On the fringe of the forest to the north

On the fringe of the forest to the north, a dark figure stood behind a tree. It was impossible to say how long it had been there, it may have even stood there motionless throughout the whole landing, raid and subsequent festivities.

The figure leaned on the tree and chuckled. He had watched the latter part of the raid, then the Viking 'festivities...surprised that only one had died in what had been a truly explosive night. He did approve of the man's death though...strangely. He'd never thought that he could find common ground with men such as these.

Sgaileach continued watching as the pale glow of dawn began to appear on the horizon. He was a well-favored youth of perhaps sixteen winters, however the very set of his features was slightly sinister, making him seem a little older than he was.

Although not a giant man, he was consciously aware that he was growing considerably by the aches in his joints when he awoke, and would soon be above and beyond his six feet and three inches, by how much he was unable to gauge though.

His dark brown hair was tied back in a warrior's tail, but the absence of any downy hair upon his face showed his youth.

He was not as broad or muscular as many of his fellows had been, or as the Vikings on the beach were. He was considerably leaner, but the muscles were well-built into his arms, legs and chest, proof of spending years of physical training.

He did however seem poor as far as weaponry was concerned. He bore no sword, nor axe, not even a solid combat spear. Instead he had strapped across his back a hunting bow, a pair of light javelins and a quarterstaff in leather slings. He wore a fairly simple set of leather armor, with a small pouch normally used by merchants to hold smaller valuables at his waist. Inside he held some of his own most valuable possessions - the small collection of iron rings that he had had forged from the weapons of his so far small number of kills.