Squelch...Squelch...Squelch...
Bandits. Those were who had stumbled upon his came.
The fight had ended during the time Rune blacked out, yet Rune kept fighting, even as his enemies lay dead and broken around him.
Squelch...Squelch...Squelch...
He was sitting atop one of the dead bandits with a large rock in his hand. Again and again he slammed it down into the Crimson paste below him--the remnants of the bandit's skull.
Where was his sword? Gone. He hadn't paid much attention when it got knocked out of his hands. He didn't care. His enraged state only registered a desire to kill.
It was a miracle he hadn't gotten injured. No. he had gotten injured. It just did not care about that either. The blood splattered on his face was not his own, but that which spilled freely from his wounds without a doubt was.
Squelch...Squelch...Squelch...
