At the end of the wide path that divided the village down the center, they stopped. In the middle of their numbers, one sat high atop a beast that was something akin to oxen, but with a third, sharp horn protruding from its forehead, and a scaly tail that ended in a ball of deadly spikes. The beast was covered, all but it's legs, in thick armor plates and rough looking chainmail held together by worn leather that once may been ornate but now was weathered from years of use and battle. High in the saddle sat their leader, a massive warlord, face hidden behind the chainmail sections of his spiked helm. On either arm were strapped enormous, curved metal scoops ending in sharp points and adorned with rivets and spikes. Unlike the rest of the mob, his clothing was richly colored, though leather padding and armor could be seen riveted or strapped onto it in ramshackle patches. He rode to the head of the group, looking about the village, obviously taking inventory of the spoils to come.  A rope hung about his neck that ended in knots that held together three human skulls. At last, someone cried out and the chaos began.