Some might say he cheated. Others still would call it devilry, how he always managed to know what was going on around him. Witchcraft and trickery - it always made the hellion smirk to think about. Contrary to belief both then and now, he possessed not a sliver of hidden wisdom. The only witchcraft that ever touched his skin were the glowing marks upon his back and like an oddly shaped birthmark, Morir felt he could hardly be blamed for what his parents gifted him with from birth.

He needed no magic to perceive the goings on, nor sight for that matter. It was as simple as listening, scenting, tasting, feeling the earth beneath his feet and interpret what the signs might suggest. Because while one horse might think it stealthy, silent-footed and hidden from sight, it was harder by far to erase ones personal scent, the rhythm of your breath or the weight of your bulk as steps however careful carried one forward.

So when the King approached to address the mercenary the heavy neck turned even before Temobvu uttered a word, following his approach with uncanny attentiveness - as though the beast somehow could see without eyes, capable of witnessing that which indeed ought to be hidden. And though barely noticeable, he somehow picked up on the vanguards bewilderment; a smile touched upon the inky lips, wry and amused.

"Morir" he retorted, as always sparse of word. The voice were a pitch lighter than the king's, quieter and smoother yet still as deep and smoky as himself. There was a brief pause as the behemoth considered the question. Why exactly had he come here? Maybe there was time to back off yet, to change his mind and retreat back to the solitary existence he was familiar with...

But the raven cawed again as it flitted on and off among the branches above, and something tautened around the hollow sockets, a frown of disgust that found reprieve in a sharp snort.

"I'm looking for work" he finally said. A truth, though of course not the whole story. Never the whole story. It would take much too long to explain.

"If you are in need of able people... I can fight, collect information, perform whatever shadow dealings a herd could use. Winter is approaching... I can be of use until spring, at least."

He tasted the air around the big stallion, tried to gauge his reaction. There were other herds if this one refused him, and outcast bands if all else failed. But, well. It would be better to cut this chase short - or the bloody bird would find something else to mock him for.