Naturale speed please :)
There was a brooding silence all around the snowfield. A frosty, silvery landscape, once charming but now darkened with a gloomy atmosphere, filled with mutilated red-haired corpses everywhere. In that limitless, white plain, two figures stood upright; both were mighty warriors built powerfully as fierce gladiators, forged in the slaughter of battle. Both escaped many times from the deathly embrace of the Reaper, being skilled slayers themselves. The black-haired one was shieldless and held a huge aquilonian broadsword: his name was Conan, a barbarian who had come from a mythical far away northern/southern country, called Cimmeria. He stood with his feet planted in the snow like an iron statue, ignoring the growing unsettledness due to the fighting. Beardless, inscrutable in his black cloak and cold as snow itself, he glared with his wolfish blue eyes at the other figure right in front of him, Heimdul of the red hair. Heimdul was also shieldless, yet armoured with a mailed corselet and held in his hands a sharpened long axe. His locks of beard were red just like his hair, red as an early and naked dawn emerging on the snow. Shaking his head like a lion might shake his mane, with a roar Heimdul slowly started speaking to Conan..