After every member of the Varangian Warband had fallen, it was the other players' turn to suffer.
The Minisia soldiers, now free to act, began moving out to clean up the chaos throughout the city. The players they targeted certainly weren't happy about it, but apart from a few stubborn fools, most fled through the gates with their spoils.
For many players, taking White Rock City hadn't been their main objective that night. They had come to stop the Varangian Warband from keeping all the spoils for themselves.
Now that they had accomplished that, of course they were going to retreat.
What about White Rock City?
Who cared? The city wasn't going anywhere. If they couldn't take it this time, they could try again. But if the Varangian Warband had successfully claimed everything, there would have been no next chance.
So the players who had successfully sabotaged them fled without the slightest hesitation.
Once the players left, the refugees who had come into the city for food weren't stupid either. They had already started fleeing with grain slung over their backs or clutched in their hands. They all knew the lords would settle accounts with anyone who stayed.
After both groups escaped, they left an enormous mess behind in White Rock City.
Smoke still hung in the air, and fires continued to ravage several neighborhoods, crackling as they burned.
But the battle cries, the players' wild laughter, the refugees' wails, and the frantic crashing of looting had all faded away. All that remained was devastation, and... a city stripped bare, its granaries even contaminated.
Dawn broke. General Hoffman stood at the entrance to the East City Granary, his boot soles sinking into a nauseating mixture... grain trampled into powder and mud, dried black blood, shredded sack fibers, and unspeakable