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The news of war quickly spread through the rest of the village. For the remainder of the day I saw the pack rushing about, gathering equipment and supplies for tomorrow's march. By nightfall we gathered all that we would need; tents, bedrolls, and food all packed onto worn wooden carts. In the light of the silver moon we began our march.

"I though you said the king ordered for us to march tomorrow?" I said, falling in place beside the general. He chuckled, "The army marches tomorrow. But us..." His teeth showed in a feral grin, "We get to have a bit of fun before they arrive." The rest of the pack laughed and I shivered with anticipation. The thrill of yesterday's skirmish still lingered and I yearned for more.

Because of the supply carts we were forced to stick to the paths, slowly working our way around the city and towards the training grounds. We reached the field at midnight and the General gave the order to set up camp. While much of the pack hurried to unpack and set up the tents, the general pulled me and several others off to the side. "Search the woods. If you find anything that's not supposed to be there, kill it." We nodded and turned towards the trees.

I was about a mile into the far forest when I found their tracks. Reptilian tracks, each sporting three talons, along with human prints had churned up the soil between the ancient roots. In the dim light drifting down through the leaves I followed the tracks. It wasn't long before I picked up their scent as well, only a few days old. It was a thick rancid odor, a vile mix between unwashed humans and some strange oily scent that I could only assume was the dragon-kin's. I howled to alert the rest of the pack and continued to follow the trail.

I soon found what had happened to the missing scouting party. My kin lay before me in a disgraced pile, dead for some time and already infested with maggots and picked at by carrion birds. I snarled with rage and ran after the dragon-kin's trail. Behind me I heard the others as they came across the morbid sight. I ran for several miles before stopping, the human footsteps continued deeper into the forest but the dragon-kin tracks had vanished. I began to head back, my heart heavy with disappointment but I knew it would be foolish to continue to run blindly after a foe that may have long since vanished.

I rejoined the others as they stood around the fallen scouts, chanting the various death rites of our kin. It was the best we could do, we had no way of bringing them back for a proper burial nor could we risk a funeral pyre. It was almost dawn by the time we returned to the camp. "No luck?" the guards asked as we emerged from the forest. Ignoring the guards, we headed straight for General Narkath and gave him the new of what we had found. He bowed his head and muttered something about passing the news on to the King and other generals when they arrived.

I retired to my tent only to be awoken just a few hours later by the clattering of carts and the stomping of feet. The army had arrived while I slept and now the camp echoed with many frantic voices and the sounds of tents and equipment being set up. Orders were given, scouting parties came and went, and the King met with the generals around the main fire pit.

The war had a slow start, the first several days were spent waiting for the return of the many scouts hoping they brought news of the enemy's positions. During this time I spent much of the days with the other berserkers; milling aimlessly about the camp and bored senseless with the seemingly endless waiting. Mikko often joined us and we would sit for hours talking about anything and nothing.

Finally on the morning of the fourth day the scouts returned with news of a platoon of humans bearing the dragon-kin's crest. According to them the platoon was gathered at the edge of one of the small farming villages, about four miles to the west, towards the mountains. The other berserkers and I barely waited for the scout to stop talking before we were running in the direction of the village.

We arrived well before the rest of the army and the scout's information proved true. Beyond the edge of the village we saw the humans. They wore mostly leather armor, bleached a pale brown from the intense desert sun, and they wielded heavy scimitars forged from some strange dark metal. They saw us coming and leapt to their feet, shouting to each other in their own language. In their midst I saw only two dragon-kin. They stood tall over the humans, casting a foreboding presence over the small camp. They each wore a strip of heavy chainmail around their waist and little else. Their iridescent scales glittering in the morning sun.

The dragon-kin shouted orders in their harsh tongue and the humans suddenly fell quiet, forming up in ranks around the camp. We pounced at their frontline and the battle began. It was fast and bloody, the human weapons bit into our flesh but they lacked the strength to do anything more than cause shallow scratches. We had already killed or crippled most of the camps frontline by the time the rest of our army arrived. The camp fell quickly after that, once it became apparent they would lose the fight the two dragon-kin had flown off, their powerful wings beating frantically to carry them out of our archers' range. The remaining humans broke and ran as they saw their leaders fleeing. Some escaped by most were hunted down before they got five hundred feet.

