Apr 11, 2017 7:33 am
Zaituc responds to Kray, "My kin from the north will be returning back to patrol. It is right for my crew to see this method of the Old Way as well. If hell is unleashed today, it will not be us who are in it, but instead those who had made the error to cross this war party."
After a walk of about ten minutes down the swamp trail, the group, totaling about 25 men, arrives at a clearing. In the middle of the clearing are eight large menhir standing stones, huge towering rocks placed in an oval formation. Old runes are carved in the rocks. This is certainly a site laid by the druids of old. It is unknown how men could move such heavy stones and place them in such organized fashion so many centuries ago.
Near the menhir rocks stand a small group, another set of Danneins about eight in number plus one Voldruvan, a strong-looking fellow wearing only wool pants and no shoes, armed with a long curved knife. Zaituc and his lieutenants go to speak with them.
What stands out most in the scene though are the prisoners. Bound and tied at the base of the rocks are three Gandish tribal warriors. Even though restrained with strong ropes, they appear shockingly dangerous. They are men, but truly bestial in all senses of the word. They are wiry and gnarled, but their muscles bulge out on their limbs. They are covered in dirt and grime. Paint stripes up and down their bodies. Dried caked blood is also smeared on their torsos, hands, and faces. It is unmistakable. And judging by their lack of serious injuries, it is assumed to be blood not their own.
The Gandish are wearing rugged fur tunics and loin cloths. They are covered in necklaces and beads. One of them is even draped in a shoulder wrap of skulls and human bones strung together on a line. Their hair is wild, dirty, and matted. Their feet and hands are rugged and worn like leather, and their orange eyes shine in anger as they grit their teeth, looking back and forth at all of their captors. The fierce Gand with the bone line wrap has long fingernails that seem inhuman, like animal claws. Shockingly, the pupils of this one’s eyes are oblong-shaped, like the eyes of a great cat.
Up on a higher mound, about 15 meters away, an old gray-bearded man stands with a cudgel staff. He is dressed in a rugged wool robe and has a gray cloak pulled over his head. Even from this distance, onlookers can see that the old man’s hands are covered in blue tattoos of intertwining lines and runic symbols. It is clear that this man is one of the fabled Dannein druids. He stands alone and does not interact with the crowd.
Zaituc seems to finish talking with the team of Dannein warriors with one Voldruvan. The Captain looks down at the Gandish for the first time, very briefly, and then scans through the large assembly now gathered around the stones. By now the Voldruvans and Danneins have all shifted to positions around the entire clearing, as if completing the oval-shaped encirclement that the towering stones frame out. The center area is open and covered with low green grass.
After a walk of about ten minutes down the swamp trail, the group, totaling about 25 men, arrives at a clearing. In the middle of the clearing are eight large menhir standing stones, huge towering rocks placed in an oval formation. Old runes are carved in the rocks. This is certainly a site laid by the druids of old. It is unknown how men could move such heavy stones and place them in such organized fashion so many centuries ago.
Near the menhir rocks stand a small group, another set of Danneins about eight in number plus one Voldruvan, a strong-looking fellow wearing only wool pants and no shoes, armed with a long curved knife. Zaituc and his lieutenants go to speak with them.
What stands out most in the scene though are the prisoners. Bound and tied at the base of the rocks are three Gandish tribal warriors. Even though restrained with strong ropes, they appear shockingly dangerous. They are men, but truly bestial in all senses of the word. They are wiry and gnarled, but their muscles bulge out on their limbs. They are covered in dirt and grime. Paint stripes up and down their bodies. Dried caked blood is also smeared on their torsos, hands, and faces. It is unmistakable. And judging by their lack of serious injuries, it is assumed to be blood not their own.
The Gandish are wearing rugged fur tunics and loin cloths. They are covered in necklaces and beads. One of them is even draped in a shoulder wrap of skulls and human bones strung together on a line. Their hair is wild, dirty, and matted. Their feet and hands are rugged and worn like leather, and their orange eyes shine in anger as they grit their teeth, looking back and forth at all of their captors. The fierce Gand with the bone line wrap has long fingernails that seem inhuman, like animal claws. Shockingly, the pupils of this one’s eyes are oblong-shaped, like the eyes of a great cat.
Up on a higher mound, about 15 meters away, an old gray-bearded man stands with a cudgel staff. He is dressed in a rugged wool robe and has a gray cloak pulled over his head. Even from this distance, onlookers can see that the old man’s hands are covered in blue tattoos of intertwining lines and runic symbols. It is clear that this man is one of the fabled Dannein druids. He stands alone and does not interact with the crowd.
Zaituc seems to finish talking with the team of Dannein warriors with one Voldruvan. The Captain looks down at the Gandish for the first time, very briefly, and then scans through the large assembly now gathered around the stones. By now the Voldruvans and Danneins have all shifted to positions around the entire clearing, as if completing the oval-shaped encirclement that the towering stones frame out. The center area is open and covered with low green grass.
