Helvegen

With a methodical slowness the man would tread a seemingly aimless zig-zagging path through the torn and scarred land littered with remnants of battles long past. The bits of man-made things were likely works of art back when they were made, but now they sat, crumpled, broken and largely useless. Funny, how even the largely successful could be their own downfall. His echoing cachinnation rang through the once grand stage of war, meeting only his own ears as far as he was aware.

Pale eyes scanned the scene hungrily, though his quarry was living still he pursued it with the same intensity as if he were tracking a deer. Anyone who might watch him would likely be struck by the strangeness of seeing someone who cackled to himself for no particular reason, humming and muttering to himself as he searched through the rubble moving with such purpose. Was the horned viking a little odd? Yes, but even so it was clear he was still mostly sound of mind.

Digging through one mound of dirt, he found a pile of pale white bones and huffed. Nope, these wouldn't do. He cast several aside, sending them bouncing down the disturbed soil to the ground with a clatter. Finding nothing else but an old rusted blade that wouldn't do anyone any good, he turned back to the bones. "Hmm... I suppose you'll do in a pinch," he mused, moving to pick through them.