Everything seemed to work out perfectly.

With calculated and concise strikes on the Coalition of the Condemned, the island that laid above them struck. The Descendants of the Departed managed to gather a handful of victims for their next meeting. Surely, it would be a show. Valerius planned on it. After all, due to their volcanic island, they needed more resources. So, the cannibalistic group was now relying on other groups to supply them. It was a monumental change for them, but Valerius had a plan and it would surely work out, wouldn't it?

The Descendants of the Departed made themselves known for the first time to the mainland individuals during the monthly meeting, stealing and raiding what they could from the deceased individuals on the battlefield. During that time, Valerius and the others watched Romulus Malus fall under the grip of the Covenant's leader. Seeing an opportunity at hand, vizier made a plan. Strike during the night, take what you can, and then leave without a trace. It was easy and worked flawlessly. In fact, so well that Valerius ended up with a hefty bunch of high positions and valuable members to use for their next meeting's sacrifices.

Valerius, after taking them hostage, had wrapped them in metal chains, along with rope for extra precaution, and tied each around a forged iron pole near the volcano's bottom. Byriath, Saturn, Diego, Mischief, and more Coalitioners were lined up next to one another, waiting for the leader's next move. The lion had no time to waste though. As they scrambled and shouted, he prepared his animals for what was to come. A meeting, of course.

"DESCENDANTS!" came his roar. "GATHER FOR MEETING!"

With no acknowledgement towards the future sacrifices behind him, the lion waited for others to gather before him. He hoped many would attend, as there would be scraps to go around between everyone and some exciting entertainment beforehand.

How fun. The majority had arrived and it was time to begin. With a valiant swing of his paw, he pointed back at the victims behind him. As they screamed, struggled, and begged, he made no further movement. There was no change to his expression either. Just cold, dark eyes staring out at the audience. The Descendants of the Departed started to cheer and holler. They knew what was coming. Their gods, high and low, would be finally be satiated by a feast meant for only the best... and Valerius, vizier of them all, had led them to their glory.

"Descendants of the Departed," he deeply greeted. His voice was booming, yet low and humbled. "Today we gather to send off these souls to the below." His paw, once pointing backwards, violently cracked and gestured downwards. "The sight, new to many, is not one for the weary... but it is the way of our animals." His gaze narrowed. A crooked smile pulled back onto his maw. "Do not be afraid." After all, their gods demanded it. Though brutal, there was no wrongdoing. Every part of their sacrifices would be used through and through.

He rose to all fours. His mane whipped in the wind as he turned his head towards those that gathered. Their names? Well, he did not care. Their allegiance? Important, but not a large factor. Diego caught his attention as he spoke. "You reek of them," he coldly offered in Diego's direction. Valerius did not know their truth, but he presumed they were lying. Why else would they be casually in the territory? What group allowed strangers to roam? The Descendants of the Departed surely did not.

Despite Diego's words, he let his attention travel elsewhere. On the left laid Saturn. Valerius wordlessly walked over to them with a smirk rising. Claws slowly unsheathed from their sockets. For a moment, he allowed his gaze to move towards Byriath. His head was low, trying to ignore the others, but Valerius knew that could not be the case. Something, somewhere in that pea brained being had to be some agony. Unknowingly, Valerius had made the perfect choice by going to Saturn first. Perhaps then they would react.

No matter what the other said, Valerius merely stared. His unwavering gaze watched as they shook in place. A paw rose up from the ground slyly and pressed against their throat. A claw tapped at their neck contemplatively. Oh, what to do... The lion's head craned, pieces of his mane falling into his eyes as he did so. He was making decisions, calculating the mess, and trying to think of what to do with them. In that moment, as he moved his head back to it's straightened out position, he had made his choice.

His claws started to drag down across the middle of their throat and travel down onto their midsection. With deep cuts, Saturn gushed blood. He continued onto making lines into their arms in no time, slicing arteries as he went. It spattered and spit onto Valerius' dark figure, but he paid no mind as he worked. The leader had concocted his plan. He had decided on a tutorial for his viewers: how to skin an enemy.

