A faintly chilly breeze swept across the Arathi Highlands as a band of gnolls advanced slowly. At a glance, there were four or five hundred of them, all powerfully built and armed with sharp weapons. Compared to ordinary gnolls, who tended to be somewhat malnourished, they were at the opposite extreme. With their brutish faces and murderous air, they made it clear that they were fierce warriors who knew how to fight.
Gnoll Brutes-that was what they were. They belonged to the upper ranks of gnoll society, usually possessing the finest weapons and armor, as well as the best food and clothing. They were also the gnolls' strongest fighting force.
"Vorgan, aren't we there yet?" a loud voice rang out. A burly gnoll strode over to Vorgan in a few steps, his feet clad in combat boots. Boots were a luxury for gnolls. After robbing a human caravan, they could wear the humans' clothing, but not their shoes. Gnolls were humanoid monsters whose hands and feet differed from those of humans. Their long necks, in particular, made them look exceedingly strange.
Human combat boots did not fit gnolls at all. The boots this chieftain wore were naturally not plundered trophies; he had specifically sent someone to have them custom-made. That would have been difficult for an ordinary gnoll, but it was a simple matter for the chieftain of the Wolfhowl Tribe.
"Soon. We'll reach our destination in another half hour," Vorgan said respectfully, standing before the Wolfhowl Tribe's chieftain. He did not even dare raise his head, keeping it lowered in utter submission.
Vorgan's behavior pleased the chieftain immensely, and a broad smile spread across his wolfish face. He had been chieftain for many years now, but ever since the year before last, his strength had dwindled day by day.