Disciplinary Action

Rends nods along with Zas, but addresses Hanging Maw.

"I'd rather deal with the Heirarchy. Them 'pale skins' is more my kind of folk than a more'n half crazy injun what wants to kill all the white folk this side of the sea. I can see why he'd want friends though. If he couldn't fight us off in life, makes sense he'd need the help of his superiors in death."

He chuckles humorlessly.

"Ain't no dishonor in being pragmatic. No warrior who hopes to win can fight every battle that comes his way. We all gotta choose our battles, and yours ain't one I see any reason to get tied in with right now. Chief Bowl earned my respect in death. I fought and kilt and destroyed those responsible fer defiling him because avenging the death of an honored ally is right..."

He stares at Hanging Maw, not angrilly, but hard. His gaze penetrates deeply into the ancient apparition as he lets out a slow breath through his nose.

"As fer you? I'm tired of these word games. I've never told a lie in my life, and this is the truth under Luna: you scare me. You are everything I fight against in myself. You are my base desires made manifest and given complete control. That's why I don't trust you. To trust you is to let my feral side win, and I'm better than that. Better than you. I will not be a hollow husk of Rage, I will not just follow the burning in my blood to destroy. I will be more than you. I will always kill to protect that which I love. You kill because you hate. The Heirarchy may be the bad guys here. They may be the servants of Oblivion. Hell, Oblivion may be something they made up jest to control us fer all I know. But I would still choose to ally with them over you fer the simple fact that I don't see a defeated version of myself in them."

Zas looks first to Hanging Maw then to Rends with raised eyebrows and says slowly to his Ahroun, "Alpha of the prodigals, Rends-the-Gar: I hear your words. I ask you now to consider mine. Do you trust in my judgment as your pack philodox? Do you trust me to do as Gaia called me-to seek out the wyrm and to enforce the litany?"

Zas gazes at Hanging Maw as he speaks still to the Get of Fenris, "I am called to be balanced. I am called to weigh truth from lies. I am to temper my rage that I may still render fair judgement. You are entitled to feel as you wish. There is nothing I can do to change that. I ask you this though: what purpose do I serve in the pack if I am not fulfilling the duties of my auspice?"

Zas takes a breath, "Regardless of what you may feel about Hanging Maw or he you, actions will speak louder than words. I have rendered unto him a sentence of proving his innocence-if he speaks true, that means the Hierarchy that you would prefer to work with represents a clear danger to the Nacogdoches caern. Your duty as Ahroun, though you need little reminder, is to eliminate threats to Gaia."

Zas then looks to Rends with a straight plain face and bluntly says, "I do not ask you to trust him. I ask that you trust me to do as I'm called so that if the time comes you can do as you are called."

Rends is silent for a long moment, considering Zas' words.

"Like I said, I'd rather not get tangled in the wars of the dead at all. But if they's a threat to our home out here, we need to find out what it is. I came here to learn, and I intend to."

His gaze doesn't leave Hanging Maw as he speaks.

Black laughter cascaded out from malformed jaws. "HAheheha. You bide your time, Zas B'ul, say you seek truth. The truth is you cleave to the invaders, serving and scraping like a beaten dog. I tell you- you will not be spared in the coming days. You are no friend of theirs; you are a tool, hahahaheheh, a mount to be ridden ragged and then cast aside when you are spent."

"You strive to follow the orders of an alpha who hates the Pure. You should strike this one down, but instead you simper, trading words rather than blows." Empty eye sockets became pits of cold flame that burned into the philodox.

"Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps the last of the Tsalagi died when Chief Bowl fell. No matter. Join with the Wyrmcomers, living or dead, makes little difference to you, eheha. Go forth. Push west and bring ruin to those who yet remain."

The mutilated shade receded from view, leaving only an empty dirt road bathed in weak moonlight.