A village swarmed with activity, tribesmen preparing for battle, above the hustle and bustle on an outcropping of rock, sat a lone man. No shirt or weapon, just a crude pipe, pants, and glorious tattoos that put most dress finery of civilized nations to shame.

Taking in a puff of whatever was burning in the pipe, the man seemed troubled. His breath exhaled slowly, barely projecting the smoke away from his face.

"Hey, Brotha, hos be da champ a de Klug llivin?" What seemed to be some sort of impossibly colored leopard, icy blue base with black spots, stalked up behind the man, gently rubbing his flank across the Champion as he passed.

"..." The Champion did not respond, but set the pipe down, not taking another breath. The Loa read the moment and sat down beside him.

"They really stung up the hornets nest." The Champion's head lowered, and he reached to scratch the Loa's neck.

"Mmmmm..." The Loa appreciated the gesture for a few moments before responding. "Yeh, but dey neva was gud fer much."

"The Mutig were na bad." The Champ's accent showed a slight hint of his constant Loa companion's speech after all these years. As the Loa raised an eye, the champ smirked, "Not that I was gonna marry dem."

Looking out over his village, The Champ sighed "Thing's gonna change, Gau." 

The Loa suddenly burst out laughing, "Ting's change befar ya was born, littal bwoy, afta ya dia. Neva live longa ta see."

"Still.. We gonna play the old draw card before dey do?" The Champion took a hearty breath of the smoke from his pipe before blowing it all over Gau's face. Gau just sucked it all in, and with a moment of concentration blew out, spreading a smoke over the nearby rock, icing it up.

"Ya."

And so they sat, waited, and watched, together as always as war came to the Klug.