The hoards of thrall came like rain drops. Warriors' shields are broken, fir'Bolgs' bows are empty. Most of them are dead, yet their ghosts fight.
Turgeis with burning steel is still swinging his 5 foot claymore, "Runding", cleaving any undead in half that come nearby. The war had started two days ago, but Turgeis and his fellow men never stopped swinging their swords and hitting their fists to their chests to show that they are ready for a lot more.
5 barbed javelin to the chest is enough to kill a man, but the spirit of his ancestors strenghtens him, giving him the courage and the eagerness to stay alive.
The war is over. The evil is slain. He and his fellow men fought like their ancestors. They fought like true berserks.
