The iron legion camp was as quiet as a grave. Outside, its guards had been slaughtered, their bodies fodder for the crows. No one had been spared, not civilians, women, or children. All fell, and were left where they fell. In the center of camps sat the four battlestations, their barrels smoking and their engines idling. The commanders lay in a ripped apart state in the center of this formation, bodies ripped apart and their swords destroyed. None in the legion remained.