[sub][i]CyKhollab Productions present[/i][/sub]

[centre][h1]Return of the CyKhollab
[sub]Episode I[/sub][/h1]
[sub]starring[/sub]

[h3]Qaseer, the [i]Qa'id Adheem[/i][/h3]

&

[h3][color=DarkSlateGray]Grekogork, the Warlord and Sorcerer[/color][/h3]

182 of the Azad Calendar - [i]Year of the Dead Horse[/i] - 1 Post-Realta

[hider=Summary]Cyclone insists on it being at the bottom. This is here for purely khosthetic reasons.[/hider][/centre]


The [i]Qa'id Adheem[/i] sat on Mara's back, his eagle resting on his arm, and watched as a herd of goats grazed on the large hillside. It had been mere days since he established his authority and sent the call out for the fighting men of the Confederation to ready themselves for the forthcoming bloodletting. It had been a year since the fighting with the Ma'Erkoz had come to an end, and the young [i]Qa'id[/i] could not but confess that he missed the battlefield.

It was true, life had many pleasures - drink, women, carousing - but from time to time one had to let loose some bloodlust. One had to channel the pent-up rage and grief somehow - and Qaseer tended to find that the field of blood and blades was generally the healthiest outlet. He raised his head and closed his eyes, thinking back to his duel with Hunayra. Unconsciously, he stroked Mara's mane and smiled. 'You beautiful thing, Mara,' he murmured as he lived out once again those moments spent staring into the eyes of death. It was strange, for one only ever felt the full glory of life when hanging by a horsehair 'twixt life and death. Only then did blood pump true, only then did the heart beat loudly and desperately - as though its frenzied attempts to hold onto life would keep out the metal blade and piercing dart. There were many joys, it was true, and Qaseer lived them all fully, but to feel life on the battlefield was a joy all its own. Few were those who knew it and savoured it when it was laid before them.

The various tribes had assured him that they would gather up their fighting men and join him at the main Azad encampment within the week, but Qaseer could smell their fear and reluctance. News had reached them that the Tagham were gathering forces and calling upon allies who had never before been so far south. The Azad, it appeared, were facing a threat unlike anything they had ever gone up against - tribes they had only heard of in stories and rumours were suddenly said to be answering the Tagham call, and those who had neither mare nor camel in the conflict were rushing to make known their enmity for the Azad. 
And Qaseer was not unaware of the seemingly-feeble and cowardly eyes which from time to time bore like daggers into his turned back. But it was good that they thought him unaware - that had been one of Shaqmar's weapons too. Beguile them with your strength and they lose sight of the light in your eyes. [i]Bukida is ill[/i], they said, [i]he cannot be present[/i].
Fools. 
Yoditi had reported the Mu'aykalid elder's night-time movements toward Tagham territory almost immediately. And one by one the traitors condemned themselves with their lies. 

It was true that these were the worst of times to be dealing with disloyal elements, but that in itself was one of the reasons that these were the worst of times. He would be patient, there was no need to rush things - much as he wished to crush them this instant, such would be foolhardy. He would take them slowly, one by one. They would not even know it was him. They would not even know they were being targeted. This had been one of Shaqmar's weapons, it was true. But Shaqmar never used it.

The small man was torn from his reverie by a sudden movement on the crest of the hill across from him. He frowned as a strange red creature rushed forth at alarming speed. His goats raised their heads in alarm and, before the Rukban could do anything to calm them, scattered. And Mara too neighed in fear and agitation and, straining against her reins and kicking the earth fitfully, suddenly turned and bolted.

[i]But Rukban steeds never bolted.[/i]

Not normally, anyway. The eagle tied to Qaseer's arm sent forth an irritated screeched at the sudden movement, and Qaseer just about managed to keep a hold on the reins and looked behind him at the creature that had ignited such fear within his mare and goat-herd.

Even hunched low to the ground in a monstrous charge, the thing was two horses tall. It looked savage, almost feral, and would have looked every part a beast were it not for the long scourge that it flailed about in one hand. With a mastery that no mere beast could ever hope to attain, the abomination lashed at one of the hurriedly escaping goats. As if its whip had a mind of its own, the thing coiled around the animal and bound it tightly. With no more effort than that which it put into taking a step or breathing, the beast hefted its scourge with such force that it jerked the goat's neck and at once silenced its bleating. But the giant did not seem satisfied with merely one goat, and even now it cast down that first kill and began to chase after the next.

