Mayla screwed up his eyes in thought, then began to speak in a rote tone. “ ‘The chosen of the mother’s flesh must suffer untold horrors upon their body and soul. Dangerous and perilous is their friendship, death always a part in their company. Even if the chosen survives their trials, their old self shall be dead, and their remains but a husk of what they once were’, or something like that. They tend to get a bit flowery and excessive with their word choice. Always hard to remember.”

Mayla sighed and released Oggledok’s grip, setting his hands on his hips. “Yes, after what I’ve heard of their tactics in Las Vegas, that is not going to change any time soon either. Amazing what being a warrior tribe does to the brain. Anywho! I’ve got a lot of good ideas from your lads and ladies, and I believe I can get things running pretty smoothly here in a few days. We’ve had to find a place to get our workshop started that was on the warmer side. Rather cold up here, surprisingly.”

Mayla brought his knuckles together, tapping the broad edges of his rings together. “Oh, um, yeah! All fifty of us came through. This seems like a pretty good place to make some serious money, so we came through together just to make things easier. Most of the Hayla clans stayed back, as they don’t have much to do around here unlike us Kuthlu.”