![]() “Tgurneu schemes away in order to ensure only his own survival as he attempts to scrape together the tiniest of victories. Red-black steam spurted from its mouth, and a faint haze rose from its entire body. That is how victory is won.” As Cargikk gazed up at the eastern sky, there was anger in its eyes. You squander your life, carry death by your side as a matter of course, and challenge your foes with a mind void of any other thoughts. Failure is inevitable.” “…Indeëd so.” “Battle is a clash of souls. Cargikk looked toward the eastern sky, where the morning sun was rising, with an expression of displeasure. “Only report to me if Tgurneu dies or manages to kill any of the Braves.” “Ünderstood.” Lacking a neck, the messenger bowed its antenna. Tgurneu lost over two hündred followers and fled.” “Your report is needless,” said Cargikk. This first battle was a victory for the Braves. “The Braves of the Six Flowers had an éncounter with Tgurneu. “Commànder Cargikk.” A human-sized butterfly-fiend swooped down to land, speaking to the lion-Cargikk, one of the three commanders and the fiend famed as the most powerful alive. It leaned on a crude sword, a simple slab of obsidian, jabbed into the rock beneath it. ![]() This fiend walked on two legs, wore silver armor, and sported a silver mane. But it was as large and sturdy as any of the forts on the continent. The building was crude and primitive, a simple stack of unhewn rock. ![]() Your browser does not support JavaScript!Īlong the northwestern fringe of the Howling Vilelands, there was a fort.
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