- Messages
- 23
Bonfires roared and war drums beat as Naghoon warriors and civilians alike danced and celebrated. Long had the war lasted and many had lost sons and daughters, husbands and wives since the conflict's beginning, yet now was a time for celebration. The battle was many days, possibly weeks away, but if the gods and stars aligned, perhaps the war would end at last and relative peace would return to the Taagi Baara. Amid the singing, chanting, and drinking sat Tarnakh, a goblet in hand and a leg of roast goat in the other. He celebrated with his people, though perhaps not as heartily as most. His was a heavy mantle and while he allowed himself meat and drink around the fire, he kept his head clear and his mind on the coming days.
The war had started simply enough. A minor dispute had turned into a series of skirmishes. Each minor khan blamed the other while others circled like hungry vultures to snap up the horses and livestock of the defeated clan when the dust settled. Tarnakh had gotten involved to help the small clan allied with his own, which had angered the khan protecting the other minor clan. One thing led to another and fairly soon arrows flew and blood spilled as both coalitions of clans went to war. Tarnakh had emerged victorious, consolidating his power and becoming a major khan of the region, which he thought would lead to peace, yet only brought more strife.
In time more wars and more blood lead him to this point. Behind him stood the many clans allied beneath his banner, each hoping for changes to ancient laws and customs. Against him stood clans desiring to remain true to the old ways and laws, angry that a low-born upstart would dare upend the caste system that had ruled them since their forefathers first emerged from the roots of the earth, molded from the very dust and clay of the steppe by the gods themselves. Tarnakh had simply wished to live his days out in peace with his clan to raise his children, but the gods, it seemed, had other plans.
Camped upon the nearby hills was Ulgan and his allies. Ulgan had been the next in line for Khagan, the Khan of Khans and the Royal Throne of the Naghoon, but had seen Tarnakh's rise to power as a problem, even though the latter had no aspirations to the throne. Ulgan had seen Tarnakh as a rival claimant to his birthright and to royal power among the Naghoon even before Ulgan's father, Jugkha Khagan, passed from wasting sickness four years before. Tarnakh had suffered raids and assaults, only retaliating and committing to war after much thought and prayer. Years of campaigning brought him to the here and now.
Here he stood camped with tens of thousands of his warriors and their families, each clan heeding his call to arms. Here his army waited for Ulgan to move, to commit his own army of tens of thousands to battle. Now, both sides knew the end was near. Tarnakh had the supply lines, the tactics, and the heart and mind of his people. Ulgan had many of the older clans, each battle hardened and many of them very wealthy, and slightly greater numbers, but their supplies were strained by poor planning and Tarnakh's raiders and the constant raids left their morale low with a few of the smaller clans following Ulgan defecting either to Tarnakh's following or to neutrality, wanting to see where the pieces fell before declaring complete fealty.
Both armies watched the other through scouts and scrying shamans, both waited for the other to make a move. Tarnakh knew Ulgan couldn't afford to wait to attack with low supplies while Ulgan hoped Tarnakh would launch a risky, early attack to end the war sooner. Lost in thought, Tarnakh sipped from his goblet and stared into the flames while he pondered even newer information.
Scouts were escorting strangers - foreigners - to the camp. They came in peace and bore few weapons, but foreigner ways were alien to the Naghoon. To the red-skinned orcs of the steppe, outsiders were often untrustworthy and greedy. They paid in gold or loot for warriors or guides, sometimes for livestock and horses, but always seemed to try to double cross or back stab in the end. At the same time, some were, perhaps not trustworthy, but honest to an extent, dealing mostly fairly with Naghoon clans. With such foreigners showing up here on the eve of what could be the final battle of the war, he had to wonder what they wanted. Were they sent by the gods or did they bring portents of doom? Was this simply a badly timed merchant group or a band of sellswords eager to make quick coin from one side or the other? Worse yet, were the assassins sent to kill him or demand payment to kill Ulgan?
Only the gods truly knew. Tarnakh chewed his roast goat and stared into the flames. He'd find out soon enough.
The war had started simply enough. A minor dispute had turned into a series of skirmishes. Each minor khan blamed the other while others circled like hungry vultures to snap up the horses and livestock of the defeated clan when the dust settled. Tarnakh had gotten involved to help the small clan allied with his own, which had angered the khan protecting the other minor clan. One thing led to another and fairly soon arrows flew and blood spilled as both coalitions of clans went to war. Tarnakh had emerged victorious, consolidating his power and becoming a major khan of the region, which he thought would lead to peace, yet only brought more strife.
In time more wars and more blood lead him to this point. Behind him stood the many clans allied beneath his banner, each hoping for changes to ancient laws and customs. Against him stood clans desiring to remain true to the old ways and laws, angry that a low-born upstart would dare upend the caste system that had ruled them since their forefathers first emerged from the roots of the earth, molded from the very dust and clay of the steppe by the gods themselves. Tarnakh had simply wished to live his days out in peace with his clan to raise his children, but the gods, it seemed, had other plans.
Camped upon the nearby hills was Ulgan and his allies. Ulgan had been the next in line for Khagan, the Khan of Khans and the Royal Throne of the Naghoon, but had seen Tarnakh's rise to power as a problem, even though the latter had no aspirations to the throne. Ulgan had seen Tarnakh as a rival claimant to his birthright and to royal power among the Naghoon even before Ulgan's father, Jugkha Khagan, passed from wasting sickness four years before. Tarnakh had suffered raids and assaults, only retaliating and committing to war after much thought and prayer. Years of campaigning brought him to the here and now.
Here he stood camped with tens of thousands of his warriors and their families, each clan heeding his call to arms. Here his army waited for Ulgan to move, to commit his own army of tens of thousands to battle. Now, both sides knew the end was near. Tarnakh had the supply lines, the tactics, and the heart and mind of his people. Ulgan had many of the older clans, each battle hardened and many of them very wealthy, and slightly greater numbers, but their supplies were strained by poor planning and Tarnakh's raiders and the constant raids left their morale low with a few of the smaller clans following Ulgan defecting either to Tarnakh's following or to neutrality, wanting to see where the pieces fell before declaring complete fealty.
Both armies watched the other through scouts and scrying shamans, both waited for the other to make a move. Tarnakh knew Ulgan couldn't afford to wait to attack with low supplies while Ulgan hoped Tarnakh would launch a risky, early attack to end the war sooner. Lost in thought, Tarnakh sipped from his goblet and stared into the flames while he pondered even newer information.
Scouts were escorting strangers - foreigners - to the camp. They came in peace and bore few weapons, but foreigner ways were alien to the Naghoon. To the red-skinned orcs of the steppe, outsiders were often untrustworthy and greedy. They paid in gold or loot for warriors or guides, sometimes for livestock and horses, but always seemed to try to double cross or back stab in the end. At the same time, some were, perhaps not trustworthy, but honest to an extent, dealing mostly fairly with Naghoon clans. With such foreigners showing up here on the eve of what could be the final battle of the war, he had to wonder what they wanted. Were they sent by the gods or did they bring portents of doom? Was this simply a badly timed merchant group or a band of sellswords eager to make quick coin from one side or the other? Worse yet, were the assassins sent to kill him or demand payment to kill Ulgan?
Only the gods truly knew. Tarnakh chewed his roast goat and stared into the flames. He'd find out soon enough.
