[i]As kings feasted in Warrhon, blood spilled onto the sands. As they lifted their cups, the Sand Eaters lifted their blades.[/i]

"I curse you, Urutuuraak Shadowsung and all those bound to you. The vultures will pick your bones and carry your soul to their children. There will be no one left to mourn you. They will return to the Worm. [i]You[/i]," the Sand Eater spat at his foe, "will become one with the Waiting Death. In time, [i]you[/i] will carry away the souls I curse." 
 
 Silence followed, save for his foe's weak and intermittent gurgling.

"All things return to the sand," he whispered into the dead man's ear, after a long pause, slowly drawing the blade from his foe and letting his useless body topple to the ground. 

Blood splattered against his feet, sprayed from the visceral ruin of Urutuuraak's throat. Urutuurak had been chief of the Shadowsung...and now he was little more than a husk. He pressed his foot against the corpse's face, rolling the former chief's head with the toe-end of his sandals; staring into the listless golden orbs that had once housed a fiery soul.

 Outside of the tent, battle raged. There was no great thundering of the dune worms; no familiars conjured from the Djynn Realms. It was a battle of pure strength and the Ashtongue had grown far beyond simple strength. What once was a tattered, ragged band had become one of the most feared clans to stalk the midnight dunes. While Jehyr was not their leader in the ways of The Great Devourer and the many Djynn Gods, it was he that lead the warriors into combat. It was he who sounded the call for battle and he who was first to draw blood. Such was his right, such was his honor.

 As he stepped from Urutuuraak's tent, the sun bore down on him; casting waves in the air before him, dancing in a draining, bloodthirsty excitement. Vultures circled above, their keen ears cast to Jehyr's curse on the Shadowsung. For it was they that were the Void Eyes and Waiting Death; those that stripped dead flesh and soul for The Great Devourer. The Shadowsung belonged to them. Even as Jehyr stood in the light of the sun, they fell. Their spirit had been killed with Urutuuraak and their strength had fled with his last breath.

 Turning away, Jehyr Ashtongue set about tearing down the chieftain's tent; preparing an offering for the shadows that circled above.