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The dragon-kin weren't as eager to fight as we thought. Days passed and their army slowly advanced across the barren plains. Tension was high throughout the camp, my kin milled about desperately searching for things to keep themselves busy. The sounds of grindstones and hammers sounded from the warrior units as they constantly honed their weapons and knocked the dents from their armor. The archers sat about fletching arrows, while the mages practiced their spells day in and day out. The berserkers on the other hand, spent their time playing cards and telling tales while the sound of Usav's pipes drifted over the camps. I myself spent much of my time with the King and other generals, listening to them endlessly discussing strategy. During these meetings I stood off to the side, bored and having little advice to offer.

Finally the day came when the dragon-kin army was close enough for us to clearly see their ranks, though they stayed just out of our archers' range. As night descended, an odd stillness fell over the camp. Restless, I took the first watch. I stood in the dim torchlight, facing the distant lights of the enemy camp. As the night dragged on I felt my heart begin to pound in anticipation of the coming battle. When the time came to retire to my tent I was too pent up to sleep. I sat by the fire in the center of the camp, staring into the flames while I aimlessly dug my claws into the ground.

"Odd place to be sleeping, Sir." Usav's voice woke me. Blearily I looked around, dark grey clouds loomed overhead and rain had just begun to fall. "Best hurry, the others are waiting for you." He passed me a bag of some kind of jerky, "'Fraid there ain't time for a proper breakfast." he told me as we worked our way to the front of our ranks. As always the pack would be the frontline, with the warriors and mages following close behind. As I took my position I heard the distance chants of the dragon-kin and their allies. "There's too many for us to waste time fighting to the death. Cripple and maim only, let the others finish them off." I ordered and the others nodded.

The dragon-kin army drew closer and the first volley of arrows fell to earth. Our mages conjured great shields and the arrows clattered uselessly against them. I gave a signal and the pack rushed forward only to find that the dragon-kin seemed to have expected this for they had a row of pike men armed with heavy boar spears waiting for us. We leapt and twisted about, slipping through gaps in their ranks. One spear buried itself in my side, with a snarl I ripped it loose and tore it from its wielder's hands. I whirled it around and slammed the tapered blade into his chest, sinking it up to the cross guard. I heard the clattering of armor behind me and spun, the spear's blade carving a crimson line across the soldier's throat. Around me the rest of the pack fought hard, slowly forcing their way farther into the enemy ranks.

With a series of howls the rest of our kin followed, the air was soon filled with the sounds of clashing steel and the cries of the wounded and dying. Abandoning the spear, I leapt from humans and dragon-kin alike, my teeth and claws flashing at tendons with the intent of crippling my prey. Behind me the warriors and spellswords followed, cutting down any that were left alive. I felt countless blades bite into my flesh while arrows buried themselves in my chest and spells splashed against my hide, the spell-fires quickly extinguished by the pouring rain. I couldn't help but to begin to laugh as humans and dragon-kin alike fell before me. The thrill of the battle being far greater than that of the previous skirmishes and hunts. In the background I heard Death's voice over the sounds of battle, speaking in the tongues of the dead as she guided the souls of our kin to her halls. The dragon-kin and their allies fought hard at first but as the fight dragged on they became more and more demoralized. Several times I saw humans break ranks and run, most of them getting brought down by spells or arrows.

It was midafternoon and the rain still fell when the battlefield went silent. Then an earth shaking roll of thunder sounded and the dragon-kin fell back and to the sides, their mages conjuring barriers to keep us from attacking. A lone figure walked down the newly created path, a dragon-kin woman, the only reason I knew it was a woman was that she was completely naked with strange runes carved deep into her dark scaly hide. Tall and lithe, she was an impressive sight. Four great horns rose from the crown of her head and curled back towards her neck, her wings tattered and scarred from countless battles. In each hand she held a scimitar, longer and narrower than the ones used by the rest of her army, and the ethereal glow of spell fire flickered around the twin blades. The enemy ranks knelt as she passed them and we could only stare in shock at this strange display. I remembered what Mikko had told me a few nights ago and realized she must be their commander, I quickly alerted all that were nearby in hopes that my message would reach the other generals and the King.

