part 3.5

They waited in silence for about an hour before the bandit group was fully visible. About 30 ragged men in mismatched armor marched gracelessely down the road, with not attempt at organization. In the back of the group was Marak. He stood around 8ft tall and was hugely muscled. He looked like one of the giant clan from a distance, but upon closer inspection Ares could misshapen tusks jutting up from his mouth, a distended belly and foul looking sores all over his body. His hair was matted and tangled and one bloodshot eye was bigger than the other. He was unarmored except for thick metal gauntlets and shin guards and he did not carry a weapon. However, a group of a dozen bandits trailing behind him dragged along what looked like the trunk tree that had been fashioned into a club.

“That is a Fallen!” Ares hissed in revulsion and almost spat in anger, clenching his fists at his side. He had faced Fallen before, although the ones he had seen were wild and savage, living like animals in the far southern tundra and mountains. Baruvius and Galudur were with him those times and they never passed up a chance to kill one of the Fallen, saying that the existence of the Fallen were the greatest dishonor of their clan.

“Is that what you call them down south,” The blacksmith said. “ They’re called Maneaters around these parts and farther north, and they’re one of the most feared monster anyone could meet on the road.”

“They’re not a monster.” Ares’ eyes remained fixed on Marak. By this time a crowd of towns people had gathered up on the wall, waiting and watching as the fearsome bandit group made their way slowly down the road. “They’re the dishonored of the giant clans, once great warriors that were corrupted and turned away from their duty and honor.” His words were soft but hard as he remembered the anger that burned in Baruvius’s eyes when he had told Ares about the Fallen, the first time they had encountered one deep in the mountains.

The silence grew long and tense as they waited and finally Ares could wait no longer. When the bandits were still a few hundred yards from the gate he leapt off the wall, clearing over a hundred feet before he landed outside the town and began to walk to meet the bandits.

The distance between the two closed quickly and when only a 100 feet separated the two Ares stopped and called out loudly, “ I am Ares, clan son of Baruvius and Galudur of Clan Ultu! What was your clan Marak, the Fallen?” Ares stood proudly before the giant, his gaze firm and fierce as he looked up at the creature that towered over him at almost twice his height. 

The giants chuckle sounded like grinding rocks and the choking gurgle of a dying man’s last breath. “The Ultu must have fallen far indeed if they would accept a human runt into their clan,” Marak sneered down at Ares, his tusks and misshapen face make his words near unitelligeble. “I’ll wipe this stain from their…heh…honor.” His deep slurred voice sounded much like a landslide but the mocking in his voice was clear enough. Ares’ hand grasped the hilt of the black blade as Marak reached down and grasped the enormous club in one meaty fist, lifting it without apparent effort to his shoulder.