Eadric roared his elation to the skies.  Dead Romans littered the woods.  Booty lay everywhere.  His sword dripped with blood, his shoulders ached from the repeated thrusts as he chopped the hated invader's limbs from their bodies, hacked into them, opened them and spilled their entrails onto the forest floor.  Fresh blood and pieces of flesh dotted his already encrusted leather wrap.<br/><br/>Chest heaving, eyes glowing, arms trembling from the effort of this afternoon and evening, he lowered the short sword that had been liberated from a dead Roman and thrust it into his girdle.  He must make an offering to his God.  With his guidance, the javelins had flown true, horses had been taken down and then the men.  The Roman Eagles now lay on the ground, soon to be erected in the village.<br/><br/>Gathering pieces of the fallen Romans, Eadric began his prayers of thanks.  Soon enough to the gathering of the booty.  The village would rejoice with this wealth.  Everyone would enhance their status.  The village would host a feast of celebration while arrangements were made for those whose men who had fallen.<br/><br/>Ah, Alaric was nearby, he too covered in gore.  Good, he was indeed a good choice for Brunhild.  Together they would finish the prayers and then begin to sweep the forest for those cowardly roman deserters who would have dropped their weapons.  Easy prey in this land that he and Alaric knew so well.