Lady Mohowauuck bowed her head to Lord Bedivere, pleased that he was the first to acknowledge her presence. She would remember his kindness when it came time for battle, perhaps he deserved to lose less blood than the others. "It would be my pleasure to appraise this hatchet of yours, I do believe it is well within my cultural territory to ascertain. But first, of course, we must kiss the Earth with the blood of our foes, no?" she asked with a smile and gestured to Hunter. "This ward you speak of is my youngest child, Hunter. It's come time to push this little bird out of nest and see how it chooses to fly." Of course, child meant progeny when Mo spoke it. She was careful not to assign a gendered pronoun to Hunter, as Hunter was two-spirited -- something revered in Native American culture. It was one of the many reasons that Mo's heart was softened to the human, leading her to become a sire yet again, despite her hatred for humanity.

Finally, the person whom Lady Mohowauuck assumed was Magnus spoke up, although he was too rude to offer a name. She already liked him less than the Lord who spoke of knowing her from the French and Indian war. Truth be told, Mo's life was so long that she could hardly remember every face that she'd come to meet. "Lady Mohawk tends to be easier for the tongues of pale-faces such as yourself." she said haughtily, "But if that is too complex for you, you may call me Mo."

Pleased with herself, Lady Mohowauuck took a seat at the table and grinned at the idea of the slaughter that Magnus had mentioned. "What shall be our first move in battle?" she asked, always one to cut to the chase and bathe in the blood.