[Sal the Mudokon]

Frag, Drok, and a score of their fellow sligs waited at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the calm valley. Most of them were equipped with a type of spear that was used to swing and impail the enemy over one's head when the slig was on his back. Other's were armed with stone-filled slings by which they flung from their tails.
They continued waiting, proud of their first row status. In the native slig culture, being on the front lines of battle does not mean to be of the least importance and be simply mowed down, but rather the honor that you were the first pick.
Still, they were not alone in this battle by any means. Deep inside the caves lay the rest of the army: Sligs, a thousand strong, armed and ready with slings on their tales. They had sworn to die for their queen, and today they would test their loyalty.
It was around dusk that Raam, a slig of higher standing in the colony than Frag and Drok, noticed the small shadows collecting in the setting star. They were like bees swarming up from the horizon. There wasn't a slig who witnessed that wasn't sickened by the glukkons' strategy. They were using their own kind against them.
The "Skyllaron", translated litterally as "Sons of Skylla", rose high into the blood read sky. At first, their movements were merely verticle. In moments, the small spots would become complex beings, armed with offensives that were unlike any of that which the children of Skarria had ever seen before.