Snippet #2647233

Trudging through shit and snow was most likely to be the least pleasant part of the entire winter, Gods bollocks was it cold. It probably wouldn't have been so bad, if he were further south, or if he indeed knew exactly where he was actually going. The fact of the matter was Kenver was lost, to make things worse, he was lost in a foreign nation, populated by a race of people who hated his, and who he couldn't stand the smell of, why hadn't he been smart enough to take one of his fathers ships and simply sail north? He paused once more to look up at the sky, which proved fruitless due to the thick grey curtain hanging above, he should of expected that honestly, but then again, the weather this far north was unpredictable and bizarre.

""Pascoe!" He called back, in his native Cornish. "How far do you recon we've come now then?" Pascoe was the only man who had decided to join him when he left his fathers lands, though the man was a bastard, and had no name himself he found him to be a good travelling companion, if a little slow.
"Considerin' we left Exeter ten days ago, no' tha' far I'd imagine." Kenver nodded and rolled his eyes before turning back to the path ahead, though he may have little idea of where they were, Kenver didn't need telling they hadn't come too far, even though he was only just beginning to grasp the sheer size of the Kingdom of Wessex, how could one man bend so many kings to his will to creat such a vast land?

He paused as he heard the sound of metal on metal, and strange screaming noises ahead. He picked up the pace, it seemed that some form of fight was in the works ahead. He picked his way through the trees- again he was surprised at just how many of the blasted things grew this far north. He wasn't really expecting to burst out of them the way he had, almost being knocked down by one of the fighting men, riding what he assumed were horses, though he had seen the trading Franks selling the odd horse here and there, he had never actually seen one being ridden into battle, let alone ridden one himself. He quickly backpedaled, colliding with Pascoe as he was coming up behind him.
"Woah! Watch where you are going, Pascoe!"
"Here! How was I 'possed to know that you would be jus' standin' there?"
"Never mind that, whats going on here?"

Looking into the center of the fight, it seemed to be two men on horseback, dressed in the battle-finery of kings that clashed together, it would seem one king had declared a battle for the lands of the other, pretty par for the course as far as Kenver was concerned. Both he and Pascoe would have been perfectly happy until he realised their talking their native language, as well his own rather well equipped form had drawn the attention of one of the horsemen, who presumably mistook them both for Danes and decided to charge the pair, sword raised.
"Oh for fucks sake." Kenver muttered before drawing his own blade and raising his oval shield high before letting loose a warcry. "Kernow et Fal! Fal et Kernow!"

Though he was a fair fighter, he had never fought a man on horseback before and he didn't expect the man to come at him at such speed, though he did manage to deflect the oncoming blade his own only managed to score a gash on the horsemans leg. Through some kind twist of fate, this was enough to cause the man to flinch and somehow hit his head on one of the low hanging branches, the crack was probably enough to have broken his skull open, or the painful fall the frozen ground has enough, but Pascoes spear made sure that the man wasn't going to get up again.

Looking back across the sprawl of chaos he could see one of the kings had unhorsed the other and was about to land the killing blow, luckily it seemed that nobody else had noticed them, which for most part worked well enough for him, after all he did have his sword drawn and bloody.