'Fucking bastard!' Qaseer growled as he forcefully reined Mara in. The mare stopped reluctantly at her rider's command and turned about, 'those are [i]my[/i] goats!' The mare took a few hesitant steps forward as Qaseer removed the blinder from his eagle's head. 'Get the bitch, Haka,' he whispered as he released the eagle. Even as the mighty bird flapped its wings and accelerated towards its impossible target, Qaseer loosed a few arrows at the monstrous thing. The whistling arrows caught the monster's attention, even if they little more than agitated it; then Haka reached its target and, with an ear-piercing screech, launched itself, talons extended, into the back of the monster's head.

Two of the brute's four horrific claws were at once clutching at the eagle, and even as it pecked and gouged, one of its talons were caught in a deathly grip. Haka was flung to the ground, and then there was some savage flurry of clawing; even as the beast held the whip in one hand, it had three more arms with which to tear its assailant to pieces. Qaseer's eyes widened as his bird was torn to shreds by the strange demon. His sun-kissed face became a dark crimson as he put his bow away and drew a wickedly curved blade. Mara whinnied nervously beneath him, but she obeyed when he spurred her into a canter which exploded into a full on charge. Blade at the ready, he roared his fury as the monster turned its unseeing head towards him. As the creature came into closer view, only one thought ran through the head of the [i]Qa'id Adheem[/i].

[indent]...idiot[/indent]

But he had drawn his blade. He had charged. His enemy's face (if that ugly mug could be called a face at all) was before him. There was no turning back now. It was odd. Usually at these speeds you could feel the wind on your face. Qaseer blinked and, still stuck in that surreal slowness, turned his head to the right. Was it just him or was that a...
Earth exploded beneath him and dust rose up to engulf the giant red demon. Mara leapt past the distracted and blinded beast in a bubble of absolute peace and calm. Qaseer turned the mare about and looked around himself in confusion as the earth continued to launch itself upon the monster. He noted that his goats had made good their escape and, with a final glance at where the beast stood trapped, spurred Mara away. The mare was all too happy to be putting distance between the monster and herself.

On the crest of a not too distant hill, a lone dark-haired figure stood watching and whispering. The [i]Qa'id Adheem[/i] saw him at the periphery of his vision and paused for a few brief moments. He was almost certain that the distant figure - and there was something very familiar about him - had saved his life. He frowned at this strange development, but decided against investigating. His goats were the priority. And so he spurred his steed on and flew across the the gold and green Rukban hills and plains.

The very air and earth seemed to bay back as the abomination cracked its whip and hurled the scourge in windmills about itself, but every minute opening in the monster's guard was exploited by the unseen force. Gnashing and slashing, the sightless sprytes pressed their attack until the abomination abandoned all delusions of glory and began to flee despairingly. On its way it did manage to grab the one goat that it had felled and left on the ground; though it had no doubt hoped for more quarry, that was all the goats from Qaseer's herd that the bastard would thieve this day.
The man on the hill watched silently as the monster retreated towards the Venom Forest, and his sprytes slowly dissipated and went off their separate ways. One, however, returned to him and twirled its aerial form around his neck. Bulagutai smiled and stroked what passed for the little spryte's chin. 'You did well, my beautiful friend.' And with that, he left his position at the crest of the hill and descended. 

It was through the mercy of the Eternal Sky that Qaseer had been spared today - for were it not for the frightful vision of blood and death that Bulagutai had seen, the Azad would have been ruined this day. But they were not. For he, a dauntless guardian true, had at long last returned. 

[centre][u]***[/u][/centre]

They swam through a golden sea of grass that rose to their waists. On foot the ogres marched on, some five score in number, behind the mad shaman that was the leader of this so-called 'warband'. In truth, they had done little in the way of war or raiding and were beginning to grow restless; they had wandered far from Omokog and it felt as if at any moment the horizon of these strange lands might give way to a great precipice that was the very edge of the world.

Behind their procession followed a dozen spiryts bound to Grekogork and the two shamans at his side. Some were flamedjinn whose mere presence scorched the ground and set the chaff aflame; the sweet smoke of the grassfires behind them compelled the warriors to march on, even though they knew not where they went or for what purpose.

They suddenly halted, and in the sweaty stillness the sun's oppressive heat weighed all the more heavily down upon them. At the head of their long line, Grekogork looked back and forth and muttered to himself. The wind had a way of carrying words. "This way, Grekogork thinks, no, not that way! Wrong way! Bad way!"

