Deep in the south-eastern reaches of the Silver Mane Tribe's territory, a considerable distance exceeding 120 miles from their central settlent, a squadron of beastn cavalry cloaked in mystery advanced determinedly toward their destination.
Under the shadows of their masks, not a single face was visible as they made their way through the rugged landscape. The rhythmic thudding of their mounts echoed ominously across the expanse.
"Lord Chief, perhaps it's ti for a respite," suggested a masked rider, her voice muffled slightly.
The Chief, lost in thought, grunted in confusion.
"Cardia, have you already dismissed my earlier instructions?" the leader chided gently, tapping his mount affectionately. The beast halted obediently with a snort.
"My apologies, Master. It seems I did forget," Cardia admitted with a sheepish grin, dismounting her steed with a clumsy thud.
This group was none other than the personal guard of Chief Logan, bound for the perilous Kasros Canyon.
"Let's pause for sustenance. We must reach Kasros Canyon before nightfall, lest we find ourselves bedding down under the stars," Logan declared, removing his mask to reveal a rugged face marked by the trials of leadership. He settled himself on a nearby stone outcrop.
The sun hovered close to the horizon, threatening dusk within hours.
"Master, Kasros Canyon lies but sixty or seventy miles hence. We could quicken our pace!" Tyton suggested, surveying the terrain with an expert gaze.
Logan accepted a piece of stale gray bread from Cardia and gestured toward the treacherous path ahead. "Observe the terrain, Tyton. These hills, littered with stones both large and small, hinder our speed more than the flatlands ever could."
They had now left the barren wasteland behind, entering the hilly area. Here, the landscape was unforgiving, with jagged ditch edges and a ground cluttered with rocks, a challenging passage for even the most seasoned warg.
Upon hearing his chief's words, Tyton inspected the rocky ground. His eyes, new to the rugged terrain, could only make out the vague shapes of distant stone hills and rocky paths.
anwhile, Logan observed his troops dismounting one by one, tending to their wargs and replenishing their own supplies. He pondered deeply, his thoughts straying to the technologies he had encountered in the marketplace. The options were nurous, each more tempting than the last with their potential profits.
Yet, the dilemma of choosing technologies that might seem unremarkable to others weighed heavily on him.
As Tyton and Cardia stood up in unison, Chief Logan shook off his reverie, his sharp gaze cutting across the landscape.
In the distance, two beastn riders navigated the rocky terrain skillfully, their forms swift and agile upon the stone-littered hills. These scouts had been dispatched earlier to chart a path through this treacherous region, a land notorious for its complex geography and the thieves that lurked within its hidden crevices.
Within monts, the scouts had closed the distance, their mounts panting from the exertion as they dismounted with a practiced grace.
"Chief, we've spotted a small caravan about four miles south," one scout reported with a crisp salute. "They're currently under siege by a band of thieves."
Logan arched an eyebrow in surprise. "A caravan, you say? And thieves as well? This soon into the hills?"
"What's the status?" he inquired, his voice laced with concern.
"We watched for a ti," the other scout chid in. "The caravan has sustained heavy losses, but they're defended by a handful of formidable warriors. The thieves are struggling to breach their defense."
"The bandits have numbers, though, including a significant number of jackals among their ranks," the first scout added. "It seems the caravan won't hold out much longer without help."
"Jackals?" Logan's interest was piqued.
Indeed, in this magical world, the term 'beastn' encompassed a vast array of species beyond the typical beastn, with jackals or gnolls being one such variety. Known for their poor intelligence and weaker combat abilities, gnolls were often likened to wild beasts.
Their redeeming—or perhaps troubling—feature was their prolific breeding, capable of producing large litters that swelled their numbers rapidly.
"Indeed, Chief. Despite their simplicity and ager strength, the sheer number of gnolls makes them a relentless force. Under different circumstances, their rarity might have made them a protected species," the scout concluded with a wry twist of his lips.
Many tribes in these lands have taken to enslaving both jackals and kobolds, treating them as the de facto servants among the diverse orc races.
"Yes, the majority of the raiders are gnolls, over two-thirds, and the remaining are boar-man," one of the scouts reported.
"Wild boar-n?" Logan echoed, his surprise evident. "Ah, another distinct branch of our beastn kin."
Unlike the gnolls, the quilboars held a much esteed status within beastn societies. Not only were these wild boar-n prolific breeders, but their prowess in combat was formidable. They were also notably substantial in size, making them not just formidable foes but also a substantial source of nourishnt in desperate tis.
"It's rather fascinating to see gnolls and quilboars banding together," Logan noted as he stood, his eyes sparkling with a mix of intrigue and amusent as he turned towards his younger comrades, Cardia and Tyton. "I suspect you two would be quite eager to witness both wild boar n and Gnolls and quilboars in action!"
Tyton and Cardia exchanged glances, their youth evident in their wide-eyed expressions. Neither had ventured far from their own lands, nor had they encountered races other than their fellow beastn.
"Dispatch the command, everyone be ready to move out in one minute!"
"Understood, Chief!"
...
From their vantage point atop a hill, Logan and his band observed the chaos unfolding below. Hundreds of thieves, led by the robust wild boar n, were besieging a caravan protected by dozens of guards. The battlefield was strewn with casualties, predominantly those of the raiding party, with many of the fallen being gnolls.
This confrontation provided Logan his first clear glimpse of both the gnolls and quilboars in combat. The wild boar-n, though not as towering as the beastn, were impressively large, averaging around two and a half ters in height.
Particularly striking was their leader, whose head, adorned with a pig-like snout, was massive, comparable in size to two beastn combined, his stature imnsely powerful.
The physicality of these nearly thirty wild boar n, all similar in their robust build, was a testant to their role as one of the most heavily armored forces among the orc races. Their formidable presence on the battlefield was undeniable, marking them as a force to be reckoned with among the myriad creatures of this diverse and war-torn world.
With their formidable physiques and heavy armor, the Quilboars resembled living tanks on the battlefield.
In contrast, the Gnolls presented a less imposing figure. Resembling wolf beastn but with more pronounced snouts and smaller heads devoid of any mane, these creatures stood around 1.78 ters tall, often appearing sowhat hunched, every one of them bearing this distinctive posture.
"This caravan is in a precarious situation, yet the disparity in equipnt between the two sides is also quite different. If the thieves' group weren't so large, they'd scarcely be a match for the caravan's defenses," Tyton observed, his eyes wide as he witnessed the diversity of races engaged in combat for the first ti.
The others, including Logan, concurred with his assessnt.
Among the thieves, only a few quilboars boasted armor, and even those pieces were battered and ancient. The gnolls, anwhile, were largely unprotected, their torsos bare and their lower halves clad in simple animal skins.
Conversely, the caravan guards were uniformly clad in well-crafted armor and equipped with standardized gear, showcasing a significant advantage in terms of preparation and protection.
...
"Filo, you and your companion must escort His Highness to safety while we hold them off!" a heavily armored leader of the caravan commanded, surveying his guards. Fatigue and injury had taken their toll, and he knew well they stood little chance against even this ragtag band of thieves.
"No, Keswick, you're too injured, it's worsening by the minute! We cannot abandon you here!" protested a young voice, resolute and firm. The speaker was evidently a boy, guarded in the center by two figures who appeared to be leaders of the caravan guards.
Reviews
All reviews (0)