[h3] Southeastern Mycae [/h3]

Drago bent down, staring close to the ground at the strange sight that was in his eyes. He bent down to touch it, the dirt and dried blood caked beneath his fingernails a stark contrast to the blue of the flower's petals. The scout and Scaven member plucked it up, bringing it to his nose, taking in the sweet fragrance. One of his fellow scouts approached him. "What is that, Windwalker?"

"Flower." Some of the other scouts listening to their commander nearby started muttering to each other. The initial scout that approached him spoke up again. "They got flowers here?" 

"Aye. Seems that way." Drago stood up, not taking the flower from his sights. "We should get back to camp." The other members of the scouting party began to follow him, and another one spoke up. "What of the Einherjar? Shouldn't we make a more thorough search?" Not looking back, Drago replied, "Einherjar don't leave flowers."


The High Judge, Rudik Greentree, studied the flower in his hand. His tent was filled with members of the Scaven, as well as onlookers, onlookers who shot out from the tent as well, gathered in the thousands with the rumors that Drago found a flower. "Drago." The scout and hero of the Scaveni stood before him. "Yes, Judge?" The judge licked the dry on his lips. He looked around at the room full of hopeful faces, all wanting to hear him say the thought they were thinking. "When was the last time you saw the Einherjar?"

Drago thought back. Time was something hard to tell in the horde; hours and days mixed together in with the months and years. But he focused back. "About two months ago." There were excited murmers among the representatives. Rudik stood up. He wanted to say something, something to finally bring hope and joy to these people who knew nothing but destitution. He looked into the crowd; there were children. Children whose entire lives were spent in tents. He looked to the elderly, who spent most of their lives on farms and in cities, but whose pride and livelihoods were ripped away. He looked to the Scaven, the ancient institution which he headed, once the pride of his nation, as well as the namesake, now reduced to old men yelling about matters in which they have no say. He needed something to say. But he found nothing.

Luckily, he was interrupted. A man frantically ran into the room. "The king...has signaled for a convergence!"

[h3] The King's Horde [/h3]

Convergences were rare for the Scaveni, only happening if there is a need for a major decision. Convergences, of course, were a temporary unification of the four hordes. While creating a larger military force, it also presented the fact that were they to be wiped out, there would be no Scaveni left. But strangely, people were far less fearful at this convergence. Like most convergences, it began with old friends greeting each other, visits to shrines of gods that didn't exist in other hordes, and fighters heading off to the civilian horde to find some gullible women. And some of these gullible women were brought to the Princes.

"I promise, if you do this, your children won't need for food for a year!" said Crown Prince Alyn. The woman on her knees looked away from him. "I...I'm not sure..." Alyn put his hand on her face, and moved it to look at him. "Hey...think about the children..." The woman nodded sadly, and began taking off her robe, revealing her body, malnourished and dehydrated. Just then, Princess Eosia walked into the tent. "Brother-" seeing the woman, she gasped and looked away, as the woman shrieked, covering herself and running out from the tent. Eosia looked back to him, disappointed. "Taking advantage of the commoners again, I see?"

Alyn smirked, and laid back on his bed. "Why have the power if you won't use it, Sister?" The princess stepped forward and smacked him across the face, before turning around to leave, saying, "Father wants us present at the meeting. Make yourself decent."


The leaders of the four hordes all sat in the Meeting Tent, as well as some of the more notable followers of the hordes. Drago was of course present, as were the children of the King. Representing the Dwarves was Reimlyk the Younger, bearer of the Sword of Lodd. The King spoke up. "For the first time in twenty years, we need not worry for our immediate safety." Nobody else in the room replied. "But we know not what these lands are, or who they belong to." Drago spoke up. "I will set out for the roads, find the nearest town." King Vorin nodded. "That would be wise...but first Drago...sleep." The scouts eyebrows knitted. "What?" Vorin looked to him. "Drago...you need to rest." Drago sat back in his chair. "Yes..."

Sudd, the King's brother, spoke up. "And now what do you want us to do, Brother? We've been fighting for two decades!" The King didn't make eye contact with him. "Sleep." Sudd's face scrunched up at this. "What?" "Sleep, Brother. Rest. We need to rest." Sudd leaned forward. "Well what do I tell my men?" The King looked at him. "That. Rest." The King stood up from his chair. "Tommorrow, Drago will scout the area. Wunal, tell the hunters and gatherers to do just that, we're low on food. But now, we rest." With that, the King exited his own meeting, making no time for bravado or inspiration.

That night, Drago walked into his family's tent. His wife, Vila, woke up and turned to him. "Drago, how was the meeting?" Drago simply grunted and fell onto the bed roll, then slept in the first time for what felt like forever.