If thou openest not the gate to let me enter,
I will break the door, I will wrench the lock,
I will smash the door-posts, I will force the doors.
I will bring up the dead to eat the living.
And the dead will outnumber the living.

Ishtar was prone to being late. It was only because she had general dislike for most of the pack structure. She understood that it was essential for their kind, and that it kept everyone in order, but it did not mean that she enjoyed it. There always such flaunting as if they were the best thing since fresh meat. It was tiring. It was repetitive. It was a bore. And yet she slowly moves from the den in the hills of Iromar. Baphomet had collected her from the Western Crater and she had followed without hesitation. She was the Blood Muzzle. She was the first to carry such a rare mark in her line, and when she had outgrown her brothers in height, her father proclaimed her for greatness. Ishtar, however, was a firecracker, a match lite that burned brightly and then died down. Only difference was, was this firecracker was constantly thinking. This match could re-light at any given moment with a flash of fangs and death. This Blood Muzzle was not a creature to be trifled with.

She approached silently, with her head held high, her black tail arched over her back. She walked slowly, purposely and those golden eyes watched each of them individually. She stopped as she reached Baphomet, watching him for a short time before she sat down. Her belly spoke volumes of how close she was to her due date. Soon, and very soon, Iromar would have new heirs. Ishtar sat rigidly, watching each individual. Some she knew very well, and others well, others would learn their places well enough. She barely acknowledged any but Baphomet. She was far more dominant and they would address her before she would address them. It was common demonic courtesy and if she was going to be dragged to these meeting then she would play her part as queen to the tee. Her gaze drifted over Andras, his sister Rogue who would be wise to watch her tongue about her tickish form, the seductive Lillith, and finally the oddest of her companions, Samael. Only after her eyes rove over them does she acknowledge the presence of Ruvindra, evaluating the little white vixen that so stupidly thought she could take on Baphomet and win. Granted, Ishtar had cleaned some of the wounds that the former Queen had inflicted and was mildly impressed that the little white wolf could do such a thing. She understood why Baphomet had opted to keep her around. The other that seats herself next to the former queen seemed a little off, although Ishtar did not completely disregard her but noted her as potentially a creature that would need more than a little convincing should she want to stay here in Iromar and do well. Next her eyes wandered to a male a little older than herself. He looked like a big ball of anger. Well, he best be on good behavior and maybe he could actually make something of himself. He smelt of the former Queen, and she deduced that he was probably her mate. Poor displaced king. Ishtar felt nothing for him. Places of power were given to those that deserved them. Death was given to the weak. Finally she finds the young wolfess that had decided to sit herself beside Baphomet. Ishtar's goldenrod eyes narrow and her ears prick forward. It surprised her that he had elevated an impure wolf to so high a station and she could not deny that the soft pang of jealousy briefly touched her hellish heart. She inhaled deeply but carefully retained her composure.

As she finishes silently evaluating those that surrounded her Baphomet, she at last turns her gaze to him. The father of her pure children. She looked towards him and spoke a single word to reaffirm her submission towards him and only him. "Baphomet." Her voice was even, strong and gave away none of her thoughts or emotions. As explosive as she often was, she did have some manners that could be used as she liked. And with that she returned her gaze evenly to those that surrounded them. She expected that those of lower rank would greet her in turn and then she would speak with them. Their journey had been long but she trusted that he was correct in finding where the Angel's were so proliferative. Now it was only a matter of getting forces behind them, identifying where this family so cleverly hid themselves and obliterating them. Perhaps then she could send for her older children, and settle here. At least until another Angelic line was identified. Somehow, she knew that there would always be another line to keep in balance.

ISHTAR.