"Gorak, what's the meaning of this?" An old man with long white hair and a beard frowned.
"Old Ma, It's actually nothing much…" Gorak shrugged and paused for a moment.
Then he continued. "We, the Ragh'Tal Tribe, just want the Brakka Tribe to merge under our name. Simple, right?"
"You? Ragh'Tal Tribe?" Old Ma squinted his eyes, clearly feeling that something was amiss.
'Ragh'Tal? Why have I never heard of this tribe? And since when did that stubborn guy become one of them?' Old Ma thought to himself.
"Yes, there's no Redhorn Tribe anymore. Only the Ragh'Tal Tribe, since we've decided to come under them. Besides—"
"Gorak, I'm disappointed in you now." Old Ma shook his head helplessly, showing a disdainful expression as he continued. "You ran with your tail between your legs and dared to come here with a stupid thing to say. Do you not have any shame left?"
"Old Ma, it's not like what you think. The condition itself actually—"
