Black Morass depths of depravity

kóvictus’s golden gaze sweeps over the figures that emerge from the mist. they all heed his call. his massive frame remains still, a hulking monument of dominance and authority, his claws flexing faintly against the sodden earth as the women come into view.

reverend mother, he rumbles her name affectionately; reserved only for her. his gaze is briefly upon genevieve before his focus shifts to the last arrival.

irene.

his lip curls faintly, just enough to reveal the edge of a tooth. her dip of the head is noted, but not praised. he expects nothing less than compliance, but she will earn no favor without effort.

imperium grows, he bellows. the morass is ours, but it will not remain so without strength. without vigilance. there are still those who would test us, who would see us falter. we cannot allow that.