Rain dripped down the rough animal skin cloak.
Gnoll Grak squatted on the crooked wooden sentry tower, its soaked hair clinging to its skin, making it itchy all over. It scratched the fleas on its neck, caught one and stuffed it into its mouth, then narrowed its glowing red eyes and looked at the muddy wilderness in the distance.
"Damn rainy season."
Gnoll cursed in a low voice, a dissatisfied grunt rolling in his throat.
The territory of the Red-Eye Clan--Weeping Cliff.
This is a mixed building complex composed of natural rock caves and rough wooden sheds.
Gnoll are not good at building, but they are good at plundering. There are dried prey heads hung on those crooked wooden piles, some are Beast, and some are unlucky ones from passing caravans.
There are even a few that belong to Gnoll himself.
Those were traitors or cowards executed by the Overseers.
Grak is a sentinel. Its task is very simple. It stares outside to see if there are any ferocious beasts or monsters approaching or other monster clans.
If so, blow the bone whistle to notify your companions.
But today, its eyes were attracted by something else.
Something seemed to be moving in the distant rain curtain, flashing past.
It squinted its eyes, its reddish-brown pupils shrinking into thin slits in the dim light, and observed carefully, but the rain blurred its vision, and it could only see the gray wilderness and swaying shrubs.
Not finding the suspicious target, it retracted its gaze without paying attention, yawned, and continued to stare out of boredom.
A burst of shrill laughter suddenly came from below.
It looked down and saw several members of the same race dragging a deer carcass towards the cave. As they walked, they tore the flesh with their claws and stuffed it into their mouths. Their fur was stained with mud and blood, and saliva mixed with rainwater was dripping from their fangs.
"Hey! Grak!"
One of them, Gnoll, raised his head and shouted, his voice hoarse like sandpaper. "Come down and have something to eat! No one dares to approach Weeping Cliff in this weather anyway!"
Grak hesitated for a moment.
Weeping Cliff The terrain is high, easy to defend and difficult to attack. The perimeter is covered with spike traps and deep pits. Sharpened wooden stakes are stuck at the bottom of the pits, and the tips are coated with poison.
Unless the danger comes from the sky, there is no need to be too nervous.
It was cold and hungry on the sentry tower, but it knew better the consequences of leaving the post without permission. Last month, a sentry was torn in half by the warlord Bloodfang because he was lazy and sleeping. The body is still hanging on the wooden stake in the east to dry.
"No, just eat."
It shook its head and forced itself to continue staring at the rain curtain.
In Gnoll's society, the law of the jungle is the law of the jungle.
Gnoll Warlord, nicknamed [Bloodfang], is the absolute ruler of the Red-Eye Clan. Its authority is based on violence and fear.
Grak once witnessed Bloodfang bite the enemy's throat in battle, then dig out the opponent's heart with his claws, and swallow it in front of all Gnoll.
Eat the hearts of your companions.
Even from the perspective of the ferocious Gnoll, it is a very terrifying thing.
Rotclaw priest represents another kind of power.
Grak's eyes drifted unconsciously to the depths of the cave, where faint chanting sounds and the stench of burning flesh and blood could be heard.
As a priest, Rotclaw rarely appears in front of ordinary Gnoll. It always hides in the darkest corner, slits the throat of the prisoner with a dagger, and smears blood on the bone fragments engraved with runes.
It is said.
It can use curses to make the enemy's wounds never heal, and can even briefly resurrect the dead Gnoll, allowing the dead souls to continue fighting at the expense of being unable to rest in peace.
Think of that horrific scene.
Grak shuddered.
It doesn't like Rotclaw, but it doesn't dare to disobey it.
All Gnoll know that the consequences of offending a priest are worse than offending an overseer.
At least Bloodfang will give you a good time, and the curse of Rotclaw will make you wail for three days and three nights before you die.
Grak knows that the relationship between these two big men is not harmonious. Bloodfang thinks that Rotclaw's ceremony is too slow, while Rotclaw thinks that Bloodfang is too reckless and brainless. However, in any case, they jointly rule Red-Eye Clan, allowing this group of Gnoll to occupy a place in the wilderness.
