The double sided axe shimmered in the crisp morning light, for a moment capturing the pure whiteness of the surrounding frosted ravine, the snow inches thick and still gently falling from the sky, juxtaposing the crimson that layered the ground in pools of warm, fresh blood and entrails...
With an arc, swung by determination rather than precision and skill, the axe bit into the neck of yet another failed attacker, the monstrous brute of an orc gurgled for an instant, hands clasped around the bubbling fountain, as the mixture of bile and blood exploded from its wound and mouth, collapsing its massive frame, rippled in knots of scarred muscle, to the ground, joining the dying death rattles around it.
His lungs burned, as if the fires of chaos itself were burning inside of him, wiping the sweat from his brow and temporarily blinding eyes, with hands collated with rough callus's from years of wielding the wooden shaft of a battle axe, the warrior stood standing wearily and on the brink of defeat. He took the scene coming into picture, which was one of bloodshed and death, a scene which any mortal, other than those descended from Sigmar, would turn to scream and flee...
The warm mist from burning lungs filled the still ravine with a fog that clouded vision and made the hand to hand combat one of fear of death from both sides respectively. Still breathing heavily from the kill, bending over to retrieve the axe from its new home, bedded in the neck of the dead orc, his fingers curled around the shaft. The wood quenching the thought of warmth for his hand, his other still with gauntlet intact, rested defiantly on the orc's grotesque green skull.
With a mighty heave the axe ripped free, blood squirted majestically up to join the collage across the warrior's magnificent frame, which was bent and broken. Splattered with crimson he stood wearily as the weight of his armour sapped his fleeing strength. It was adorned only by those willing to do what he did... serving Sigmar in the line of battle and inevitably death... which for the warrior, as he panned the battle raging around him....
Would quite surely come swiftly...