While events carried on at the Cross Manor, in another secluded corner of the resplendent white city of Pyrellis, deep within the inner chambers of a prestigious gentleman's club, a room stood in silence.
Inside it, five individuals were gathered. These were no ordinary men. Though clothed in elegant attire, their transformation was still ongoing.
Their senses remained honed, their reflexes unnaturally sharp. They were beastkin, hidden beneath well-crafted illusions, masquerading as a discreet but highly efficient underground mercenary group.
These were the Canines, or at least, what remained of them.
Recent events had devastated their ranks. Once a unit that moved with precision and confidence, they were now a shadow of their former selves.
The few that sat around the polished mahogany table were all that had survived.
"So what's the plan now?"
