The worshipers of Alaric

A group of eight men, all dressed in dark hooded robes; stand in a circle around a large fire. The flames flicker and dance, casting an eerie orange light on their faces. The men are chanting in unison, their voices low and guttural, as they sway to the rhythm of their words.

Their chant grows louder and more frenzied with each passing moment, and the air is thick with the scent of burning herbs and incense. The words they speak are in an ancient language, one that few would recognize or understand, but the tone of their voices alone is enough to send shivers down one's spine.

As they walked, they raised their arms in unison, their movements fluid and synchronized. The flames from the fire cast eerie shadows on the walls, making it seem as though the room was alive with dark, twisting figures.

The words they chanted were almost incomprehensible, spoken in a language that had not been heard for centuries. However, a few words were discernible from the guttural sounds they produced:

"Al