The battlefield was a mess of corpses, blood and the ripe stench of perspiration. They never say how truly awful the smell of battle was. If they fought any longer, men might begin keeling over from the miasma alone. Both sides had seen heavy losses. Both sides had clearly lost entire shield-walls. It was a mess. Any semblance of organisation had long since departed the field. This battle would not be decided upon the earthly plane, but instead by the gods themselves. Still, Brenjulf couldn't help wonder why Pyrelig had failed to join the battle. He must have been able to see the need to assist.
