“What's going on?” Garth asked, turning his head left or right every time he heard the clattering of weapons, shields and armor come from a different direction. The sweat on his head and back blended with the cold rain, some of it running into his eyes and mildly blurring his sight. They had been standing ready to advance for the past half hour but the signal had not been given yet, which made the the clashing of metal on metal all the more disturbing.
“Lost souls.” Craig grunted in reply, just as the first naked man broke out from behind the shield wall and ran onto the field. Then a second a second followed; and a third. “They lose their minds out of fear, or in a haze of alcohol. Or both.” He continued while a few more men broke from the army, all naked and all shouting profanities at the opposing troupe.
“Either they don't see the point in the battle and would rather die swiftly before it starts,” The pack leader clarified as they looked on at the scene in front of them. “Or they believe they've been blessed by a god, maybe even possessed by one, and cannot be killed.”
A few minutes after the first lost soul had entered the field, some of the Bear's own possessed came to greet Wolf's cries with their own. Garth couldnt help but chuckle at the sight of the drunk and demented performing their weird dances and spirited, profane chants as the rain picked up. He was actually sort of enjoying himself, if it wasn't for the dreadful promise of murder later on. The boy turned his head, sizing up his leader and wondered if it'd be rude to ask for another bacca.
“Pay attention.” Craig almost whispered as he raked his fingers through his beard. Garth turned his head back to the scene in front of them. He suddenly realised that the chanting had stopped to be replaced with the distant sound of pleas and cries which were almost drowned out by the roaring rain. Then the horn sounded.