Pain burned throughout his body, and he could barely breathe because of the crushing weight of slain brethren and orcs laying on top of him. Thick wet mud covered his face, making him splutter and cough. He did not know how many were on him, though the crude armour the orcs wore definitely made the load all the more heavy, and it felt like if he was under there any longer his ribs would crack right there.
Bloody hands clawed at the earth as he tried to pull himself free, though each twitch of his fingers sent a searing shock down along his right arm and into his shoulders. An exhausted roar of frustration was let out, though muffled by the suffocating dead. The warriors eyes closed, his forehead against the ground as his breath got shallow.
The end was here, he thought to himself. Pren Rhyfelwr, the mighty warlord who had hewn down many Forgoil before he was fell. Worthy of a song, he thought. Though it was not to be, for he felt a sudden weight lifted off his shoulders and the cold wind of dawn blowing along his torn-open back. He rolled over once he could move and stared up at the blonde-haired man who stood over him with a spear in his hand, speaking in a strange language he did not understand.
His fist clench, though he could do nothing about it. Every bit of movement hurt him inside and out. He could barely even growl out his objection as he was dragged through the mud to the rest of the remaining Dunlendings, they were fearful. It had been told by the White Wizard that the Forgoil would burn their captives alive. Pren however struggled to keep his eyes focussed on anyone, his head spun as if he had drank a whole feasts worth of mead, and he lay in the mud with his breathing still heavy.
The voices of his kinsmen were muffled, and the strange sound of the Forgoil were drowned out by the repeating throbs of pain throughout his head. He could feel the heat of the sun on his skin, softened by the cold breeze that made the hair on his arms stand up. A cold sweat was on his brow, though the heat of a blood trickle that ran down his jaw was burning.
His eyes felt heavy once more, and the world went black again, unknowing to what was happening around him, though the next he would know was when he would wake up, chained by the leg to where the Dunlendings were being kept under their promise to rebuild, though this once strong warrior now lay weak in the mud, unknowing to how long he would last.
