He stood there.standing amongst the bodies'.cold blood covering his battle torn skin.they stood there staring at him as his long deep brown hair flowed gently with the wind. He shook his battle blade gently...blood dripping down the edge of the blade landing gently on the ground in low splatters. He shook his head blood covering his face. Slowly he put his blade into its place. Walking across bodies his comrades made room for him. Not wanting to disturb the hulking killing mammoth. Everyone sat in muted reverence of his blood curdling rage. They stared at the massive amounts of bodies about them their blades clean. They his debt had been filled had killed his family; He had avenged his family. He dropped his tainted weapons, for he would never be in battle again. He didn't like it. It frightened him. He was done. Battle was won. Family avenged. He dropped to his knees before the hulking mound of lives he had taken drawing his knife. The glint of it shined across his face as he stared into the clean black chrome blade he blessed it calmly than brought it to his throat with one clean sweep he fell with the best intentions.to join his family in the grave. He lie there in a pool of his own blood.not killed by enemy.but by free will. Cold almost black blood flowed from his throat in the most beautiful ways.his eye let one tear his life faded. The dawn had set it was night..just the peak of the sun stared to mourn the warrior's passing finally disappearing behind the hills as the moon came to rise. His companions walked over and joined in his mourning weeping quietly for the self proclaimed victor of the battle.they buried his body up on the highest hill they could.most returned yearly on the day the warrior had died to mourn. To many friend.to some.enemy.but to everyone.he was the greatest warrior known.