[Sarkhan]

The camp was quiet when the monks arrived. Five monks of the Swifttail caste entered the camp as the rest were preparing for the night to come. With quizzical looks the crusaders could only tilt their heads in confusion as the lead monk entered into the camp’s tent to speak with Sarkhan while the other monks stood outside.

It has been a few days of travel but the iksars had finally closed in on the camp of elves that was their target. They had seen a few elven scouts here and there and though they were tempted to have the scouts go missing from the wilds of Kunark, Sarkhan had other plans in mind and kept the troop moving. They had set up camp north of the elven outpost of Firiona Vie and after Endo had returned with news of a camp of nearly two dozen elves, Sarkhan had finally called a halt of their march. They had set camp and rested well that night and the following day was spent doing reconnaissance of the surrounding area and counting their targets.

Exiting the tent, Sarkhan and the Swifttail monk were confronted by a crusader of the temple, Likkarn, “Why are the monks here? How is it they knew where we were?” demanded the crusader.

The crusaders held much political swing. In Cabilis the Legion was the army, guarding the city and enforcing laws but the crusaders were the knights of the mystics, thus their swords were the swords of religion which held almost as much power within Cabilis as the emperor himself. Emperor Vekin, though originally from a warrior tribe, no longer commanded the Legion himself and left that to the War Baron Eator.

“Hail and well met, Likkarn, though I think you presume too much.” Sarkhan replied to him as he nodded to the monk who departed, taking the other monks with him
“You see, Likkarn, the Court of Pain know the happenings of the legion, oftentimes before the legion itself.” A grin had creased the scaled grey lips of the iksar as he looked maliciously toward the crusader.

“It is not to the legion to start a war, Sarkhan. The Temple sent me to guard Tarntak as you pushed back scouts. We have passed many scouts though, why is that? Tarntak reports directly to the Temple, when he hears…” Likkarn was cut short as Sacraxiles exited the tent and interrupted the crusader.

“He will do exactly as I tell him” Answered Sacraxiles. Sacraxiles was a powerful mystic and as much power as Sarkhan held within the legion, Sacraxiles held similar in the Temple. Whatever Sarkhan was planning it seemed he was likely to get. Likkarn did not like the idea of a trooper, no matter what rank, should get to call the shots.

“Pack your gear, we leave immediately!” Sarkhan’s voice boomed across the camp as everyone scrambled to obey.

They met the monks within the dense woods, not far from where Endo reported the elven camp to be. The monks would clear the perimeter guard so that the rest of the iksar could move on ahead to ambush the main camp. The band of monks was a specialized group sent from Master Bain by the request of Sarkhan, if the whispers among the troopers during the march could be believed. The monks wore leather straps for armor and their hands and feet were equipped with metal claws that seemed an extension of their own.

Sarkhan gave a nod to the lead monk and who in turn gave the signal to the other four and within moments the four monks disappeared into the foliage of the treetops. Troopers and crusaders alike watched in awe as the tall lizards propelled themselves effortlessly up the trunks of the trees and into the canopy above without even a rustling of leaves. The lead monk who stayed down below then gave his nod back to Sarkhan and the whole of the iksar force moved forward.

Not five minutes had passed since the move began before the iksars encountered the first of the scouts. It started with a shout of agony as an elf plummeted to the forest floor; a shuriken embedded halfway into his neck. Next came shouts of surprise and rustling of leaves, shaking trees all around as if a great wind was blowing through the forest. The battle had begun in the treetops, the rest down below charged on past the skyward skirmishes and forward to where Endo had spotted the elf encampment. A few arrows hailed upon them from above with none finding their mark.
After the legionnaires and crusaders had distanced themselves from the battle, they proceeded with more caution.


~<0>~
High up in a tree a handsome elf was putting the finishing touches on a wolf figurine carved out of a rather large tooth. The snap of a branch down below immediately drew his attention. Hiding the figurine he quickly crawled to the edge of his branch, spying out from the thick crown of leaves. Stifling a gasp, he notched an arrow to his bow and drew for a shot but suddenly eased up. Before his eyes he saw a dozen lizardmen creeping their way silently towards his camp, where a dozens of his own men lay unprepared for battle.
He put his bow away; he had to warn his camp as soon as possible before it was too late. Turning away from the sight of doom he faced another; not a foot away two large orange orbs sat, staring straight into his soul. The elf’s mind was a flutter with panic, he had no idea how such a large creature could have snuck up on him or how the two hundred pound lizard could move so graciously through the trees.
Reaching for his dagger, he could not move fast enough as the lizard leapt bridging the gap instantly and catching his wrist at the dagger’s hilt. The lizard's talons dug deep into his shoulder while it's maw closed around his throat ripping it out.
They both plummeted to the ground, snapping branches on the way but the elf was the only one to hit the forest floor. The monk had sprung off the falling body and back into the tree while the elf hit with a sickening thud. A few gurgles bubbled up from his throat as his eyes slowly glazed over, his hand clutching at the broken figurine.
~<0>~

The lead monk had gone ahead and was flagging them forward through the cleared path, blood covering his front from jaw to leather breeches. Now was the time. Sarkhan and his two groups of iksars charged forward, laying abandon to all caution. Within minutes the iksars had barreled down onto the encampment of elves from all sides and chaos soon engulfed everything.

An elf had been relieving himself of his prior drink when he felt his blood begin to boil in his veins. His scream of agony was short lived before a sword separated his head.
The two shamans had thrown the shadow of fear across the camp as elves ran blind and clouds of insects swarmed the camp. One elf had managed to block a blade with his own and he locked blades with an iksar. Pushing back, the elf was gaining the upper hand as they both battled for solid footing.

Seeing Endo struggling against the elf, Likkarn moved in to assist. Slashing at the elf he soon had its attention and Endo rolled away and disappeared into the shadows.
They locked blades but the crusader reached up, griping the elf’s forearm that was holding the sword. The elf hollered in pain through teary eyes as his skin smoldered and withered beneath the crusader’s vicious touch. Bursting from the shadows, Endo planted his dagger square in the elf’s back.

The battle was short lived. Over a dozen elves were slaughtered in minutes, the unprepared camp barely putting up a fight. Sarkhan stood tall with a wide grin as he watched the others loot up the corpses. From all his reports, if this was indeed the camp he wanted, somewhere among the dead was the son of Commander Nealith from Firiona Vie. It might be a few days before the elves were realized missing and those few days would give the iksars some time to distance themselves before a larger host of elves would come. Some dead scouts would have gone unnoticed perhaps, but a whole camp of slaughtered elves was bound to call for retribution from the outpost city.

“Loot up and hurry, we must make way back to home. We’ve put a thorn named Cabilis in the side of the elves, let us see if they attempt to prick it out of their soft skin.” Came the call from Sarkhan.