"What's he on about?" came a growl from one of the grunts in the rear.

"He's always been funny in the head, but now he's lost it."

"He doesn't even know where we are!"

...

There was a sudden silence, and those whose voices had spoken suddenly felt their warleader's icy glare fall upon them. He shouldn't have been able to hear from so far away, but somehow he did. Must have been the djinn that told him, or some sort of magic.

[b]"Quiet! Obey, or i̵ ̶k̶i̸l̷l̶ ̷y̶o̶u̸!"[/b]

Their bodies were then as stiff as arrows stuffed into a quiver.

Grekogork's menacing gaze suddenly broke, and he was looking down upon the ground. He dropped the sack, then began muttering something indiscernible to his feet. "Grekogork think this...Grekogork say that..."
But the ogre was saved from having to make any kind of decision at all by the growing sound of thunder approaching from the distance. It was soft at first, a barely noticeable rumble, but it very swiftly became louder, and the gentle rumble became a mighty shaking of the earth. Grekogork's strange utterances gave way to barking orders, [b]"Take arms! Stand together! Shoulder to shoulder!"[/b] A cry rose up as the grass gave way before the Rukban warparty and the men came to a halt some distance from the wall of giant earthen-coloured creatures. 

Yoditi had come galloping into the encampment searching for the [i]Qa'id Adheem[/i] early in the morning hours to report on the large number of the strange creatures he had witnessed marching through their grazing land. It was at the edge of their territory where grass began to give way to sand, but it remained Azad land.
'Were they red?' Qaseer asked, frowning.
'Not quite, my [i]Qa'id[/i]. They were different shades of yellow, orange, and brown, from what I could see at a safe distance.'
'Did they have a protruding, bone-like structure atop their heads?' Yoditi raised an eyebrow at this very specific line of questioning.
'No, my [i]Qa'id[/i]. Their heads seemed... fairly regular. Bigger than ours, more brutish. But no bones or horns that I could see. They had hair, if that's of any significance.' Qaseer looked down thoughtfully for a few moments before his eyes lit up with a sudden idea. He smiled and placed a hand on Yoditi's shoulder.
'You've done well, Dit. Tell... Kifaki to outfit a small warparty to investigate these creatures.' Yoditi seemed taken aback by this.
'My [i]Qa'id[/i], are you sure?' Qaseer smiled.
'Tell him this is a matter of utmost importance and I am entrusting it to him. If these creatures are hostile they may pose a significant threat if they march deeper into our territories. This is his opportunity to prove his mettle and earn a leadership post - if he is successful.' Yoditi frowned deeply, but bowed.
'As you wish, my [i]Qa'id[/i].' And so Kifaki had excitedly marched out with a small warparty to see to these creatures. A leadership position - he could not waste such an opportunity to increase his clout within the tribe and to grow closer to that [i]Qaseer[/i]...

And now he found himself staring down what appeared to be the leader of the group. The creature did not look at all intelligent - growling to itself strangely. 'Wh- who are you and what brings you to... to Rukban land?' Kifaki questioned the creature with a raised voice, keeping his distance and fingering his sword's pommel. Another rider came up beside him and eyed the creature, then noted the djinnis who appeared tied to the leader.

Kifaki's raised voice elicited a few thunderous roars from the line of ogres, as if they meant to match some provocation or war-cry. But the one in the middle only continued muttering to itself as four djinn made their way to his side; however, it looked not at its own minions but rather at a large sack that it held in one hand.

'I don't think they understand us, Kifaki,' the shaman spoke, 'but perhaps we can communicate with them through those djinn.' Kifaki looked uncertainly at the shaman. He was the only Azad that had accompanied the Mu'aykalid warparty, at the insistence of Zanshah. Hakamunga was his name, a son of the Azad chief shaman, Alqama, and an important shaman in his own right. He had been Shaqmar's personal witchdoctor, had cured Layla of her illnesses when she was first rescued - and so had been strewn with treasures and rewards by the dead [i]Qa'id Adheem[/i].
'I hardly doubt that will be necessary, shaman. Look, that grovelling one looks like it understands us.' Hakamunga looked at the leader, to whom Kifaki was gesturing sneeringly.
'Be respectful, Kifaki,' the shaman whispered. The leader of the warparty ignored the shaman and he urged his horse to take a few steps forward, nearer to the grunting creature.

