Blood seeped into the Earth and dust settled as the sound of clashing steel and death rattles faded away. Only crackling fire and sporatic, victorious cheering remained. Ekkill looked to the west; taking note of the falling sun nestled between the mountains. Darkness would be upon them soon. They would sleep in the village tonight in the homes which had not burned.
"Men, gather the dead savages and lay their bodies out in the woods for the animals. Start gathering wood for pyres and campfires. We sleep here tonight," Ekkill thundered. Most of his men, even the young ones, already knew the drill. "Styrbjörn, let us find where they keep their mead!"
Ekkill marched off in the general direction of the largest structure in the village. It looked to be a place of worship, or possibly a meeting place of some sort. I'm going to be pissed if we burned the mead, he thought. His warriors had definitely earned their pints for the day.
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