In an unremarkable basin within the Shadow Forest, a strange scene unfolded. Though the area appeared to be nothing but woods, walking past a certain point felt like passing through a thin membrane. Beyond it, a throng of figures milled about—a sea of heads numbering at least three to four thousand by a rough estimate. The assembly was a mix of races: Lizardmen, Jackal Wolfmen, Ogres, Zor Elves, and more.
All were clad in Iron Armor, weapons in hand.
Without a doubt, this was a reasonably well-equipped army.
Their intentions were unknown. They were encamped here temporarily, not even having pitched tents, merely sitting haphazardly on logs and stones.
A Jackal Wolf Scout headed toward the only tent in the center of the camp and spoke respectfully from outside:
"Lord Leon, a human force of over a thousand is passing through the river valley a hundred paces ahead. Should we ambush them?"
