The tolling of the belfry bell in the Nordenvall Fane rang out ominously over the savage wasteland of carnage in the Nordenvall Village and plateaued fields of labor below. The steady downpour of rain diffused the pools of crimson that welled upon the earth, already fully saturated with the sanguine life-blood of the massacred bodies that littered the battle-torn landscape. Buildings were in shambles, precariously held by the foundation of scorched masonry at the base. Flame touched, ebon-tendrils sinuous crept up the buildings from the razing and chaos had nearly fully consumed their structures. The wooden columns that were load-bearing, carrying the weight and burden of keeping the buildings upright, groaned and strained, emitting their protest with every errant breath of wind. Still, they stood in defiance of the barbarism committed this very day.
The air laden heavily with the ferrous scent of blood, the thick cloud of choking smoke and debris, and the skies nearly blotted out with the circling of carrion eaters, rays of dawn poked out through the ash and soot that floated upon the current of winds. Bloat flies were the first to visit upon the feast of flesh that the insurrection left in its wake, dispersed only by the fluttering of vultures and ravens’ wings. Order, by the divine decree of the Iron Faith and the stalwart vigilance of the faithful, triumphed over the entropic horde of rebellion that sought to consume the Village and Fane whilst they dutifully raised orisons and praise to the Divine Emperor.
The foreign expeditionary force that paid homage and heeded the beckoning of the Biskop fought back the throngs of Mytteri, casting them into eternal torment within the Hell of Slaves. They returned to the Fane as the sun rose, the remaining committed servants expeditiously moving purpose to rebuilding. Biskop Preben, who presided over the religious service, has yet to emerge from the massive stoned spires of the Nordenvall Fane. Instead, Biskop Balser’s grating voice is heard over the din of hammer, trowel and cart, barking caustic orders to reclamation operations. Crisis was averted this eve, by the narrowest of margins, and the Hazlani natural order restored. The crack of whips and agonizing cries of many fill the once-elongated silences of the land now and word spreads of a carriage departing from Toyalis, bound for Nordenvall, as bodies heft debris and repair structures with alacritous vigor.