Despite the hollering, wooziness, and overall cowardice from the other, he finished his straight cuts in no time by moving the chains and rope carefully. Their blood had doused him and the restraints, making things a bit slippery along the way. He had been through this many times, as evident of his skill. Thus, he moved on. With claws locked onto their skin flaps, he started to pull their skin away from the muscular and fat structure. Every now and then he had to pause, stopping to cut away excess flesh, only to begin again.

In time, the victim lost consciousness. From blood loss, from shock, whatever it may be, Valerius did not care. At least their showy screeches and begging for mercy were over with. It allowed him to focus, continuing with his work easily. Valerius took quite some time to get through the intricacies and challenges of their body, but it was well worth it. After all, they used everything. It was no easy task.

Eventually, as the sacrifice slouched in their spot, Valerius made his final few slices. Saturn already appeared to have passed away, something he did not care to announce, but instead finalized his work. His paw flicked away at the edges of the pelt and peeled it away from Saturn's newly made corpse. Once it was finally loose, he pulled it out from underneath the chains with his claws and teeth, tugging at it enough to get it free, but not enough to damage it.

The vizier held the pelt in his paws and turned back towards his audience. He dropped it before his paws, letting the other observe his mastery carefully. "Any questions?" he directed towards the rest, not acknowledging the complaining victims behind him.

While he waited for any questions or any visceral reactions from the peanut gallery, he licked at his crimson covered paws. Nothing. Goes. To. Waste.

The tigress, still by a technical standpoint an outsider, had lingered to the back of the gathered mass, only pushing her way toward the front when her white eyes caught sight of the purple-toned xenosmilus. Seeing his anguished appearance and screams was unnerving, and she was confused by it; she'd never seen him before, so why was she feeling so angry at his presence? It itched at her paws, tingled her paw pads. He was so distinctly familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

Watching Valerius work, skinning the snow leopard, she hummed silently. And she raised a wing, bringing her voice forward. "Would it be too much to ask for me to have that one?" She used her raised wing to point at Byriath, then folded it back to her side. She could see the heated chains and the fire, but that didn't deter her. If she did have permission to kill him, she could scheme up a way to make it a spectacle. 

The pressing matters at his paws was being dealt with, whether or not they decided to scream. Through Byriath's howls and screeches, Valerius only continued on. Though, when the large feline's voice grew steady and vicious, the lion turned. His grey eyes stared unwavering at the enemy before him. His ears perked upwards, curiously listening as the other started. Byriath spoke of hellfire and 'who' he was. In response, he could only sigh. The vizier paid no mind to their empty threats, knowing that there was nothing they could do about it at the moment. Instead, the Descendants of the Departed would proceed with Valerius at the helm.

Others, thankfully, were willing to step up. Even a newcomer, someone who wanted to prove themselves, was willing to take the reigns. As Celine spoke, he subtly nodded along with her words. "You may," he rumbled. "Do not waste any part of him." His paw gestured out towards Saturn's corpse and the pelt that laid nearby, displaying that they would later be used for the Descendant of the Departed's cannibalistic and collective tendencies. The Gods would be pleased if she followed suit.

The next victim was upon them, waiting to be flayed. In the meantime, another peanut from the gallery had to speak up. Valerius was not one to respond in length to please his sacrifices, but Diego's idiocrasy caused him to tilt his head. Apparently they couldn't fight, but they got four victims before them who had lost to their fight in the first place. What kind of logic was that? Was Diego, as he said, terrified? The lion could only wordlessly glare at the other lion with a devious glint within his monochrome iris. For a moment, to the observant onlooker, one might even see a subtle smirk rise onto his maw.

For a moment, his gaze moved to Celine. A paw flicked forward, gesturing her to step forth and begin her process, whatever that may be. Moments later, his head swiveled back and his eyes locked onto Diego. "You're next after the philosophical purple one," he remarked to the other lion.