[center][h3]Eastern Wastes, beyond the Fell Lands[/h3][/center]

Although it was already a few hours past midday, the sun, hanging high in the clear yet pale sky, did not beat mercilessly upon the group's heads, but glimmered whitely through the blurred haze it was itself casting, its light spreading so pervasively through the heavens that it almost seemed to efface itself in its own radiance. Beneath it, the dry brown soil, whose firm consistence had crumbled after ages of exposure to the elements and been reduced to a thick, granulose dust, creaked softly under their steps as their feet arose from misshapen tracks. A heavy silence hung over the arid earth; aside from the sound of their advance, only the loud, rasping breathing of the hulking crustacean-like behemoths in the rear-guard could be heard. Nor was there anything in sight which might have been alive, save for the troop itself. Not a shrub, nor even a desiccated tree-stump or an insect crawling over the cracked surface of the desolation. These lands were barren even compared to the Fell Lords' domain; so barren, indeed, that even the rapacity of the Ironbound and their servants found naught to strip from them. Thus, scarce a sound ever resounded in those forlorn regions; but, on that day, the skittering of chitin claws and the heavy trampling of iron soles had broken the stillness which had for years weighed over them as an unseen shroud.

"How much further is it?" the armoured figure marching at the front of the column inquired, its hollow, metallic voice echoing unnaturally as it resounded over the heads of the squat Riglir flanking it. "Not far, master Harbinger" the nearest of them replied in a scraping, almost intermittent voice, "Reach soon. Easy find before, easy now." The three other such creatures at the forefront of the group nodded vigorously, their knifeclaw-equipped clutches involuntarily twitching to indicate the way forward, then withdrawing in frightened haste let their master punish them for their presumption. But the figure did not pay their gestures any heed to their motions, the eyeless gaze of its helm's darkened slits seemingly fixed on the empty horizon far before them. Neither its inscrutable visage nor its movements betrayed any impatience or hesitation as it strode forth like a grim automaton, its pace regular and deliberate, yet such that its cohorts struggled to remain alongside it.

Finally, after what might have been minutes or hours, the being that had spoken second abruptly stopped in its tracks and raised a sharp, clicking noise by snapping its mandibles in rapid sequence. "Here, master. See before you." it rattled, as it scurried a few steps forward to crouch over what seemed to be markings in the dust. The armoured figure lowered the foot it was about to lift and stood still, as though all ability to move had suddenly forsaken it; behind it, the entire column ground to a halt, blades and carapaces clattering against each other. The ligaments in what should have been the leader's neck scraped against each other with a sharp grinding sound as it lowered its head to observe what the scout was pointing at. By its feet, the other Riglir crawled around and nearly over each other, attempting to catch a glimpse of the find; behind its back, the towering Korekk peered over its shoulders, exchanging low, guttural rumbles.

There, in the sand-like brown soil, were traces of something's passage - a series of rather small, circular depressions, unlike any creature of the Fell Lands would leave behind itself. Indeed, it was no wonder the Riglir who had discovered them did not know what could have left them - such beasts had only been seen within their boundaries once in the latest three centuries, and that had been years ago. "Horses" the Harbinger spoke aloud as he stepped closer to the tracks, "Beasts such as men ride. Some were here not long ago." Yet what horses could there be in those arid wastes, devoid of anything a large animal could feed upon, and, had there even been any, why would they suddenly have appeared now, and not at any moment in the preceding hundreds of years? "Someone must have led them here, and they cannot be far. You, you and you" he pointed the index of his right gauntlet, in sequence, at three of the nearby Riglir, "Follow these tracks, and find those who left them. Smell them, if you must. Once you have seen the intruders, return to me." The creatures signalled their assent with a swaying of their heads which could be reasonably interpreted as nodding and scurried off, dropping on all fours as they ran, their feelers writhing as they sought to locate the scent of their prey.

The Harbinger followed them with his gaze till they vanished behind a ridge, then turned once again to the traces in the dust. Though the lords of the Fell Lands never did expand their holdings into the desolation in the east, seeing as there was naught to be gained by stretching their forces over such an extension of fruitless land, they nonetheless regarded it as part of their dominion, for there was none who might have contested their rule, and, though the wastes were not worth fighting a war over, far would it be from them to effortlessly stake claim to as much as they could. Yet his chief concern was not so much that there had been an intrusion into their supposed lands, but that anyone had come there at all. There was, to his knowledge, no life in the east for as far as any of the Lords' scouts had ever seen, and no word had ever been heard of realms inhabited by men, or the likes of them, lying there. All that was known of the east was that an army assembled from throughout the western lands had once deceitfully lured the greatest Ironbound champions there and slain them, though it had itself been decimated in the struggle. Assuredly, this was further proof of the east's emptiness, for surely the westerners would have chosen for their treachery a spot as remote from any witnesses as they could find. And yet, here was proof that something was indeed stirring there... and it was approaching.

His cogitations were interrupted by the sound of approaching scurrying steps. The scouts were returning - far sooner than he would have liked. This meant that whoever had left these marks could not be far, and, if so, it was likely they were not alone. The Riglir stopped, lowering themselves into a crouch, then one of them spoke: "Men. Many. Great army. Have beasts, wagons, many different banners. More approach. All armed." Its breath was rasping and irregular with exhaustion, and perhaps because of this its words seemed all the more urgent. The other Riglir almost flattened themselves upon the ground, rhythmically rising and falling in brief motions, and even the Korekk shuffled in discomfort.

The Harbinger remained silent for a few moments, his empty eyes apparently boring into nothingness, as though contemplating something beyond the sight of anything else. Then, abruptly, he moved towards the Riglir at his sides, and beckoned to one. "You" his voice resonated, apparently as toneless as before, but in truth subtly laden with a new, impalpable presence. A shade of something which might have been surprise, or even apprehension, lay upon his speech. "Return to the garrison, and bid them send word of this to the Dread Keep. Make haste." As the messenger turned to dart whither he was commanded, Vrathar added, in a lower, almost sepulchral tone, "The Overlord must know."