the kindom of heaven, i go to valhalla

[master of the puppets]

Varg pushed himself up. he saw the back of an engishmen. with a slash the englishmen was nearely cut in half. quickly varg killed 5 more and then he` was surrounded. circled by these enlish some did not notice his presence but was merely conviniently placed. with a roar and a crunch the the huge sword of the varg ate through armor and flesh. two enemies dropped screaming as there life-blood poured out of there arteries. an english broadsword swung at the vargs head, it was quickly evaded and countered by a vicios thrust. another sword glanced off the vargs fine armor. the great norse leader swung his sword but the englishmen pulled back, two more attacks fared the same. it was at that time that a spear cut into the vargs arm. he roared in anguish and tried to counter attack. a sword dented the vargs helm but did little more than enrage the warrior. the vargs sword broke the face of a soldier, and huge battle ax dug into a englishmens back as two other norse warriors broke threw to aid there king. with renewed vigor the three norse charged forth and crushed seven englishmen in a howel of furios vengence. the norse numbers began to dwindal as one of the vargs felows fell with a spear in his spine. it was at that time the english cavalry charged. there huge stallions broke into both norse and english. the knights completely disrgarding there lowly footsoldiers. plowing through the infantry the knights attemted to get to the norse, crushing all before them. the varg only first saw a knight when his sword plunged into a norse warrior next to the varg. the sword cut deep into the norses shoulder and with a huge swing the varg struck the knight in the stomech pushing him off the back of the horse and the fall snapped the knights back. with a terrible roar proggressing from the vargs throat he pulled himself up upon the knights horse and spured himself forward. it was far easier to strike down the enemies from the back of a horse like that he had trained upon than on the ground. slashing wildly he brought down many more and then the varg found himself in the midst of 18 norse. all of the norse skitishly looked about twards the fleeing english. hundreds were running from the stationary band of norse before there unbeliving eyes. a few norse let out cheers and worried laughs. but the band roared in fear in as they saw the some sixty longbow archers come into formation. every norse charged but a hail of arrows brought them down. even the varg took two arrows in his chest, and fell off the back of the horse. as he lay he wondered why it did not hurt, the touched the wound and brought his hand away sticky with blood.

As the varg lay spread eagle upon the ground dying he prayed not for life, but for remembrance. he prayed that he would go to valhalla. and slowly he pulled the sword to him and layed it upon his chest. and with one more prayer he closed his eyes and embraced the coldness of death.

ok so i don't like this bit very much (not because of his death but how poorly its written) but it may get better.