“They still recall the stories about the great Aaviendi slaughter by the Minotaurs, which we know as the Day of Blood, much of which you yourself should know, Stifflus.”
Manurak’s brother turned his upper torso to gaze at his uncle, whose bearded face show no emotion. Stifflus knew, however, that if his uncle Tristar spoke of it, he meant what he said, and it was perhaps quite serious. “Post a guard, Uncle,” Stifflus replied. “Don’t you do that normally, anyway? I mean, I really don’t think that we’ll be bothered by the Bull-folk tonight, but prudence is never out of style, is it, Uncle?”
Tristar chuckled and shook his head. “That sounds exactly like your brother saying that,” he remarked with humor. “You have so much of Manurak in you that you could almost pass as Manurak himself, if you weren’t so much smaller than your brother, Stifflus. And yes, all will be taken care of tonight. The Aaviendi will keep a watch during the night. Best mold ourselves to the situation, as water does in the pitcher, young Stifflus.” The older Centaur then wandered off, seeing to the unloading and setting up