Lak'Ran raised his hands, palms open wide, as if he were addressing a grand assembly. His voice boomed, commanding attention as it echoed across the crowd.
"Ah, so this is where we're headed, huh?" He began to pace slowly, his eyes scanning the gathered Orcs and Elves, his lips curling into a mocking smile.
"We all knew this was coming. But let me lay it out clearly for everyone."
He turned toward Volk, his sneer deepening.
"At the end of the day, this little Labor Orc, Volk, just hates us. Maybe it's because he feels inferior? Maybe it's because, no matter how many crystals he digs up from the ground, no matter how many Grum-gar forms he awakens, he'll never truly belong."
The crowd was silent, their eyes darting between Lak'Ran and Volk, waiting for more.
"And why? What drives this hatred of his?" Lak'Ran's voice took on a taunting, almost playful edge.
