Anthology of the Realms, The Werewolf King

Enter The Great Hall...

Flecks of paint and plaster broke away from the door frame, a result inflicted by the forceful impact of the Théoner's headstrong arrival.

"Théoner."

Alpha Maûrott sneered, his nose scrunching up as if he was finally registering the Human's rank stench.   But of course, he was already familiar with the mortal's reek.

No...he was just pissed off that Théoner slammed his precious doors.

A menacing grin appeared on Maûrott's chiseled face regarding the manner of Théoner's entrance.   The man is not to be taken for a fool nor did he appreciate such displays of power in his own house, that privilege is reserved only for himself.

"Welcome, take a seat and we can start.  You're the last pack to arrive."  He said in faux greeting.

Alpha Maûrott has held the position of Grand Master for over a quarter of a century and shows no sign of giving up his powerful reign.  Whilst being a reasonable leader to his Pack and Realm, the wolf is also justifiably feared.

Standing at an impressive 6ft 6, Alpha Maûrott's authority is easily attained. 

He displayed a powerful physique, a solid muscular man, very well endowed in every respect.   His face was chiseled like a sculpture resembling some type of God from a far off time but it was also cold and devout of all compassion.  

Maûrott is a heartless man, his eyes sinister and yellow, the true nature of his soul filtering through.

Maûrott's hair resembled one of the artworks found in the stately hallways, a cascade of silver like liquid mercury, fluidly moving by an unseen current.   Long and wind-swept on the top of his skull but short and sharp forming a goatie around his mouth and chin, allowing him to maintain a youthful aura, although not a sign true sign of his age.   But age does not come into consideration when this man is spoken of, nor seen for that matter, it appears that age has only proven more beneficial over time, rather than to be a hindrance.

His ripped muscular build is illustrated with intricate and detailed tattoos representative of his Pack and his Pack's personal history in the role they played throughout the ancient wars. 

Maûrott's body is also a canvas for his modern-day victories.  Ink engraved testaments of the vicious and bloodthirsty brawls he fought against the other Alphas to gain supremacy.

A ruthless and brutal man who fought his way into power as a young werewolf, claiming victory over Alphas who were twice his age, twice his physical prowess and who had over twice the amount of experience in the fight. 

Over the passing years he has grown more in physical strength and knowledge.

Maûrott is a cruel and deadly Alpha....one not to trifled with.

Not rising from his stately post, Alpha Maûrott motioned with a short nod for Théoner and Tälon to take their seats at the semi-circular conference table, along with the other ten Alphas from the Realm.

The Meeting room's crescent shaped boardroom desk was aptly suited for the council to convene at, for no Alpha would accept the position to be seated behind another wolf.

The Grand Master sat elevated on a chair resembling that of a throne at the front of the curved table, opposite the vintage doors that Théoner barged his way through.

Maûrott's elaborate station was carved from marble with all the detail mirroring the exterior wall of The Great Hall.

The official council seats were made available only to the Alpha and Beta of the Realm's Werewolf packs.
Their security teams were positioned elsewhere in the oversized room, standing to attention wherever their Alphas deemed fit for them to occupy.

Alpha Théoner's eyes scanned the room for the Human as Tälon and he took the last remaining seats.   His eyes flickered subtly over the other wolves in the room searching for any signs of Human affirmation but not finding any resolve.

Théoner's observation did not go unnoticed, Alpha Maûrott acknowledged his silent inspection with a single raised brow and a one-sided smirk...the conceited mutt was hiding something.  

There was no Human present in the room but the pungent smell was strong, so the mortal was near by.

By the hostile and musky scent emanating from every wolf in the room, the opportunity to slash the Human from gut to gullet was almost too good to be true and a notion shared by all.

They have all heard the stories about the wars and the bloodthirsty Humans hellbent on destroying their species but their generation has never seen a Human in the flesh.

Thanks to the Fae Realm, the Human scent is familiar to Werewolves. Bottles containing scents and elixirs from all species are made available so they can all be aware who is in their backyards, who is friend and who is foe.

And because of every wolf's ability regarding scents and odours, not only was the Human scent known to them but it was burned to memory.

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