As she neared the front, the dragon-kin and their allies rose, their eyes flickering with renewed strength. The barriers dropped and the woman knocked a warrior's head from his shoulders with a casual flick of her blades. As the head hit the ground we clashed once more. Despite their reinvigorated morale the enemy still fell quickly before us. The commander held her ground, her blades dancing through air and flesh with a deadly grace.

Slowly she and the remaining dragon-kin began to recover lost ground, cutting down the warriors and berserkers as they passed. I don't know what drove me, but I rushed through the battlefield, eager to confront the commander. She stood in a large clearing, the bodies of both our kin scattered about the ground like so many broken toys. Facing her, I shouted a challenge. As she turned I felt an oncoming rush of energy and someone slammed against my back, knocking me to the ground. I looked over my shoulder in time to see a wave of spell fire engulf Mikko. The intense flames ignored the pounding rain as his skin blacked and cracked. As he opened his mouth to scream the flames rushed in, devouring him from the inside. I felt the heat on my face as his body collapsed and the flames roared, quickly reducing my oldest friend to ash.

I let out a pained howl, only to cough up blood as my vocal cords tore. I rose and faced the dragoness once more, she laughed and flourished her blades in a mocking salute. She called something in her kind's harsh sibilant language and the other dragon-kin formed a circle around us, holding my kin at bay. With my throat ruined I couldn't even growl or snarl as I rushed at her, raw fury burning in my mind and blocking out all else. Her blades came up and met my assault, burying themselves in my stomach. She lifted me above her head only to slam me back down, the blades coming lose with a series of wet pops. I didn't feel any of it, leaping to my feet I drove a fist into her gut. She doubled over but swung a blade at my head as she recovered. I was too close, her blade was unable to connect. In a flurry of movement I wrenched her arm from its socket and broke her wrist. The blade tumbled through the air, carried by the momentum of her swing, as her arm fell limply to her side.

I grabbed the blade from where it landed, the spell fire reacting to my anger and burning with a frightening intensity. For over an hour we dueled, the enchanted scimitars clashing with bone shattering force as they carved lines of fire through the air. Slowly as she began to weaken I sensed victory and grew even more relentless with every attack, my rage becoming a sadistic glee as every clash drew more and more of her blood. Finally she staggered and collapsed but as I stood over her to deliver the final blow she suddenly lunged and drove her blade into my knee. With a savage twist she tore my leg apart and I tumble to the ground. I threw myself at her and we grappled with each other, struggling to gain the upper hand. Finally I had her pinned beneath me and grabbing her blade, I drove it deep into her chest. I felt her convulse and her scream deafened me as the burning blade sunk through scales and muscle to pierce her heart. Not trusting her mage-spells, I didn't let go of the blade until I saw her aura flicker and go dark. I truly did not want to have to battle her again should her wounds not prove fatal.

The dragon-kin that had surrounded us quickly fell back as I glared up at them from where I sat upon their leader's rapidly cooling corpse. My kin forced their way through, only to stop and stare. Standing side by side with our enemy, I can only imagine their shock at my ragged and bloodied form and the intense rage still burning in my eye. One warrior finally worked up the courage to approach me and offer me his hand. Ignoring his hand, I grabbed his spear and bracing the butt of the weapon against the ground, I hauled myself to my feet. Wolf-kin and dragon-kin alike stood aside as I hobbled past, using the spear as a staff. As I walked my rage faded, only to be replaced with a pain so deep even I could feel it.

