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15 Cylus 719
▌ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂ ▁It was party time. The ribbons were drawn up in the banner hall, the hearths were alight with sweetly smelling herbs, and the northerners had gathered from their respective villages through the icy wastelands to share in meat and ale for the solstice of winter time. Women, men, and children filled the wooden hall that was ornately carved with the designs of their ancestors and the legends of their heroes.
At the head of the three rows of long tables, the head of the tribes sat in watch of their people. There was the beastly Yanok with saber fangs and yellow eyes, head of fiery red braids that trailed down to his waist, and in front of him – the long table of similarly red-haired barbarians for the western hills. Their axes and greatswords rested alongside them, and they boisterously cheered each other on to drink from the ale-horns. Beside Yanok was four of his wives, and the other three had gotten placed at a table just to the side of him. He held the newest and youngest wife on his lap, playing with the beaded necklace around her and trying to feed her bread that she did not want because she was on a particular diet that involved no grains.
Roughly near the center, beside Yanok, the tribal leader of the east lakes sat. He had pale blond hair, long and silken, that framed his sculpted face. His outfit was, unlike Yanok’s furs and leathers, made of a gentle chiffon-like fabric that drifted through the air with every careful movement. His ears were pointed and long, with many earrings of silver and gold adorning them. His skin housed the waters of the region he came from, a perpetual motion of crystalline waters moving just underneath the transparent surface. Kiraz looked at his people, the pointy-eared lake mages, who minded their business while eating and discussing all sort of subjects. A few glanced over to the flame-haired Yanoks, though not with discomfort, but rather an endearing attraction.
In a few breaks, they would all cross over and intermingle tables as was custom.
The third leader of the tribes, Dlaw, ruled the central region valley and forest, was at the end of the table.
Kiraz looked over at Dlaw. He smiled slightly and asked, “Where is your wife, my old friend?”
At the head of the three rows of long tables, the head of the tribes sat in watch of their people. There was the beastly Yanok with saber fangs and yellow eyes, head of fiery red braids that trailed down to his waist, and in front of him – the long table of similarly red-haired barbarians for the western hills. Their axes and greatswords rested alongside them, and they boisterously cheered each other on to drink from the ale-horns. Beside Yanok was four of his wives, and the other three had gotten placed at a table just to the side of him. He held the newest and youngest wife on his lap, playing with the beaded necklace around her and trying to feed her bread that she did not want because she was on a particular diet that involved no grains.
Roughly near the center, beside Yanok, the tribal leader of the east lakes sat. He had pale blond hair, long and silken, that framed his sculpted face. His outfit was, unlike Yanok’s furs and leathers, made of a gentle chiffon-like fabric that drifted through the air with every careful movement. His ears were pointed and long, with many earrings of silver and gold adorning them. His skin housed the waters of the region he came from, a perpetual motion of crystalline waters moving just underneath the transparent surface. Kiraz looked at his people, the pointy-eared lake mages, who minded their business while eating and discussing all sort of subjects. A few glanced over to the flame-haired Yanoks, though not with discomfort, but rather an endearing attraction.
In a few breaks, they would all cross over and intermingle tables as was custom.
The third leader of the tribes, Dlaw, ruled the central region valley and forest, was at the end of the table.
Kiraz looked over at Dlaw. He smiled slightly and asked, “Where is your wife, my old friend?”
