Just because I wanted something to put up.
The frost of the tundra crackled under the heavy boots of the large Norseman who walked across it. His large, muscular frame was wrapped in a leather harness that left much of his abdomen exposed to the frigid Arctic wind. He didn’t seem to notice.
In stark contrast, the woman who walked beside him was slender and small, though not frail. Her long blonde hair billowed out behind her, and she drew her fur cloak closer about herself as she walked with her companion. She looked up at him, sighing softly when she saw his determined expression. Maybe the brigands did deserve death, but she hated that Corath had to be the one to deliver it, and that she had to assist him.
Corath stopped at a low ridge, looking down at the camp. As he expected, the eight brigands were all there, huddled around a campfire. He looked over at the woman.
She nodded and closed her eyes, raising her hands and murmuring silently. The wind changed directions and picked up, and a fog swirled in, so thick as to keep a man from seeing his hand in front of his face. From below, they heard the curses of the brigands as the ‘demon fog’ washed over them, and their leader warned them to be on their guard.
The woman blessed the fog, for it meant she did not have to witness what she heard going on below; Corath’s keen axe found the vital spots of the brigands quickly, and they fell, one by one, until none were left. Corath climbed back up the ridge, joining her. She gave him a scolding look.
He chuckled and took his axe back out of his harness, cleaning the blade. She nodded, satisfied, and they returned home.