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The oathsworn men under the antlered banner had given a grand showing when it came their turn, their great axes glinting bravely in the sun as they came forth to their doomed defiance. The old man himself had been fearful in the end, his legacy a broken offering on the altar of an unheeding god and all that was left to him were empty oaths and cooling blood. He had died bravely, or so the singers would say. He had died a true warrior, or so the men would tell in the days to come. He had died, blood drowning out his last battle cry as his soul retreated inwards, away from his eyes. The head thudded lamely to the ground, it was an end, for now.

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