The Kal'loryn. An ancient name for the mountain ranges that split Cozeroth from north to south. Thousands of miles long, and tens of thousands of feet high, the name did not do them justice. Vokom's boots stood planted on the stone outside the mouth of the cave that led deep into the mountains, to other caves. A vast and deep network of byways to get from one place to another. This cave was the one his slaves had fled out of, and into this hideous green country.

The Orange fire was long slid behind the peaks behind him, and the darkness was deepening. Soon it would be dark enough for his reavers to move safely. This far South, he had to show restraint. They had to be near the Elven Forests, and Allinor. Mighty nations whose banners were feared, even in the utter North. He could not risk too much, yet.

His scouts had been out, the previous night, and already he knew what he needed to know. The few slaves that had lived to see this valley had fallen upon a band of hyoomins, and lost their miserable lives. The chest was not in the aftermath of the battle. He had to be swift, but cautious.

"Scouts out!" He barked. "Five to a sniffer... and one of them a runner." 

No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, another foul voice deeper in the caves began repeating them. Fifteen heartbeats later, dozens of lightly armored troops sprinted out of the cave, rocketing downhill on strong legs built for long running. All bore the sign of the gouged eye. Vokom's sign, for as long as he was strong enough to hold it. Some had it scrawled upon their armor. Others had it marked in blood stains on their ragged helmets. Still others had it carved in scars on their heads. But always it was an eye, with something protruding from it, or bloody gashes, as if raked from its socket.

Their faces were a mixture of all manner of animals, dog snouts and bird eyes. Rams horns and horses face. None of it made any sense, as if mocking the animals they resembled by their very existance. The "sniffers" were easy to tell from the others, long and lean, they were faster running on all fours than standing erect. No armor, and only a dagger worn on their hips, they all had vaguely canine features. Ranging out in front of the others, they ran, and swept the ground with their noses, cataloging the scents they encountered.

Vokom strode out into the trees, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the cool crisp air, steam roiling out of them as he exhaled. Expelled, would be a better word. He practically spat the air from his nose. "This place stinks." He mumbled. Turning to his current second in command, he continued louder and with more force. "Begin bringing the Reavers into the open world. Keep them on tight leashes, I dont want to let these hyoomins know we are here!"

With a little luck, this could turn into an R&R raid for his Reavers, and he would be heading back north before the orange fire rose, chest in tow.... and some slaves to replace the ones he had lost.