Its soft deliverance had grown progressively louder, and now it was nearly shouting. The other creatures looked at it with eyes just as wide as those of the Rukbans. "Gar kel ug tak!" A burning fire entered its maddened eyes, but the shaman's gaze was still directed only at the bag. And then that look disappeared, and it was as if the madness had gone just as quick. The ogre looked at the approaching horseman as if it had only just noticed the presence of the Azad.

But of course, it had sensed them from miles away.

Grekogork reached down into the mysterious sack and procured a strange black rock the size of a horse's head...no, it was a [i]skull.[/i] He held the thing, pointing at the Azad with those dead and vacant voids where the skull's eyes once were.

In perfect Rukban, he suddenly delivered an ultimatum, [b]"You will stand aside as we make our way across these plains, or be slain."[/b] Kifaki clicked his tongue in annoyance.
'And where is it that you are headed? Who are you anyway? Where have you come from? I can't let you pass until you, at the very least, answer my questions and [i]assure[/i] me of your good intentions.' Not that Kifaki intended to let them pass at all. An opportunity like this could not be let up. He would take some time to size the group up and the disposition of the creatures, and then he would deal with them accordingly. Who knew, maybe they would even surrender willingly if he did things right.

All his plans were for naught when the strange creature answered by raising a fist. The giant warriors hardly needed to be given the order; the bloodlust had already been in their eyes. With one deafening bellow they charged forward with all manner of crude stone weapons in hand, whilst the speaker and the two shamans at his side raised their hands and wrought some magic even as their djinn surged forth. Kifaki's eyes widened at this sudden attack - though, in all truth, he should have expected it given the creatures words. His horse desperately attempted to back away as he drew his sword and egged his warriors on. The warriors loosed their own cries as they drew their curved blades and charged into the fray.

The resulting clash was one the likes of which neither side had ever seen. The Azad recoiled in terror at these monstrous brutes as they met a cavalry charge head-on and nearly broke through, fighting with such strength and savagery that one of them severed a horse's head with one blow of its heavy axe. The advancing ranks quickly dissolved and then the skirmish devolved into a chaotic brawl. The ogres were taken aback by the sheer size of the horses and the speed with which the sabres could hack at their exposed flesh. They were used to fighting pathetic heen or other ogres, not an enemy that was both quicker and had the advantage of size thanks to the animals that they rode. But still, they fell. For the softskins and their horses were fragile.

Kifaki clicked his tongue in frustration and roared for his men to cut the beasts down, waving his sword about frantically. Then Hakamunga was beside him. The shaman looked at the Mu'aykalid coldly and spoke, and his voice came piercingly clear despite the pandemonium all about. 'A [i]Qa'id[/i] leads from the frontline.' Kifaki gulped and looked away, staring at the no-longer grovelling leader of the giant monstrosities. Gripping his sword and gritting his teeth, he let out a great cry and egged his steed into a mad charge right for the skull-bearing beast (a head, however creepy, is no good in a fight, right?)

Grekogork was not blind to that charge, he stepped away from the two shamans by his side and unleashed the magic that he had been weaving.

For his part, Hakamunga gripped the reins of his horse tightly as small sprytes circled about him, nipping and striking out in small swarms at the larger and more powerful djinn of flame and stone commanded by the ogre shamans. He knew with certainty that even with the enemy's leader distracted by Kifaki's charge, he could not hope to hold off the power of two enemy shamans on his own - and these seemed uniquely skilled in using their powers for aggressive purposes. The Azad were not used to such things - in war, their shamans had to work together to bind anything larger than a spryte and direct it successfully. Nevertheless, he would do what little he could to stave off the magical assault. No one else could.

Kifaki had only closed half the gap between himself and the brutish sorcerer before the beast's magic took form: a blast of concussive energy surged invisibly through the air. As his horse leaped over one of the fallen, Kifaki felt the blast of force travel through the air beside him. It had been a very narrow miss; if the blow had landed, it would have flung him from his horse and likely left his bones broken. But it had not, and so Kifaki's horse was upon Grekogork in the next instant and the rider swung his blade with all the force that he could. It was caught in the beast's impossibly dense flesh, and it jerked his arm; only the momentum of his horse and the Rukban's iron grip of desperation were enough to wrench the blade free from the ogre's side.