The healers had a fit when I finally arrived back at our camp. They helped me onto a cot in their tent but as they looked over my wounds their eyes grew dark. They shook their heads, muttering amongst themselves. Between the two holes in my gut and the seared stump of my leg, not to mention the countless gashes that covered my body from throat to tail, they felt there was little they could do. "Move." came a curt and hoarse voice as Helgarth forced her way through the group of healers. "What did I tell you about dying too soon, you damned fool." She sat beside me and began pulling various herbs and jars from her bag. "All because you have earned Death's favor doesn't mean you're immortal. Or do you think dying is the best way to win her heart?" I lay there and weathered her abuse. My anger was gone by now, leaving only an empty void in its place. We were victorious, but it felt hollow. In the distance I heard the rest of our army returning to the camp and soon the rest of the wounded began to fill the healer's tents. The rest of the healers rushed to see to them but Helgarth stayed with me.

Throughout the rest of the day people came to visit me. The King and other generals were amongst the first, congratulating me on my victory. I nodded and pretended to look proud. The rest of the berserkers came soon after, injured but in high spirits. I couldn't help but notice that Usav wasn't among them. Night fell and the old berserker still didn't come and the smell of pyres soon drifted through the camp. Listening closely, I couldn't hear his voice amidst those of the funeral songs. Curious and already dreading what I would find, I picked up the spear from where the healers had left it. Wearily I rose and hobbled towards the tent door.

A hand like a steel claw clamped down on my shoulder before I could leave. With a silent growl I tuned to face whoever had the gall to try and hold me back. I found myself staring into Helgarth's pale silver eyes, "There is nothing to be had by the pyres but misery and more pain." I snorted and turned away, trying to break free of her grip. The old woman held on to me with shocking strength, several minutes passed before she suddenly let go. "Then go if you so wish." She sounded sad as she turned away and returned to her rounds. "It's hard to watch a friend die, but how do you think a mother feels when she watches her son burn on the pyre?" she called as I ducked through the door. I frowned, the meaning of her words unclear to me.

I limped along the rows of pyre, seeing many familiar faces beneath the dancing flames. Finally I found Usav, the old wolf lay upon a pyre, his arms folded over the great hole in his chest from where a dragon-kin had torn out his heart. I tried to cry out, only to double over in pain and cough up blood once more. Trembling I leaned heavily against my spear, gasping for breath as tears ran down my muzzle. Slowly my strength faded and I slumped to the ground, the spear clattering as it fell from my limp fingers. My kin came and went, those that knew Usav offered me what little comforts they could. As the flames burned low Helgarth emerged like a spirit from the darkness. She bowed her head and a single tear ran down her ancient muzzle. "I knew the day would come when Death would take my boy. I always hoped I would be there to welcome him to her halls, but now it seems he would be the one to welcome me." I looked up at her in shock, finally understanding her words from earlier, as she passed me her staff, "Death has left to lead them home, Boy. But once her work is done, then perhaps she may return." With that she led me back to the tent. Along the way I vaguely remembered Usav telling me his mother was a powerful healer and shaman when he was showing me around the village, but I never expected her to still be alive. Now that I knew, I could see Usav's familiar rough features in Helgarth's ancient visage.

I awoke from a nightmare, Mikko's death playing over and over in my head, with yet more tears staining my muzzle as ragged gasps slipped from my ruined throat. A gentle hand pressed a cloth soaked in cool water to my forehead, "Shhh, just relax." A warm and comforting voice told me. I looked to my side to see not a healer, but Death. Her pale fur glowing in the dim light of the shuttered lantern. "If it's any comfort, I found little joy in leading their souls to my halls." She wiped the tears from my face. Slowly I relaxed, I couldn't be angry with her for she was not the one that decided their fates. Leaning against her, I couldn't help but smile as she told me my friends' final messages. "Well fought, Lad. Don't go dying too soon just for an excuse to come see us." was Usav's, "I really don't know how you do it and I'm not sure you do either. Just try and look after yourself." Mikko had her pass on. I didn't need her word to know she would treat them well. Huddling close to her, I fell back into a fitful sleep.

