Blackfeather Woods hang your head upon my throne

all welcome! someone could come try and steal his offering ;D

He has his eyes set on a particular title; Speaker. His thirst is undeniable, calling out to him from the depths of his desires like the beckoning song of a siren. The source of this hunger is riddled in his reservations, in jadded accusations of the un-pure reeking their mark on a world that is not theirs. A world that is his, and his only. Walking out towards the grove of red, the tomb of his grandmother, he drags the carcass of a moderately-sized ground animal in his jaw. It is an offering in the closest location he knows that is connected to the higher powers they praise; siphoned directly from the bones of the Eternal Queen. It's blood seeps, camoflauging into the ground below, and he drops the beast from his hold; satisfied with his work. The storm of rocks cast down from the heavens in the awe-terrifying rage of their gods and goddesses is only the begining, he concludes, and steps back, turning to leave with his tribute in place.