"Well . . . the main issue is that one of your kind has learnt of our existance and is likely seeking military action against us. Whilst we can resist weaponry and most things they chuck at us, I will not condone a course of action that leads to war . . . it seems that you three are the only things standing between a war of our races. . . Do know this however, if war is undeniable then we will not relent . . ."
Bloodhound hoped it wouldnt come to that, knowing full well of the bloodpact made so long ago. Should the Werewolves embrace the bloodlust they would be forever commited to scouring Humanity from the Earth. For a second his resolve faltered and his eyes burned a furious crimson. He salvaged what little sanity remained and once again took a hold of himself. If they were given the chance the Werewolves could deny the bloodpact, forever transforming them into creatures of beauty and accomplishment. If they were forced to embrace it . . . his eyes flashed crimson yet again.
The sudden possibility of war made his stomach turn, his resolve falter and the very fibre of his being shake. He sat down and crossed his legs, his eyes constantly changing from crimson to saphire. Every time he attempted to speak . . . the conflict grew greater. With great strength he managed to speak. "I have resisted the bloodpact . . . and so will my clan. The resistance is determined by its leader, not its members. But know that the other clans have been seduced by its charm . . . I must go now . . . the Werewolf clans are now at war . . ."
His eyes burned crimson and he let off a fiercesome howl. Within seconds a grotesque spectacle emerged from the tunnel, as huge beasts collided with claws and teeth raking their foes. All semblance of order lost, Bloodhound could do little but charge. He charged . . . into hells embrace.
Grand Admiral of the Imperial Remnant.
"This one is constantly thinking, analyzing, strategizing. He showed no fear, but was curious, studying me in turn."
"All thoughts are worth listening to, whether later judged to be of value or not."
"I have no qualms about accepting a useful idea merely because it wasn't my own."
"Butů it was so artistically done."
―Thrawn's last words