Morning came and Death was still beside me, asleep on her chair. Her eyes fluttered open as the healers hurried about, gathering their supplies. "We're packing up camp, you'll be traveling with us. Most of the other berserkers already left, they told us they'd be waiting back at the village." One of them told me. I nodded, accepting the meager breakfast another offered me. "Hopefully next time we met it'll be under better circumstances. But until then, there's work to be done." Death leaned over and kissed me before fading from view.

A healer brought me a crutch, I ignored his helping hand and hauled myself up. With some difficulty I hobbled outside, watching the rest of the camp get broken down while the healers finished their work. Within the hour we were heading back towards the city, I refused to ride in the wagons with the rest of the wounded. I followed a short distance behind, carefully working my over the roots and ruts that marred the path. It was late morning by the time I reached the city, well after the rest of the army had returned. I must have made for quite a sight as I limped through the street, heavily bandaged and missing a leg.

In contrast to the silent city, cheers greeted me as I finally arrived home. A mug was pressed into my hand and I was all but dragged into the tavern. Berserkers young and old practically begged me to tell the story of my fight with the dragon-kin commander, even though they had all been there to see it. It took me a while but I eventually managed to convince them that I couldn't talk. This didn't seem to dishearten them for instead they started telling me their tales from the battle.

Late in the afternoon Helgarth hobbled into the village, she was accompanied by two of the court artisans. One wore the heavy leather apron of a blacksmith while the other had flakes of gold clinging to his fingertips. "Drink this." She said, shoving a vial of some potion into my hand. I gave it a tentative sniff, it smelt utterly foul but I forced myself to down it. It burned and I began to cough as something tickled my throat. "Thanks." I said as my throat settled down. My voice was harsh and quiet, but at least I could speak. "Mustn't have been a strong as I though." Helgarth muttered, tossing the vial into a pouch. "Oh well, moving on." She pulled a measuring tape from another pouch and began taking measurements of my remaining leg as well as the stump. All the while she was reading off various numbers, the artisan with the gold flecked fingers was trying his best to scribble them down as she went. Finally she finished, "These two may have an idea for patching up your leg. I think they're mad, but they say the same of me." The old healer laughed and left without any further words. The artisans remained and they quickly explained their idea. It sounded strange but if it works, it'll certainly be impressive. They told me it would take several weeks to finish.

For the next three weeks I spent most of my time in the tavern rather than my home. The house felt strangely empty without Usav, even the others that lived there seemed put off by the old wolf's death. I was sitting with a group of the older berserkers when the artisans found me, discussing my position as general. It seemed that many of them still wished for me to lead despite my injuries. I thanked them for their support before turning towards the artisans. They bowed before presenting their idea. With a needlessly dramatic flourish they pulled the cloth from their cart. A steel replica of my leg lay before me, runes carved carefully into its surface. I could feel the energies radiating from it and it even had its own aura, a cold blue in contrast to the fiery red of the living.

It twitched as I picked it up, the steel strangely warm and surprisingly light. Without a word I set it down and unwrapped the bandages from my stump. A healer and one of the artisans careful set the prosthetic in place and tightened its clamps. I felt steel and magic sink into my flesh followed by an odd tingling. Curious, I tried to stretch my leg, the steel limb moving smoothly at the knee, the paw flexing in a disturbingly accurate manner. Slowly I stood and moved through a series of stretches. The enchanted limb felt strangely real, almost as if it were. Smiling I jotted a few notes on a scrap of paper and passed it to them, "Give this to the King, he'll make sure you get paid well for this." I told them, my voice hadn't changed since I took Helgarth's potion but it somehow carried easily over the din of the tavern. Beaming they took the paper and carefully tucked it into a pouch. Before they left the metalsmith told me how to care for the steel and one of them had some rather interesting news. "The court advisors wanted us to tell you, the dragon-kin leaders are coming for peace talks. The King is holding a ball to both celebrate our victory and welcome our guests." He gave me the time and day of the celebration before the two men hurried back to the city.

I spent the days leading up to the celebration getting use to my new leg, though I had a feeling the artisans wouldn't appreciate my methods. Between brawling the other berserkers and footraces through the forest, I put the prosthetic through the same paces I used to put myself through while preparing for my trials. To my surprise it held up extremely well, the spells protecting the metal from anything and everything I could come up with.

