((The entire army, besides a few scouts has moved from area E to area B.))

Darith let out a pained gasp as he looked at the sky. The draconian scout was returning, but the rigid flight patterns showed that something was wrong. Hardly a minute later, the draconian crashed to the sandy and somewhat rocky ground. There were two large and bloodied holes in the scout’s body, one through a wing and one through an arm. Both were bleeding profusely due to his determinedly, strained escape back to the Split Breed army. Another draconian broke the ranks to hold his dying brother, weeping silently.

Only one man thought about something other than the fallen comrade. He was a seasoned soldier, used to the pains of seeing a companion die. “Sir, what did you find? Did our enemy do this to you?” Hector stood over the dying draconian with little remorse in his voice.

The draconian gagged a little, trying to rub the areas that had impacted with the ground the hardest. There were broken bones and he couldn’t doubt the possibility of internal bleeding. His time in Gisela would end on that landscape, a mix between desert and plateau. “Yes, I saw the enemy. I couldn’t find out much about them though.” He took a moment to cough up a bit of blood. “They don’t seem very organized, but they do have technology on their side. Be careful with them. They seem unpredictable.”

----------------------

Darith and his small faction of draconians stayed behind to accompany their brother in arms until he passed on. They knew that the death wasn’t permanent, that the monks would revive him at the end of the tournament, but it was still a solemn affair. The rest of the army continued forward and finally reached the center of the Oberon Plateau. The feeling of being free from the desert bounced off of every individual, man or beast, regardless of the uncomely new region.

The entire place was a mess. Scraps of cloth, trash, and liquor bottles littered the area. It was evident that the place was deserted in a hurry and Amaril had a feeling that the now dead draconian had been right. Their opponent did seem a bit unorganized. Then again, his army didn’t really have very high standards on how to operate either. The three divisions hardly worked together and he felt that he, the leader, was more of an observer. He didn’t mind though. Kataneen, Darith and Hector knew how to keep their own troops in line. The half-dragon was merely a figurehead learning how to manage a large force.

Hector decided to send two more scouts to try to find the destination of their enemy. Knowing that there would be a battle this round send shivers of anxiety, anxiousness, and excitement throughout the army. No one wanted to feel the pain of death, but the idea of getting to show their prowess overcame that fear. Several more draconians took to the air, wanting to catch a glimpse of the fleeing army.

It didn’t take long for them to return to the ground, reporting that they found movement to the northeast, near a river. Hector whipped out his map and quickly pointed to the Treslizn River Valley. “That’s where they’re headed. If we hurry, we might be able to catch them before they cross the river.”

With many grunts of displeasure, the short break was interrupted by the officers who gave orders that the army would continue the march. Hector’s two scouts returned just in time to join the army. It would travel in the same formation it had already done in the desert.

((The entire army is traveling from area B to area D.))