Silence had enveloped the lands with the defeat of my kinsmen. The ground littered with corpses of brother and enemy alike. But there were too many of them, from too many directions. These Englishmen were cunning, and it felt as if they lead these fools and myself right where they wanted us. The ignorance of the Jarl with these Christian warriors was obvious from the moment Hauk arrived to adhere to his summons. Even more infuriating for Hauk was how little the man allowed ego to be set aside to listen to warnings provided by the clan's seiðr. The same warnings that Hauk himself would feel at the pit of his stomach due to his time with these English warriors and their false God during the initial acts of diplomacy. Something bad was going to happen to these people. And as his mind replayed the Viking's violent chant as they marched into battle, he couldn't help but recall faces in the moment, visited by his kinsmen on their way to Valhalla without him. Crusted over eyelids would twitch with the sign of life for the first time in almost a full day since he fell, the darkness of his nightmares ripped away by a dim light slowly creaking into those bright blues once more. He could not help but hope that the blurred light that was reaching him now would soon focus into the gates of his sanctuary, where he could meet again with his brothers and live in peace for eternity.

​

    It was not the case. Senses were ringing unpleasantly, violently, as it seemed body attempted to recompose itself as he lay among the dirt and blood. Pain was all he could feel, all of it rushing through his body in an instant as consciousness was again offered to him, only to add to the confusion in the situation with labored breaths. A sharp inhale had him again enveloped in the scent of blood, death and dirt, face wincing as the strange sensation of something pecking at his torso was noticed as well. It had been quiet enough across the lands that nature had begun its course of taking advantage of free meals. And it wasn't until sight began to slowly recover from the blurred nothingness it had thus far to see that he was surrounded in large carnivorous birds, ripping at his flesh and tissue to soothe their aching stomachs with regenerative ability. Fingers twitched to life, tips dragging against the dirt as they clawed their way to a clenched fist, then suddenly leaped from the ground to wrap those broad fingers around the neck of the closest bird he could reach. Chaos would ensue, panic scattering the pile of vultures in an explosion of feathers and screams. But he had one. He could feel the blood coursing through its arteries as the bird panicked. A sensation that itself would jump start his being into life once again, muscles contracting his grip until finally, the bird's neck snapped and all was quiet again. Arm would fall over to his side with a wet thud, the bird's lifeless corpse following with it due to the fact that he seemed to not be able to release his fingers just yet. The stagnant flesh was slowly regaining its color and movement, and it seemed the TGT gladiator would not be gifted with the glory of death in this battle.

​

    Hauk couldn't recall how long he lay there with the dead, head slowly turning to its side to see the pale face of the Jarl staring back at him displaying the horrors of death in his expression. Minus an eye and the flesh of his cheek due to the vultures feast, the supposed Jarl was just a few hours away from becoming completely taken by nature once again. Nostrils flared, brows pinched as the living man glared back with a deepening sense of hatred for the blatant ignorance of such a man of power. He had lead his family to slaughter. And dragged him along with it with the hopes that Hauk's vigilance alone would be the deciding factor in this fight. But even he was no match for such an army. "Fool.." Hauk's attempt at speaking would be halted immediately with the expulsion of blood from his lungs, attempting to lean his torso over the allow the fluid to run from his lips and not drown him. But he would find himself stuck to the ground. Head slowly lifted from the mud to glance down his body- noticing the reason with a groan and a flop of his head back down again. It seemed he was literally staked to the ground with the assistance of two spears through his torso. One, directly through his right pectoral and through his lung, the other through his gut and intestines. Shakily, arms would raise from the ground to gingerly graze fingertips across the weapons in his chest, the sensations of splintered wood coated with dried blood against his fingers was a strange feeling of invincibility. But with a gritting of his teeth, and a sudden animalistic roar of baritone vocals, his arms would be able to rip the spear from his body. Blood would follow the spear's tip on its way out, the man's scream of pain echoing across the bloodied battlefield and off into the distance. Tossing spear aside, Hauk's body convulsed with the sudden blood pressure drop, splattering blood from his mouth and forcing his body onto its side to that he could drain it properly. This, meanwhile, would loosen the remaining spear from the ground and allow him to move on to his side, deciding to deal with it in a moment after his body recovered. Vision would find itself blurring again, having trouble working properly as stamina was focused on making sure he could heal the wound enough to not bleed out.

