Viking Raid

Whilst traveling forth from a trading centre in the heart of mine homeland, Great Britain, I gazed upon the sky and let out a cry of horror as the sight of a foul black plume of smoke met my eyes. I broke into a run as I realized that mine fears hadst been recognized. I directed my gait towards the monastery that  laid outside mine homeland. I reached it with little ease, but eventually stoood outside its great wooden doors. In my panic, I abandoned all courtesy and began to hammer upon the doors with all of my strength. Only when some of my terror began to subside, did I realize that something was gravely wrong.

The door, usually thick and strong, was blackened and beginning to splinter under my efforts. The windows hadst no flicker of candlelight glowing from within. And the most heart-wrenchingly discernible was the lack of almost constant prayers, chants, and hymns coming from within. I raced down the treacherous slope to mine village and was met with carcasses and destruction. I sped around the village, calling out for someone, but none answered. 

A cry of anguish and despair echoed around the ruins, and I perked my ears. I ran with all of my strength to the centre of mine hometown, and saw, a group of about a half-score of people working their way out from a collapsed building. I rushed towards them and we began to maneuver the rubble around. With our efforts, we managed to clear the surrounding carnage, and began to wander the city, gathering the dead for burial. As we walking in our solemnity, the poor, disturbed creature that had uttered the first cry began to mutter, "The Northmen... It