The Wispmother beckons (Sub-territory discovery)

The Ebony pair traveled through the deadly home, the fog of the place enveloping them both. He had not any trouble keeping up with her, only the trouble of worrying for her. Any puddle of the dark filth she stepped in could be...
And it happened. She placed her paw in the murky mush, and Slade watched as she began to sink. Muscles tense, the brute was prepared to pull her out if she needed his assistance.
But alas, the dark queen held her own. Yanking her paw out of the muck, she relained fine, her face not telling her emotions of nearly drowing in mud.
The strength of the fae impressed the king, and with an appraisial look, he nodded at her subtle command. With no hesitation, the man rolled a fallen and rotten log over near them, and took a thick and agonizingly sharp claw, scratching out a sign in the soft but durable wood.




"Whenever I sent my assassins on missions, they would leave reports back in code for the others to read. That sign there, means danger. Caution. Risk for loss of life."

The NightMares were the sect that many feared, more so for its swift ability to end a chosen life, depending on the pay. They were paid, and paid thoroughly well. With no issue, were the pack unable to take good care of themselves. They flourished, through secrecy, codes, and killings.