As the rain got heavier, Grak shrank his neck and wrapped his cloak tighter.
Gnoll's culture does not have the concept of "loyalty", only "obeying the strong".
Grak doesn't feel that he has any respect for Bloodfang or Rotclaw, but he knows very well that in Weeping Cliff, the weak will either be obedient or become decorations on the stakes. This principle is also applicable to the wider wilderness.
It glanced at the wilderness in the distance again, but it was still empty.
"It seems like nothing will happen today."
Before he finished speaking, a black shadow passed through the clouds at a speed as fast as an illusion.
Grak's hair exploded instantly, and some kind of instinctive fear gripped its heart. It wanted to blow a bone whistle, but its claws were frozen in the air, and it could only squeeze out a weak whimper from its throat.
The thing appeared again, this time closer and without covering its figure.
That thing—that dragon—is hovering over Weeping Cliff.
The rain fell on its layers of scales, flowed down the ravines, and gathered into silver lines at the tips of its claws. It just hovered quietly, without attacking or roaring. It quietly lowered its eyes and looked at the territory below. It exuded an indescribable sense of power and oppression, calm and dangerous.
Seeing Dragonkin's figure, Grak's limbs began to tremble.
It has seen ferocious beasts and powerful monsters, but it has never felt such fear.
Its stomach was twitching, its teeth were chattering uncontrollably, and even its tail was as stiff as a frozen rope.
It is naturally sensitive to danger, and no one in the entire Red-Eye Clan has better perception than it, so it can become a sentinel, and at this moment, every nerve in it is screaming.
Escape!
But it couldn't move.
Dead legs! Move quickly! Move quickly!
Grak screamed in his heart, but his legs seemed to be filled with lead and turned into sculptures, refusing to obey its orders. Then in the extreme panic, the pull of the spirit and body, this Gnoll rolled his eyes and fainted directly.
Garos blinked and noticed the gaffeed Gnoll sentry.
"Scared to death? No, I probably fainted."
He announced his arrival by exuding Dragon Might, which made most Gnoll in the Red-Eye Clan feel fearful and frightened, but few Gnoll fainted directly.
Sometimes, being slow to perceive is a good thing.
For example, I can't feel how dangerous and terrifying the dragon in front of me is.
Gnoll Sentinel fainted because it felt more clearly.
In the center of Weeping Cliff is a semi-natural and semi-artificial cave, the interior of which is hollowed out into a multi-layered structure.
Gnolls emerged from the cave in large numbers, their backs hunched, their muscles tense, their red eyes flashing in the rain, and saliva mixed with fear dripping from their fangs.
Garos can smell the smell in the air.
Rot pieces of meat, low-quality animal oil, and Gnoll's unique fishy smell.
Gnoll were wearing plundered iron armor and carrying hammers and other weapons in their hands. Some of them were larger. Their equipment was engraved with Alchemy Rune and was of high quality.
There were several strong Gnoll holding hook locks in their hands, but they did not do anything rashly and looked at Garos warily.
A figure appeared in the shadow of the cave.
The copper rings on Gnoll Warlord Bloodfang's ears glowed with blood in the rain. It puffed out its chest, showing the scar across its chest, which was proof that it had torn one Petrified Lizard alive.
It walked towards Garos, stopped under him, and said respectfully, "Noble dragon, why did you visit the humble Weeping Cliff?"
Gnoll is a natural person and likes to follow the powerful Dragonkin.
The key is to be strong.
If the weak Dragonkin visits unexpectedly, they don't mind killing it and use the blood of Dragonkin to perform rituals to enhance the power of the tribe and clan.
Gnoll Warlord used his peripheral vision to measure Garos's body shape.
Although it is incredibly strong, the dragon body of less than eight meters is not outstanding in terms of size. After all, the Red-Eye Clan has also hunted huge monsters over ten meters in size.
While waiting for Garos's answer, Bloodfang's eyes flickered, his spine straightened slightly, and a different thought came into his mind.