Allherd

The Allherd is the greatfray that believes itself the only true one. Its conviction — bellowed from a thousand throats and disputed by no beast wise enough to keep its horns — is that every scattered herd in the Mortal Realms is nothing but a strayed splinter of the Allherd itself, wandered from the parent horde and forgotten where it belonged. To gather those splinters back is not conquest, in its reckoning, but reunion, however much blood the reuniting takes.

Its beastlords rule through sheer brute charisma, the dominance of the strongest bull, while its bray-shamans hold the herds through dread, croaking prophecies even the boldest gor dares not defy. Together they call the wild things of the realms to their banners — herd upon herd upon herd, drawn from forest and ruin and shadowed valley until the greatfray swells past any counting. When it moves at last, it does not skirmish; it stampedes. The Allherd is the beast-tide as a force of nature, a single enormous herd of braying fury that strikes the works of civilization like a landslide with horns. Cities that withstood armies for centuries have been trampled flat in an afternoon, and where it passes there remains only churned earth and the fading thunder of hooves already moving on toward the next thing built too tall.