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[i]Overhead swing.

Sidestep and lash out with an axe.

Enemy fel- roll to the right.

Run at full speed towards the new foe.

Halt.

Not possible to dodge, parry with greaves.

Parry partial success, redirected to non-vital area.

Push forward with shoulder.

Swing upward- split from groin to throat.

Grab the falling. Use as shield.

Another one.

Let the axe go- punch the throat.

Throw shield over the shoulder.

Take axe back.

Spin. Wide arc. Make space.

Breathe in.

Scream.

Charge.[/i]
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There was no thought in Rowan's head, only the barest hint of consciousness keeping track of the events happening and upholding one golden rule.

However just because he was not making concise thoughts didn't mean that his body didn't feel the environment, there was a feeling of heat in the air, the same one that had become so common lately. There was also a hint of salt under it marking his location as close enough to the sea for his nose to pick it up despite the smoke.

There were no allies in close proximity.

Instead, he could [i]feel[/i] the malicious energy of the enemies surrounding him, almost like a physical force trying to asphyxiate him. A litany of wounds covered his body, small and numerous to the point blood loss would likely be the reason for death.

His body continued fighting.

!

The malice spiked, no, it overflooded the area, it was not directed at him but just experiencing it as a result of proximity was enough to weaken his knees. 

There was also... knowledge returned to his mind. Speech, someone was speaking, [i]screaming[/i] something. The ships? More knowledge appeared.

The ships...

The... ships, they were important? A flash second of insight and his body was charging at full speed towards the shore.

An enemy and several allies.

He charged.