I rose from the back of my prey, blood soaking my arms up to the elbows and splattering across my face and chest. Usav came up behind me and clapped a hand to my shoulder, "Impressive work, Lad. Bit of a shame the dragons turned coward though, eh?" I nodded in agreement as he passed me a length of cloth that seemed to have been cut from one of the tents and I wiped the blood from my fur. To my surprise I had hardly suffered a scratch, curious I pulled a scimitar from a fallen human and inspected the edge. Sure enough, it was rather sharp. Shrugging I tossed it aside "Ain't that strange, this lot seemed rather weak for a raiding party." muttered Usav, binding a long gash that ran down his arm with another rag. I nodded in agreement and we turned our attention to the camp itself, scavenging what few supplies we could find. The rest of the army spread out, searching the surrounding forest and hills for other camps. As we left we checked with the villagers, aside from some harassment from the dragon-kin, they were fine.

The war escalated quickly after that, every day the scouts brought more new of the enemy's position. They were spread across many small camps that lay scattered across the western parts of our lands. We raided them as soon as we heard of their positions and quickly set about establishing our own camps in key areas. During this time we suffered many injuries but few to no casualties. Though as we pressed closer to the mountains we were finding that the camps were becoming larger and better equipped than the ones we had been dealing with.

Progress soon ground to a halt and we found ourselves locked in a stalemate. While we were still winning the skirmishes, the dragon-kin themselves had finally taken to the battlefield. The presence of even just a few of them was enough to hold us at bay. I had seen one of them take on a berserker head on, it was a disturbingly close fight but the berserker eventually won. The warriors were far worse off, the dragon-kin proving to be on equal footing with even our best fighters matching them blow for blow.

Soon funeral pyres burned every night on both sides, like stars against a moonless sky. Many sleepless nights were spent watching the parade of the dead as the healers brought them to the great pyre that danced in the center of the camp. Usav and many others stood by the flames, raising their voices in solemn song. One such night I sat alone by a small cooking fire, its flames burning low, when Mikko came to join me. He sat beside me and pulled an iron scrapper from a pouch, then proceeded to carefully clean the blood and grime from the sigils of his armor. I couldn't help but notice that his arms were covered in vicious cuts that have been coated with the healers' salves.

We sat together for several hours, speaking of the war and trading stories of each other's battles. His platoon had suffered heavy losses during a skirmish earlier in the day. The dragon-kin commander had taken the field and confronted them. Mikko's voice shook as he tried to describe the creature but ultimately words failed him. All I could get out of him was that the commander wielded a pair of spell-fire scimitars, and that the burning blades cut effortlessly through both enchanted armor and flesh. At one point he stopped taking entirely and slumped against me, staring into the fire. Unsure of what to do or say I simply put a hand to his shoulder, I felt him shiver and heard a muffled sob. Whatever the dragon-kin commander did to his platoon it had left its mark on my old friend. Slowly he recovered and I offered him my spare bedroll. He accepted it and collapsed in the far corner of the tent. Within minutes he felt into a fitful sleep.

We were half way through breakfast when General Narkath approached us. "We need guards for a supply run to one of our far camps, you in?" I nodded for I wished to see the other camps. Mikko nodded as well, the general glanced at him. "Though you're not under my command I see little harm in letting you join. Besides a good spellsword could prove useful on this trip." He led us through the camp to the waiting caravan. The only other guard I recognized was Usav, there were a few other berserkers but the entourage was mostly warriors. The general gave the order and we began our journey. To my surprise the general was coming with us, when I asked why he simply told me the King wished for him to go for the highest ranking officer at the other camp was a sergeant.

We talked little along the way, focusing on moving as quickly as possible along the rough trails. It was all going well until I heard a faint chanting from the undergrowth. The others heard it as well, looking around frantically for its source. It was at that point, when we were all staring at a particularly thick patch of brambles, that we were blinded. We heard the sounds of shouting and rushing feet but we were able to do little but lash out blindly, hoping we hit something. There was yet more chanting and a muffled shout from the general.

My eyes began to clear in time to see a group of human rouges, accompanied by a mage, vanishing into the woods. They were dragging the general behind them and I saw the spectral light of a magical binding glittered around his hands, paws, and muzzle. I growled and rushed after them, barely able to keep sight of them as they wove through the trees. The others quickly fell behind for they were still struggling to recover from the mage's spell. I carefully tailed the humans, rage burning within but I forced myself to wait.