​

    Consciousness would fade in and out as the sun would slowly begin to disappear behind the horizon, masking the blood and gore of the battlefield in a cloak of darkness. It wouldn't be long until more of nature would come along to the scent of freshly decaying bodies for a feast, and Hauk needed to leave this place soon if he wanted to be able to at all. He needed to move. A low gurgling groan would have the man spitting blood again, arms adjusting to attempt and move his body in any way he could. But with the spear still in him, he seemed not able to roll to his stomach or back now and was quite stuck in the fetal position that he was sprawled in. Attention moved to the dead Jarl nearby once more, noting the axe that the man had died with in his hand. Gaze narrowed, torso trembling at he attempted to reach out for the weapon. But it was too far out of reach. It would not deter the man, seething hot breath through his teeth as fingertips grasped at the mud and grass, attempting at anything that would give him some leverage to move. The slow outstretch of his legs would find him noticing that his left had a rather substantial gaping wound across its thigh that rendered it rather unusable, unable to restrain the pained groan as torn muscle attempted to come to life again. But those icy blues wouldn't deter from his gaze upon that axe, dragging his otherwise useless leg behind him as he slowly pulled his body towards the weapon with sheer determination alone. Expression would ignite in life as fingertips grasped the axe's handle, ripping it from the man's stiff grip with little care of the repercussion of it. If the Jarl showed up to the gates of Valhalla without weapon in hand, there could be consequences. At this point, however, Hauk had decided that the man deserved to burn in the fires due to the actions rather then enjoy an eternity of glory. Gaze lingered on that axe, gasping at air as the energy it took to drag his muscular frame across the ground in his condition was exceptionally strenuous. Left hand would shakily reach down to the spear in his gut, gripping the wooden handle with a sudden seething of pain through his teeth. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he would take a deep inhale and suddenly chop that axe down onto the wooden handle. It seemed to be a formidable weapon, sheering through the wood in one strike and sticking into the earth below as Hauk again found himself letting loose an expulsion of pain and blood from his lips as he fell to his side again. Gaze lingered down upon the weapon still inside him, deciding for the moment that he needed to leave it and at least give himself a way to stand again. Carefully, the man would attempt the exhausting task of getting to his hands and knees, sputtering and coughing as he forced his body to his command. Rocking back and forth to try and warm up his muscles from their stiffness, and at least attempting to focus on his left leg enough to at least have it usable again. As his body seemed to calm down from the spinning in his head, flickering consciousness was clung to as he slowly lifted his torso upright and sat back on his heels. Damaged lungs heaved oxygen and blood as best they could to supply the man energy, eyes closing as torso slumped and head tilted upwards to suck in the less-than-fresh air that surrounded him. Breathing would shortly calm, nose falling down again to have him focusing on dragging his legs underneath him to stand. And only with a quick holding of his breath, did he suddenly push himself to a stand again. Of course, as weight was placed on exhausted and damaged limbs they would collapse beneath him again, sending the man back to his hands with a splash of mud and a groan of pain. But he would not stay there long, a determined growl rumbling his throat as he used the anger in him alone to overcome his lack of ability, pushing himself up to his feet again. This time, only stumbling a little, gasping for air as heavy feet trudged through the wet earth and drying blood. It wouldn't take long for senses to stable again, torso finally straightening upwards to allow his narrowed blue glare to inspect his surroundings. Right hand grasped at the wound in his chest, blood only trickling down his dirty and beaten bare skin. The hills were darkening with the setting sun, but the silhouette of bodies and spirits gave the land an almost ethereal haunting, and despite the fact that he was standing again, he couldn't help but feel his heart sinking at each body that lay motionless now. Otherwise limp left arm would move upwards to pull the matted and disgusting strands of hair from his face, only smearing blood and mud in the process. Bright blues lifted to the horizon, then to his personal sword nearby that had fallen from his grip as he was defeated. Only exhaling heated breaths of pain as he knelt down to retrieve it once more, knowing he had to find a safe space to rest still before he could make any real judgement on what he should do next. So he would put one foot in front of the other, slipping and stumbling as he went, passing over bodies that were almost picked clean by now. You could hardly tell which side anyone was on as they lay on their grave, everything was slathered in dirt and blood, including Hauk. But all he knew in that moment is that he needed to leave the battlefield. All the while painfully unaware of just how effected his mind had been through the process and how it would change him forever...