The night of the celebration came and I found myself at the gates to the King's keep. I dressed in the finery of a noble but was adorned only with an insignia designating my rank as general. With a heavy sigh I stepped into the grand hall, I never cared much for the parties of nobles yet here I was, dressed as one of them. A band played in the far corner while the court danced. The other generals were also present, all looking far more comfortable in their fine clothes and needless decorations than I. The dragon-kin ambassadors stood together in a small clump towards the king's throne. Nervously avoiding eye contact with everyone they even seemed to edge further towards the wall when they saw me. I walked slowly through the hall, my metallic paw clicking against the stone, at a loss of what to do with myself.

Throughout the night many of the women of the court came up to me, wishing to dance. I should have expected it, after all I was here as both a general and war hero, but their advances constantly caught me off guard. The night quickly became awkward and I was contemplating leaving early when the great doors swung open. Curious as to who could be arriving so late, we turned, only for most of the court to gasp as Death stepped into the great hall. For once she wore more than her worn belt, she was dressed in a simple tunic and leggings, a look that was at odds with the other women of the court. Her outfit seemed to be pure black but as I looked closer I saw elegant designs embroidered across the tunic with a dark scarlet thread. She still wore the belt, her sickle's edge glittering in the light of the many candles.

The entire court watched as she strode across the hall and I took her hand. "Surprised?" she asked as I leaned down and kissed the back of her hand. I smiled and nodded, "They'll be talking about this for quite some time, don't you think?" I said, "Then let them talk." she laughed as the band began playing once more. They struck up a slow song and Death and I began to dance, they eyes of the court still upon us. The rest of the night passed quickly and before I knew it Death and I were walking the winding path back to the village. Along the way we talked of whatever came to mind, everything from jokes and stories to more serious things such as the recent war.

For almost two centuries I led the berserkers in everything from border skirmishes to dealing with bands of rogues that threated the outlying villages. During this time many of the younger berserkers challenged my leadership. I fought them all and won and before long my reputation surpassed even that of Narkath's. I could have had anything in the kingdom if I so desired, but I chose to stay in my humble room at the back of the old house. I could have had any woman I wanted as well, though I chose to stay loyal to Death. I was willing to wait the weeks and even years between her fleeting visits. All the while friends came and went, however, there were none like those that I had lost in that final battle with the dragon-kin.

The magic of the crystal slowly faded as the fire burned low. The townsfolk found themselves sitting before the old wolf as he finished his story. "Finally it was time to retire, the spells in my leg began to fail and there was plenty of young blood to take my place. As I left the King gave me this staff as a parting gift. I stayed in the village for a while but it's no place for an old soldier. So in the end I came here, to my mother's home." Velroth stood and helped himself to a mug of ale from the bar. "You lived alone for so long, why come here all of a sudden?" asked one human that sat towards the back of the tavern. "What better place that a tavern to meet an old love." he smiled. As he spoke the tavern doors opened and Death arrived. "Finally ready to come home, you stubborn old fool?" she asked as the other wolf-kin and many of the others bowed their heads. Velroth chuckled, "Aye, I've told my story, now there's little left to say."

He knelt before Death and tilted his head back, she drew the sickle and pressed it to his throat. The silvery blade slid effortlessly through his flesh though it left no mark. As it left the far side of his neck his body crumpled and in its place knelt Velroth's spirit. The pale apparition looked like him in his prime, both legs and eyes intact. It rose and embraced Death, the two of them fading away before the silent tavern.

News of the old wolf's death spread quickly and soon the small village was overrun with berserkers and members of the wolf-kin's court. Even the new king arrived, standing tall over the others, his normally jovial emerald eyes glistening with tears as he watched the healers set the pyre alight. As the funeral songs echoed in the night Velroth took his place in the Halls of the Dead, his beloved Death to his right, and three familiar faces to his left.