Chapter 6: chapter 6

Kaivan, sitting at the chieftain chair of the Dark-well tribe, causing the opposition to churn slightly from surprise.

“Ah, don’t be surprised my father is currently away as the moment. Matters involving the surge win demonized beast at the bone yards, for that reason. I Kaivan Dark-well, son of flint Dark-well. Will be acting as deputy chief during this negotiation.”

After a few moment of conversation between him and the dark-well elders, catching up to the topic of conversation previously.
Looking over to skarr inquisitively as he asked.

“So, about this truce…You are here to facilitate, and act as the mediator between our two tribes, is that correct?” asked Kaivan, seemingly deep in though.

“That is correct, young master is truly astute in his observation.” Skarr smiling as he responded.

Kvata, hearing what the man just said. Slammed his fist on the table, standing up viciously.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO THE CHIEFTAIN’S DEPUTY IN SUCH A MANNER.” His thick clothing did not do much to hide his large frame, standing tall as he stared down at Skarr.

“Kvataaa, calm down. He was only complimenting my sharp wits, Isn’t that right?” said Kaivan, placating him.

“Of course, it is merely a simple compliment, it seems that our presence here have cause quite a scene, hahaha. I do apologize for that, we were in a bit of a hurry.”

“So…a truce is it? Sir Skarr, may I ask how well do you know the conflict between the Dark-wells and the Dark-claws?” 

“I know that you were once part of the same tribe, that is until 30 years ago. The two tribe had a falling out, causing the split. That is the extent of what I know.” Raising his hands in resignation, smiling wryly.

“Ah, so I see that you know a bit about our history. But you should know. The Dark-claws, during the ‘split’ as you say. Did more then just split.” Kaivan’s expression turned grim.

“they killed more then half of our people during their so called ‘liberation.’ Burned two third of our food reserves while running away with what’s left. Causing us to starve for the winter, a dozens more died from starvation.”

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“You might not know our customs, but we have what’s called an iron oath. These oaths are the foundation of our honor, our lives and our deaths.” Standing up, Kaivan unsheathe a small knife. Stabbing it down on the table firmly, making sure it sticks.

“The people of the Dark-well made an oath that night. 74 lives, starved to death. 43 have been avenged, 30 more lives is needed for the blood tithe to be fulfilled.” With each word spoken, a venomous taste on the tongue from each words.

“Until then, there will be no truce. Elders, please escort this imperial out, and the Dark-claws…kill them all.”

“NO"

yelled one of the Dark-claws in a panic, charging at the gate out of the main hall. Trying to escape as fast as he could. With a flash of light, a Dark-well elder was behind him. Silently standing over him.

“Wait…” the man, unable to finish his word as his head fell from his shoulder, as blood spills from the stump.

Loud shrieks echoes from the main hall, moments passed by as the deafening silence take place after. A lone skarr sat by the table his face grim and tense, sitting opposite are the Dark-well elders. The stench of blood filled the main hall, pooling upon the ground as the bodies are slowly being dragged into a pile at the corner.

“Welcome to the north-lands, sir Skarr. And please do come back to visit yeah?” smiled Kaivan, leisurely sitting as if everything is normal.

“52 lives avenged, 22 left to take,” muttered one of the elders, gazing contemptuously at the pile of Dark-claw corpses.

“The pigs gonna eat good for awhile with this.” said Kvata contemplatively, causing him to receive glares from the others.

“What?”

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