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This was a rather unexpected turn of events. He thought for sure that Lancelot would see right through him, or, at the very least, that his defence of Morgan would have been enough of a strike against him that he could not possibly be the one chosen for this role. But here he was. A Great Knight. For whatever that was even worth, considering he was only just a fledgling knight moments before.

But he would not argue. He would accept this responsibility with pride, knowing that he, in his heart, had dreamed a day like this may come (even if he could not remember that dream anymore).

Wrath had found a clear spot at the lakes edge, and could be seen pacing bakc and forth as the others began to arrive, a hand up to stroke at his beard, his eyebrows drawn down, a brooding look on his face, a man who was, obviously, deep in thought. Eventually, he stops, and turns, the hulking mass of 6'7" muscle letting his gaze slide over all of those gathered, a crew of red knights who had been duped by their previous leader.

Would they even trust him?

He shook that thought from his head, and opened his mouth to speak.

"I am Wrath, or Rathsvith, if you prefer, though what I prefer is to be called by the former." His voice was a deep boom, as he continued to look each of them over, before gesturing at them all with his hand.

"From what I have seen, and I see a lot more than I let on, any one of you would have been just as worthy of my position. It is not my intention to pretend to be better than any one of you. As Lancelot said, we are all knights, and we are all equal. SO, with that being said." He smiled, then, hopefully putting everyone at ease, if there were any doubts among them about what kind of man he was.

"Please, feel free to talk to me, to give me input, help me to be the leader that you all deserve in this coming fight, one that you can trust, that will take your advice and concerns to heart. I believe that to be successful in battle that we must work together, which means that we will be depending on one another, to have each others backs, to keep fighting on even at the bleakest of times."

He took another pause then, before continuing. "This may also be our last chance to get to know each other before that time comes, so use this opportunity well."

And then he went silent, giving them all the chance to talk.

A part of Micheal knew somewhere he could not speak. For he had not volunteered for the position. Why? Not because he was unworthy. Micheal had spilled his fair share of shadow blood. But because Micheal knew he spoke better with a blade than with words. His very blood pumped for the glory of battle, and he would not let himself die as a mere sacrifice. He just could not let it happen.

But When Wrath stepped forward, it sent an odd feeling through him, and it had taken him some time to remember exactly why. In the haze of blood and battle, Morgana chose several people. And Wrath was one of them.

Sir Lancelot might have over looked it, but he could not.

"Wrath you say." a good name, Micheal had to admit. "I am Micheal. A knight sworn to the wolf. And I like you was down in the treasure room. I saw Queen of the Sidhe curse some and bless others. You were among the blessed."

Micheal drew his blade and stepped forward. "Who do you side with really? Are you working to save us or are you working for that shadow?" he stared at wrath making eye contact with him.

Micheal had wondered what would have happened if he had continued to defend Morgan just a bit longer. If he would have also received the mark. But it also brought up the question of why he hadn't.

"What better position for one of her followers to be in than one of the supposed sacrificed? After all it was the position she herself took." his voice was hard. Though wrath was a bit taller than him, and Micheal should have been intimidated just a bit, he was not. Thus far they had been fighting monsters much larger. And though Wrath was a monster of a man, Micheal felt he was capable of putting up a decent fight at least.

"Though I do understand that it does brand you a traitor, possibly without cause. In the end words mean nothing. I will be watching you, if you bring us to ruin, I will fight you, and take your place myself if necessary." and Micheal intended to kill. But it was an if and only an if. His blade remained steady in front of him as if he expected to still met in his challenge, but his shoulder dropped. The tension was relived just a bit. The song of battle still soared in his veins, but he was not planning to use it yet.

If Michael was expecting Wrath to back down from him, and his threat, if became apparent quite quickly that it was not going to happen. In fact, he actually took another step closer, the hand that he had raised now going to the hilt of his sword as if he might draw it then and there.

But Lass's words gave him pause instead. His gaze shifted to her, and then back to Michael, before he shifted into a more relaxed stance, letting out a short grunt of agreement before saying.

"That is what I assumed as well, of the mark, more so when Galahad rounded us all up in search of those "corrupted". They are a ploy, a means to her diabolical ends, and nothing more."