Atvar, as was his custom, walked around the projector to view it from all sides: Kirel followed him.
A pointed iron helmet with several dents sat on top of his head.
“Show me the picture sequence from the probe once more.” “It shall be done.” Kirel poked delicately at the projector controls.
Tosev 3 vanished, to be replaced by a typical inhabitant: a biped with a red-brown skin, rather taller than a typical male of the Race. Another took its place, this one swaddled from head to foot in robes of dirty grayish tan.
The animal the biped rode, a somewhat more graceful relative of the humped creature, looked bored with the whole business.
An iron-headed spear projected upward from the biped’s seat.
His other armament included a straight sword, a knife, and a shield with a cross painted on it.