Battle insight

The Black cloak Scylus, stands at his post atop the twenty-third tower and surveys the land ahead of him.

Unwelcoming but not so barren as to be unfarmable. Lucky for the wretched humans really. Most of them were originally miners but they’re now forced to work the mean fields to provide food for Narcissus, the Dragon-born troops, his fellow Black cloaks and, of course, the annoying kobolds.
It's hard for him to believe that these creatures are his kin.

His shift will last twelve hours.

Long but hardly taxing. All he has to do is maintain the barrier spell that protects this section of Khajag.

For company, he has one of the Dragon-borns. Although stupid, they are useful.

Looking to his left and right, Scylus can see two of his fellows atop their towers.

He doesn’t smile.

Black cloaks mustn’t give in to their human urges. Their unemotional dragon-blood must rule.

Although he knows the distance between the centre of the towers is precisely one hundred feet, he’s never tested it.

Perhaps he’ll never need to…