I crept through the undergrowth until the humans' camp came into view. The camp itself was little more than a cluster of white tents bearing the dragon-kin's crest. I saw the general lying at their commander's feet, struggling against the mage's bindings. I couldn't hear what was being said over the mounting wind, but I saw the commander shout something back to the cluster of tents. A massive and brutish looking man, clad in heavy armor and carrying a heavy black iron axe, emerged from a tent.

My eyes grew wide as I realized what was going to happen. The wind died down and I heard the commander continuing to shout. "It's not often we get to witness the death of a legend but fortune smiles upon us this day. Here is Narkath, leader of the feral berserkers, supposedly undefeated in battle. But tonight, we end his streak!" The humans cheered.

While he addressed his men I leap from my hiding place and dove at the nearest human, driving him to the ground as I clawed at his face and throat. The others stared in shock, their eyes flicking back and forth between me and the mangled body of their fellow soldier. Before they could realize what was happening I rushed at another. With a vicious snarl I drove my fist into his face. His head snapped back and I heard a series of gut wrenching cracks as the bones of his neck shattered from the force of the blow. A third met his end beneath my jaws as I sunk my teeth into his neck and tore out his throat, I spat a lump of ragged flesh onto the ground at his allies' feet.

In the background I saw the other humans quickly drag the general over to an old tree stump and force him to kneel. The rest of them formed a wall between me and the general as the great axe rose then fell. I heard the sickening thud of the heavy blade burying itself in the wood, and the soft thump of something hitting the ground.

With a vicious cry I rushed headlong into the humans. I worked my way through the camp's defenders, bones breaking and flesh tearing beneath my hands. One human, his armor too thick for my claws to penetrate, stepped between me and the small group still gathered around the fire. He swung a heavy mace and I dodged to one side, grabbing the shaft of the weapon at it whistled over my head. With a savage jerk I wrenched the mace from his hands and swung it in a sharp arch. The flanged head came crashing down on the man's helm. The hardened metal of both mace and helm shattered and shards of broken metal buried themselves in my head and chest. One shard dug deep into my eye, I found myself half blinded from the wound and the blood running down my face. I heard the mage begin to chant and felt the energies of a spell begin to gather around me. I turned towards the sound and hurled what was left of the mace at its source.

I heard the thump of the weapon colliding with the blurred figure, the chanting stopped and the figure crumpled to the ground. I scurried over to the fallen mage, intent on finishing him off. As I crouched over the body I heard the rattling of heavy armor and heard the sound of something heavy being swung through the air behind me. I rolled to the side and the heavy iron axe crashed down on the stunned mage.

As the brute struggled to pull the axe free from the bloody mud I head-butted him. He reeled back, blood pouring from his broken nose. With a grunt of effort I pried the massive axe from the mage's body and began to savagely maul the executioner. By the time I finished his armor was shredded and what was left inside barely resembled a human.

There was now only one human left, I dropped the axe and turned towards the commander. "Your kin claim to fight with honor, yet before me I see little more than a rabid beast." He tried to sound bold but I heard the nervous tremor in his voice. I growled in response and we rushed at each other, meeting in the center of the camp. His blade carved bloody furrows across my chest while my claws tore strips of flesh from his face. After my first assault he tried to back away, fear showing in his eyes. I kept pressing forward with a relentless furry, eventually he fell, tripping over a body. Before he could hit the ground I was upon him, sinking the claws of both hands into the flesh of his throat. With a victorious howl I tore his head from his body.

It was at that moment a raiding party of my kin burst from the forest, rushing into the camp with their weapons drawn. They stopped dead as they reached the center of the camp and slowly lowered their weapons. "Think you could have left a bit of fun for the rest of us, Lad?" Usav muttered, nudging what was left of the executioner with his paw. Several of the others seemed ill as they looked about. Several of them were staring at me and it was then that I realized I was still clutching the ragged stump of the commander's head. Slowly as I began to relax, the head tumbled from my hand and my heart began to pound as the adrenaline faded. My legs buckled as blood continued to run from my chest and face.

I was dimly aware of Mikko shouting a quick spell as I crumpled to the ground. I felt the energies of the spell wrap around me, slowing my fall. I saw two dim shapes rush to my side. Someone slipped a hand under my head and raised a flask to my mouth. The healer's potion burned my throat but I felt a renewed strength flood through me. Slowly I sat, leaning back against someone. "It's scary how much punishment a berserker can take." muttered Mikko, his voice coming from behind me. A healer crouched besides me, wasting no time in treating my wounds. Looking past them I saw Usav searching through the bodies, he turned towards me with a puzzled look. "Lad... where's the General?" Weakly I pointed to the stump.

