Steam rose from the bodies of the dead, as if their souls had become tangible. Frost formed on the still remains of the first to fall. Many had fallen that day, both friend and foe, leaving much wealth for the triumphant clan.
Ungar inspected the bodies, curious how many enemies remained to threaten the clan. He shoved bodies with a heavy boot to up-turn hidden faces. Callously, he studied each face in turn. The rush of victory returned when he recognized the face of his master, Grok.
"My master has fallen," he said with a hate filled grin. The ruined sword was finally discarded in favor of his masters dwarf forged axe, so long coveted. "I am now free to fight under my own name." He declared "Let the women pick at these bones, there is nothing more for me here."