corpses with eyes averted from the horror of war, young boys, or old mean who had lead peaceful watches, he could not tell. Nonetheless the led them to a stairwell, a hole in the ground the top steps melding away into the darkness of the depths, the menace of the trip down confounded by the sound of heavy footfalls below. On the edge of the steps he tasted the scent desperate for an indicator, the wolf within stock still as he tasted the air, only able to catch processed air on the tip of his tongue and he took a step back, the barest hint of concern in his eyes. He wanted to go down into the darkness, to hunt as animals to seek whatever pray lingered in the tunnels, to tear out its throat and bring back its steaming carcass, yet it was not all wolves here... who knew what they would find below the surface, what conditions... what enemies, what horrors? A quick glance at the stairwell formed his plan, fishing out his pistol he switched it to full auto before hissing to the guardsman around him, his mantle self assured as he assumed control, perhaps it was seniority, perhaps jealous or a desire to prove himself, nonetheless he spoke first turning to native Fenrisian as he addressed his brothers. "My soul longs to hunt through the darkness with bloodied blade drawn yet we are not alone Sons of Russ and enough human blood has stained the soil