Halbjorn is a mass of blood. Some of it is his, more of it is his foes. The only sounds he's making fall somewhere between a banshee's howl and a bear's roar, letting the madness wash over him as readily as his enemies' blood.
Svalin, in most times, is the princess of Asgard, he knows it in his soul. But he's also a bear-sark, and right now, his sister has been kidnapped. Right now, the madness is his master. He just takes their slings and arrows, and swords and spears, daring them to stand long enough to shed his blood before he tears through them like so many leaves on the wind.
He may die today, but he will not die alone.
For anyone looking on, its not a pretty picture.
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