As the door opened a row of men in armors made with hides of different kinds stood in front, all of them armed with diverse weapons, spears, different kinds of blades, hammers, and shields.
They all had this rugged face, dirty and rough. Like a set of men that had seen better days. Now all that seemed to be left of them was 'tough times don't last, only tough people do'. They looked like old stories and worn out warriors. But one thing they still had in common was that deadly look.
That alone made them almost fearsome.
Raith entered slowly… with caution. He bowed at them and spoke:
"Please I mean no one harm. May I speak with your leader?"
Even after speaking, the people continued to look at him with rage, gritting their teeth and readying their weapons.
Raith raised a brow, 'do they not understand me?'
Thard - Harl walked to him and touched his shoulder, "these people speak another language."
