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It has been months since he last trod this hallowed turf, since he last prostituted himself for the sake of gaining a new recruit to the Throat. His success rate had been quite high, yet the Indomitable had slowed his Threshold frenzy when he realised his herdmates saw it as a dereliction of his duties as Gladiator. He's not been back since, not until his thick limbs automatically brought him here on a whim today, seeking distraction from the Isopia-related pain that still carves his heart in two. Volterra knows what he wants. Despite the ache in his loins and his desire to fill the Throat with broads to entertain him, he knows that the herd needs able-bodied warriors, soldiers willing to lay their bodies on the line for him. For today, he needs to put aside his stallion's instincts and focus on what is best for the herd, and the sexist in him tells him that he needs men. So it's those he looks for, passing over many an eligible bachelorette and silently praising himself for how resolute he has become in recent times, how easy it now is for him to forgo pleasure in favour of duty. Sometimes, anyway. It isn't long before the mammoth warlord has found precisely what he's looking for, a man already surrounded by two others. One of them is the gelding that Volterra fought in Frostfall, now sporting a savage-looking bullwhip which draws the attention of his crimson eyes. The other is a Basin mare who had attended the ill-fated alliance meeting, and the leviathan offers both curt nods before turning his attention to the stallion. He is well-built, sturdy and with enough bulk about him to become a good warrior if he isn't one already; Volterra scrutinises, observes, and deems him worthy. "Welcome to Helovia, Reichenbach. I am Volterra, Gladiator of the Dragon's Throat." His piercing crimson gaze fixes upon the other equine, his own thick muscles at ease and his body language neutral. He is dragonless today, as the duo are off plundering the Threshold of its prey, but this does little to detract from his fearsome appearance; fearsome enough to hopefully entice Reichenbach to join him. "If you are interested in joining a herd, the Throat welcomes new members, especially ones who look like they may have a talent on the battlefield." The beast's deep rumble of a voice is devoid of any notion of sucking up - he is simply stating a fact. |
[ you can't stray from what you are, you're the closest thing to hell i've seen so far ]
[ use of force/magic on him is permitted aside from death/maiming ]
