Bulivye

Ioranir sat quietly in front of the fire that sat in the middle of the hut, stirring a bowl of fish head stew slowly. He had only returned to his hut a few moments before everyone had gone to sleep and decided a quick meal wouldn't hurt. With the fresh snow coming in, only people who had undergone the rites of passage into becoming a fledged member within the tribe were allowed out during the night time due to the various predators that stalked in the fresh night air.

The two armored men drug the beaten man by his arms across the hall to their master, tossing him onto the floor as the stood firm. The gray haired man tried to stand, sputtering blood and matter down his mouth and torn armor. His dark blue eyes had begun to lose the bright luster and fire within their gaze, he was weak, though he would never admit it.

"Who, is this you bring before me."

The men stood firmly about to speak before the man struggled to stand up as he spit blood upon the floor.

The wrinkled hands moved from one parchment to the other, the deep blue eyes studying each one carefully. His long, braided gray mane flowing from his shoulders as a worn hand reached for his braided beard. 

"By the bones of the father.." The old man whispered as he looked down at the scattered parchment, a worried look about his face. He picked up one of the wrinkled pieces, staring at for a moment.