Now, though, as he crosses Helovia with select members of his herd alongside him, he can't help but muse over the fact that he couldn't imagine living anywhere else, especially not here. He's still fond of the snow and often spends his time in the Steppe rolling in the remaining patches of it, but the thought of living here permanently seems rather.....depressing. It has its own beauty, there's no denying that, but it lacks the raw attractiveness of the Throat's rolling sand dunes and sprawling oasis. This change in his mindset surprises the onyx warlord as much as anybody else, but he supposes that it proves everything happens for a reason. Sikeax invited him to the Throat and the Sun God made it his - the sun itself forged his already powerful body into one suited for severe heat, hardening his muscles and increasing his endurance. It all worked out well in the end, and there's a spring in his step as he marauds at a steady, energy-conserving canter deeper into the north. With Ampere leading the aerial convoy, Volterra moves with the other land-ridden Throatians at his back, doing his best to keep pace with his winged compatriot.

The sight of the great metal sentinels causes the beast's ears to flicker momentarily backwards. He has never actually been here before, and the eerie creatures in the mist cause him to place his bulk protectively in front of the rest of the herd, throwing up his head so he can eyeball the bizarre constructions with rolling red eyes. Ampere does not seem concerned, though, so the leviathan allows his muscles to relax and his massive head to slowly lower. "Ah, the perks of island life - not having to resort to such odd fortifications," he mutters, more to himself than to anybody else. The Basin's Sentinels, the Edge's glass spikes...all man-made in an attempt to protect the residents, but the Throat has the greatest defense of all - the sea. Again, he's filled with new admiration for his home and its natural defenses, wondering how the Basin's faithful must feel when they have to walk past these hideous erections every time they want to enter and exit the herd.

Drawing alongside the now-landed Ampere, Volterra adds his voice to her own. He, like the Mother of Companions, cannot quite shake the tension that hangs like a fog across his muscles. The last meeting with the Basin hadn't gone well, and he is concerned about the potential for a hostile reception. When he'd met Tiamat she had seemed nice enough, but things can change especially when one is fuelled by the confidence of standing upon one's own soil. The goliath glances upwards, where his dragons circle high above in the clouds, out of sight but ready to descend should the situation require it.