skirmish

Wind and draft both did howl, whistling through the window slits and corners of the keep. Dunhold. With an extended hand he'd tried its walls and doorways, fingertips brushing lightly like in inspection of a delicate silk. The stone was old, he felt, but none so aged as that of the monastery...

(Please respect that this is a ~70 man conflict) Hovels lined the distance, and even further back were the mountains, stretching far across the west-eastern line as one might see. The village of Taimin has seen many bloody days, and today would be no different. It was a fruitful oasis ripe of...

Taimin, an oasis village in Amol-Kalit by the mountains. How'd we feel like a smol skirmish on the control over it? The reasoning behind could be vast and open-ended, so my initial idea is vague to be better appropriated for other writers.

Amir Farid Ibn Baha was the ruler of a glorious city and it's vassals at the foothils of the Seret mountains. He is well known in the region and his dynasty ruled this land for generations. Something that was rarely found among the ever changing politics of Amol-Kalit. His favour with the gods...