Roal's Tale

           Told by The Rochdale Balrog

In the west a great black cloud appeared from out of nowhere and
began to fill the sky above Ska Dhor. As the 'cloud' grew and the
sky darkened, an enormous shadow covered the land around the base
of Ska Dhor causing all manner of creatures to scurry to the
safety of their lairs, their hearts pounding in their ears as they
ran. If they had but chanced to look up and gaze at the 'cloud'
they would have seen that it was formed by a mass of birds, black
of plumage and sharp of talon, who wheeled and soared in the air
as though waiting for some signal to guide their next move.
Suddenly that signal was given and the vast armada of Korats, for
that was what they were, surged forward as one and headed in the
direction of Torag Minh.

Meanwhile on the edge of a small babbling brook a halfling by the
name of Roal was busy doing battle with a large brown trout and
quite oblivious of the approaching birds, until darkness befell
him as the 'cloud' passed overhead. Glancing up he noticed the
dark sheen of their plumage and the sharpness of their talons and
casting his rod to one side he quickly scampered up the bank ...
with a flick of its tail, the brown trout dove to the bottom of
the sparkling brook and settled beneath a large rock.

Just then two of the 'outriders' of the flock spotted the halfling
clambering away from the brook and with a quickness that belied
their size, swooped down towards the unsuspecting Roal. With his
eyes fixed on the nearby safety of a hollow tree stump, Roal had
no reason to look over his shoulder but, if he had, what he would
have seen would have surely spurred him to greater efforts for
there, just behind him, were two large Korats, their beaks gaping
wide and their talons fully extended. With his breath burning a
hole in his chest and little short legs pumping for all they were
worth, Roal drew ever nearer to the small hole in the hollow stump
and then just as it seemed that all his efforts were worthwhile
the first of the 'outriders' struck! The first Roal knew of it was
when he felt the hot breath on the back of his neck and then a
smell of decay reached his nostrils, only to be replaced by the
scent of warm blood ... his own ... as the razor sharp talons of
the Korat seered into his shoulder.

In the taverns and alehouses of the kingdom of Tousel, tales had
often be told, albeit in hushed tones and whispered phrases, of
the cunning and guile of the Korats and of their undoubted talents
as 'bringers of death', but there had always been the one or two
story-tellers willing to embellish their monologues with accounts
of the Korat's one great weakness ... their inability to control
the 'blood-lust' when it came upon them. It was this weakness that
was to save the life of Roal the halfling as he scurried towards
the hollow tree stump, for as the first 'outrider' delivered its
telling blow the second Korat smelt the fresh, warm blood ... and
in its urgency to obtain its share, cannoned into the first bird,
causing it to relax its grip on Roal. In that instant, that spells
the difference between life or death, Roal made one last frantic
effort to reach the safety of the hole and with a twist of his
body flung himself desperately forward. With a blood-curdling
screech the two 'outriders' struck out at Roal, only to rip the
boot from his left leg as he hurtled head first through the
gaping hole and then buffeting the air with their mighty wings
soared into the sky to retake their place on the edges of the dark
'cloud'.

In the warm, moist safety of the hollow tree stump a small
halfling quivered in a dark corner and sobbed uncontrollably ....