"Pitch camp here." instructed our leader, Brennas. "It will be fine for the night."
He drew a sword and cut a piece of cloth off his robe. Using it as a handkerchief, he whipped his face of the dripping perspiration. The midday sun was beating down fiercely and the people had to get into the shade.
The few Celt Settlers we had left began to put up the tents while Brennas sent out Scouts to look about the land.
Brennas needed something in his world to spark his plug, though he did not want to run into any wars. In the back of his mind he kept thinking that something bad will happen, though not knowing when he contained himself with his slow-growing colony.
"Sir, the tents are pitched." yelled a Settler from a tent.
"Good." He returned. "Now… where is the food? I'm hungry!"
The rest of us laughed as we scoured the land for some deer. The Archers of us set out a bit farther up the mountainous terrain to find a good vantage spot.
Rushing back to the camp about two hours later were the Scouts.
"Sir!" they shouted. "We have spotted a foreign settling about 15 miles up the river to the east!"
"What?" boomed Brennas.
"I know this news does not please you. Should we send out some Warriors?" asked another Scout.
"We shale wait it out I suppose. Our swordsman may be able to take them out, but we should first find out who we are dealing with."
The Scouts led the way to the newly discovered encampment.
"Greetings from the Celtic tribe!" yelled Brennas.
Warriors from the opposing colony brought with their leader, heavily guarded by shields.
"The Celts, you say?" he inquired.
"Yes! The mighty Green!" replied our fine leader.
"May I get your name?"
"I am Brennas, leader of the Celts."
"Mighty fine… in deed… My name is Xerxes. I am the, as you call it, 'leader' of the Persians."
The two went into a tent as the day brought to a halt. We returned, later, to our camp for a dinner of Venison, apples and Beer, a true Celtic tradition.
"Not a very happy fellow, that Xerxes was, eh Brennas?" asked a Scout.
"No, I would have to say not. But his stories are quite…"
His words were cut off by something blazing through the sky. A reddish glow off the tip of an arrow sailed down out of the blue, night abyss.
"Arrows from the mountain!" screamed one of the villagers.
"Shields man, line up in the front!" yelled Brennas. "Archers, get behind! This may not be the right place to have pitched our camp."