[center][sup]The Rise of Kul[/sup][/center]
[center]Smor'Gen'Blok[/center]

Za’Kul stopped in his tracks. [i]Slaves![/i] No, never. Before there was mistrust, seeded hatred. It was becoming anger; it burned in the depths of his stomach,

“Slaves? No! Cannot!” then he realized how close they were to the Wor holdings and his rage involuntarily died. It knew. He knew he couldn’t cause a scene; the fact the High Wor even considered negotiation was a miracle itself; it was unbecoming of him to ruin their lone chance at reasoning with them. He had to bite his tongue and bide his time.

All that pride he had would be swallowed; his father climbed the ranks of his pitiful tribe through cunning; Za’Kul would have to at least mimic some of that if he wanted to assure Ju’Kul and himself made it out alive. To do something stupid which got one’s tribes fellow killed was an offense punishable by death. He kept behind Ju’Kul so that the elder could handle much of the talking, he was in no mood or mind to do so himself.

He just hoped the Ju’Kul had some sort of plan.