It was a bitter cold, the air stung with flakes ice.
For a week we waited, every on man woman and childs sharped weapons, and waited.
We waited for them, as the wild hordes gathered out side the walls.
The first to fall was the strongest of us, Fjorleifr the skull maiden.
One moment she joked and laughed at there arrows, catching a spears from the air and hurling them back.
The next moment the horde was on top of us, in a flury of blade, a shaven headed brute stepd forward and sliced the head clean from Fjorleifr the skull maiden shoulders.
Fjorleifr fell dead, and the battle weighted on us.
The wild men had only stone blades and no real armour but a greater weight of numbers, it was with the bloody power an force of arms that es forced them back.
But the warrior stood be for the walls, holding Fjorleif’s head , one eye hung lose.