"It was a fine day indeed, i'll tell you that much. The snow had just began to fall when we laid siege to this little village of farmers, . While my brothers happily indulged themselves with the slaying of the men, and the carnal pleasures of the women, I took to collecting the livestock and looting the homes while they had their fill of flesh. Came away with plenty of grain and meat we did! And the livestock and items we could not take were simply slaughtered and burned." A massive mountain of a man with dried blood at least a few days old flecked on his beard, and breath that smelled heavily of wine barked to a few off duty guards just outside of a tavern before letting rip a hearty laugh. Although a gladiator, this man had long since shed the rank of slave, and had earned his place amongst the very same guards that he recounted his tales to, albeit to a lesser extent, and as such, he was regarded as a comrade. 

The man -known as Gunnar by those familiar with the gladiatorial battles- drained the pitcher of wine that he had ordered before belching and glaring down at the pitcher with slight annoyance. "You know boys...this wine might be fine for you, but I miss the mead from back home. Had a much better kick, and it knocked the earth out from under your feet in half the time. If we ever get any 'round 'ere i'll have to treat you to some, assuming that someone doesn't finally get around to killing me off before then that is!" he said before laughing once more.