Black Morass abyssus abyssum invocat

kovictus watches the man as he speaks. eyes coming to narrow, while flitting across his face. he snorts, looks to theissor, then jerks his head towards the man. as if to say: get a load of this guy.

he speaks so flowery, almost like a woman. it digs deep grooves into his face, ones of amusement, and soon he bellows great laughter.

though eyes remain all the while scrutinizing.

fine. the dominus growls out. what is your name, boy?

then, he exchanges another look with theissor, where an idea etches its way upon great mind. kovictus has not the time to waste on this boy—perhaps his praetor would find joy in seeing what this wolf had to offer.

you will shadow my praetor. he will decide if you serve or die.

because once you step foot into the morass, you do not leave. one of their women had escaped—he would make sure she was hunted. perhaps... a good task for this one.