In a stony outcropping high above the desert-like biome of Sector 13, nestled between towers of ashy rock and eroded stone pillars, a crude campsite had been set up.
In this place, large bones of huge creatures served as benches while long mats made of some fabric or material was laid under piles of gear. There was also a nearby rusted antenna that had the sound of static coming out of its speaker faintly beside a dented scanning orb that emitted pulses to scan the area.
Six Minotaur-like creatures lounged around lazily, each well over two meters tall with thick-muscles and rough hides ranging in color from rust-red to earthen brown.
These fellows were the Oxen Raiders, a band of outlaw Minotaurs from the 68th-ranked Minotaur race that had made this part of Sector 13 their personal hunting ground.
"Weather's nice." Zovuk, the leanest of the six, grumbled while licking the edge of a cracker made from fried beast marrow.
