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Your rest is disturbed by the sudden arrival in the plaza of a score of battle-weary Giaks, some Drakkarim, and a Gourgaz who is nursing a wounded arm. You watch them make camp and notice that they are so fatigued that they neglect to post any sentries.
The pall of smoke which has covered this section of the city begins to thin out, and in the middle distance you can see the base of the great citadel. It is a truly awesome sight, a pyramid of jet-black stone which rises to a needle-sharp peak more than ten thousand feet above the streets of Kaag.
Soon a rickety wooden cart, drawn by two ugly, ox-like creatures in harness, trundles into the plaza. It halts and its Giak driver pulls back the tarpaulin which is covering its cargo, revealing haunches of grey-green meat stacked in a pile. Unceremoniously, he tosses them to the exhausted soldiers who devour them with obvious relish. It is an unwholesome sight, made even more so when you realize that what they are eating is freshly slaughtered Giak meat.
