Orthodox Faction, Small Nameless Village.
The once-lively village was now completely silent, with everyone hiding inside their homes, huddled together in fear.
Outside, only a small group of young men and a single old man stood guard, clad in ragtag armor as they resolutely defended the village entrance.
From the distance, faint jeers and cheers of hundreds of men began to echo closer.
The old man slowly lifted his head. Though his frame was aged and frail, his eyes burned with firm and ferocious determination. "On guard!" he shouted.
The youths behind him stomped the ground in unison and drew their weapons, most of them nothing more than poor-quality swords, scimitars, and sickles.
Soon, the ground began to tremble, and the neighing of horses echoed through the air. In the distance, a horde of bandits advanced rapidly across the land, their faces twisted with ferocious expressions and unrestrained murderous intent.
