Bismarck's (attempts at) Dailies

Hel could already tell this farmstead was a lost cause, but she approached anyway. The windows and the front door were smashed in. She paused, a frown creasing her leathery face, and she unlimbered her axe as she moved up the gravel path. The house was silent. She peered in the door, red eyes gleaming in the shadows. They hadn't even bothered to pick the lock, they'd just knocked it inwards. It was a perfectly regular single-floor farmstead, but it had been thoroughly trashed. The contents of every cupboard had been emptied, and even the chairs around the table had been overturned. Hel found the first casualty within; a human man with his throat opened lying slumped over a broken chair. A cursory glance through other rooms revealed similar destruction and revealed the fate of the farmer's wife; she was in the bedroom, and by all accounts had met with a far grislier fate than him. Hel's face hardened further.

This was hardly even thievery, this was butchery. They had taken anything of value, no matter how small, and trashed the rest. Some of the windows had been smashed outward in their rampage. Hel's boots crunched over a broken plate as she turned to exit, giving the rooms a once-over. There was another bedroom, with a smaller bed and a number of toys scattered about. Most had faced the same fate as everything else in the house: a crib was smashed, a pair of dolls had their heads pulled off. The sheets had been stripped off the bed, but there was no blood in the room. Hel stepped in and noticed something beneath the bed. She knelt and lifted a small doll, roughly resembling a knight with a sword and shield. She held it in her hand for a moment. Her pupils narrowed to thin black slits, her mouth set into a hard, hard line.

Her fingers tightened around the doll and her ears pricked up. Faintly, she could hear raucous laughter from the north, behind the farmstead. A moment after she heard a wail. Hel stood and slipped the doll in her belt, moving to the window. A line of trees separated her from the brigands, seven of them in total, sitting around a campfire a ways away from the house. They had their haul, as well as a young girl being roughly held on one man's knee as his comrades laughed. The windows had already been smashed so it was easy enough to slip outside.

"We never find anything fuckin' decent in this houses." grumbled one of the bandits, chewing on a chicken leg. They had made their fire in the midst of a former animal pen, likely for chickens, but they'd slaughtered the chickens and cooked three of them.
"At least we got these chickens." said one.
"And this little bird too." said the man holding the girl. She was likely less than thirteen, with auburn hair and pale blue eyes, hands bound by rough rope.
"These fuckin' farmers are the real chickens. Easy pickin's. Better than riskin' the big cities or proper towns and a knightly order coming after us." said the first bandit, taking another bite.

Hel's axe cleaved his skull in half as his teeth sank into the meat.

"Chickens, meet wolf." Her eyes were bloody pools. The bandit holding the girl screamed louder than she did.