"War. War never changes.
Since the dawn of wolf kind, when our ancestors first discovered the killing power of tooth and claw, blood has been spilled in the name of everything: from God to justice to simple, psychotic rage."
He had reached the limit of his patience and, with that, the king's soul had grown tainted and been claimed by hate. War had filled his heart, left his veins black with toxic sludge. Whisper Caverns would face a wrath unlike any other. He would flood their dank, dark caves with blood and bile, drown them all in their pitiful little hovel! He would drown them and He would laugh.
But first, He would leave them with nothing but fear. Maksim exhaled, his breath now a gut churning stink. The rotten scent of mangled flesh between his teeth seeped out, eyes wide and filled with ferocity that did not fit him. There was hardly a trace of Baranski left, no slither of the man he had once been. No. He had given himself over to the taint of War, summoned him through the fire in his belly and the cursing of their names. Full of loathing and venom, a hunger for the heart of Ash Hervok and his damnable queen left Him ravenous, fueled by the tension between the packs. The River king had made his pact with the battle hungry fiend--for now, he had won the favour of War ... or, so he had hoped. This Rider of the Storm was using him as a chance to show His power, to relish in the inevitable bloodshed. "They will fall," He had wheezed as he engulfed the Mackenzie wolf, "and you will stand." But it was too late to contemplate at what cost.
All had gone red.
No. The ghastly beast upon the borders of Whisper Caverns was not Maksim. War himself had come to pay a visit. He hissed from between His teeth once more, another vile concoction of stink flooding the air surrounding Him. Perhaps soon, Death would be able to come to these wretched lands to steal away the broken souls left in the wake of battle. Dark lips peeled back, yellow teeth exposed in a horrifying sneer. Before arriving here, He had stripped bark from the trees of Willow Ridge. He would turn the Caverns' allies against them, and vice versa. Scattering the wood across the borders, leaving the scent of a certain Elettra and Angier at chosen locations, War lifted his head and bellowed out a howl of challenge before he turned away. With a mangled chuckle, a hissing wheeze of morbid excitement, the bloodborn fiend stole away without a trace.