[Squirrelloid]

A man with the same strange tattoos as the fleeing savages, but cloaked in a long robe, stands atop a hilltop watching the advance of the gilded scorpion horror. At last he speaks, and the wind itself carries his words to the creature's ears.

"Terrible one, your might is without question, and you are great and powerful. But know that we may be of use to you in the coming war. We stand betwixt you and two nations who might resist your power, and should you restore our land to us and leave to us those lands bordering our keep, we pledge not to come in warfare against you, a shield to complement your fine golden sword, for a period of at least one year. Take what council you need, and when you have an answer for us, speak it to the wind and it will find its way to our ear."