Snippet #2414498

In the thick of the Gallowswood, Faedra led her small army of representatives to the nearest Waygate hidden deep in her vast territory. Bounding through the trees, they moved with surprising silence. Flanking her right, Remus, a Wolves Chieftain, and his Standard Carrier led a small pack of his best Wolves soldiers. On her left, a group of lesser Druids commanding a sparse pack of argus followed stealthily behind, and protecting the rear was Faedra's guardian, a Pureblood Warpwolf named Vectis. Only the sound of thundering paws hitting the soft earth could be heard as they traveled.
As soon as she had gotten wind of the tournament, Faedra summoned her subordinates for counsel. She explained the importance and potential gain of their participation. Her underlings agreed that this would be an opportunity the Circle may never get again. All of the powerhouses would be present; Khador, Cygnar, Mennoth. Even the traitorous Trollkin were said to have been invited. This would give the Circle a perfect chance to prove their strength as a viable force to be feared. She knew most potents would frown upon this behavior, scoffing at the display and tribute to the monstrosity that is civilization. Perhaps stating that by participating, she was going against everything the Circle had worked towards for centuries. However, the teachings of Orboros are always up to interpretation, and the omnipotents are well aware of that fact. Only those wise and intuitive enough will be successful in the eyes of Orboros.

As they approached the Waygate they were greeted by the resident Wayfarer, who would be the one to transport the crew as close to their destination as possible, acting as a guide. Because this wasn't a full-fledged army, it would be easier to transport the entire group in one go, rather than splitting up. The Wayfarer organized the ranks and began to perform the ritual. A loud, buzzing hum emitted from the surrounding stones as they glowed an eerie green. Teleportation was hard to get used to, and wasn't without danger; loss of limb being fairly common among transportation of large groups. As soon as the last word was uttered by the Wayfarer, the group was suddenly thrust to the edge of the Widower's Wood, just outside the sprawling city of Corvis. The mere sight of it was enough to make a Druid sick. Thick clouds of smoke billowed from the highest towers, and the noise that poured out from the gates was deafening to the forest dwellers. Faedra scowled in disgust at the monument to their most hated enemy. After taking in the sight, the Wayfarer bid her luck with the tournament and teleported away to tell the omnipotents of their progress.

Soundlessly Faedra motioned for her subordinates to follow and they made their way to the city.

---

The night before the tournament, a lavish dinner was to be held as a sort of peace offering and show of good sport among the combatants. Once inside, Faedra opted to distance herself from the rest of the competitors, in order to observe them instead. Her dark cloak and ornate armor paled in comparison to some of those around her, offering her a sort of cover from wandering eyes. Remus, on the other hand was adorned in three white wolf pelts that accented his equally ornate armor, making him stand out a bit more that his Overseer. Faedra felt particularly vulnerable knowing that Vectis was not at her side. Since he was a warbeast, he and the argus had been ushered away to a nearby stable, getting a treatment similar to the machines the others commanded. Remus could tell she was uneasy, glancing at her frequently.
"The stench is unbearable," she commented in a hushed tone. Remus chuckled softly but nodded in agreement. He was bit more lighthearted than she, taking this as something to be enjoyed. It was somewhat easy to pick out who the combatants were, each surrounded by their supporting comrades. One in particular made her blood boil as soon as she laid eyes on him. Around his shoulders was the unmistakable sheen of white fur.
"That Khador whelp is flaunting a Pureblood trophy, Remus!" she spat, nearly lunging at him in blind fury. Remus' hand shot out to block her advance. "I see it, Overseer. There's nothing we can do, lest we be disqualified and made fools of. Get your revenge in the games, make him pay for killing your kin." He was right, if she were to assault him now, they would lose any and all respect. They would become lower than the Trollkin. Faedra stood back and regained her composure, choosing instead to glare daggers at the Khador caster.