Night fell upon the village of Adela and as it did, the five Vikings from the Nordlands made their way into the outskirts carrying with them swords, torch sticks, and bags for limbs, bones, money, and things they could take back to their beloved Illska who awaited their return in the Arctic.
They each split up, two to a group, leaving Greven to himself, since he knew he could handle himself the most.
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Euronymous and Sort went after the churches in the village. They began their damage at the first church they came to. It was a small and humble church, that couldn't house more than two hundred people.
Not a big loss to the village if burned but, it did have, like all, and influence on the faith that these Vikings hated. Euronymous kicked the wooden door in and made his way up to the alter without hesitation. Taking out one of his torch sticks, he used magick to light the torch, causing a great flame to shoot out from the top of the torch. Euronymous touched everything he could see with the torch, lighting it all. He wanted nothing to be left standing, nothing.
The alter, engulfed in flames, quickly spread to the rest of the fellowship while the two made their escape and continued through the village, scoping out their next church.
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Kirastulli and Doden strolled down the alleyways and corridors of the village, scoping out the weak.
With maces in their hands, they put an end to the struggling life that infested the streets of the god-infested village. Every homeless scrub they came across got the mace to the head or to which ever part of the body that was visible. The last thing Adela needed was to be dragged down by the threat of overpopulation due to homelessness.
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Greven, the leader, chuckled and smiled as the night sky began to light up with the flames of the torched churches, four in all. And grinned as the short screams quickly faded to silence. He knew what his partners were doing and he loved every second of it.
The Viking made his way to the nearest boathouse that rested at the banks of a river flowing through the heart of the village. The perfect get away plan stared them right in the face. A massive ship that could easily be sailed from Adela back to the arctic and it could even survive the ice that plagued the arctic shores.
Greven's fellow vikings saw and met up with him at the ship, a few bags of gold and the heads of a few homeless street rats, perfect for fire fuel. Along with heads came a few bones that Doden had ripped out from the limp bodies that they had killed.
Although they would escape this small raid without hostility, a trail of Dead Rats marked their path, appearing on the shore and all throughout the village.
Leading anyone who wished to venture northward to pay them a visit......
