The Wasteland Warlord did not wait to be found.
It came to meet Khao'khen.
The strike team had been moving through the southwestern corrupted territory for twelve hours when the ground beneath their feet began to vibrate. Not the tremors of approaching footsteps or the rumble of a corrupted host on the march. This was different. Rhythmic. Deliberate. The heartbeat of the earth itself being seized and manipulated by a will that treated geology as a weapon.
Dhug'mur felt it first. The Rock Bear chieftain's connection to the earth was instinctive, bred into his people through generations of living in mountain terrain where the difference between stable ground and a landslide was knowledge that determined whether your clan survived the spring thaw.
