When there’s no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.
Stoneteller to-be. Stone-teller-to-be . Stone-teller tobe. There were quite a lot of way of phrasing his title, although none of them ever sounded quite right. Unfortunately, the aesthetic of the name didn’t change the roles it demanded, and thus he found himself searching for a leader-y thing to do in the meantime. Since resuming some Caveguard duties, he’d found himself drifted away from his responsibilities as the second-to-leader, and he figured that perhaps an open discussion about the heavy fog of the Sharptooth would offer both peace of mind and a chance to regain some of his status. Really, there was no reason not to do so.
The tom made his way to the usual spot and cleared his throat, shaking his shoulders loose not unlike an actor would before a préformante.
Of course, that was really what he was, was he not?
“Alright everyone, We all know about the Sharptooth, and the Tribe has been a little, well.. tense.. recently, and I think it would be best for us all to just take a bit to group together, and under the safety of the group, discuss what’s going on and perhaps some ideas that might aid the Tribe in the future. Firstly, the Sharptooth has been around long enough that clearly we either kill it before it kills us, or we relocate- which no one wants to do, especially after the first relocation was already to get away from the Sharptooths in the first place. Does anyone have any ideas or commentary?”
[ Sky with No Moon since this is plot centered ]