Hushed Willows Quixote

Warbone did not think he was going to be given anything. He had never been handed an iota of assistance that he did not ask for or demand. And as the circumstances were, he wasn't expecting anything different. "Put your wolves at risk? So I am a threat to them, am I?" he said quietly, amused by the insinuation. "I have not come to bludgeon and raze, or take food from their mouths or yours. I offer only leadership. Support. When you or your sister cannot be here, then it would be me, and I clearly do not take responsibility lightly. I crave the opportunity to rally. If you cannot see my honor, I am not inclined to force it on you. But, you have something in your possession I made, and I want it back. Here is my home. Here will be my family. And here will be my grave."

His voice remained level, uninterested in making his grandstanding monologues with a grave amount of emotion. That was how fights started, and he wished not to fight Stark unless forced. He was becoming more and more impressed with the black and blue-eyed swain, even if the opposite was happening on the other end of the stick, and thought of Octavia's excellent choice here. He then began to feel as if her memory was being dishonored by distrusting him so, when she and the deserters had placed a lot of stock in him, but his personal opinion had no standing here. So it would seem he'd have to force his way. "I am nothing short of an alpha. If you and your wolves sought to indoctrinate me at your side, and I proved unworthy, then I invite you all to kill me.  If that is not good enough to take, then understand that my presage still stands, and I will be forced to try more drastic measures. Refuse fair challenging further, then you might as well beckon everyone here now to end me." 

Warbone was nothing, if not dramatic. Someone had called him that before...