Crylax leapt above the fray and swung his quicksword in a deadly horizontal fashion that decapitated three Jibberjabs and left them jabbering on the ground. “FOR ASSOL!!!!!” he screamed into the air and at the cadre of Jibberjabs that was still screaming towards him.

FRACAS AT THE BORDER!! Crylax’s outfit had been ambushed. A lone regiment had ambushed them. Caught them by surprise. They were not prepared for such an attack because they believed no attack was coming. It was an AMBUSH. Crylax, a tall, handsome warrior of protagonist age, spotted them in the night and raised the alarm.

JUST IN TIME too, as a pod of about a dozen JIbberjabs came scrambling clicking muttering clattering over the plains and into their encampment, arms outstretched and grasping in a blind unreasoning hysteria.

The activity was short but brutal. Crylax led the counterattack and wiped them out before they could do any damage. A fellow soldier by the name of Borglander fired a silver-stream arrow into the last Jibberjab’s eye. It died laughing.

“WHERE did they come from?” hollered the commanding officer, Keegler Supreme.

“Came at us in the night, sir,” answered Crylax as he wiped his blade of the corrosive dust that Jibberjabs left behind. “No trace no source NO NOTHIN TO FIGURE THIS OUT!!!”

“Slow the fires, lieutenant,” admonished Keegler Supreme. “Clear heads clear the way.”

“Yes sir.” Crylax scanned the horizon, brightening now with the dim gray of Autumn morning. It revealed nothing of the carnage that had transpired MERE MOMENTS AGO.

“Jibberjabs,” muttered Keegler Supreme as he paced around the encampment. “The last thing we need.” He turned to the Assol soldiers. “Let’s keep this quiet. Nobody needs to know Jibberjabs have risen.”