Days passed, but the chaos in the Wilderness, far from subsiding, grew ever more treacherous and unpredictable.
A great tribe was moving south—and a tribe of hot-tempered brutes like the Minotaurs, at that. For this small corner of the world, it was like releasing a thousand-pound tiger into a pasture with a thousand sheep and cattle. The impact on the entire area would be devastating.
Until they were dealt with, chaos would reign supreme in this part of the Wilderness.
Countless small tribes were helplessly driven south. If they remained where they were, they would face an inhumanly brutal slaughter at the hands of the Minotaurs.
Some races, possessing only production skills and no combat ability, were in an even more miserable state without the protection of a suzerain. On their journey, they were first plundered by other races, then captured and taken as temporary rations for the road.
