"Here you go."
In a dimly lit tent in front of Malvorrak's mountain, a young lizardman with a glass jug in hand walked forward and poured out the contents of wine in the jug into a small cup on a table.
"Thank you, Qarc," a giant lizardman with a luxurious robe spoke, patting the young lizardman on the shoulder before picking up the glass of wine from the table.
He remembered Qarc's father; he was a warrior beyond warriors. Albeit not stronger than him, he was a force to be reckoned with in the younger generation in the clan.
Unfortunately, he had been killed in the 100 tribes' various skirmishes. If only he could see his son now… wouldn't he be happy? This was what war did to people.
It separated man from wife and child from father… and more often than not, it was permanent.
"You're welcome, Fourth Elder," Qarc bowed subtly with a smile on his face.
