The sun dipped below the jagged peaks of the Tekarr Mountains, casting long, skeletal shadows across the Narrow Pass. A chill wind whistled through the sparse, wind-beaten trees, carrying the scent of fresh leaves and damp earth.
From his vantage point atop the small, precipitous cliff, Drok'tagar, Warband Master of the Fourth Warband of the Yohan First Horde, observed the six Threian scouts below. Their armor, polished to a high sheen, glinted faintly in the fading light, a stark contrast to the rough, unkempt appearance of the Yurakks under Drok'tagar's command who are huddled silently beside him.
The Threian scouts, clad in their distinctive silver-grey armor, moved with a practiced efficiency born of years spent patrolling around dangerous lands. Their faces, grim and determined, were etched with the fatigue of a fruitless search.
