"Do not be concerned, Sark-Iljat. If there is a way, we will find it. Come. Have something to eat. You must be starving by now."
He gestures to Edgar to follow and he leads him through the encampment. There are probably a couple hundred Thark men and women going about their evening duties. The women are lighting the torches and the men are cleaning a multitude of weapons, from swords to strange looking long guns. They walk passed a cooking fire, and there's an animal roasting on a spit. It looks like it might have been a smaller thoat, but it's already blackened from the heat and whatever the woman cooking it is ladling over it. Another camp seems to be bustling with women tending to injured warriors.
When they pass the thoat pens, there's a familiar wonk from somewhere in the paddock. There's some grunting and a few of the larger thoats seem to be confused as the thoatling pushes under and through them, muttering under its breath.
WONK! Nitwit finally manages to get to the fenceline and is dancing on four front feet, clearly trying to get Edgar's attention.
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He gestures to Edgar to follow and he leads him through the encampment. There are probably a couple hundred Thark men and women going about their evening duties. The women are lighting the torches and the men are cleaning a multitude of weapons, from swords to strange looking long guns. They walk passed a cooking fire, and there's an animal roasting on a spit. It looks like it might have been a smaller thoat, but it's already blackened from the heat and whatever the woman cooking it is ladling over it. Another camp seems to be bustling with women tending to injured warriors.
When they pass the thoat pens, there's a familiar wonk from somewhere in the paddock. There's some grunting and a few of the larger thoats seem to be confused as the thoatling pushes under and through them, muttering under its breath.
WONK! Nitwit finally manages to get to the fenceline and is dancing on four front feet, clearly trying to get Edgar's attention.