As Kifaki turned his head, he saw the great brute tumble to the ground. He turned his horse about and let out a triumphant cry, brandishing his red blade in victory. He smirked inwardly and could even now see his glorious march back into the encampment.

[i]Watch me, Tadatunga. I'm coming for you.[/i]

But then the ogre stirred. After a moment, it pushed itself back up and was on its knees. One of its brawny hands reached out to grasp at the skull that had fallen and rolled a few handspans away, and then it was standing on its feet once more. Kifaki turned back in confusion.

[i]Impossible.[/i]

He had cut down the brute; that had been a mortal wound! Indeed, the brute had been nearly cleaved in two and the horrific gouge was bare for all beneath the sky to witness. But the blood had already clotted and scabbed, and though it had left a hideous black scar, the sorcerer had somehow defied death. The horse snorted beneath Kifaki and kicked at the earth, clearly agitated at this display. Kifaki raised his blade more, the razor-sharp sabre snaked out once again to cut down the magicker beast - let's see it get up again when its head is sent flying!

Though he spurred his horse onwards, its charge was a slow one that broke into a meager canter, and then a moment later its mighty onward rush was no more than a stumbling trot. Grekogork approached on foot even as the horse collapsed to the ground and pinned the Rukban beneath its dead mass. Like grass drying beneath the sun, the mighty stallion withered and yellowed; all its life was being drained into the sorcerer through some unholy act of magic, and now the terrible wound upon the brute's side was hardly visible. Kifaki watched in horror as the horse withered and decayed. But the swift decomposition of his steed meant that his leg, which had been trapped beneath heavy flesh, was suddenly freed. He swiftly rose to his feet and stared warily at the healing beast.
'What manner of perversion and depravity is this?' he asked, gulping down his terror even as he kept his sword raised and took a step back.

It seemed to find the man's palpable terror to be amusing. With a cruel laugh, it answered in some alien tongue that came across as no more than guttural gibberish. Kifaki scowled and spat on the ground. 'Don't give me that! I know you can speak, brute.'

A firedjinni disengaged from its dance with one of the Azad warriors by suddenly flaring so as to excite the steed, then felling the rider with a well-aimed globular mass of its own fiery body. It crackled like the burning grass beneath its feet, then turned to Kifaki and charged. The man's irritated scowl melted into outright terror as the djinni charged him. 'Ha- Ha- Hakamunga!' he screeched as he leapt over the carcass of his dead horse to flee the fiery charge. He found himself hugging the ground closer to the gibbering brute and, anger surging through him, considered leaping at it. Surely severing its head would do the job. Surely. Or... fire. Parts of the grassy battlefield were already aflame due to the firedjinn, it was just a matter of finding some way to harness it...
He noted that the firedjinn that had been charging him was suddenly preoccupied as a swarm of sprytes nipped and ripped at it. Maybe... maybe the shaman could do the harnessing? He had never seen single shamans do such things, but maybe? 

Leaping to his feet, he backed away from the brute and attempted to get back to Hakamunga's side. But even as he made to escape, his legs were suddenly flung out from beneath as if some great weapon had scythed them down like wheat. And yet there had been nothing but air and dark magic.

Grekogork stood over him and stepped on his sword hand, crushing it to the earth beneath his great weight, even as the man roared in pain and clawed at the beast's foot with his other hand. He still held that grimacing skull in one hand, and that black visage was the last thing that Kifaki saw when he looked up.
Hakamunga watched with horror as Kifaki's form began to shrink and wrinkle and decay at unnatural speed. He was unsure if he was simply seeing things, but for a few moments he thought he saw a screeching, writhing, spryte-like being surge from Kifaki's corpse and into the monster's waiting hand. Hakamunga shook his head and, when he looked back again, there was no writhing being at all. 
All around warriors and horses were falling before the unnatural power of the beasts and their magickers. There was no victory to be had here this day. Sprytes writhed about the shaman and surged forth. 'Azaaaad!' came the shaman's unnaturally loud voice, 'behind me! Away, away!' And at his command, warriors began disengaging and horses turned and leapt away. The brutish creatures attempted to give chase, but swarms of sprytes descended upon them from all directions, screeching and churning. The shaman looked once more at the skull-bearing beast, his eyes clearly troubled by all that he had seen it do. Not wishing to tarry longer than necessary, the shaman turned his mare about and fled after the retreating warparty.

