Ida Holst sat on her chestnut colored warhorse and looked to the gray skies as her and her warriors left the small village they had ransacked. None looked back at the now burning village that trailed thick black smoke into the sky and towards the mountain where things that would forever haunt their memories lived. They had come to raid the village, spill some blood, and move on, but after the tragedy of the night before they were riding for home. Ida and her men rode slowly, them and their horses were weary. It had taken every ounce of her charisma to convince her tired and shaken men to still attack the village. That even in the face of horror there could be some silver lining to it all. The hardest part was telling them to burn the village and not let a single soul escape. There could be no survivors reporting that their numbers were so diminished. It would lead to an attack on them before they could get home, and she wouldn't have that, but she would also not threaten a...