The old philosopher was not so surprised that Psyche had called a meeting of the herd, so soon after Mauja’s arrival. Perhaps she had been planning it already and it just happened to coincide with the Frost-King breaking through his mirror. Doubtful, but possible. Surely at some point she would have to address the question on everyone’s lips; Is Mauja back?, and if so, would he rule? Truly, the old white stag didn’t see what claim he strictly had in relation to the Basin - they had lost the battle for the Edge, and been cast out. Not so long after, the boy-king had simply disappeared. What part of this new life, had Mauja truly contributed to? Surely he was well loved and a beloved figure head...and while ruling with Psyche certainly seemed acceptable, usurping her, ultimately did not.

Had Myrddin not been close by when Psyche issued her call to join her in palaver, he may have missed the meeting all together. He was so deliciously close to completing the quest given to him by the Goddess of the Moon, that he often spent his time away from the Basin, seeking a soul filled with revenge. For such a land filled with turmoil and fighting, it was surprisingly hard to find such a-one within Helovia. Still, he would remain vigilant. Besides, being blind was a pain in the ass.

Myrddin moved slowly, his nostrils flaring as he made his way about the assembled herd. He had no desire to bull-doze anyone, but nor was standing at the back his style. Although he had created a fairly accurate mental-map of the Basin and had no problem traversing it’s physical aspects, inconveniently the members constantly moved about; getting in his way. Having began on the outside of the group anyways, Myr worked his way slowly towards Psyche, from her right. For the most part, the Haruspex assumed that he hadn’t knocked into anyone so far, because they had the good sense to just get out of his way. Like a wraith, his white form moved through the shadows, eventually halting about 5 feet away, and perpendicular to where Psyche stood.

He listened as Pysche named Faelene and Crowley as having attained certain ranks, his large moose-like ears flicking slightly as she named him as well. A dissatisfied grimace crossed hi ancient features as a voice he did not recognize mentioned a stallion named Tio, and his plan to overthrow the Throat. Myr knew little of the desert-herd, and didn’t care to know much more. Flicking his tail, he grumbled to himself about the stupidity of certain individuals, but kept his comments largely to himself. He would speak, once he felt he had something to offer.