08-14-2008, 03:00 PM
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I assume that at this point, Lubomir is listening in, kay?
"You see, he was on a mission to kill you. A mission assigned to him by a group called GreyClaw." The words came from him as if rehearsed. His tone was official and under control. He wanted to keep this situation under control. What he had come here to do required the utmost self-restraint, by both parties, and a symbolic understanding from both ends, which he wasn't at all certain would be possible.
"GreyClaw?" the bronze wolf intoned, clearly wanting an elaboration.
"It is a group of wolves, an organization comprised of twelve packs, all answerable to the leader of the GreyClaw community. Each pack is led by an alpha, but as every pack emerged from the original pack called GreyClaw, they are beholden to a single leader. This society produces elite, professional warriors en masse. Every pup is given the choice to take the path of the warrior, and if they choose to take this path at one year of age, they receive the full benefits of GreyClaw's exquisite combat training. These warriors are then put to use expanding GreyClaw's sphere of influence, solidifying alliances with neighboring groups, destroying hostile groups, or even winning wealth for the packs by being hired out." The explanation poured from him, but his voice maintained its authority, its control. This was no accident, but preliminary information for a hard truth that was about to be shoved into this older wolf's face. Asmodai wasn't certain how he would take it.
"And this GreyClaw group wants to kill me. Why?" The scarred-wolf's words were clipped and to the point, meant to solicit answers, nothing more.
"Because you have something of theirs, which they don't want you, or anyone else, to have," he answered. "An old member of their group, a man named Gronnor, gave it to you. The fighting style you employ was the legacy of GreyClaw, and it was not meant to be shared or extended to outsiders."
I assume that at this point, Lubomir is listening in, kay?
"You see, he was on a mission to kill you. A mission assigned to him by a group called GreyClaw." The words came from him as if rehearsed. His tone was official and under control. He wanted to keep this situation under control. What he had come here to do required the utmost self-restraint, by both parties, and a symbolic understanding from both ends, which he wasn't at all certain would be possible.
"GreyClaw?" the bronze wolf intoned, clearly wanting an elaboration.
"It is a group of wolves, an organization comprised of twelve packs, all answerable to the leader of the GreyClaw community. Each pack is led by an alpha, but as every pack emerged from the original pack called GreyClaw, they are beholden to a single leader. This society produces elite, professional warriors en masse. Every pup is given the choice to take the path of the warrior, and if they choose to take this path at one year of age, they receive the full benefits of GreyClaw's exquisite combat training. These warriors are then put to use expanding GreyClaw's sphere of influence, solidifying alliances with neighboring groups, destroying hostile groups, or even winning wealth for the packs by being hired out." The explanation poured from him, but his voice maintained its authority, its control. This was no accident, but preliminary information for a hard truth that was about to be shoved into this older wolf's face. Asmodai wasn't certain how he would take it.
"And this GreyClaw group wants to kill me. Why?" The scarred-wolf's words were clipped and to the point, meant to solicit answers, nothing more.
"Because you have something of theirs, which they don't want you, or anyone else, to have," he answered. "An old member of their group, a man named Gronnor, gave it to you. The fighting style you employ was the legacy of GreyClaw, and it was not meant to be shared or extended to outsiders."