Haunted Wood Some liar brought the thunder.

There was a quality to the man that reminded Revui all the more of his own family; of Hydra, but mostly it was Charon that came to mind. The stern and serious manner of someone who trusted in their own power. A sense of self-assured arrogance, perhaps. The giant watched him like a patient bear while Revui, unable to stand still for long, drifted around him—although his own malice appeared to be contained for now, satisfied by the words the man spoke. This deal would suit Revui well enough; he could eat his fill, get strong, and would be welcome to pursue his targets, from what he gathered.

Yet such a deal did not fit with the feeling of a pack; what sort of leader would allow such danger? What if this was a trick? Revui could not fathom how this moment could be manipulated, how he could be used to whatever malevolent ends Vengeance had in mind, but he held doubt. Along with that doubt was his own sense of power, though, that arrogance bred in to the wolves of Moonspear—he trusted in himself and his own abilities, having bolstered his already massive ego with his escape from the pit. There was much to think about. Thankfully, Revui did not waste his time with such things.

And when I rip their throats out, what then? He states, as if it is a certainty. Will he be punished—taken back to the pit? The look in his eyes remains: a sense of daring, a challenge. Revui would die a warrior's death if it came down to it, he would never enter that pit again.