Deep in the south-eastern reaches of the Silver Mane Tribe's territory, a considerable distance exceeding 120 miles from their central settlement, a squadron of beastmen cavalry cloaked in mystery advanced determinedly toward their destination.
Under the shadows of their masks, not a single face was visible as they made their way through the rugged landscape. The rhythmic thudding of their mounts echoed ominously across the expanse.
"Lord Chief, perhaps it's time for a respite," suggested a masked rider, her voice muffled slightly.
The Chief, lost in thought, grunted in confusion.
"Cardia, have you already dismissed my earlier instructions?" the leader chided gently, tapping his mount affectionately. The beast halted obediently with a snort.
"My apologies, Master. It seems I did forget," Cardia admitted with a sheepish grin, dismounting her steed with a clumsy thud.
This group was none other than the personal guard of Chief Logan, bound for the perilous Kasros Canyon.
"Let's pause for sustenance. We must reach Kasros Canyon before nightfall, lest we find ourselves bedding down under the stars," Logan declared, removing his mask to reveal a rugged face marked by the trials of leadership. He settled himself on a nearby stone outcrop.
The sun hovered close to the horizon, threatening dusk within hours.
"Master, Kasros Canyon lies but sixty or seventy miles hence. We could quicken our pace!" Tyton suggested, surveying the terrain with an expert gaze.
Logan accepted a piece of stale gray bread from Cardia and gestured toward the treacherous path ahead. "Observe the terrain, Tyton. These hills, littered with stones both large and small, hinder our speed more than the flatlands ever could."
They had now left the barren wasteland behind, entering the hilly area. Here, the landscape was unforgiving, with jagged ditch edges and a ground cluttered with rocks, a challenging passage for even the most seasoned warg.
Upon hearing his chief's words, Tyton inspected the rocky ground. His eyes, new to the rugged terrain, could only make out the vague shapes of distant stone hills and rocky paths.
Meanwhile, Logan observed his troops dismounting one by one, tending to their wargs and replenishing their own supplies. He pondered deeply, his thoughts straying to the technologies he had encountered in the marketplace. The options were numerous, each more tempting than the last with their potential profits.
Yet, the dilemma of choosing technologies that might seem unremarkable to others weighed heavily on him.
As Tyton and Cardia stood up in unison, Chief Logan shook off his reverie, his sharp gaze cutting across the landscape.
"Dispatch the command, everyone be ready to move out in one minute!"
"Understood, Chief!"
...
From their vantage point atop a hill, Logan and his band observed the chaos unfolding below. Hundreds of thieves, led by the robust wild boar men, were besieging a caravan protected by dozens of guards. The battlefield was strewn with casualties, predominantly those of the raiding party, with many of the fallen being gnolls.
This confrontation provided Logan his first clear glimpse of both the gnolls and quilboars in combat. The wild boar-men, though not as towering as the beastmen, were impressively large, averaging around two and a half meters in height.
Particularly striking was their leader, whose head, adorned with a pig-like snout, was massive, comparable in size to two beastmen combined, his stature immensely powerful.
The physicality of these nearly thirty wild boar men, all similar in their robust build, was a testament to their role as one of the most heavily armored forces among the orc races. Their formidable presence on the battlefield was undeniable, marking them as a force to be reckoned with among the myriad creatures of this diverse and war-torn world.
With their formidable physiques and heavy armor, the Quilboars resembled living tanks on the battlefield.
In contrast, the Gnolls presented a less imposing figure. Resembling wolf beastmen but with more pronounced snouts and smaller heads devoid of any mane, these creatures stood around 1.78 meters tall, often appearing somewhat hunched, every one of them bearing this distinctive posture.
"This caravan is in a precarious situation, yet the disparity in equipment between the two sides is also quite different. If the thieves' group weren't so large, they'd scarcely be a match for the caravan's defenses," Tyton observed, his eyes wide as he witnessed the diversity of races engaged in combat for the first time.
The others, including Logan, concurred with his assessment.
Among the thieves, only a few quilboars boasted armor, and even those pieces were battered and ancient. The gnolls, meanwhile, were largely unprotected, their torsos bare and their lower halves clad in simple animal skins.
Conversely, the caravan guards were uniformly clad in well-crafted armor and equipped with standardized gear, showcasing a significant advantage in terms of preparation and protection.
...
"Filo, you and your companion must escort His Highness to safety while we hold them off!" a heavily armored leader of the caravan commanded, surveying his guards. Fatigue and injury had taken their toll, and he knew well they stood little chance against even this ragtag band of thieves.
"No, Keswick, you're too injured, it's worsening by the minute! We cannot abandon you here!" protested a young voice, resolute and firm. The speaker was evidently a boy, guarded in the center by two figures who appeared to be leaders of the caravan guards.