Deep within the Northern Forest, in the region where Sub-human territory borders the Elf Kingdom, near the Poison Arrow tribe, stood Wind Listening City.
The neat ranks of Black Armored Soldiers flowed like a tide of black ink. Purple energy seeped from the seams of their armor, winding through the forest mist, and every step they took caused gray bubbles to froth up from the ground covered in rotting leaves.
The sharp clang of their spiked pauldrons striking against each other mingled with the dull thud of the Warhammer Vehicles' wooden wheels crushing tree roots, weaving a heavy net of pressure that hung over the forest.
Twelve Black Armored Soldiers gripped the oak push-bars on either side, their bulging muscles straining against their armor with a creak. With every unified push, the Warhammer Vehicle lurched forward half a foot, the human bones embedded in its axles emitting a teeth-grinding screech as they turned.
