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The Death of `Machinegun' Morgan
Written by Crusher, March 20, 2003 (date on e-mail)

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Dawn caressed the shores of the cliffside, the ocean's roaring breath like a rhythmic lullaby interrupted by the sounds of war drawing near. The Battle of Ortano continued far behind them, the humans advancing the night through. The pack arose to Erdezundet's nudges as he walked the small camp and drew them into the morning. By that time, Bluteckzahn's body had rested, and he was strong enough to build his wolfen body up to hispo that the rest of his injuries could heal. Silently they rose and walked together, heading north to stay ahead of the front.

Within the hour Bluteck paused, nose lifted skyward. The pack took to warform as his warning. By then they could smell it as well- thick urine on cold bark. The territory of another pack... Erde's head lifted high and a powerful howl boomed from his throat in introduction. It was only a few moments wait before the Lords set upon them.

Geistmordernin's snarl was silenced in an instant as the silver blade arced silently through the air and into his throat. With a growl Erde lunged for the source, quickly locking claws and snapping viciously at the Shadow Lord's throat. Before teeth could even meet flesh, though, his left arm twisted and gnarled into uselessness. With a powerful twist, his other arm cracked loudly as the Lord alpha turned it backward and clamp his fangs around the top of his neck. Bluteck shifted side to side in hispo, teeth tearing at the air in attempt to keep the other two hispo at bay. Morgan stood haggard and beaten, trying desperately to stop the swinging blades of the pack's four and fifth from meeting his body, but he couldn't keep up with them... his flesh parted with pass after pass, and Bluteck's forelimb lay lifelessly at the shoulder in crinos, his leg in similar state. They were finished without question.

Erde's crimson eyes winced shut as the futility and desperation washed over him, mingling with the trails of blood trickling through his fur in a race to touch the ground. With a haggard breath, his withered claw brushed cool metal, warming softly to the touch.. His body shook, the air cold on him... his body cold... breathing hurt so much... His left hand lashed up violently, clasping tightly onto the Shadow Lord's throat and rending the flesh free in a fan of blood, cutting a sunken path into the frost beneath them. With that the Lord released his other arm and fell in to the sputtering sound of the air evacuating his corpse. The four others of the Lord's pack turned their attention from the pathetic scraps of the Fenrir's and stood before him in an arc, four crinos gazing at him and snarling threats of death and agony.

Erde's eyes shone like emeralds as the dawn's rays struck them, and within the same breath he launched himself forward, claws outstretched to meet his foes. His left arm quickly blocked two claws with a single bone shattering arc, making path for Erde's own to sink into flesh. Blood flew with every strike. The soft rain of red sprinkled down upon the forest, melting frost in its warmth.

Bluteckzahn stood shakily and approached his alpha with a warm heart, the victory amazing... to have fought so many singlehanded without injury. Wolf's tongue praised the warrior for his prowess, and was silenced with crushing force. Blut whined but once, before his throat was crushed. Erde help the lupus body before him and stared at it with narrowed eyes, the thin tendrils of canine blood dripping into a pool at his feet. "I don't need you... I don't need anyone. I'm the strongest now, and Hitler, Roosevelt, the bastard Morningki-" His words ended with the bitter sputter of blood from his tongue. A point of silver stuck gently through his chest by the heart, the handle of the Lord's klaive trapped in his shoulders. With a staggering turn, Erde gazed upon Morgan, eyes empty of thought.. cadaverously distant. Morgan jolted, ribs splintering as his own heart was ripped free from his chest. Erdezundet fell in that moment, body striking the earth devoid of breath. The world turned red in Morgan's eyes... the air frozen to his skin, everything spinning around itself and fading into one shade of dimming gray. The roar of ocean mixed with the battlecries of distant men, the advancing front not far from the bloodbath. With a soft, powerless hand he picked up the metal glove and staggered... pacing haggardly to the Cliffside. The earth turned black to him that morning, as he fell into the dawn's sunlight and to the ocean waves... holding nothing but that glove, and forty pounds of weight... the weight of his machinegun.

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Told by Edward Morgan, Adren, Philodox, Bone Gnawer

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