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Planetoid
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2017
The wind blew softly through the trees outside of the cave entrance. In the dark entryway into the underground, five warriors hid. They’d made the long walk up the forgotten chambers underneath the Biezce Castle up to a second entrance near the Arcadian Gardens inside the walls.
They wore leathers lined with wool, caps with ear flaps, and boots with indented soles to hold their place in stirrups. Short, recurved bows were strapped across their backs, while sabers flashed in their hands. Loops of leather cord was coiled at their belts in case there were captives, but that was rare on a journey like this. Too much trouble. Too much danger.
The chill in the air reminded them of their home in the steppes to the east. Their time in this humid, mountainous country would soon be over, and they’d return as men, bringing prosperity back to their tribe.
The lead warrior signaled, his black eyes dancing over his hooked nose. The other four patted his shoulder, and then headed into the night to gain their fortunes. It was their lootricchin. The time men came of age and showed their prowess by raiding the lands to the West. All were between twenty and twenty-five, eager to acquire Western riches and assume their roles in the Tribe.
For the lead warrior, this had special importance. His father had died the year before, and he had to wait the full year for Gurkan, his cousin, to reach twenty so that they had the requisite five for a raid. He wasn’t in this for riches, like the others, but merely to survive with a bauble so that he could assume a leadership role.
He looked across the open area inside the walls of the castle. While his friends had gone to various structures to acquire wealth, he chose the quieter, vegetated area over to the right. The Gardens wouldn’t provide much in the way of treasure, but some small decoration or statue would prove enough to make him Chief. He wanted to make it quick and return, in case one of his fellows needed help.
They wore leathers lined with wool, caps with ear flaps, and boots with indented soles to hold their place in stirrups. Short, recurved bows were strapped across their backs, while sabers flashed in their hands. Loops of leather cord was coiled at their belts in case there were captives, but that was rare on a journey like this. Too much trouble. Too much danger.
The chill in the air reminded them of their home in the steppes to the east. Their time in this humid, mountainous country would soon be over, and they’d return as men, bringing prosperity back to their tribe.
The lead warrior signaled, his black eyes dancing over his hooked nose. The other four patted his shoulder, and then headed into the night to gain their fortunes. It was their lootricchin. The time men came of age and showed their prowess by raiding the lands to the West. All were between twenty and twenty-five, eager to acquire Western riches and assume their roles in the Tribe.
For the lead warrior, this had special importance. His father had died the year before, and he had to wait the full year for Gurkan, his cousin, to reach twenty so that they had the requisite five for a raid. He wasn’t in this for riches, like the others, but merely to survive with a bauble so that he could assume a leadership role.
He looked across the open area inside the walls of the castle. While his friends had gone to various structures to acquire wealth, he chose the quieter, vegetated area over to the right. The Gardens wouldn’t provide much in the way of treasure, but some small decoration or statue would prove enough to make him Chief. He wanted to make it quick and return, in case one of his fellows needed help.