"You don't have a claim to the pack, Lance." Alban's voice rumbled behind them. "Stop assuming all this childish shit and sit down. We've gathered here to speak as a group not stroke your ego." he stepped between and through them, pushing Lance away from her.<br/><br/>"You have some nerve, outcast!" Lance spit the words at him. Everyone became instantly silent.<br/><br/>"You get one warning pup. Back down now." Alban had stopped, but not turned around, or even glanced back. His muscles swelled in rage.<br/><br/>"As far as I'm concerned you have no right to speak here, you don't belong to any pack.' Lance's tirade was cut off when Alban spun around and lifted him off the ground by his throat.<br/><br/>"I am the Guardian of the Truce. Deal with it or leave." his sight cleared as he inhaled Roxies scent. Old instincts began waking up. Slamming Lance down in a chair. "Shut up, listen, learn and stop claim what isn't yours." he growled, almost shifting. A dark stain spread on Lance's leg as he pissed himself. His fear was of the physical form before him, it was of what was reaching out of it. It's power was palpable. It's power kept the packs too scared to make any moves against each other.<br/><br/>That was an ancient power.