"This is an outrage! An abomination!"
The roar came from a boulder of a man, his voice a landslide of gravel and fury.
Korgas, Chieftain of the Valakii's voice was lost in the valle as he marched at the head of twelve hundred warriors flowing through the mountain pass outside his home. Not long ago, they had been the shackled subjects of the Duskwindai; now, they marched under their own name, having clawed their freedom from the wreckage of the old world's collapse.
But there was no triumph in their stride. Instead, a thick, suffocating dread clung to their ranks like a mountain mist. The vanguard of the Valakii wore the chainmail of the Golden Lands of the east, the links glinting like snake scales under the cold sun, and carried blades of the same alien steel. Yet, despite their superior arms, the men looked to one another with hollow eyes.
