Vale Nomads

The Vale Nomads do not hold land—they outrun it. Their herds graze the endless Plains, and their warbands strike like the wind itself, vanishing before the dust settles. A Slinger’s stone finds its mark before the enemy’s blade leaves its sheath, and the Khan’s Chosen open every fight with a spear through the ribs. No city walls can cage them; no marsh slows their stride. The open sky is their roof, and the horizon their only boundary.

Horselords move at a pace that leaves foes gasping, their mounts threading the Plains at a cost of 1.5 to enter—swifter than any infantry, yet slowed to a crawl in the tangled forests they despise. War Wagons grind forward, their bulk canceling the defenses of any fortress they reach, while Roc Riders circle above, loosing arrows from the clouds. The Vale does not fight for ground; it fights to keep moving.

Strength is measured in speed and precision. A stack of Horselords (mv 13) can cross a battlefield in half the time of heavier foes, and their favored Plains grant the whole army a +1 edge when the fight begins. No siege engine fires from afar—it must roll into the teeth of the enemy, just as the Nomads prefer. The Vale does not win by endurance; it wins by striking first, striking hard, and being gone before the counterblow lands.

Leadership is a quiet thing among the clans. The Khan’s Chosen (leadership +2) do not bellow orders—they ride ahead, and the rest follow. Axe Kin stand firm when the charge falters, their axes splitting shields and their presence steadying the line. But the true strength of the Vale is in its refusal to be pinned down. Marshes bog them, forests choke them, but the Plains are theirs, and on those golden grasses, no army can match their pace.