The setting sun painted the sky a hazy red, as if the eyes of the gods were watching over the earth, reveling in the grand slaughter of humanity, savoring the sacrificial rites and offerings. Then, with a smile, He caused ripples of crimson to dance upon the Long River, sweeping away all the icy sacrifices, before contentedly closing His eyes, plunging the world into darkness.
The fierce battle finally drew to a close, with small fires sparking to life on both banks of the great river. The Militia had already cleaned up the battlefield. They buried the fallen warriors, collected the remaining weapons and Armor, and gathered the prisoners together.
The battle to cross the river lasted an afternoon, and the Tarasco people suffered devastating casualties.