Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1536954-20180414204120/@comment-33521582-20180430082802

Mal'caor cackles wildly on his perch, letting himself drop to hang upside down from the branch, supported by the crook of his legs. Even en this position, he continues to leer at the junior Water Caste, chewing fish in an unseemly manner.

"That's right, we can kill Gue'la easy. We can kill anything easy Co'Shas'shi, but," he shifts his gimlet stare to the senior negotiator, "how are these Gue'la to die? Is open butchery acceptable? Are they to die in Mont'da? How many are there? And how many need we spare?"

He lets himself drop, activating his jump pack to slow his descent and land gracefully by the side of the fire. The light plays on his cruel expression as he runs his tongue over his teeth.