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6/23/2025, 12:46:33 AM
>Four nights hunting in the dark, the Sun Heart tribe picks away at the fortress of the cannibal hunters, chewing up patrols in twos and threes before slinking back into the canyons to feast on their spoils. Bolts and harpoons keep the predators at bay during the day, but slowly, by a thousand cuts, the cannibal hunters are bled dry, their numbers dwindling, stretching thinner and thinner with every hunt.
>On the fifth day a band of rowdy nomads take refuge in the keep, sheltering from the storm. Deep in their cups, a slight is made, an insult taken to heart, and before midday the first of the nomads puts his club through the skull of his fellow man. Iron fills the air, the clatter of blades, the scent of blood. Predators are brought into the light by the stink of a fresh meal. They set upon the once impenetrable fortress, now left exposed for the teeth of a carnivore, and with sharp claws and jagged blades tear the heart from the hunter Robun.
>On the fifth day a band of rowdy nomads take refuge in the keep, sheltering from the storm. Deep in their cups, a slight is made, an insult taken to heart, and before midday the first of the nomads puts his club through the skull of his fellow man. Iron fills the air, the clatter of blades, the scent of blood. Predators are brought into the light by the stink of a fresh meal. They set upon the once impenetrable fortress, now left exposed for the teeth of a carnivore, and with sharp claws and jagged blades tear the heart from the hunter Robun.
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