He, too, comes to the Marsh on a regular basis. Not because he has any great love for the place - there is little to appeal to the eyes here in this barren arsehole of Helovia - but because he is sure that here lies the key to Kaos's demise. The memory of the battle is fresh in his mind; they'd thrown everything at him, utilised everything at their disposal, but still they had not brought him down. It just doesn't seem right or fair to the Indomitable; everything has a weakness. There has to be some way to defeat Kaos, but Volterra knows that discovering it is going to be a long and difficult road.

He feels that he can take the first few steps along that road by scrutinising every inch of the Marsh, especially the hideous altar that the bone monster spawned from. The place is vile, even by Volterra's standards. There's little to eat, no shelter, no warmth, no hint of life or the ability to sustain anything bigger than a maggot. It reeks of death, perhaps because this is where Kaos made his first kill in the form of that unfortunate silver mare. The memory sticks in the black warlord's mind like a seed caught in his throat - he hadn't known the woman, but watching her children weep over her corpse had affected him right down to his bones. Volterra is not an empathetic, kind or pleasant man, but he does value his children more than almost anything else in his life. He is a fine warrior, but if he gets too bold and dies...it could be his offspring shedding tears over his lifeless, mangled body, and that is not the legacy he wishes to leave them.

It is all the more vital that they find a way to take down Kaos, and soon. His dragons loop and circle around the altar of bones, scrutinising it for any hints on how to destroy the creature, whilst Volterra makes his slow, steady way across the squelchy ground. It isn't long before he realises that he is not alone - there's a pegasus mare nearby, her two-toned body moving through the Marsh with the same painstaking concentration that the goliath himself is displaying. With his curiosity piqued, the stallion prowls closer. "It is unusual to find somebody else here," he remarks. He's made many previous visits here, desperately hunting for clues, and he's not once met anybody else. "What brings you to this particular shithole?" The word is said with venom - he's sure the mare shares his distaste for the land, as any horse should.