08-24-2018, 10:08 PM
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 540px; min-height: 9px; font-family:arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color:GAINSBORO; padding: 20px"]Well. He was late.
Dreadfully, it seemed ― far from fashionable. Members of both groups were scrambling for either the opposite side or to flee from the scene entirely. Blood was everywhere. As soon as he walked in, he'd stepped in a puddle of it, just to lift up his soaked right paw with a look of distaste. Violence. He had little need for it. It certainly was not how you got a weaker group to cooperate. From what he learned, it was much more profitable to feign mercy and convince them that you were trustworthy. If they trusted you, it was much easier to betray them later. Esklav wasn't surprised it had come to this - his colleagues were daft and had morals, despite their reputation saying very differently, and that caused them to be slow and imperfect. Flawed.
The warpriest had hoped that he would be able to collect some Snowbounders for his experiments, but alas; the universe had different plans, and he would have to make do with the injured little heathens remaining.
"Blacktide." what was his child doing here, among this rubbish? It was true that he could not repress his violent tendencies (as Esklav learned was typical of his species) but he was still not yet matured. If he were to die ... Esklav would be ... disappointed. Very disappointed. "I would most appreciate it if you removed yourself entirely from this unfortunate situation. You are but a tyke, and ill suited for the turmoil of war." his voice was gentle. Soothing. Tentatively Esklav reached out, aiming to place his paw on the feral beast's bony shoulder, mimicking the chittery noise he had made when they had first crossed paths.
To Wendell, he'd give his signature lifeless smile. [color=SLATEGRAY]"My apologies, sire."
Dreadfully, it seemed ― far from fashionable. Members of both groups were scrambling for either the opposite side or to flee from the scene entirely. Blood was everywhere. As soon as he walked in, he'd stepped in a puddle of it, just to lift up his soaked right paw with a look of distaste. Violence. He had little need for it. It certainly was not how you got a weaker group to cooperate. From what he learned, it was much more profitable to feign mercy and convince them that you were trustworthy. If they trusted you, it was much easier to betray them later. Esklav wasn't surprised it had come to this - his colleagues were daft and had morals, despite their reputation saying very differently, and that caused them to be slow and imperfect. Flawed.
The warpriest had hoped that he would be able to collect some Snowbounders for his experiments, but alas; the universe had different plans, and he would have to make do with the injured little heathens remaining.
"Blacktide." what was his child doing here, among this rubbish? It was true that he could not repress his violent tendencies (as Esklav learned was typical of his species) but he was still not yet matured. If he were to die ... Esklav would be ... disappointed. Very disappointed. "I would most appreciate it if you removed yourself entirely from this unfortunate situation. You are but a tyke, and ill suited for the turmoil of war." his voice was gentle. Soothing. Tentatively Esklav reached out, aiming to place his paw on the feral beast's bony shoulder, mimicking the chittery noise he had made when they had first crossed paths.
To Wendell, he'd give his signature lifeless smile. [color=SLATEGRAY]"My apologies, sire."