Snaga crouches down low in the deep shadows of the giant trees of Drenai, he sniffs the air carefully, for if he is out here looking for prey the other predators of the jungle are as well. He cannot see them, but he can sense his brothers are around him, ghosts in the trees, their own predatory instincts screaming as they wait for the first sign of their prey.

A low rustle amongst the trees gives it away before the trees start to bend as the massive form of a Bodarch forces it's way through the forest. It stands easily twenty feet tall with large ten foot barbed tusks sticking out from under it's jaw. It is covered in thick fur and tough skin forming a tough natural armour. 

It's four legs make the earth shake as it pushes it's way towards the creek that Snaga and his clans warriors have staked out. Silently he pushes himself to his feet, the shadows of the trees obscuring his movement and rendering him almost invisible. But to his clansmen the signal was clear as day, begin the attack. 

Four of his clansmen burst from the trees far above him heavy spears clutched tightly in their hands. They fall rapidly towards the back of the  Bodarch, three spears slam deep into it's armoured hide drawing thick droplets of blood that coat the entire warriors in crimson. The fourth warrior is not so lucky as the Bodarch thrashes wildly, it's tusk smashes across his torso smashing his ribs to dust and throwing his lifeless body against one of the thick thousand year old trees. 

Snaga nods one more and several warriors come screaming out of the trees bellowing a loud war cry. They bring their great axes down on the rear two legs of the Bodarch. They begin to hack through the tough armour of the creatures legs. One of the legs kicks back and three men are thrown through the air, from the sound of the low moans coming from the foliage they are still alive. Although they will probably be regretting that fact in the coming days. 

Finally one of the axes buries deep in the creatures muscle and it falls to one of it's knees. Seeing his chance Snaga breaks into a sprint aiming for the crippled leg. Grabbing large handfuls of thick tough fur he hauls himself up quickly before he sits astride the massive beast. 
Snaga stands up carefully and keeping his balance runs towards the creatures head, it thrashes wildly trying to dislodge the massive man but Snaga is nothing if not tenacious. Finally he reaches the neck of the massive creature and draws his massive great axe. He brings the weapon down ferociously against the side of the Bodarchs throat.

Once, twice, three times the axe bites deep with a sickening crunching sound as it tears through protective ridges of bone and thick bloody fur. Snaga swings once more and the axe buries deep in the creatures throat severing the jugular sending thick arterial blood spraying through the air. 

Snaga grins and leaps from the back of the creature tucking and rolling as he hits the ground. He waves his men back as he watches the creatures death throes staring intently at the terrible wound he inflicted on the creatures neck. Ruptured bones burst from the gaping wound, thick blood now falling in a steady torrent to the earth as the creature gives it's last thrash. 

Snaga walks over to the creature and gives it one final kick to make sure it is truly dead before turning back to his clansmen. 
"Gather the wounded and treat them as best you can. Fetch the bodies and wrap them with their weapons in their hand, lay them in the clearing."
 
Snaga turns to his command team and speaks in his common low growl.

"Once they have collected our brothers prep the Bodarch for transport back to the village. I will do a sweep, make sure we are still alone here. The scent of that blood is overpowering, the vultures cannot be far away."
 
The Bodarch takes the entire hunting party and two of their beasts of burden to drag back to the village. but a creature like this properly rationed and preserved should last the village for a month. Several invading predators are beaten back from the fresh kill, turned away by the primarch stalking his way silently through the trees. 

The beast is skinned efficiently and cut into quarters to hang up to drain, the blood falls into large cauldrons. None of this creature will go to waste. Tonight there will be a feast to celebrate a successful hunt, especially considering there are so few casualties. 
The day falls into night and torches are lit around the perimeter of the stockade armed sentries patrol it's walls. The smell of the feast washing over them make their mouths water, they will be relieved soon and free to drink. Unlike the poor sods taking the next watch, their bellies at least would be full. But the punishment for being drunk on watch was death. 

Snaga sits upon his high backed throne, a throne carved from a solid block of an ancient tree and draped with the many trophies of his successful hunts. His command team sit flanking him their own chairs descending in size but all cut from the same tree, decorated from their own hunts. 

He grins slightly at the warriors assembled below him in the grand hall, all of them feasting on the meat of the latest kill. They all have large tankards of Skoll in front of them and several of them have obviously already indulged heavily as they laugh loudly and pull the serving ladies into their laps as they pass by. 

All in all it has been a fine day.