Thread: Let's make love, not war (Razgriz x Talin)

Surrounded by lush green forest, a group of men, women and children, dressed in their summer leathers to help ward off the heat of the season, sat around a fire roasting fresh caught game. These were the northern Barbarian clansmen and women, having to vacate their homes after those serpent-women overran them many of the men lost their boys to those vile creatures, watching them get dragged off to god knows what fate. It was only after the initial shock of the massive assault wore off that the Barbarians began fighting back and reclaimed their town as their own. Though the battle in this land was weary if it wasn't the serpent-women, it was the plant-women that seduced the most virile men and drained them dry, and if it wasn't them, it was the demons that robbed the men and converted the women into more of them. But those thoughts were far from the mind as the day's bright colors showed clearly. The wind was minimal today and the sun shone brightly large multicolored, scaly-looking skins graced the forms of six particularly brutish-looking men Wolfnonit Direcrush, Taram Jarlhawk, N'rerr Grimnail, Aormal Boldclaw, Arwaramph Vulkfinger, and Thundurn the Greyder. Together, they were the Six Slayers of Anvegad, and their uniforms were composed of the skins of those they had recently defeated. Their legends were known throughout the lands whenever even one of them stepped foot onto the battlefield, the enemy shook in terror before them, for each was a one man army, a harbinger of death to those that incurred their unrelenting wrath. And if all six were to gather in battle, even surrender was not an option. Even now, in these times, they were still looked up to as vanguards of hope for their clan to drive the various beasts from this world every woman there would gladly allow any one of them to give her a child, knowing the seed of its father was from one of the clan's strongest and most well-known warriors. While each man was a warrior in his own right, these were the exceptional few, the picks of the litter and embodiment of everything the Barbarians valued strength, fiery determination, endurance and most of all, loyalty to the tribe above all else. But, as with every tribe, there is the kicking boy, the runt that receives the worst of hazings from his betters in the tribe. Weakness was something that was looked down upon in the most severe sense, and Gnosr - the kicking boy in question - was just getting back from having his head dunked in the river for the twentieth time.....today. The boy coughed and sputtered, his short brown hair and toned, fit body dripping wet, as the adult male K'orfke carried him on his shoulder, throwing him down roughly on the ground. Gnosr looked up at the man with hate in his eyes, the same sentiment being returned to him from K'orfke. K'orfke then spoke Guess the Rabbit wasn't quick enough this time! You bring shame to our tribe, Gnosr! You're just lucky your 'habit' of studying those which harm us is of benefit to the tribe, else we would cast you out! Gnosr just said nothing, but his head bowed slightly in shame. It was true Gnosr was no warrior. He could fight, yes, but he lacked strength to overpower exceptionally strong adversaries. K'orfke grimaced, And here you are, not even raising your hand or voice to defend yourself! A true Barbarian would not let anyone, even one of his own, disrespect him so voraciously! Get out of here, Gnosr the Rabbit! You disgust me! Gnosr rose and moved away from the village he could feel the sadness welling up inside him, his bright blue hues glistening with tears that threatened to break out. He felt it wasn't fair no matter how hard he trained his body and mind, he just wasn't strong enough. His only advantage in a battle was his speed this meant the armor he wore was light and meant only to deflect a glancing blow. Still, he felt it incredibly unfair that they singled him out just because he couldn't take a heavy blow like the others didn't mean he was worthless! Though this tribe did value strength and endurance above all else and had done so for centuries, so it was no surprise that they were stuck in the old ways. So he merely walked, pushing past thick elderberry brush and small shrubs in an effort to get away. Eventually, he reached a cliff leading down into a steep chasm he'd heard that there was a group of the serpent-women that lived somewhere down there and wanted to go observe them. For some reason, he found them fascinating how their snake-like lower bodies moved, how they acted, it was all so foreign to him and his curiosity drove him to try and understand. Not to mention many of them actually quite beautiful though having seen their combat abilities first-hand, he definitely was afraid of them and didn't want to get too close to them. But, he also wanted to try and be braver, to gain the respect of his comrades however, as soon as he tried to climb down, his footing slipped and he tumbled down the rocky slope. His head knocked a few times, eventually striking the hardened earth so hard he was rendered on unconscious this made his body ragdoll the rest of the way down, and by the time he landed on flat ground, he was covered in lacerations and bruises, his unconscious form lying spread-eagle on the ground.