Torchlight danced on the surface of the curved dagger, as it slashed across the messengers throat. Corach Bonecrusher, the new king of the hyena clan, calmly licked the blood from the edge of his murderous knife. The messenger slumped to the floor, his life gushing from his brand new ear to ear smile. Corach was not angry at the news of his brothers death, quite the contrary, Rogmun Bonecrusher was supposed to die in the desert, but at the hands of the coyote clan, not the homeless rougue Karn Slickblade. Corach, The new king of the hyena clan, would summon the vulture keepers to dispatch a group of the ugly birds north eastward, to intercept and kill the meddling former king of the snake clan. Corach would then call a council of the allied cannibal clans, announcing his rightfull position as king and declaring war on the coyote clan, for the murder of his beloved brother.

The cannibal smiled wickedly, revealing his pointed teeth. It was he who had orchestrated the massacre in the desert. Sending Rogmun and a small party to truce talks with the coyote clan. Then sending a spy to the coyote clan with a false warning of Rogmuns murderous intentions. But he underestimated his brothers prowess and ferocity. The ensuing battle had been a blood bath. The only two left standing, Rogmun Bonecrusher, savage cannibal king of the hyena clan, and, Kazar Battleclaw, warrior king of the proud coyote clan. Kazar advanced on his revolting opponent, with overhand hacks and quick backhand swings of his finely crafted axe, nicking Rogmun several times. Rogmun parried and side stepped with ease though, tearing at Kazar with his serated edged scimitar. Rogmun feinted with a low, two handed thrust, as soon as Kazar commited himself with a low parry, Rogmun released his left hand from the hilt of his sword and punched Kazar in the face, spreading his nose across his cheek in a splurt of blood and cartlidge. Rogmuns right hand quickly followed, the hilt of his sword connecting solidly into the left side of Kazars head. Shaken, Kazar desperatly swung his axe from right to left, with a two handed cut, but Rogmun ducked beneath it and thrust the point of his scimitar upward, cutting through chain mail, bowels and spine of the coyote clan king. Rogmun had to stand on his dead opponents chest to free his beloved scimitar. The black serrated blade, connected to dragon tooth hilt, tore free, along with part of Kazars spine and most of his guts. ” A battle worthy of a bards tale, if anyone was alive to recount it “, chuckled Corach to the corpse at his feet.

Corach rang the bell to sommon a servant. Much had to be done. The counsel would have to be called, messages sent to the clans of the jackyl and the vulture to hasten with all available means of war to move on the coyote clan, before they recovered from the loss of their king. The snake clan also would have to be considered and dealt with, provided Karn Slickblade could out run the viscious vultures that would soon be winging their way toward him. If all went as planned, Corach Bonecrusher would control the entire southern horn of Ta-Brech-A-Graume, Island of the dwarves.
*****
Zendel Stormbringer, dwarven shaman, stood at the mouth of the cave that was the den of the ancient hunter vultures. Zendel dabbed the sweat from his bald, tattooed head, signature of the vulture clan. The cave reeked like rotting meat, but that didnt deter the shaman from scaling the sheer cliff, to awaken the vulture clans ancient ally’s from their long slumber. Spreading his arms wide, the shaman began his calling chant, the words rolling from his toungue without even thinking of them. The chant passed down from generation to generation of vulture clan shamans. Commited to memory at an early age. Apon completion of the chant, Zendel put his head down and cleared his mind, just like his forefathers before him he would have to communicate with the great birds telepathicaly. Mental images came to him before his ears picked up the audable rustling of feathers, and the sound of great talons, scraping and clicking on the caves floor. The stink in the cave increased as the huge bird shambled into view. Truly an impressive creature, the beast, known only as Fleshrender, stood about four feet tall, it spread its wings to the full 10to 12 foot wing span, to shake the dust and cob webs from its jet black feathers.

Zendel sent mental images to the bird, outlining its mission, and promising great rewards apon its succesful completion. The great bird dipped its grotesque, featherless head forward and nuzzled it in the shamans braided beard, indicating its understanding, while zendel lovingly scratched its huge disgusting head, and picked a parasite from its neck feathers. Zendel could now hear other vultures stirring deeper in the cave as they awoke from their slumber. Fleshrender gave an ear piercing screech, calling his brethren to him as he moved to edge of the cave. Jumping into the air and starting the slow deliberate flapping of his great wings, that would him soaring into the night sky. He was followed by his seven, slightly smaller, but no less intimidating, flock of passionless killers, all that remained of the ancient hunter vultures. Zendel Stormbringer proudly watched them wing their way north eastward, until they disapeared into the night. Then he sat, crossed his legs and once again cleared his mind, to establish the telepathic link with Fleshrender, that would allow him to see as the great bird see’s, alowing him the witness Karn Slickblade being torn to bits by huge talons and rending beaks.

