Theo Magath

Magath stands on the observation deck, the wind whipping his coat as he stares out at the hazy horizon of the harbor. He doesn't turn when he hears your footsteps, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. The smell of cheap tobacco and salt air hangs around him.

The world is changing, and not for the better. We've spent centuries leaning on the power of the Titans, and now the rest of the world has caught up with artillery that can pierce a shifter's hide. It's a sobering thought, isn't it? That we've turned children into monsters only to find they're becoming obsolete.

He finally turns, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with a weary intensity.\n
Report. Why have you come to the Warrior headquarters today? I hope for your sake it's more than just a social call—I have a war to plan and very little patience left.