The shaman continued to have his sprytes cover their retreat even when the strange creatures were out of sight. Eventually, certain that they had escaped, he caught up with the retreating warparty and they all made their dejected way back to the encampment. Fifty-one mounted men had sallied forth with Kifaki, and thirty-five were going back. Here and there a rider held onto the reins of a horse that had survived the encounter, and here and there such a horse still had its dead rider on it.
Riding into the main camp, Hakamunga dismounted and immediately made for the [i]Qa'id Adheem's[/i] roundtent. 'My [i]Qa'id[/i],' the witchdoctor said respectfully as he was permitted entrance.
'Hakamunga,' Qaseer said with a frown, 'where is Kifaki?' The witchdoctor sighed and related what had happened. He reported in detail the appearance of the strange creatures and the fact that they had terrifying power over djinn - single shamans could bind and command multiple powerful elementals, it seemed. He reported also on the strange magic of death and decay used by their leader, and how he had caused Kifaki to shrink and rot away. The [i]Qa'id Adheem's[/i] face grew dark at the news.
'But I do not believe they are here to conquer or even raid, my [i]Qa'id[/i],' the shaman added, 'their leader seemed only interested in passing through our land. His destination, it seems, is beyond Azad Rukbany.' Qaseer nodded in understanding and commanded the shaman to have his sprytes watch these trespassers until they were out of Azad territory. 'Though I fear that they will take notice, I will do so carefully, my [i]Qa'id[/i].'

Yoditi also was commanded to ride after the beasts and keep watch, but from a long distance. The veteran scout did so, and days later, Hakamunga reported that the beasts had departed into the horrific western deadlands. Yoditi would report the same some time later, but he also reported that he had passed by the grassland where the battle had taken place, and found it most odd. 'No signs of burial. No bodies, either beast or man. The odd remains of a horse here and there, ashes too strangely enough. But nothing else,' he reported. Qaseer looked to Sakago who frowned deeply.
'What do you think it means, Dit?' Yoditi looked at Qaseer and shrugged. 
'Only the obvious - they did not bury their dead, and they took the bodies the warparty was not able to return with them. Why and how - I can't say.' Qaseer nodded and decided to put the matter aside.
'It is done. We have other matters to see to now. Have you received any news on Tagham movements?' Yoditi shook his head.
'Only that they are still assembling. Hakamunga tells me that his sprytes have reported enormous numbers coming from the north. Either way, the longer we sit around doing nothing, the greater the forces that assemble against us. We need to act. And soon.' Sakago nodded in agreement, but remained silent.
'Don't you worry you two. Wiley Qaseer has a plan,' and he smiled knowingly. Kifaki was dead. A relatively young half-brother of Tadatunga, he had been of little clout and importance. He would be mourned by his mother and a wife, perhaps. But he would not be greatly or uniquely missed, and none would think that the [i]Qa'id Adheem[/i] had willed his death. But so had Qaseer willed and planned, and so had it been. Thus always to traitors, big be they or small - and the turn would come, one by one, for them all.

[hider=Summary]
[list]
[*] The Rukbans encounter a grotling for the first time when a lone raider attacks Qaseer's goat herd. The timely arrival of his cousin, the shaman Bulagutai, saves Qaseer from the beast.
[*] Qaseer is aware of the Tagham forces rallying against him and of treachery within his own Confederation.
[*] The small ogre army under Grekogork have made their way into the southernmost Azad lands, straddling the border of the Firewind as they march west. The ogres fear that their warlord has lost his sanity, for he now constantly mutters to himself and has offered no explanation for what they are doing.
[*] The ogres are eventually accosted by a Rukban warband, and Grekogork is mysteriously able to speak in perfect Rukban as he demands free passage. When this is not readily given, the ogres attack.
[*] In the resulting skirmish, Grekogork is seemingly slain but manages to defy death and kill the leader of the Rukban host. The rest flee back to their encampments.
[*] The shaman Hakamunga, who was with the warband, reports back to Qaseer of these strange creatures and the terrifying power of their three shamans.
[*] When they return to the site of the skirmish, there are only a few strangely withered horses; there are no dead from either side to be seen, nor are there any signs of a burial.
[*] Because Qaseer is preoccupied with the Tagham and the ogres seem intent on merely passing through Azad lands, Qaseer merely has their passage observed.
[*] The ogre band ends up entering the Changing Plains, and the Rukbans dare not follow any farther to watch what the ogres do next.
[/list]
[/hider]