The Wali Dalir sat amongst his children, a smile on his bearded face as the the second youngest, a boy of a mere twelve years but blessed with eyes already shining with wisdom, solemnly stood and began to tell his tale. He spoke long and well, of the wind blowing through his hair as he rode over the plains, of the strength of the horse, of the scent of sweat and the flowering trees dotting the foothills of the great mountains as they gave way to the plains at the edge of the sea. He spoke of the people of Tagataa, with whom he exchanged gifts of salted fish and fruit and rice as per their traditions. He spoke of the Urs, long regarded with skepticism and distaste by their people. Then he spoke of the Fivei, long under their tribe's protection, and Dalir's smile faded. His brow furrowed and expression grew dark at the stories of their slaughter as the hordes of the south overwhelmed them as they worked the fields and saw to their herds.
When the boy spoke of the enslavement of those who still remained, Dalir stood and dismissed them all, calling for all the warriors of the tribe to gather. The Fivei had long served as a bulwark to the south, freeing most of their tribe to patrol the northern border, preventing Ursish incursions. With the bulwark destroyed, they would need to ask swiftly. Both in reprisal, and in aggressive defense.
Two armies from 4 move to attack 1.
One army from 4 moves to attack 5.
Wali Dalir demands that all remaining warriors of the Shiroi Yomi withdraw from the regions bordering the Dalirid homeland in order to avoid further bloodshed, and intrude no further, lest the reprisal be as swift and fierce as the wrath of a hurricane.