-- Breath caught in throat, claws ticking against stones and pebbles, barbarian brute sliding into the throng of bodies, exhaling slowly. For what it was worth, his pelt held scents of the land far above. He was a wanderer, unable to be kept below ground for long. Exhaling, he inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of those in attendance, standing as a silent guard with orbs seeking out the Foreman. Closing his eyes, he settled in at the rear, following behind Jupitar in time to hear news of Jez's promotion. He would congratulate her later, when other affairs and matters were settled.

His body yearned for his bed, the adventures of the surface prickling in his paws. By far, his favorite thing had to have been the sea, the feel of the mist on his face, out in his adventures above. Spoken in quiet interaction with the large borzoi, allowing the wanderer his freedom to explore and secure territory. Should a threat befall the group, he of the few may have a better idea of how to defend against it. For the peaceful times, his spear laid in rest on the wall of his den, above his bed and scrolls. Snorting quietly, he saw no reason to voice his presence.