All day the City of Bones had been a frenzy of excitement, a hostile center of merciless conflict and taxing challenges. Howls of pain and screeches of victory emanated from Taloba with a zealousness that made even the alphas of Akila Hound packs flinch. Yet it was some time ago darkness had swooped down with sinister hands to strangle away the daylight. The humid world was quickly plunged into a domain of blackness broken only by Leth's full light, yet even that was obscured behind thick clouds and the rainforest's near impenetrable canopy. With night fall came the awakening of numerous nocturnal hunters. Apex predators prowled between the tangle of foliage with an inborn stealth and camouflage that made them all but invisible. With every foot fall, every snagging snap of undergrowth, came the pricking of hungry ears and the slinking of agile bodies after potential prey. Yet often the most relentless killers of the night walked on two legs instead of four.
They came swift as the raging rivers that bisected their sacred jungle home. Their mocking calls tainted the night in mimics of both ferocious snarls and innocent tweets of local birds. It was truly astonishing how efficient they had become after the near overkill of their training. Their targets knew they were coming, it seemed they always did. For it was their shadows they swore loomed around them, leaning out from behind the trees and popping their heads up above dense brush. And still they always fell prey to cold, calculating hunters that blitzkrieged them like a carefully choreographed performance of hostility.
The jungle had always been a crucible of unforgiving cruelty, so it was rarely a shock when someone crossed its equally brutal inhabitants. However the four captives were still alive, eyes bugging as they looked around at one another in blends of relief, perplexity, and utter horror. Alive but not free. Each had their hands tightly bound together in thick vines, and unkind shadows leered in their faces barking a language they did not understand. Before long they had trekked through the rough terrain, spaced apart, and walking in single file. Ferocious beasts of armed men and women, tattooed and scarred indiscriminately, flanked the prisoners for the duration of the journey. Only the savages were permitted to chatter back and forth to one another, more often mocking and intimidating their trophies than anything else. A Tiger Roarer was used once, and soon after they had reached their destination. Oh, how their anxiety grew at the sight. Surely it was one that made their knees weak, damning Dira for not granting them the quick end when the Myrians first discovered them.
First came their whoops, their excited shrieks and obscenities. A loud and almost thunderous holler that rose over the trees. It wasn't until the group emerged from the jungle that they saw, and when they did, they wished they hadn't. Dozens of black, blue, and red bodies bore themselves fearlessly before the advancing crew. Two lines of warriors had been formed parallel to one another with only a narrow gap between them. The very direction the captives were being corralled. Behind them laid a very large and flat stone the rest of the crowd had seemed to gather. A single figure stood upon its summit yelling out to the rest of the frenzied congregation. Her amber eyes were ablaze with unbridled fury and hatred as she glowered at the approaching captives. Then she extended her arms outward and passionately shrieked indignant words with pride. Her lip had curled into a vicious snarl, a merciless mask of an expression upon her bronzed face. Suddenly the group stopped dead in their tracks right before The Gauntlet and all eyes looked up at the orchestrator. She extended an accusating finger at the captives and let out one final cry. This time it was not in Myrian.
"You barbarians spoil the lands ruled by the Goddess Queen with your presence! Your armies tread our jungles now and then thinking to eradicate us! You believe you will not fall just as all the races who challenged us before you?" She scoffed with more venom than any snake in the jungle could produce, a chorus of agreeing shouts harmonizing with her fury around her. "Let us show you how true the tales of Falyndar's savages really are!"
They came swift as the raging rivers that bisected their sacred jungle home. Their mocking calls tainted the night in mimics of both ferocious snarls and innocent tweets of local birds. It was truly astonishing how efficient they had become after the near overkill of their training. Their targets knew they were coming, it seemed they always did. For it was their shadows they swore loomed around them, leaning out from behind the trees and popping their heads up above dense brush. And still they always fell prey to cold, calculating hunters that blitzkrieged them like a carefully choreographed performance of hostility.
The jungle had always been a crucible of unforgiving cruelty, so it was rarely a shock when someone crossed its equally brutal inhabitants. However the four captives were still alive, eyes bugging as they looked around at one another in blends of relief, perplexity, and utter horror. Alive but not free. Each had their hands tightly bound together in thick vines, and unkind shadows leered in their faces barking a language they did not understand. Before long they had trekked through the rough terrain, spaced apart, and walking in single file. Ferocious beasts of armed men and women, tattooed and scarred indiscriminately, flanked the prisoners for the duration of the journey. Only the savages were permitted to chatter back and forth to one another, more often mocking and intimidating their trophies than anything else. A Tiger Roarer was used once, and soon after they had reached their destination. Oh, how their anxiety grew at the sight. Surely it was one that made their knees weak, damning Dira for not granting them the quick end when the Myrians first discovered them.
First came their whoops, their excited shrieks and obscenities. A loud and almost thunderous holler that rose over the trees. It wasn't until the group emerged from the jungle that they saw, and when they did, they wished they hadn't. Dozens of black, blue, and red bodies bore themselves fearlessly before the advancing crew. Two lines of warriors had been formed parallel to one another with only a narrow gap between them. The very direction the captives were being corralled. Behind them laid a very large and flat stone the rest of the crowd had seemed to gather. A single figure stood upon its summit yelling out to the rest of the frenzied congregation. Her amber eyes were ablaze with unbridled fury and hatred as she glowered at the approaching captives. Then she extended her arms outward and passionately shrieked indignant words with pride. Her lip had curled into a vicious snarl, a merciless mask of an expression upon her bronzed face. Suddenly the group stopped dead in their tracks right before The Gauntlet and all eyes looked up at the orchestrator. She extended an accusating finger at the captives and let out one final cry. This time it was not in Myrian.
"You barbarians spoil the lands ruled by the Goddess Queen with your presence! Your armies tread our jungles now and then thinking to eradicate us! You believe you will not fall just as all the races who challenged us before you?" She scoffed with more venom than any snake in the jungle could produce, a chorus of agreeing shouts harmonizing with her fury around her. "Let us show you how true the tales of Falyndar's savages really are!"
