They plunged directly into the muddiest and most dangerous core of the region.
Like phantoms, they moved at high speed through the waist-deep mire, their slick, serpentine tails allowing them to traverse the bog as if it were solid ground.
They took the most efficient path, making a beeline for Black Stone Territory.
The Swamp Magical Beasts along their path, from ferocious croclizards to herds of spike-backed wild boars, all recoiled in terror, clearing the way. They sensed the troop's unified intent and the suffocating, venomous aura it exuded.
Their animal instincts screamed at them that this troop was not prey, but an incarnation of death—purer and more efficient than they could ever be.
...
The next morning, the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon's thin mist, gilding the silhouette of the Black Stone Mountain Range in pale gold.
