The sea wind swept over nine human skulls piled into a pyramid, making hollow, mournful howls echo from their empty craniums.
An elderly orc with a hyena's head sat beside the pile of skulls. A strip of animal hide hung from his body as clothing, and he was so gaunt he resembled a skeleton. He muttered strange incantations under his breath. A pitch-black bone staff floated at his side, continuously spewing black smoke that was then sucked back into the staff.
Another strange old man stood nearby, swaying his head from side to side. He had an enormous bull's head, yet his body was nearly the same size as his head. The two stood atop a cliff. Dozens of miles away lay the boundless North Sea, and from here, they could see a faint, indistinct black shadow in the far distance—the Western Continent.
"There's been some activity these past two days!" After a long while, the bull-headed old man muttered in a low voice. "Like flies buzzing around a cow patty—buzz, buzz, buzzing without end. It's giving me a headache. I really want to squeeze those restless little things to death!"
The hyena-headed old man continued chanting with his head swaying. After a long while, he let out a "Heh heh" laugh. "Take a man's money, rid him of his troubles. Humans fighting amongst themselves—what a wonderful thing. No need to worry about those little things."
The bull-headed old man nodded, then let out a heavy sigh. "But the humans have set foot on the Odin Icefield after all. I hate this feeling."
After a long silence, the hyena-headed old man said blandly, "Is that so? It's not convenient to make a move lately. If we make too much of a commotion, it'll be hard to account for it to