Wheeling Gull Isle left his mark

There was still some lingering moments as the man before him gathers his thoughts, debating how he might say them aloud likely to be concise, given his lack of speech that had obviously stemmed from a torn up throat. Aiolos himself had been lucky he had not endured damage to his vocals from the wound given to him by The Saints warlord. Still, the scarred up area under fine, short hairs was sensitive, his neck sore on winter days. He could only imagine how Mou might have felt of it.

When he speaks then he speaks of the Redhawks, those of the Caldera. How that, when they found out of the pups, there was no doubt in Mou's mind that they would come to claim them by force should Yuelong be unwilling to hand them over.

We could fight. He began, a grim expression forming over his features as he turns away and looks out to Sea. But we would fail. That so much was a given too, just as much so that the Redhawks would come for them. Aiolos didnt know their numbers, did not know their allies, but he did know that their own numbers were small, the majority of their allies dead and gone. There was little of them left from an era long passed now. Its not easy to say Yuelong is not what it once was, but I can acknowledge that fact...