She pointed a pale, slender finger at the southern section of the leather chart, where the swamp ended.
"The Gray Marauders," Zephyra continued, her voice dropping into a solemn cadence. "They do not dwell in muddy swap like Zerith or or open valleys like Zharun.
Their territory sits high on the dry, broken stone shelves of the southern ridges, where the ironwood gives way to scratchy scrub and jagged rocks.
Unlike the Zerith, who relied on traps and venom, the Marauders are massive, thick-skinned humanoids with terrifying brute force."
Veylara's jaw tightened slightly as she stared at the mountain markings.
"Bruga was a brute, but he was no fool when it came to defending his den," Veylara noted, her tone turning analytical. "The Marauders are mountain dwellers. They have spent generations fortifying those cliffs.
