At the outskirts of the Silvermane Tribe, just beyond the sprawling military encampment, Chief Logan strode out from the bustling conference hall and made his way directly to the camp's gates. In recent months, the camp had undergone massive expansions, morphing steadily into a fortification as imposing as a city's walls.
Logan surveyed the grand entrance with a hint of pride, his lips curling into a knowing smile.
"It's quite the sight, isn't it?" he mused to himself. "To the untrained eye, it might seem we've got an army fit for an empire."
As he approached, the sharp clack of armored boots on the dirt signaled his arrival, and two guards, one a robust boarman and the other a towering minotaur, snapped to attention, their weapons glinting under the afternoon sun.
"Hail, Chieftain!" they bellowed in unison, their voices carrying across the open field.
Logan returned their salute with a nod, his eyes flickering with approval. The recent recruitment drive had diversified the ranks significantly, incorporating not just werewolves but also Beastmens, boarmen, and tauren. He paused before the duo, his gaze lingering thoughtfully.
The guards stood rigid under his scrutiny, the weight of his position and their respect for him palpable in the tense air.
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After a moment, Logan's expression softened, and he gestured towards their armor. "Tell me, do you find your armor burdensome?"
The question seemed to catch them off guard, particularly as the chief's interest seemed piqued by their gear rather than their readiness. The boarman, his stature impressive at over eight feet tall, shook his head vigorously.
"Not at all, Lord Chief!" he replied stoutly.
The minotaur, even larger, added with a grin, "This armor is a fine fit, Chieftain. Back in my tribe, we used to wear clunky half-plate that didn't suit our needs. But this? I can wear it all day without complaint."
"Is that so?" Logan chuckled, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, he laughed lightly. "I should've remembered, the raw strength of a tauren far surpasses that of our werewolf brethren."
Encouraged by the chief's amiable demeanor, the tauren guard ventured a suggestion, his voice a mix of hope and hesitation. "Chief, if I may... we Tauren aren't fond of spears. Might we have axes instead?"
The boarman guard stiffened, his eyes widening in shock at the boldness of his companion.
"Spear is not to your liking?" Logan's voice was amused, a playful twinkle in his eyes as he regarded the earnest minotaur before him.
Chief Logan stepped into the barracks, the distant clatter and clash of intense training echoing through the air. He wandered past a cluster of buildings, some served as the military camp's canteen, others housed the administrative offices where Kro and his team strategized.
In this camp, soldiers didn't live in barracks; they returned home each evening and came back at dawn, refreshed and ready for rigorous training. Logan had once considered constructing dormitories within the camp but eventually decided against it, feeling it might detach the warriors from their homes and families unnecessarily.
Making his way to the parade ground, Logan found himself amidst several high-ranking Beastmen officers. However, none of them seemed to notice his presence, so engrossed were they in the spectacle of the training field.
Leaning against the fence, Logan gazed out at the field where two or three thousand Beastmens trained with a ferocious intensity. Their roars and battle cries filled the air, blending with the metallic ring of spears clashing.
"Roar... Kill!"
Here, not just werewolves but also a diverse mix of warriors, minotaurs, boarmen, bearmen, and antelopemen, formed a formidable, if unconventional, legion.
"Chief?" The familiar voice snapped Logan out of his observations.
Turning, he saw a boarman officer, unmistakable with his formidable build and battle scars, a seasoned warrior from the Tara Hills named Gawa.
"Gawa, it's been too long!" Logan greeted him with a warm smile.
"Greetings, Chief!" Gawa saluted sharply, his respect unmistakable.
Gawa's salute caught the eye of other Beastmen officers nearby. Recognizing their chief, they quickly gathered, offering salutes of their own.
"Greetings, Lord Chief!"
Logan raised his hand, signaling for them to ease. "Carry on with your duties. Gawa and I need a moment."
"Understood, Chief!" The officers dispersed, though their glances lingered curiously on their chief as they returned to their tasks, shouting encouragements to the soldiers to maintain the intensity of their drills.
Turning his attention back to Gawa, Logan asked, "What's your role these days?"
"My Lord Chief, I now command four battalions as captain of the boar warriors; over three hundred strong," Gawa reported, his voice filled with a mix of pride and solemnity.
Logan nodded, impressed yet contemplative, fully aware of the responsibility Gawa carried on his broad shoulders.