400
                                The wall beyond held a frieze of human heads, all faced alike, dried and
caved with their taut grins and shrunken eyes. They wore gold rings in their leather ears and in the wind
their sparse and ratty hair twisted about on their skulls. The teeth in their sockets like dental molds, the
crude tattoos etched in some homebrewed woad faded in the beggared sunlight. Spiders, swords,
targets. A dragon. Runic slogans, creeds misspelled. Old scars with old motifs stitched along their
borders. The heads not truncheoned shapeless had been flayed of their skins and the raw skulls painted
and signed across the forehead in a scrawl and one white bone skull had the plate sutures etched
carefully in ink like a blueprint for assembly.
                                What is the breakdown of society?  Warring tribes are fighting for power and resources.  They are eating the bodies after the battle.  The winners could be the bloodcults.