Chicratic Zub Chacut
Zectracac held up his Hacut club-sword at the ready, his warrior band standing menacingly behind him, armed with similar weapons and bedecked in animal pelts or the elabourate feathers of the jungle birds.
Before him stood a group of traders, clad in the rough grassy weave of the Hubrians.
“You have entered the lands of the Holuc Chachuc, under the sight of Zectracac. State your cause.”
The Hubrian company seemed somewhat nervous, with the exception of one, a leaderlike figure with a regal headdress, who stepped forward.
“On your lands we tread, Zectracac of the Holuc Chacuc, with goods of trade, much as those of your lands travel to ours.”
Zectracac nodded, his teeth showing slightly in a small grin. This man knew the proper forms of formal address.
“Your answer satisfies me. However, I must ask a question. Is your home in the lands of Maltik?”
“The homes of my ancestors were there. I still may travel there, but for the Hulakap.”
“And they are the subject of my inquiry. Wildmen have entered with arms into the lands of the Holuc Mactric, under the sight of my mother’s brother’s son, Citrapec. I have heard dire rumours that they are fighting alongside these Hulakap.”
“They have been ever as such... doubtlessly they view you as yet another threat to their power.”
“And have you heard anything of this?”
“No, master of the Holuc Chacuc, I have not.”
“Very well. Continue on down yonder path, you will find Zectracac’s village some day’s walk beyond.”
“Many thanks, hospitable sir.”
Slowly, the Hubrians marched past, disappearing down the jungle path into the mist.
“Alright, we continue as planned- to the lands of the Holuc Cirit, to meet their battle challenge.”
“And the forces of Citrapec?”
“Can handle themselves.”