****
He felt the prescence of the vultures before he saw them. He would need elven eyesight to see them circling so high, through the pre-dawn gloom.

Karn Slickblade jogged through the night, he was still 5 miles south west of the Rahun river, that disected the southwestern “claw” of Ta-Brech-A-Graume. His goal was to reach the river, south of the rapids and Whitewater pass. There, he would link up with the river patrols.
In accordance with the treaty, drafted by Karn himself during his reign as king, the bear clan, with the aid of the snake clan and some of the lesser clans of the steppes and plains, patroled the vast area south of Whitewater pass. Protecting the villages and mining communities, south- south west of the Red rock mountains, from marauding orc tribes out of the Terror mountains to the west, and the raiding parties from the cannibal clans to the south.

Spurred on by a sudden sense of dread, Karn continued jogging across the grassy savanah. Reaching behind him, he unhooked his helmet from his pack and placed it on his head, then he drew his sword from its scabbard strapped across his back. Both were gifts from Hammer Dragonclaw, king of the dragon clan. The horned helmet and slightly curved sword blade were forged from a silver and iron alloy. Bluish in color, light, yet as hard as tempered steel.

Karn could now see the monstrous vultures overhead, as they started their spiraling descent toward him. Unless he was dead and didnt know it, he knew these were no ordinary vultures. The dwarf veered of to his left, heading for a stand of trees atop a small hill about 200 yards away. If he could make it there, the huge birds would not be able to attack him from overhead.

Seeing his change of direction, increased pace and intended destination, one of the vultures broke off from the rest, and with a blood curdling scream, dove at the running dwarf at breakneck speed. Karn waited until the last possable second and hit the ground, face down. The great vultures razor sharp talons grasping nothing but some strands of blond hair flying out from under Karns helmet.

Wings spread to ease its impact, the vulture landed in the grass, talons raking the earth as it skidded to a halt. Before it could take to the air or turn around to face its adversary, Karn was already on his feet. With a two handed grip on his sword, he hacked from right to left and severed the birds wing at the mid joint. As it screeched in pain, the crippled bird lunged at Karn, vicious curved beak snapping at his exposed right side. The dwarf reversed the direction of his sword, and cleanly parted the birds head from its long neck with a lightning fast back hand cut.

At that moment a second bird hit Karn squarly in the back, the force knocked the wind from his lungs, snapping his head back, almost breaking the dwarves thick neck. He landed face down, on top of the foul smelling corpse of the bird he killed a moment earlier. The only thing that saved Karns life was his heavy pack, carrying his chain mail vest, light alloy, strap on armor plates, food and water. Karn desperatly rolled to his right before the vulture could bury its beak in the back of his neck. Unable to disengage its talons from Karns back, the vultures right leg rolled beneath the dwarf, breaking with an audable “crack”! Karn swung back with his left hand, crushing the birds skull with the pommel of his sword.

Painfully the injured dwarf turned his head to the sky, in time to see a third vulture, talons outstreched before it, descending on him. A split second before impact he heard the “thwack” of a crossbow, he saw the dart hit the bird in the chest, imbedding its barbed head in its spine. Spinal cord severed, the creatures momentum carried it past Karns head, it hit the ground in a heap of feathers and claws.

Karn strained his sore neck to look behind him, before he lost concsiousness, he saw three dwarves running toward him, armed with crossbows. His vision began to swim, then everything went black.

Fleshrender circled high above the earth, observing the scene on the ground with his sharp, binocular vision. He had already lost three of his murderous flock. Calling the remaining four to him, he let out a blood freezing, anguished scream, that made the hair on the dwarves necks stand up, and a chill run down their spines. Fleshrender and his flock turned south and headed for home, defeated for now.

SomeWhere high up in a cave in the southern spur of the terror mountains, Zendel Stormbringer sat bolt upright, eyes wide and covered with sweat. The shaman rose to his feet and walked to the mouth of the cave, into the dim, early morning light, to the edge of the cliff. Spreading his arms wide he leaped off into the air, blessedly losing consciousness before impacting with the jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. Death by suicide and having his bones picked clean by the rending beaks and claws of his beloved hunter vultures, was preferable to bringing the news of his failure to Corach Bonecrusher. Corach Bonecrusher did not accept failure.