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The Morning is over. After lunch, Ragnar steps outside and enjoys the view. Not even half of the day is over. Many more Bandits are going to be slain... Hours of not knowing if he will return are still in front of him. But well... He doesn't really care. For a true warrior the question isn't "how?". It's "when?". "Will today be the day I see Sovngarde? Or will I live to die fighting another day?"
If today he will survive, boring days of giving his wounds a chance to heal would wait for him. Wounds of bodkinarrows that simply pierced his chainmail... One even hit him through his shield. The wood of his old shield is foul and soft. "Last bandit ate some wood when I bashed him..." he thinks to himself with a smirk on his face. He takes a deep breath and leaves his homestead. The time of killing, bloodshed and pain has once again begun. The endless season is endless indeed. It doesn't matter if it's a great war, a civil war or a personal war against bandits and pirates. War is war. And war will never end.