"Lord Ripmeat! Lord Plaguefang died a horrible death! Those damned Transian knights not only killed him, they hung his head above their camp as a trophy, to intimidate our gnoll brethren who are still resisting human tyranny.
"I risked my life escaping so I could come and report to you!
"Those humans are damned!
"Send your army to wipe them out at once!"
In Plague Town, in the Filthy Swamp, Hogg—wearing battered leather armor with a distinctly battle-worn look—was sprawled before the furious Ripmeat. The short gnoll chieftain was bruised and swollen, with unhealed wounds still covering his body. His bloodstained armor hung in tatters, and even his mouth and neck were swollen with injuries. Every word he spoke made his whole body tremble with pain.
There was certainly some exaggeration in his story, but Ripmeat could sense the fear welling up inside him as he reported the outcome.
That emotion could not be faked. It was proof enough that what had happened at the Transian border was no fabrication.
The force it had sent to attack the Transian arms factory and barracks had indeed met with disaster.
"How did you manage to lead them there?"
Ripmeat was furious and exasperated. He cursed,
"Didn't I tell you not to cross the Transian border and provoke the Plantagenet Kingdom's army? How did you end up circling around to Marlow Town? You were supposed to head north along Smuggler's Woodland!
"Speak!
"Did you have a hand in this?"
"I've been wronged, sir! I've been wronged!"
Hogg shrieked and bowed his head, his fear and cowardice plain to see.
Trembling, he recounted the whole story. But Ripmeat neither answered nor believed him right away. It simply waited, radiating a chilling aura.
Hogg had not returned alone.
According to him, he had used up