Gha’thule stood on the sward in front of the temple of Hanuman and bellowed for silence. A hush immediately fell over the gathered tribes. Gha’thule was large, even for a Gullah. He towered head and shoulders over the next largest warrior and outweighed him by a hundred pounds. He was fully capable of rending anything living to pieces with his wickedly clawed hands, but every eye found the impressive bronze and steel sword at his hip. It was taken as a prize by his grandfather the last time Man had entered their jungle home. It passed to his father and finally to Gha’thule himself when he reached adulthood. It wasn’t passed to him by virtue of the blood in his veins; no Gullah followed a warlord because of who his father was. He received the sword by his prowess in combat. Not only was he a brutal warrior, but, unlike his fellow tribesmen, Gha’thule had traveled extensively. He had fought and lived with the northern tribes of Lupus, where he learned to run his enemies to ground in a deadly relay before slaughtering them. He had lived with the Leons on the dry savannas to the east where he learned the art of the ambush. Gha’thule also brought back advanced technology to his tribe. He had taught them to affix chipped stones to wooden handles and long poles, forming axes and spears where other Gullahs had only clubs and fire-hardened sticks. After years of inter-tribal warfare, Gha’thule had finally subjugated all of the tribes into one organized tribe. His timing could not have been better. Man had once again entered his jungle. They had even gone so far as to build permanent outposts in his territories. This time, under Gha’thule’s rule, the Gullahs wouldn’t just drive them from their home. No. They would slaughter them all, seize their steel weapons and occupy their outposts. From there, they would strike into the land of Man beyond the river. Soon, Man would know fear and terror when the mighty Gullah prowled their streets. Soon, Gha’thule would be more than a tribal warlord. He would be a true king.