They were the last of the tribe. Just two warriors to avenge the treachery of their scorch-eyed ‘allies’ who had sneaked into their village the night before and killed all the warriors but them. The tribe was dead and there was no way they would be rebuilt. Their God did not award the careless and unable, He did not even award those who fought brilliantly but died. Only those who fought well and lived were taken to His side. They could not sense Him or His Angels, but they knew they watched from above and judged.

But the two did not care. They knew they had only one last battle then they would accept their fate and die, but die well, taking their enemies with them. With a silent look they nod to one another and began their final trek. Following the tracks of their one-time allies back to the village they had came from. And there vengeance would be brought down on their heads. Treachery, no matter how successful, should be punished, no matter the odds.

It took two passages of the sun before they found their destination on the horizon, there the two stopped and made their preparations, readying weapons and adorning ritual war paint before praying one last time. They knew at least one Angel was watching, they recognised the signs the tribe Shaman had told them of.
Preparations made and prayer over the pair began the slow process of sneaking towards the village of their enemy. Tonight it would all be over. Tonight vengeance would be theirs.

The sentry gave a muffled gasp as his head was grasped and torn off. The first warrior dropped the head on the corpse and nodded to his brother warrior. They had to be quick now before the sentries changed and the death was discovered, pausing only to claim the weapon dropped by the sentry the pair dropped down the inner side of the wall and into the shadows. There they paused only for a moment to check the bearings and any out-cries. Nothing. With a slight nod of the head the first warrior was off running to the first hut, his companion just behind.

The pair burst into the hut and fell upon the sleeping inhabitants instantly. Moments later the two rolled to their feet and glanced about. No one else was in the hut and the two sleepers were dead. The second warrior picked up both weapons and tested the wait and balance with a few quick swings and chops before nodding in satisfaction. It went against their tribe’s tenants. But the tribe was no more and so they would take every advantage open to them.

They left the hut and entered the next. It was empty so they left immediately and crossed the dirt path to the huts opposite. In less than a minute both huts and been checked and their inhabitants killed without a sound, it was then a patrolling warrior turned the corner and saw them. A moment of silent surprise was all the two had before the scorch-eyed warrior raised the alarm. The second warrior took no chances and threw one of the weapons he’d picked up. Moments later the blade was firmly imbedded in the enemy warrior, who dropped without a sound. The two brother warriors hurried up and checked both corners. No one was about so they dragged the dead warrior into one of the huts and reclaimed both the thrown weapon and the weapon the enemy warrior had been carrying. Now both warriors had two weapons, and with that they split up and went their own way.

The first turned left down the path whilst his brother warrior turned right and headed the opposite way. Now speed was all that mattered, the alarm would be raised at any point. And even as that thought crossed the warrior’s mind he heard the shouts and knew that the dead sentry had been discovered. The warrior broke from his crisp jog into full sprint and smashed down the first scorch-eyed warrior he encountered, using his greater bulk to knock the enemy back and stun them for the critical second needed to bring a weapon up and smash it into the groggy warrior. A grunt was the only sound he heard as he let go of the handle and turned from the falling corpse to head deeper into the village.

Many were dead but the entire village was awake and searching for their attackers. Which was not that difficult, as both warriors had foregone stealth in favour of speed and ferocity. The first warrior had no idea how his brother warrior fared but knew that even if he had already been caught and killed he had made a good account of himself. The first warrior gave the other no more thought; a group of scorch-eyed warriors had turned the corner and found him. With a roar he charged into the enemy blade swinging, and succeeded in killing two before the rest could react, and then he was on the defensive as five blades were brought against him. Block, parry, block and strike. A scorch-eyed warrior fell gurgling to the floor and the rest tried to take advantage of the opening. One succeeded and scored a deep gash across the warrior’s off-arm, the one without a weapon. The warrior cried out in pain but did not lose his focus; instead he ducked and stabbed another of his opponents in the chest before rolling to his left and taking another in the gut. The last two of the scorch-eyed closed upon the prone warrior, weapons raised to strike. The warrior gave them no chance and instead launched himself feet first, using his powerful arms and back muscles to propel him towards his enemies. He caught both square in the chest with his feet and knocked them to the floor, riding them down just enough so that they hit the floor and his weight was brought down on the fragile chests. Two wet cracks and both scorch-eyed warriors jerked once as their chests were crushed.
The muscled warrior stepped off the corpses, ignoring the gore caking his feet, and went prowling for more enemies to kill. He was not disappointed as another group charged the corner, saw him and charged down the thoroughfare. The warrior smiled coldly and crouched, seemingly to take their charge, but just as the group was about to reach him the warrior launched himself up into the air and down behind the surprised group, who had no chance to defend themselves against the madman that was behind them, then amongst their midst. Seconds later the group was dead and the warrior remained. Shaking his head in disgust he turned and headed deeper into the village, hearing the sounds of shouting.

The warrior quickly discovered the source of the shouting; there were a score or more of scorch-eyed warrior in the village centre, fighting his brother warrior. Even as the warrior arrived at the village centre he saw his brother warrior kill a handful more enemy warriors before finally succumbing to wounds and flashing blades. The warrior silently bid his fallen brother warrior farewell and sprinted the distance separating him and those that still stood before him. He crashed into the enemy warriors, sword swinging.

Eventually the last of the scorch-eyed fell to the gore caked warrior who had invaded their village with just one other earlier. Looking about, wiping gore from his face, the warrior found no others standing and realised that it was getting light. It was dawn and he had destroyed those who had destroyed his tribe. Looking about himself once more the warrior ascertained he was alone then raised his gore caked arms, bloodied blade in hand, to the rising sun and roared his triumph.
He was rewarded by the sounds of thunder, the ground shaking. Turning the warrior discovered a giant walking towards him. After a moment the warrior lowered his arms and prepared to fight one last time, but then froze in surprise when the giant stopped, knelt and brought it’s face down to near level with the warriors. “Good.” Rumbled the giant, and smiled. Then it spoke one more word. “Sleep.” The warrior barely understood what had been spoken before his slumbering body crashed to the ground. The giant’s smile disappeared and it stood up, brushing sand from its knees, before bending and picking the warrior up.

“S313D912 shows higher levels of aggression then previous generations. It also shows increased cognitive processing in regards to war craft.” A low chuckle came out. “Ladies and Gentleman. I do believe we have finally found the basis for our new range of combat capable Doobries. Just please don’t let it be known we used Brainwaster Doobries as test subjects. I doubt that Dark Lament, and especially not Teeth would be impressed.” The last was followed by murmurs of agreement. “What are you hoping to derive from these experiments?” Asked one person. The research results shrugged slightly. “Apart from more brutal Doobries the tapes of the experiment, to be more precise of the test subjects, will be presented as a new television programme, once I convince someone to accept the part with Brainwaster Doobries. I was thinking of calling it ‘Let There Be Fight.’” There were mutterings of possibilities.

The speaker smiled. “In that case I bid you all a good day and hope to see you in the future.” Everyone in the room stood and made their way out, except one. This last person walked over to the speaker. “What are you going to do with this Doobrie, and the others I know you have pulled from the experiment?” The fellow who led the meeting smiled coldly. “They will fight a gladiator style battle, and recorded, until there is only one. And that one? Well I’ll have no need for it….” He chuckles and leaves the room. The person who remained looked at the unconscious Doobrie in the centre of the table and shrugged. “It’s not like it actually lives.” With another shrug he too left the room.