So, I may have been a little over dramatic, they didn’t all burn; just most of them. The rest of them were taken as slaves, no, in all honesty, I didn’t care much. I mean, come on most of them had mocked, ridiculed, or physically abused me for most of my life I was in a way happy to see most of them out of my life.

The men were the first to be killed, the mercenaries set off a battle cry bringing the men to run out of their houses. Then came the flood of arrows setting fires and killing the few fools who didn’t hide. As the village men hid from the arrows, the mercenaries raced down into our valley killing as they went. Only a few young men who hid were kept as slaves, any surviving fathers were killed.

After the village was pacified all the people were brought out and the old were taken and killed. The elders of the village were the first to be killed, among whom was my grandfather. My grandfather had taught me to hunt and planted the seeds of my dreams of becoming a warrior. The elders were beheaded and their heads were placed on spikes as a warning. The rest of our old men were then shot in the back, the most disgraceful death for a warrior. The old women were stabbed in the heart after they watched.

Next, our mothers were given to the men, and their babies were exposed to the elements overnight the survivors were taken and cared for. Our virgins were taken to be sold on the slave market, as slaves.