Post by Mufasa on Feb 4, 2020 23:42:51 GMT
February 5th, open to all high-ranking
Mufasa prowled through the forest with swift, powerful strides, an uncharacteristically grim, foreboding expression on his face as he glared ahead, muscles tensed beneath his golden fur, very much at odds with the calm, collected demeanor he was prone to displaying when out for a stroll through the forest, or in Arendelle. He'd been as shocked and dismayed by what happened in the forest as anybody else, and though he was relieved the fight hadn't gone far worse than it had, he was angered by the audacity with which the Thorns had struck. It was bad enough that they'd managed to get so close without being spotted, and it made things worse that they'd managed to slink away before anybody could organize to pursue them.
After so long of nothing at all, blood had been drawn. The supplies lost to the Thorns didn't concern him so much. They weren't struggling so much that a single wagon would make so much of a difference either way. It was the blow to morale, together with the wounds suffered, that made him angry. That, and the notion that the Thorns seemed to think they could pull this off and get away with it. He'd initially been of a mind to strike back immediately, but wisdom, prudence, and Sarabi had all prevailed over impulsive anger. But now though, with no more activity from the Thorns, it was time to prepare a well-conceived response.
He'd sent runners to gather all available high-ranking Enchanted Suns to meet in the forest to discuss just what to do. As he waited, he paced back and forth, still looking grim. It was clear to him, after questioning those who'd been involved in the fight, and assuring them that they weren't to blame for the fight's outcome, that the Thorns had deliberately avoided taking any lives. Whatever response the Suns came up with would have to take that fact into full account. it would have to send the message that the Thorns couldn't expect to operate with impunity, and that the Suns could strike at them just as capably as the Thorns had struck.
As he waited for the rest to arrive, he considered ways to accomplish just that. It would have to be a small group of capable raiders, members of the army who could be depended upon to get the job done, and not get carried away. The goal would not be blood for blood, as appealing as such a goal would undoubtedly be for many of his soldiers. If blood was shed during a fight, then that was that, and he'd expect his troops to do everything they could to make sure more Thorn blood was spilled than Sun.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and he raised his head to gaze at whoever was approaching, one brow arching as he stared, curious despite his mood to see who had arrived first.