Black Morass black morass

open to imperium members / prospective members!

kóvictus moves through the thick fog of the morass, a living shadow as he moves. the air hangs heavy with dampness and the tang of decaying vegetation, but he finds comfort in it—it smells of his domain, of imperium.

the towering trees loom overhead, their gnarled branches casting twisted silhouettes against the pale, diffused light filtering through the mist. the sound of distant water dripping into stagnant pools fills the silence, broken only by the steady thud of his paws against the sodden earth.

as he patrols, his nose works constantly, catching scents that linger in the damp air. some familiar—his pack, his reverend mother, the occasional prey—but others are faint, foreign.

kóvictus pauses at the edge of a small clearing.

we can current date this if you'd like

through bramble and darkness, the praetor followed closely behind the dominus. the men stalked the morass, together but separate. 

theissor had begun to part from kovictus before the larger brute halted and searched the clearing for something. 
the dark gladiator returned to his side, and cocked his head upwards to find what it was that stole kovictus' attention.

fine by me!!

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one monstrous paw after the next. when he hears the split of brush, there is no tension that ripples along a dark coat. he casts the man an acknowledging gaze, a raucous grunt, and then returns cold stare to the borders he treks.

his pause is nothing more than paranoia. curtains drawn closed over a titan's paranoia. he huffs, tail lashing once before he draws himself back to the side of the praetor.

nothing. he says. then, with inclined head, his voice comes gruffly. you fuck woman yet?

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he chortles, his own muscles relaxing. not at all. your women are cagey. he'd yet to truly test his luck, however. we should take the nearest colony, maybe then. and theissor flashes a grin, not finishing his sentence. he moves along the rest of the border, completing the patrol where the dominus left off. 

but the women here were beautiful. even the scrawny pale one, the newest of them. but he'd yet felt the urge to try his luck with them. genevieve came to mind, but she was gone now. not that theissor mourned. there would always be women, each pretty face as replaceable as the last.

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teeth flash as his mouth quirks into a demented smile. act fast, he growls. ione's belly swells. my daughters will need strong men to wed one day—perhaps even you, if one is to your liking. and my son will need a strong woman to breed atop his throne. either works. but your blood will remain afloat.

the thought of conquest stirs something deep in him. it is what he was made for, what runs in his blood like a second heartbeat.

there is brutal conviction in his voice. yes, we will. shed their blood and rape their women. kill their sons. take their daughters.

he laughs brazenly. you’ll have your fill. the dominus would make sure his men were sated, always. pleased soldiers were loyal soldiers.