[Soladaak]

Azarth looked down upon the messenger. "No, you are a guest. You may rise." Azarth pointed out. "My Warchief would like to invite you to a council of war noble Drake King. If you are unable to come he would like for someone you trust and guards to accompany me to Razgar." The messenger informed. Azarth stroke the thorns of his chin, many Drakes were born with thorns/spikes as well as scales. He was vigilant about his decision. A legion could be too slow to reach Razgar but give him a certain amount of support if the battle went on without the Drake's late start. Although a smaller mounted unit could get there twice as fast and could get back just in time for the army to march off. Azarth had made his decision. "Ammok." Azarth called. "My lord." Ammok replied. "Time to saddle up early, you will take the messenger to Razgar." Azarth ordered. Azarth mid-conversation was writing a scroll for which his message will be given. "But, my lor-" Ammok noted. "Exactly, I am your lord which is why you will not question my authority or decision. You will take the messenger to his destination and return here for the march. Azarth went on, handing the scroll to Ammok. "Yes my lord. I will deliver the message to Razgar." Ammok gestured, arching his neck. 

"Now, if you don't mind following me to the assembly point, the horn will be heard shortly." Azarth disclosed. As he got up from the throne the drape like material of his armour flapped forward like wings. Strolling straight past Ammok and the messenger to which his guard formed around him like breathing fort walls. He started to make his way down the stone staircase. "Quickly messenger, it's time to get to the assembly point. The king is delivering a speech ther-." Ammok was cut off mid-conversation but not from Azarth but the horn that bellowed and shook the fortress for it was ment to be loud enough for Armania to hear it's roar as a sign Drakes had entered the horde's forces. Ammok looked up at the sound of the horn as loose dust from the cracks in the stone came down from the ceiling. Looking back down at the messenger as the horn gave it's final tune. "Quickly messenger follow me." Ammok urged. The journey to the assembly point was a mad frenzy, soldiers scattered here and there, dressing up in their armour and equipping their weapons. Commanders heard around the street rallying their troops. "Form up you spineless dogs!" "Into formationnn!" The rally point was outside of the city walls. Ammok walked into the Ragr formation and quickly saddled up onto his wildebeest which leapt it's front legs into the air and back down to the ground in mad excitement. "Find your mount messenger and quickly!" Ammok bellowed. 

Azarth was at the peak of the front wall. Overlooking endless square formations coming together. Troops scurried out of the gates to find their units. The Ragr unit was just coming out of the gate. Foot soldiers passed around them like a strong flowing river. The wildebeest were calm and so were the Ragr unit. It was the trait of Ragr to have such calmness in the harshest of situations. The formations were nearly completed and the Ragr unit were positioning their selves at the back of the force. As they rode past they could see the faces of their comrades through their helmets. Some roaring and some sweating with adrenaline. The Drakes were ready for battle. The Ragr unit came to a halt and faced their capital to hear the speech. 

"The troops are ready my lord." A guard spoke up to Azarth keeping very low to be respectful towards his master. Azarth nodded and faced his forces, raising his hands in the air. The troops went crazy, roaring and shouting Azarth's name. Spears were being lunged into the air. "We are the Drakes! Our forces were scattered over the land in the last war! But we being Drakes! Do not let our enemies triffle over us! We are not prey! We are the hunters! I fight not with any other race! We are lions! Over in the Armanian territory is immortality, Our people will talk of how we conquered Armania and wiped them off the face of the planet! They will be eating out of our hands! No-one survives! Take it, take the immortality! It's yours!" Azarth's voice was nearly as loud as the horn. It pumped his troops with fierceness to match no man. Anger to burn villages and kill peasants. The Drake forces are ready to set out and conquer.