A Tale of Empires #2

The Island of Yukdo, 1228. The sun, in all it's eternal majesty, beats down on the the ground which, although certainly dusty, shines with the polish that many feet travelling will do to a piece of land. That is to say, rather than loose dirt and dust flying around, the ground has been beaten into submission by the passage of many people, and as a result has a bright sheen to it.
Every so often, the sun catches the edge of an axe, or the tip of a blade. The rays then bounce off said implements into the eyes of the many workers. 10 or so Korean villagers, after having breakfast in the town centre (Hm, Salmon), have began to chop wood, as they do every day. The sound of birds cawing drifts to their ears, the incessant swish swash of the waves beats endlessly on and the calls of other workers are heard. They chop the wood, because that is what they do. They are wood-choppers.
"Ay, Kurra, this'n be hard work, as usual"
"Wololo"
Conversation is rare among the workers, most preferring simply to chop wood, admiring their own fell swoops, perhaps imagining swinging their axe at the bastard Mayans. Because of this, although some of them could be called friends, the community of lumberjacks is somewhat loose, no one particularly caring about each other, despite their constant shared toil.
Suddenly, a sound is heard.
"Ay, Kurra, You hear that?"
"Bildin?"
"No, sounds like..marching"
As the workers continue to , well, work, the marching sounds get nearer and nearer, eventually completely eclipsing the waves, and the workers, and the birds. The trees to the right of the lumber-yard part and a horrible sight reveals it self. 10 men-at-arms, in the garb of the Mayans, step forward. Their brows are moist with swear, their red undershirts flutter slightly in the breeze, and the sun; as if sensing something untoward, glints on their armour.
"Miaaaaaaaaaa"
They charge, pulling their swords from their holdings in perfect unison. The villagers freeze where they are, unable to comprehend the sight before their eyes. They hear the town bell ring out, bidding all workers to retreat. Most of the workers do, running to the town centre, grabbing a bow and a few arrows and taking position in the main tower. The Lumberjacks, however, do not.
Frozen on the spot, they divide into two groups. The first group, still completely lost in a maelstorm of confusion, are fairly silent as they are struck down, still unable to "get it". The second group, coincidentally those who thought they would make good soldiers, brandish their axes and charge at the enemy soldiers. The soldier's faces show a brief instant of surprise, their eyebrows raising slightly, before lowering again as they realise these villagers are STILL harmless. The second group is cut down as swiftly as the first. Their axes falling to the ground with a dull thud, the sun leaving their faces for the last time. The soldiers then move on, destroying the lumberjack yard and many of the houses around it.
For those still in refuge within the town centre, it seems like the end is nigh...