Carsten yawned sleepily, laying down in his bed. He laid there thoughtfully, listening to the rythmic thump, thump of the rain on the roof. He heard commotion outside and stood up to look. He walked to the door and opened it, his eyes half closed. They shot open when he saw eight men dead, all decapitated, their heads sitting by their side. He looked up and saw five Moors. Moors? Why are they here? They hadn't seen him yet. He ran back into his room and threw on his armor. He drew his sword and ran back out, stabbing the nearest one in the spinal cord and out of his chest. He pulled it out, lunging for another before they could turn and strike back.

__________________