I heard Usav let out a strangled gasp as he hurried over to the General's body. He gestured for the others to come over and they set solemnly set about preparing the General's body. While they worked the healer finished his work, a small pile of bloody metal shards lay by his knee and my wounds had been covered with a thick salve. "Only one thing left." He told me, "This may hurt, even for a berserker such as yourself." He drew a slender knife from his belt and carefully cleaned it with a rag soaked in yet another potion. With one hand he held open my eyelid and with the other he began to carefully cut out what was left of my ruined eye. Behind me I felt Mikko cringe, however, I remained oblivious to the pain. Once the healer was done he treated a long strip of cloth with his salve and tied it over the bloody socket.

"I'll talk to the mages about getting you a replacement eye, though it may take a while." He told me as he rose, heading over to help the others with the General's body. Mikko helped me to my feet and we stood off to the side while Usav and the rest carefully lifted the General onto a hastily build gurney. With grim faces they lifted the gurney and began the long march back to our camp. Weakly I followed them, Mikko staying close by in case I needed help.

Once we arrived back at our camp Usav filled in the other generals on what happened. I left him to it and slowly walked through the camp, I felt countless eye upon me as I passed, and I ignored them all. "You going to be alright?" Mikko asked as we neared the shallow river that ran by the edge of the camp. I nodded, "Between the death of the General and the thrill of the fight, I just need some time to let my mind settle down." "Alright, give a shout if you need anything." He lightly clapped me on the shoulder and turned back to the camp. I watched him go before I slipped into the river, washing the blood from my fur. The healer's salves had done their job, as the cool water washed away the residue I saw that my injuries had already closed, tender scars forming in their wake.

Later that night we gathered around the humble funeral pyre build for the General. As the flames danced over Narkath's still form, his head resting in his arms, Usav slipped the pan pipes from his pouch. Their eerie and somber melody filled the camp. Another old berserker began to sing a low mournful song. The rest of us rocked back and forth in time with the steady rhythm, slowly adding our voices to the song.

Halfway through, we fell silent as a lone figure appeared at the head of the pyre. A tall and slender wolf-kin, her fur the color of sun bleached bone and her eyes as dark as an open grave. She was naked save for a leather belt around her waist, from it hung a wicked sickle and several leather pouches. We knelt and bowed our heads, it was rare for the priestess of Death to appear before the living. She spoke to someone unseen, in a language that sent chills down my spine. Soon she fell silent and all we could hear were soft footsteps and the crackling of flames. The footsteps stopped before me, "Greetings, Verloth, it's about time we met." Her voice was surprisingly warm, like that of an old friend welcoming me home. I glanced up, only to hastily look away for my face was level with her crotch. She knelt and gently cupped my muzzle in her hands, like her voice, her touch was warm and comforting. She turned my head to meet her gaze, "You've already accomplished much for one so young." She rose and began walking towards the edge of the camp. As she neared the trees she turned back to me, "Come." Nervously I rose and followed her into the forest.

"I've always liked the berserkers, they have a taste for death and mayhem. But you... you've turned it into an art." she told me as we walked. "Thank you, Priestess." She laughed and I felt my heartbeat stutter, "After all this time they still think I'm just a priestess." She muttered. I gave her a questioning look but all she did was give me an enigmatic smile. Eventually we reached a small meadow and strange ethereal music filled the air. She turned to face me, "We have do this dance so many times already." She murmured, as she ran a tender hand down my muzzle, "But this time it is just us." The moon cast a pale light over her bone white fur and her dark eyes shown with a ghostly blue light. There was a bizarre beauty to her, a beauty I found irresistible. "Come Boy, dance with Death."

There, in the eerie meadow, we danced to the music of the dead. In comparison to my dance with the priestess of Life, this was slower and somehow far more sensual. I was acutely aware of her comforting warmth as she pressed herself against me. We danced for an hour before she stopped in the middle of the meadow and looked up at me. "There are so few like you, so few that find such beauty in death. You say you live for the fight but you really live for death, for you never feel as alive as you do when you're so close to death." I stared at her, captivated by her words and beauty. I felt her arms around me and my eyes drifted shut as, in the slivery moonlight, our muzzles met. My legs gave out, we slowly sank to the ground and darkness followed.