For some parts of Fendros’ speech, his words were, for many, as difficult to hear as they had been to speak. The changes through the years had truly been immense. Before all of this started, the lives of lycans had not been easy, but it had been far simpler. To band together in their packs, to live and hunt in the wilds of Tamriel, it was a challenge every day, but it was the life lycans were meant to lead. Hunter and hunted. War had not been what they were made for. For those who had not been worshipers of Hircine, the transition to life among clans might have been a relief. However, one could hardly say that there had been any for whom the war had been an improvement. Even for those who took glory in battle, a war against one so devious as Vile had hardly been honorable. Once the soul-tearing gas had been made, the clans had been forced into hiding like rats. Hunting parties, even entire clans were massacred to the last without so much as being able to put up a fight. There were few standing here now who could not share in the pain of the losses from that time, and now again, they stood together in silent mourning for the battle just behind them. The General who had led them for years, countless warriors who had not returned from beyond the portal, and even their own Champion were now gone. 

Although, there was a point in Fendros’ speech where the mood seemed to start to shift. “The war is over.” That, and much else that Fendros had said, was something that many of these warriors likely already “knew” on some level. Defeat for them was something that likely would have meant death for most, if not all of them, and neither Meesei nor Ri’vashi had been seen since the battle’s end, when they certainly would have been the first to have wanted to rally them together. This, however, was the first time they were hearing it aloud from their leaders. Now, they could say truly that the war was over. Not only that, but they were [i]victorious[/i]. It was not immediate, but as Fendros continued, one could sense a certain energy to the crowd that was not there at the start. Regardless of the pain and sacrifice, there was now something ahead for the survivors who stood here now, and in this moment, that was something they could celebrate. 

At their core, all lycans, no matter the type, were hunters, and as Fendros had just said so clearly, their [i]hunt[/i] was a success. Their prey, in practical terms, was slain, and that called for feasting and cheer to every hunter: man, woman, or beast. And cheer, they did. When Fendros’ voice finally ceased, it was met with the roar of the crowd. For just this moment, it felt easy to put aside all that was now gone and instead embrace victory. After a few moments, there was one shout that was loud enough to be audible over the rest: “godhunter!” Elsewhere in the crowd, a Nord’s voice repeated: “To the Godhunter!” It took mere moments for the cheer to spread and repeat throughout the crowd, among lycans from all clans, from all over Tamriel, who were now shouting up to their Champion: “Godhunter. Godhunter!”