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The sun rose unsteadily in the sky while shedding a coat of blood red light. The bleeding red light was slowly giving away to the bleached light of later morning, the real evidence of the devisation that had wrecked itself upon the hold was just now pronouncing itself to those inside.
The floor of the grounds was filled with the scattered remains of all kinds of bodies of those that were lost. Many of them were dismembered arms and legs. While the owners of these limbs were unknown, the warpaint that was scattered across all of them made certain that their finders knew what allegiance the owner had in life.
In the early morning wood had been gathered from the nearby forest as people worked towards building the gates. Witnesses of their construction could tell though that the makeshift new gates were ramshackled with bits of metal gathered from both the old gates and what could be made by a blacksmith within this single day.
When the darkness comes again this place would rue it. A curse to those damned evil gods who had casted their evil minions and spells upon the people of Albion. Rampaging hordes of Norscans who even with the great sea monster of Morr traveling through the waters didn’t stop them from trying to land upon the shores.
The dead needed to be dealt with. So many of them there were that no grave could be dug deep enough. Many wanted to simply worry about their own kin, those noble men who died as defenders against the hordes of Norscans, but others answered that with the simple idea that Norscans would not be opposed to eating their own dead. That by throwing the corpses of the dead chaos worshippers outside that they would in fact be feeding their besiegers!
As all corpses could not be dealt in a single day the people of this Barony gathered the dead into a pile. The wood shavings from the construction of the new fortifications or wood peices that were simply too small to be used were thrown into the pile as well. Then a line of people from the fortress, who love ones were lost in the previous night’s battle, placed relics of those lost next to their bodies, or on the pile if they could not be found. The precession of the mourning ended with a man who called himself a Knight. He gave a few words that carried with them blessings and protection for the life after.
Then the people threw torches that were lit since the previous night upon the fire. Quickly they all wept at the sight of their saviors, martyrs in the battle against the damned.
Walking away Lucian knew what he needed to do.
