The marketplace was smeared with blood, and rubbish lay around, covering the ground in its parts, for example broken carts, wooden and metal splinters.
The houses surrounding it had in some places big holes in the walls, and had had their windows and shattered in most cases (in other cases, they had simply been blown out of their frames).
Corpses littered the area, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air, mixed with that of fire and smoke.
At the far end of the marketplace, behind something that looks like a hastily erected barricade of wagons, wheels, shops and other things alike, a low rumble growing faster can be heard.
An amnish soldier is sitting and leaning upon it, trying to hold his intestines back with a gloved hand, where the plate mail has been cleanly split in two and his abdomen has been cut open.
Without a warning, the whole barricade suddenly slams down upon him, emitting a sickening crunching sound that erupts into a crash, as a heavy weight slams down upon it all.
It is something, which seems to have no life in it, but yet is controlled by something.
It is a few meters long at least, and perhaps one or two metres in width, with a bigger, flatter rectangular part working as a lower section, with wheels made out of some metal working their way in roughly shaped belts on either side of it.
On top of the lower section, there is a smaller section with a long pipe sticking out of it, and this whole section seems to be able to rotate independent of the lower part of what you could by now decide is a vehicle.
It rotates until it is facing one of the buildings on its left side, where it stops for a second. After a moment of silence, a long fire tongue shoots out from the opening in the pipe, a loud sound can be heard and something with the power of a fireball, only it is also tearing it down, hit the wall, from where cries of anguish and pain can be heard a few seconds later.
From the smoke now coming from the hole in the wall, a young man with blonde hair, dark green tunic and trousers, his delicate features and angular face (as well as completely hairless) identifying him as an elf, stumbled out with one of his arms torn off.
No sooner had he come a few meters before a loud sharp banging continuing sound could be heard, and the elf fell to the ground as half his face was torn off, and multiple holes showed themselves in his torso.
A silence once again settled over the marketplace, before the vehicle once again moved on, taking the turn into one of the side-streets, and disappearing into the maze of houses, occasionally running over and totally deforming a body.
As the last sound of it has drifted away in the winds rushing through the streets this autumn afternoon, several figures can be seen entering the same area in a group of around 15.
It appears to be human men, but it is hard to tell, since their face is partially concealed by helmets, and are smeared with some kind of colours.
They proceed further, spreading out all over the marketplace, crouching down below trashed parts of what ever they can find, all the while carrying something which looks it is made of metal in their hands, and aiming it at the surroundings (therefore probably a weapon).
As something moves at the right end, in one of the alleys, one of the men immediately raises his weapon, aims, and a few sharp loud sounds penetrate the dank air, and the figure of the woman can be seen stumbling, holding one hand to her heart and the other one hanging limply by her side, before she finally stumbles down, face-first in the mud.
The man who shot her does a few quick movements with his hands, and the rest of the group joins up with him, and have a quick contemplation of the situation, before he once again take charge and lead them into one of the streets, moving to their north.
As they proceed through the city streets, they can then and then see moving forms or shadows around them in the smoking ruins, occasionally encountering them, but will never encounter anyone anymore.
They soon approach quite a big, but only a one-floor, building, with hardly any windows or anything else at the sides, that looks quite worn, but still seems as if it is being used, and yet there are no sounds coming from the inside.
As one of the men walks up to the front, ignoring the creaking floor planks, he kicks the door open, but no more has he walked more than a step inside before an arrow protrudes from his throat, the only place where skin can be seen at all on them.
He falls inwards into the gloom, and has hardly hit the floor before one of the other men has thrown something small inside, and in seconds, a loud explosion can be heard, and surprised cries and other shouts can be heard.
As this occur, the group rushes inside, and in only a few minutes, what little resistance there was, has fallen.
The sign which was previously hanging outside has been torn off its hinges by the blast wave, and is now lying in the mud.
As the group of men walk a bit away, still alert, and the leader picks up something which he speaks into (and from what he is saying, it seems as if he is reporting “success” from his group), a rain begin to fall.
The heavy drops splatters loudly upon the copper sign and under the now thickening layer of mud upon it, the name “Copper Coronet” can barely be made out.
