The Nladwenissi axeman Felgghu, and the Ayeshan horseman Cuvalxo had joined their ragged bands of survivors together on the march homeward after the disastrous outcome of the War on the Far Northland kingdom of Onda. A struggle that saw the great host of the realms of the Drajani and Qetta literally torn to bits. Qettans and Drajani bore a great hatred for each other but a new religion had bound some of the kings and chieftains of the two peoples together in a crusade.    A crusade! The words of the Dovo of the Nladwenissi when he sent eight hundred men from the valley of the River Bomba to join other companies from the various regions of Qetta.  And towards the abominable alliance with the foulness of the demon
drunk north Drajanimen and their vile religious practices in honor of their god. And then, finding out the
horror of being on the side of creatures of nightmare: the Vyazlmen!     Twisted, repellent,
spawn of D'gyutojh, the spirit of evil, they mocked the armies of men with their weapons, gear, and ordered ranks. Like army ants they teemed over the battleground before the mighty walls of the great city of Onda. With them were brutes as tall as Felgghu but reverse reflections of the images of the Drajani and the empidomen of Onda.    Black they were, but not that of the Men of Qetta. Theirs was the color of flame eaten wood, scorched meat, or that of decaying flesh. Towering above them all, were lumbering Masdukish, great companies of them. In Qetta they had long since been wiped out. Not in that Northland country, mores the pity!  Even then that was not enough to inspire fear and loathing in men of faith and honor.        Soaring over the armies, riding the children of vultures and crocodiles, were the
Shadow Priests of the god of the abyss. Just the memory of them flying overhead caused
Felgghu to shudder. He spat in rejection, and patted his heart five times, a drumsong of never wavering faith in the Blessed Ones of Qetta.