A Seat at the Feast
“Alys wishes to pass on a message.
— In-game description
Rewards
- Unlocks
Steps
- Report to Berkoeya Loetahlsyn at the Wolves' Den.
Journal
- Alys wishes to pass on a message.
- You learn from Alys that your martial prowess has caught the attention of Storm Captain Berkoeya Loetahlsyn. It seems that you have been invited to participate in a new military exercise─a war game designed to test the mettle of only the most battle-hardened adventurers. Board the ferry from the Moraby Drydocks in lower La Noscea, and report to Captain Loetahlsyn at the Wolves' Den.
- Captain Loetahlsyn welcomes you to the Wolves' Den with an ear-splitting barrage of lupine metaphor. Appealing to your savage side, the Maelstrom officer urges you to participate in the Den's newest war game─the Feast. Speak with the captain again if you wish to learn more.
Dialogue
Alys: Ah, Forename, I was hoping you'd come by.
Alys: A Maelstrom messenger was here in search of you a while ago─poor timing, as it turns out. The lad seemed resigned to sit and watch the door for you until the end of days, so I finally offered to pass on the message for him.
Alys: From what I understand of it, you've been invited to participate in some manner of military exercise at the Wolves' Den.
Alys: The messenger wished to be clear that only the most battle-hardened adventurers have been asked to take part, and that to even receive the offer should be considered a great honor.
Alys: Well, whatever you might think of it, it appears that you've caught the attention of one Storm Captain Berkoeya Loetahlsyn. You are to report to him at the Wolves' Den should you wish to “bloody your fangs.” Those were his exact words, apparently...
Alys: Oh yes, the messenger also asked me to remind you that the ferry for the Wolves' Den can be boarded from the Moraby Drydocks...in case you'd been “away too long from the slaughter.”
...Do take care, won't you, Forename?
Berkoeya: Well, it's about bloody time a proper wolf loped in! I've had it up to me eyeballs with yowlin' pups what piss themselves at the tiniest scratch!
Berkoeya: I don't give a wharf rat's arse who ye salute or what yer rank is─yer pretty titles amount to a handful of shite in my den! Yer a maggot until proven otherwise!
Berkoeya: But yer a different breed, ain't ye? Ye've hunted yer foes across a hundred different fields; torn their flesh, and heard their bones crack in yer jaws!
Berkoeya: That's the sort of beast I want slaverin' at the table I'm settin'. Aye, there's a new game afoot, and ye'll need a killer's instinct to claim the best chair at the “Feast.”
Berkoeya: So bare those fangs and sharpen those claws! Gorge yer belly on the banquet afore ye! But watch yer hindquarters─the meat on this platter is like to bite ye back!
Berkoeya: Are ye snarlin' for the chance to show the realm who's top wolf? Then lend me yer ear, and I'll brief ye on the most brutal war game to ever grace the Den!