Another early start in the lands of the horse men for this small village near the River Isen. Farmers waking to tend their horses, woman waking to prepare breakfast for the waking children. The sky a shade of orange as the sun rises on the horizon. Along with the sun, a few smaller orange lights litter the plains in the distance, trees and rocks hiding them. These lights would be the dunmen, around forty men strong, each wearing furs and leathers wielding axes, spears and bows. One of them, decorated in boiled leather on his chest and legs though with fur and leather boots on. Furs around his shoulder which lead to a fur cloak bellowing in the morning wind. Upon this man's head would be a bear head, slain a few years back but still in good condition.
Pren, the bear masked man, soon makes his way into the open. The forty men following, standing as one big mix of men with torchbearers mixed in. Pren lifts a horn to his lips, letting out a single loud but long lasting blast. Two more men in the group also lift horns, Alun sends the first blast out. Short and high pitched. Then Dafydd sends another. Short and low pitched. Before long, shouts of 'Forgoil!' and 'Marw!' fill the air of the plains as Pren shouts out, silencing them all momentarily. 'CODI TÂL!!' After a few seconds, the dunmen charge forth with shouts flowing from their mouths. The banging of weapons and horns being blown, signalling to the Eorlings, death is upon them.
The host moves through the village like a wave of death, slaughtering any in their way as the buildings of hay and timber go up in a blaze! Horses with children and woman being seen riding off in the distance as the dunlendings fight the men. Soon, nearly all of the flax hairs are dead on the ground along with a good number of dunlendings, the fierce look not leaving their face.
Soon, one man is left.. and Pren is the one facing him.
A swing with a fist here, then a hit with a club there sends the man onto the floor. Pren, now covered in blood with his mask hanging from his face. His anger filled eyes looking to the grounded Eorling with a mutter in his own tongue, heading over and grabbing him by his flax hair. The battered Eorling, later found out to be a man named Wulfgrim, muttered out to Pren. "W-who are you? For I wish to know the name of the man I am about to kill!" As he spoke, he lunged for Pren's neck and got a grip though that could not stop the axe getting buried in his side, Pren stands up before he turns the man onto his back. Looking down at him he mutters out, "Rhyfelwr." With that he turns, leaving the dying Wulfgrim to see what has happened to his village.
As the dunlending host leave, now only twenty and seven in number, they leave behind the burnt buildings that were once home to them. They leave behind the slain bodies of both men and beast. They leave behind death.
**Forgoil - Flax Hair, what the dunlendings call Eorlings
Marw - Dead
Codi tâl - Charge
Rhyfelwr - Warrior**
