מספר קטעים לא בדיוק מחוברים. ניסוי ספרותי במטרה לפתח דברמה
גדול יותר.

Awareness blended dream, and sip by sip the woman that lay
on the white wooden canopy bed awoke. A faint moan has
indicated the torments she suffered. And the old servant
quickly rose from her chair, hurrying to give the bedridden
a glass of water. The woman gulped the water that was mixed
with honey, and after a few moments she fell to the
dreamless sleep of the ill.
A short while later a man had come to visit. He was tall, so
tall that he had to dodge in order to enter the small room.
He had long black hair, his face was shaved and he was
wearing a chain mail and on the top of it brown silks. He
asked the old servant few questions and left, wondering who
is the lady that he hospitalizes in his sick chambers.
As he was walking in the corridor, abstracted, the door blew
open and a soldier dressed as a scout, his torso gory,
fallen into his arms. "Gorgons" he sighed and returned his
soul to the divine. The tall man ran swiftly through of the
manor and to the watch tower, skipping four stairs at a
leap. In the top of the tower he had found the young guard
kissing one of the maids, totally unaware of the shady
figures coming out of the woods. Each figure about a meter
high, and wide spikes coming from its back and carrying
large two handed axe striding through the woods as
gracefully as elves.
He slapped the guard and cried "Sound the alarm, we are
under attack." The man raised his bow and few moments later
a gorgon lay dead while in the background reverberated the
sound of the horn - two long times and then two short,
marking that the mason is under attack. Four more gorgons
lay dead before they reached the doors of the house and just
in time two dozen armed guardsmen have surrounded the
gorgons.
The man knew the gorgons, that weren't known as very smart
beings, but surely even they knew they have no chance
against so many arms men.  But yet they stormed with screams
- total madness it seemed. Eleven of them were slaughtered
instantly, but the last was extremely fierce, in on slash it
took off one of the guards' hand and one of the spikes in
his back penetrated another guards' groin, before a dozen
swords torn the gorgon apart. The man hopped above the rail
and slid on the drainpipes to the edge of the roof and
leaped to the ground, approaching the men. The man didn't
waste time with curtseys and eight men took the two wounded
on their shoulders and marched to the sickrooms.
When the others formed circle around the man, in case of
another attack, the officer saluted and said: "Erand, it
appears that this was their whole tribe."
And Erand replied, "So it seems, but what are gorgons doing
so far from the mountains?" the graying officer scratched
his head and pulled his shoulders. They headed to the house,
where Erand gave a command to man the tower, and set a night
watch on shifts. As Erand and his officer stepped through
the corridor, discussing what could be the reason the
gorgons came almost 50 kilometers south from their
territory.

Fierce wind blended with snow beaten the mountain. Marvelous
display of the nature's power. Up on one the top cliffs, a
lonely mountain goat jumped from rock to rock, heading to
its cave. It jumped once and twice and once more, but in the
fourth time it didn't land and the goat, caught in the gust
of wind and bleating horrifying screams, flew away. (If one
could read goat minds and would have been there at that very
moment, he would have probably heard the goat thoughts
echoing his own: "OH SHIT.")
The goat flew almost half a mile before dying from a heart
attack and another two and a half miles before falling
down.
We will get back to the goat later and will focus now on a
village, the village of Selashtein that lodged about five
hundred feet up the mountain. It was built up the slope, all
the buildings were made of hard black stone called Selasht,
the houses didn't have tiles and had arched roofs made of
the same rock. The houses where sank in the ground, only the
windows piping from the ground. It was an ancient village
and well built for the winter.
Wide caves and holes connected the houses underground. And
there, life have flourished even in the middle of winter.
Children had run around with a ball, a real ball, you mind,
not a sack filled with rags like you would have found in
most of the villages. The village wasn't rich, but the
ancient quarry provided job for all the village's men. Their
repositories where always full with food, enough for a whole
winter. And the most uncommon thing about this village was
that every one of them knew to read AND write, providing
them with pleasant occupation in the long winters.
And so the storm blazed for three days and nights. Old Amdad
JoRaven wasn't in the lower village as everyone else, he was
sitting in the attic of his house, and dressed in four
layers of clothes he sat there and waited, staring at the
horizon that ended after two dozen steps because of the
snowstorm.
Only his more than sixty years in the mountains allowed him
to tell it was mid-afternoon. At first he wasn't certain but
then he realized that it was so, huge human shaped form was
moving in the snow, "A troll perhaps?" he thought, but no,
the trolls feared snow more than anything else in the world.
And then he realized: "The shape must be human", only humans
have such a will that they will go outside in such horrible
weather. After three more steps the shape collapsed
revealing a gigantic man, at least two and a half meters
tall. The man was also two times wider than any man the old
miner has ever seen; his face covered with wide beard and
his body with high quality fur cloths, and in his hands a
young lady. the old man decided that he has no chance to
help them himself and that they seem more or less not
dangerous, so he opened the trap door that was leading to
the underground part of the house and called his two sons
"Arman! Galzav! Come up here fast, a man in the snow!" And
after a few moments his two robust sons appeared in the
hatch. "Help them," he commanded, showing the couple that
lay in the snow, and the boys quickly carried the girl and
then dragged the man inside the house. the experienced
mountain men knew that if they will put them near fire or
try to put blankets around them they will probably die, so
they began carrying them to the hot springs that were in the
next streets corner. Quickly more men have assisted to carry
the frost beaten couple to the springs.

The town's council has assembled that night. About forty of
Selashtein's men and women stood in the hall, and exactly at
midnight one of the cloaked men has stepped forward to the
stage.  ''I am JoRaven Amdad, son of Vlad son of Gregory.
And I am two hundred seventy three years old, is there
anyone here older than myself?'' He recited the ancient
words. And when, as expected only silence replied, he
announced:  "well then, as the elder of Selashtein I will
lead the council today."
He sighed, and began: "You all know the reason for this
meeting, the strangers.You all wonder what we should do with
them."