At the front of the mob stood a Boar Alpha, a beast of a man nearly as tall as Caspian but twice as wide. He came to a halt, refusing to bow, as the moonlight glinted off the two massive tusks that shot up from both ends of his lower jaw, right from inside his mouth.
His face was a coarse, ugly distortion of a human's, with a snout-like nose and thick, bristly hair that grew down his neck and over his shoulders like a dark mane. His skin was a mottled, leathery grey, but his eyes—bloodshot and small—held a distinctly human malice.
Behind him, there were a few more beastmen like him, big, gruff, and holding clubs. And then at the extreme back were dozens of smaller, thinner Boars huddled.
These beastmen looked more human, their tusks mere stubs and their frames frail, their eyes wide with terror as they gripped the handles of heavy tribute crates. They were likely the 'weak' the system wanted her to protect.
