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Coris corrected him on what his title truly was, and Ulrik grinned, letting out a deep, slow and wicked laugh. "I would not call you what you are before the more soft natured kind, fear not," he rumbled with a grin. The charcoal, bearded stallion watched with a raised brow as the grey stallion began to stumble around, barely managing to spit out his words coherently. He simply nodded once, tersely in response to their future collaboration.
When Coris asked if he had named his wolf, he wondered why everyone here was intent on naming inanimate objects. First Lotus, then Sno, and now Coris; what was the point? Deep, madly intelligent bronze eyes churned through countless points of information at the same time, and he grunted sightly, staring down at the lifeless machine. "I see no point. When they grow useless, their forms return to scrap metal and they get reused. A name implies some permanence that these machines will never have," he replied in the most coherent explanation he had ever given on the matter.
Ulrik had quickly departed from the meeting. Too many new faces and too many soft bellied idiots that needed a lobotomy. He wished the Doctor his best in trying to rearrange years of nonsense and fluff about equality, but he supposed that putting all the dog loving types on the same category of Emissary was a smart enough move to keep tensions down in the rest of Helovia. Ulrik looked at his lead and touched the tip of his curving, long horn to the frosty point, waiting with the mechanical wolf whirring lifelessly at his side.
The charcoal stallion was not concerned by the skinner's lack of powers. He understood. How Ulrik had gotten through the borders without being stripped of his own magic was beyond him, but he was grateful. "The gods will grant your request if you demean yourself completely enough to their will and obey their every whim," he grunted, obviously not thrilled about the deities. He listened to what Coris could do and then looked into Mauja's ice eyes.
"I make machines. I am not limited by anything except my own strength and raw materials. Metal is what I need." The stallion was short and to the point. Then, Ulrik slid his bronze gaze to the skinner once again. "Can you make pelt coverings for my machines?" he asked. "The leather would hinder the mechanical sounds and provide a more realistic predator for trespassers," he explained.
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