Torsten would feel both heavy and weightless in what seemed to be an eternal instant. His body, formless to his mind, felt as if he were floating on air as the blackness permeated his mind. It took him more than a moment for him to feel his breathing again, and his body shifted. The movement brought a stabbing paint into his side, pinching his ribs into the meat of his body. It jolted Torsten awake, and he would feel more sore than he had felt in months if not years. His vision would illuminate with fire, returning to showcase a firepit and his two friends, Wolf and Oz. The smaller Wolf bit into a strip of jerky he chewed with gusto, whilst Oz sharpened a thick orcish knife he had taken off of one of the corpses. 

Wolf would hear his grunt, ears twitching much like the canine of his namesake. The fire crackled, and Torsten would suddenly feel as heavy as he should feel. His side wrapped up and his throat dry and hoarse with every breath. Taking on all of those Orcs was something most would call foolish, but it seemed to perhaps work out for him and his newfound companions if he continued to breathe. Whether he would was up to the Gods, it seemed. 

"So, you're finally awake." Oz said in the native Norgardian, not having even looked up to see Torsten's eyes. The whetstone he ran across the thick blade scraped every few seconds, as if it were a machine tracking the passage of time. "We didn't know if you were going to make it. We just had to stitch you up, and it'll be awhile before you can fight like your ancestors again. But you're alive." 

Wolf went and grabbed a water jug, letting him know his intentions. "I'll be pouring some water down your throat, ok? Then I'll grab some jerky for you. If you want to get strong again, you'll need to sit back and take it."

He did just that, helping Torsten sit up, his back leaning against a tree before he helped feed him. The two men seemed healthy enough, though certainly worn out and scratched, with some minor bludgeoning damage to their arms. Luckily, they had regained their trousers from the dead orcs, though that now meant they were covered in blood and that a dead orc had been in them. It looked like they all could use a settlement at this point. Speaking of such. 

"Tomorrow we'll be heading south to Riverview. A town on the Heathric. Before then, you can tell us what the fuck you're doing here, Torsten." 
[@Gunther]