Cysanic5

There were five of us that day. Six, if you included the inquisitor. Why so few? Well… The inquisitor in question, an overzealous and pompous old fool called Lord Berenk, came crawling and mewling to our Order like a scorned child asking for our help. He planned to take a hand-picked force of mercenaries to seek out and destroy the lich Ikelthor, thus earning him royalties and favour amongst his peers. At first, the Wolfmother laughed in his face and turned him away, but he snivelling wretch called forth an ancient oath our Order had sworn to the land a millenia ago, wherein any supernatural threat to the people would be met with generous donations of warriors to assist the Lord who would seek out and extinguish this threat. Loopholes. Always loopholes with humans. Begrudgingly, the Wolfmother honoured the agreement, summoning the entire clan and assigning the largest of the packs to aid him, but he turned them away with a gesture not seen out of royal society. The arrogance of this