Rain whipped down upon the skin of the large hill-man, whose flesh was raised in small bumps from the cold of Tûr Morva. The cold bullets of water thrashing against him was also mixed with small circles of ice that bounced off his fur covered shoulders and bear covered face. A torch cast its orange light upon the white canvas of snow before him, as he waited with his hand on his axe and his cloak cascading from his shoulders to stretch out on the snow behind him.
The white blanket of snow was soon ruined by the markings made by four short but stout men dressed in thick furs to keep the cold from them. Two carried burning torches, and the other two walked with their knives out and ready for anything that may sneak from the cover of the dark night that stretched out from all sides. Ahead was an orange dot, flickering in the black. The four men muttered to each other as making their way towards it;
"I heard he rips the tongues out of his victims and forces it down your throat so you choke on it..”, one of the men spoke out weakly, looking to the others.
"Yeah? Well, I heard that he once ripped the head straight off a warg during one of his pit fights.”, another one piped up.
"Your all thinking too much about it! His name is Pren... no matter how large the tree, an axe and a saw can always bring it down!* Now shut it before he hears your scared little whining!!”, a grizzled man barked out, a scar stretching across his face showing he has encountered the man they were talking about before.
The large dunlending stood there, waiting for the four figures to appear out of the inky curtain that stretched out. As they stopped infront of him, he threw his axe ontop of his cloak and stepped forward, digging the torch into the ground. He called out, in his deep thundering voice that made one of the younger of the four shake in his boots;
"They have sent you four to beat me?”, his dark glare looked every man up and down. All he got in return was a nod from the grizzled man, who stepped forward and dug his torch into the ground so light was spread out around the group.
Before another word could even be started, Pren rushed forth and bent down, smashing his shoulders into one of the mans thighs and wrapping his arms around in a vice of a grip! Lifting him off the ground before spearing him downwards onto his back, making the man let out an 'oof' as he wheezed and gasped for breath! The grizzled man dived in, smashing his fist across the large-mans head sending him down before he got up and let out a shout that echoed in the valley! A clenched fist swung out, cracking the man across the jaw before a shoulder followed and sent the man into a younger man behind him, making them both tumble to the ground.
“Get him you fools!”, the grizzled man mumbled out with a skewed jaw, pushing himself up.
Three men got up, and charged at the man swinging fist after fist at him, each hitting him and sending the bear-man back in the snow a few feet. One of the men let out a tired laugh, thinking the dunlending was already done though the leathers absorbed the hits greatly and a fist cut off the laughter with a splutter and a gag as he struggled. His head swiftly fell downwards, as Pren forced the hand around his neck down to the ground before a crack sounded the meeting of skull and rock. Red spread out across the scarred surface of snow, which made one of the men turn and release his supper, adding another mess to the cold ground.
Pren took advantage of this, and turned and ran into him with his arms reaching around his waist, sending him disappearing into the deep white that surrounded them. With a grunt, he stood upright with a small stumble due to the cold and hits he had received. Turning around, he saw the youngest of the group who now has a bleeding mouth and nose, look upon him with widened eyes before he grabbed a torch and ran as fast as he could. Only the grizzled man remained upright..
"You! Come fight!”, the grizzled man spat out blood from his bad jaw, pulling out a knife and making his way over. Before Pren could even react, the knife sunk into his flesh and went to the bone. Growling and roaring out, speckles of saliva flying out and hitting the grizzled mans face. His hand grabbed a torch, before stabbing it forwards into the mans face! Ash and fire collided with cold skin and warm sweat, and a sizzle was let out before a scream as the man dived to the snow to cool his face! Pren ripped the knife from his shoulder, before stabbing it into the mans leg.
"Run, little man. Or Pren do more than punch.”, he barked out. Brown hair wild across his face, his bottom teeth showing from a bloody lip as his chest raised up and down in anger. Puffs of steam came from him like a dragon, giving him more the fearsome look.
The two men didn't hesitate, before getting up without the torches and dragging the burning grizzled man away, going with all speed their injured legs could carry them..
*Pren is a meaning for tree in Welsh/Dunael, the language of the dunlendings.
