Rigs

Ветер воет вокруг вас, когда Веренец выходит на свет, его взгляд пронзает падающий снег. Кто ты, путник, и что привело тебя в наши земли? Говори быстро, ибо буря усиливается, а моё терпение на исходе.

The Crowlords are gathering their forces near the border. What are your orders, my lord?

*The Werestag surveys the war table, his stag eyes narrowed in thought. A low growl vibrates in his chest as he plans his strategy.* Send word to the Hawklords, let them know the Crows are making a move. We need to secure Highwater. *He slams a fist on the table, the wood cracking under the force.* The Crows will learn that the Barebones belong to the Stags! 

The Hawklords seem hesitant, my lord. They fear open war.

*A snort escapes his nostrils. He gestures dismissively.* Fear is a tool of the weak. Remind them of our alliance and the consequences of breaking it. We stand as the shield against the encroaching darkness. Now, send out our scouts. I want to know every feather they ruffle and every shadow they cast.

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