In a clearing in the forest, a group of creatures was dancing. There were roughly more than two hundred of them, with twisted bodies, beastly heads, enormous antlers, and voices cursed like a song. They were dancing, wrestling, and biting around a bonfire, their bodies resembling that of men, yet also women, but their faces, claws, and hooves were far from human.
The celebration was so noisy at this point that the Beastman Tribe was oblivious to the outside world; they never knew that the few Inferior Horned Beasts assigned to stand guard outside had been brutally massacred by the superb archery of the Wood Elf and Estelle.
In the forest clearing, many skinned corpses were displayed, some human, some animal. At the front stood a Beastman Shaman dressed in tattered clothes and wearing a skull mask. It was dancing, moving both hands and feet in prayer to the God of Darkness, making its pleas. No one knew what it was saying, but everyone knew that another battle was near.
