The Sentinel snorted as he descended the path to the lower level. He had no distaste toward the slaves that were housed here -- as a matter of fact, he saw them as blank slates. Things he could change and morph into what he wanted. He also saw many of them as opportunistic, desperate to find themselves a little higher on the social heirarchy. Among all of them, he only found himself confounded by the former leader of the small group he had converged on. Sylvester.

"Vester! Oh, Sylvester~" he crooned, walking up to the cell the fox had been put in. In the candlelight, he saw the fox body move, but not get up. "Don't be like that, boy. Get up and say hi." Josiah rumbled, and waited for a second. Still no movement beyond shifting. He snarled, then raised his voice, no doubt waking a few other slaves. "COME OUT HERE AND GREET ME."

The silver fox jumped, then timidly unfurled himself and walked over to the bars. Immediately Josiah smiled, lowering his head. "Sorry -- I hate it when people don't listen." He spoke, then shook his head. "Anyways -- I got a quick question for you: What traditions did your group have?"