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[h2][b][color=red]Southeast Tanecie[/color][/b][/h2]
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The small Ördûni force that forayed into Tacenie had begun its task in high spirits; the Bikhaan horsemen had spread out and ranged ahead of the Dragon Legion and Golden Guard cavalry reserves, falling upon Kurgan villages. Kursh had observed with satisfaction the havoc caused by the nomad warriors, leaving burning homes and streets littered with the bodies of men, women and children in their wake, a pile of decapitated heads at the center of each village with their right ears cut off as proof. Hovels were reduced to cinders, orchards uprooted, stone constructions ripped down. Yet, as days passed they found more and more empty settlements and burned fields. Kursh had hoped that the elves would attempt to preserve some of their slaves’ labor, but it seemed to him that they intended instead to wait things out in the shelter of the local Tyrant’s castle.

Even riding all the way to their lair had not provoked a response, but just as Kursh was about to order the men to get back on their saddles, a nervous-looking junior officer approached.

“Lord Kursh. Ulan has issued a challenge to the elf Tyrant.”

Kursh’s eyes narrowed. “Well that is strange. I do not remember giving such an order.”

“N-no, my lord. He decided on his own.” He paused awkwardly. “He is dead.”

The seasoned commander scoffed with contempt. “Of course.” He had pegged the Legion officer and self-proclaimed champion as vainglorious from the first day he laid eyes on him. “Had he succeeded, I would have had him executed. Legionaries do not fight duels. Make sure to tell the men.” The Dragon Legion’s strength was not in the individual fighting skills of its soldiers, but in the iron discipline that allowed them to fight and be commanded as one. Perhaps the troops would take their mission more seriously from now on, he mused. “Staying here is futile. We depart immediately.”

Had Kursh’s small army been more substantial and supported by a supply train, the region’s population taking refuge in the castle would have been beneficial, exhausting their food stores faster as the Ördûni would siege them out. But all he had was a raiding force, grain fields reduced to ash, and the army’s spartan diet of dried meat and horse blood could only last them for so long. Leaving Ulan’s body to rot in front of the Tacenian castle, the Ördûni packed what little they had brought with them and left as quickly as they came, seeking other prey to sack and burn.

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Seeing that the elves are not willing to come out of their castle to play, the Ördûni raiders scatter in the countryside to destroy what they can.
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