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Guran: A Continent Divided

Introduction The mist rolled through the staying low to the ground. A careful observer could see the slight red hue to the normally white vapour. Someone knowledgeable would then know that there was a battle taking place. Sprays of blood dyed the pristine mist, tainting it like it tainted the soil that the blood soaked into.

The battle was intense and brutal. A force of some fifty Ramalthians, the regimented warriors of the south, had been ambushed by a force twice there number, a force of Guranians, fierce druids and beserkers. The Ramalthians maintained a strong formation, with their Combat Casters and War-Priests in the center. The Guranians favoured swift forays by individual elements, applying constant yet changing pressure to their disciplined enemies.

The Guranians had gained the upper hand. They held all the advantages, numbers, and knowledge of the terrain. Their fierce druids charged forth in the shape of bears, while their Beserker hacked through everything in their way. Fleeting shadows of black robed shamans always spelled death, as their nature magic wrought havoc in the enemies ranks.

The first of the new enemy came suddenly, it’s pincers appeared out of nowhere, and killed a shaman as he began casting. It cut his jugular, and spurts of blood added to the red mist. Air gurgled through his throat, as he desperately tried to get a breath to finish his spell. The enemies were swift, and were unlike anything the combatants had seen before. They looked like ants the size of ponies. The held their thoraxes erect. Each insect had four legs, and two arms, all of which ended in razor sharp pinchers. Antenna sway wildly on the creature’s expressive, vaguely humanoid faces. Behind their rear legs, they have large barbed stingers.

The slaughter was quick and efficient, with no organized resistance being offered. The newcomers only lost several warriors, and to them, that was nothing. To the warriors of the Formians, that was nothing. It was easily an acceptable price compared to the slaughter or assimilation of their foes. A dozen warriors chased the broken infantry, while two warriors closed in on the last pocket of resistance. They were accompanied by several of those who had been warring. The remaining combatants were of mixed heritage, understanding that the battle against the new foe came first. With a ferocious clicking noise of mandibles and chitin, and bone chilling shouts from their newly dominated allies, the Formians charged.

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Guran: A Continent Divided Tauchiss