All the same, she wanted to make absolutely sure that her jaws were fixated only on their enemies. The heat of battle was intoxicating in it's own unique form of rapture. There was no need to ask if she would participate. That was like asking if she wanted to breathe. D?gmar couldn't wait.



"Speech"