Astaroth had heard mention of a guest in the swamps, though it had not initially interested him. At first, he had assumed the wolf would only stay for some days, most likely to heal from some injury or to ask questions of Aithne but soon enough, it had become apparent that the guest had more time to explore. Thus, the guest had quickly become a rather important part of Astaroth's agenda. He wanted to scope out this newcomer, particularly if there was any hope of the stranger staying in the pack. Hell, maybe he had just been feeling a little more social since he had begun to work out his relationship with Denali more. After all, Astaroth had plenty of time, plenty of food and plenty of things to do but one thing he lacked was simple: friends. Such had been his whole life, really. Locke had been the closest he had gotten and when he had left, Astaroth had seemingly lost interest in being social. He had just taken to hunting and patrolling. Easily, it might have been seen as a sad existence but with a reinvigorated sense of purpose, that had changed. He was going to seek out their guest for more than just rank purposes.

His hunt had been cut short, however, by an unfamiliar call. In fact, what made the sound even more peculiar was that it had been seemingly directed to him. It made him pause for several moments, pinpointing the exact location but also mulling over possible candidates. Who had called for him? And why? It only occurred at the last minute that it might have been their guest. After all, it seemed logical that he would want to talk with the Cerberus of Iromar, especially considering Astaroth's input could greatly increase or reduce his chances of getting along fine in the pack. With that in mind, Astaroth had been eager to head towards the call, squelching through the marshes with towering strides. He'd always been too big and too heavy for the reeds. In the wet season, he seemed constantly wet up to his ankles or elbows. Now was no different thanks to the winter run off, though he had adapted to moving rather quickly through the territory.

It took him some several or more minutes to finally find the male, a dark form lingering in the thin mists. Astaroth made a wide arc, moving so that he might approach the stranger from front on, alerting him of his presence with (not only his telltale loud, squashy footsteps) but also a baritone oof sound. He kept a distance out of habit, settling some several feet away finally. He watched the male for a moment in silence, simply observing him. He was all around smaller and yet, he had a certain... tenacity to him. It was seldom seen in Iromar, really. For all intents and purposes, many of the Iromar wolves had a more relaxed kind of determination about them. Well, Astaroth did at least.

"You must be our guest?"

He spoke finally, slumping into a more comfortable position in an effort to ease any tension. It couldn't be helped. Astaroth had been born with a rather intimidating physique - tall enough but far too heavy for his weight. He had been born to look like a lupine tank, essentially. It had a nasty way of making others on edge even when he had all intentions to remain as passive as any other. So for now, that's where his efforts went. He wanted to look... inviting, he supposed, so that the other might be inclined to reveal more about himself without probing.