The blood was thick on the ground. A deep crimson set into the grass by the many Viking corpses that had fallen due to sustaining heavy damage from many deep cuts. Bodies were piled high in places where the fighting had been most vicious, there were crows screeching and feasting on the days old corpses that were starting to fester and rot. Spears were propped up and sunk deep into the flesh of the victims, left there by attackers which had died before they could pull their weapons back out. Commander Thorsten stood on a mound pulling himself to his feet by supporting himself with his battered and beaten wooden shield. He had lost many men this day and he knew, after his expertise in battle, that he would have to retreat back to Britania with whatever men he had left...