The barbarian delegation arrived at the Horde's forward position on the mountain road at the eleventh hour of the first day's march.
Three riders under a white flag that was not white but the bleached animal hide that the highland tradition used for the same purpose. Two warriors in dwarven armor flanking a figure who was not a warrior. The figure was old. Not old in the way that human commanders were old, with the weathering of campaigns and the lines of command decisions. Old in the way that shamanic practitioners were old, the body sustained past its natural duration by the power that the practice provided, the face a map of ritual scars and the decades that the scars' healing had spanned.
