“I Dar’ab, Tor’Lallur is tribe. I not entire tribe. I just Dar’ab. Sides, no you tribe sick. Only other Feral tribe get sick. (It is in the Reaping of Karov mission, only the feral tribes got infected Your tribe would not have gotten sick according to the mission) We have right spread faith, you have right spread faith.”
Dar’ab’s normally calm face twists in anger
"You say peace, Feral tribe raid, kill. Raid kill many tribe, that peace? Raid kill Tor’Lallur, that peace. raid kill many. Feral tribes no know peace. Know fight, strong live, weak die. Always been so, all generations. Fancy Gogs, in Karov live in oasis, we starve, fight for little. Fancy Gog, in Tla’loc’al live under ground, safe. We wander barely survive. Fancy Gog live in Brez, shelter, strength. What rest have? Rest us, have dirt, blood, pain. Fancy Gog for generations watch rest us suffer in nothing. What give you right judge? You wallow in oasis, rest us die. You more deserve life? You more deserve safe? You above all Feral Gog? Treat us like animal, like Mal’ie. Only good be penned up, watched cause we too stupid to be left alone. Tor’Lallur like rest have fight, defend what have.
You no right judge, go back to Oasis, you safe perfect land. Know nothing. Know nothing cause live in wealth. No know how is to suffer like feral so. Cause Unnamed Gog tribe see feral as animal.
Pit save Tor’Lallur, Pit save many more. That was mission of tribe. Tor’Lallur agree to take more care in saving other Gog. Less forcefully."
Dar’ab turned to Scribe again. “No, no listen. No say unintentionally. Before we give sick again on purpose. Feral Gogs need see suffering of sick. Then understand why need master sick. Better informed, to make choice if join Pit. You no listen.”