"Would the ceasing of spewed insults really stop the racism sent towards our kind, Mukar? Would the Descendant races really treat us with more respect?
No.
Metztli doesn't care, she uses our kind as her personal toys. If she had really cared about us, she would've aided us. Did she do so?
No.
Open your eyes, Mukar."
The old Kha'Cheetrah Saikaunaah stood there, silently, thinking to herself upon seeing the posters hung up by the Sage of the Moon. Seconds, minutes and moments passed before finishing her trail of thoughts. With a snort she hobbled off.