Warbound

Odsier Plains

Koshnem pulled his sword from the young warrior's gut, slicing through flesh and making his insides spill on the green grasses of the plains. The man clawed at the Warchieftan's face feebly, before falling away.
He turned to face a running Odsier brandishing a warclub, who narrowly missed his head, before a well-placed kick sent the man flying to the ground. One of his own men jumped on the prone warrior slicing his throat quickly.

Everywhere he looked his Aghul were cleaving through the Odsier. They had approached their camp just before dawn, crawling on their bellies for hundreds of metres before rushing the quiet camp and overwhelming the sentries. They had spooked the large herds of antelope and horses into a stampede that had driven the Odsier defenders into a panic.

The Broken Spears were one of the largest tribes in the Plains. This group was close to 300 strong and were the first of the more numerous tribes to travel north to the Summer pastures. They were terrific horsemen thus why he had made sure the animals were spooked denying the tribe warriors their biggest advantage.

Koshnem roared into the morning air, lifting his sword high in the air, commanding his men forward. One of his guards stepped in front of him taking a spear to the chest destined to the warchief. He spined around the falling man, making a note to remember his name, bearing down on the thrower. The native pulled a dagger from his belt but not before the large mountain leader cleaved him from shoulder-blade to hip with a mighty swing of his blade, dark brow arterial blood spraying his face and chest.

Up ahead near the centre of the tribe’s camp he could see the Broken Spears chieftain, wielding his stone tipped spear, adorned with feathers. Koshnem noted several deep notches on the handle of the weapon, marking the number of challengers the man had defeated in combat.
Next to him was a woman dressed in Lugar furs. She had one necklace of bird skulls around each wrists and ankles. She was holding a wooden club, with teeth that looked as long as nails. Even before the woman disappeared before his eyes, Koshnem knew she was the tribe's Bonecaster.

The grey-haired woman appeared to blink in and out of existence, like a gust of wind to strike at nearby Odonine warriors, slashing and clubbing her way into the enemy, before blinking back to stand with her leader, on bent knee, catching her breath, leaving in her wake five dead Odonine.

He grinned and wished not for the first time that Shalia was here. She had been a constant figure in his life in this last year. A constant reminder that his cause was blessed by Noraura, Mother of Mountains herself. More than that the bond they had developed was strong. He had seen her develop, not in a small part due to his own teachings and coaxing, from a frail half dead woman to one of the most powerful wielders he had ever seen. He quickly wondered how her meeting with the Ozainae would go. The Horde respected power above all else and casters had a important status in their culture.

But he still wished she was here. Shoulder to shoulder with him. Changing the face of Arcadia.

He roared once more and charged the leader of the Broken Spears and their Bonecaster…