Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee...
A high-pitched whine was the only thing Eadric could hear.
It pierced through his skull, drowning out the screams, the shouts, and the concept of thought.
Thick white smoke swallowed the room, stinging Eadric's eyes and burning the back of his throat with the taste of sulfur.
Suddenly, a crushing weight slammed into him from above, driving him flat into the hay-covered floor.
For a second, Eadric thought one of the ceiling beams had collapsed on top of him.
It was Ulf.
Eadric lay paralyzed beneath the Viking's chest, his eyes wide and unblinking in the blinding smoke.
Then, he felt a hot liquid began dripping onto his face, drenching his skin, soaking into his tunic.
It was Ulf's blood.
Eadric wanted to scream, to shove the corpse off him, but his muscles refused to obey.
Hot, meaty fragments slid down Eadric's neck.
The mighty Ulf, a warrior who looked like he could wrestle a bear and win, had been swatted out of existence in less than a second.
