"Look around you, templar. What do you see? Sand, sand as long as eye of man can see. No crops to feed more then ten-headed villages, water just barely to support them. And under the sun, bleached bones, broken banners scattered in the wind, dotting the dunes. We follow the Mother Boar, we bend but do not break, we adapt, we survive."
Sweat burned the eyes of holy man as he gazed upwards to catch a glimpse of mountain of man that was adressing him, his lungs ready to propel insult towards the rider from his lips. Only a long gasp was let out, as the weathered lanced pierced knight's chest, look of anger clouding his eyes. Lance was pulled back as fast as it was struck, trickling dark, thick liquid on the ground, sand sucking it into itself with great hunger. As he keeled over, templar watched the silhouette of rider, clad in gold and green, humongous in his girth, lazily stomping away from the fresh kill on his steed.
