On the banks of the Black Water River, a wide, sandy beach stretched to a dense thicket.
Bolin had clearly chosen this battlefield with care and was now orchestrating an ambush.
A squad of ten Black Stone Knights charged straight for the riverbank.
They galloped back and forth on the beach about a hundred meters from the river, taunting the enemy.
Murky waves churned in the river, and dozens of green-skinned, tusked Fishfolk poked their heads out. Their wet scales gleamed dimly under the sun.
The Fishfolk chieftain in the lead was a full size larger than its kin and clutched a Bone Fork fashioned from the massive spine of some Magical Beast. It let out a few guttural, indistinct gurgles, then waved its Bone Fork toward the Knights on the shore.
Over twenty Fishman Warriors shrieked as they leaped from the water. They brandished crude wooden clubs, Stone Axes, and even sharp fish bones as weapons, charging unsteadily toward the squad of Knights.
