BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL

MORSE

The Blizzard of Blood
Thursday, June 7, 2012

Still the Reavers paid no attention to it. They felt the cold, but they ignored it completely.


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 445    RATING: 0    SERIES: FIREFLY

Town of Polomar – Pop. 104

September 9, 2517 – St. Albans

1:21 P.M Local Time

”RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAHRAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH”

The call went out across the town, the small huddle of buildings which gave shelter from the cold. And it was in fact cold as not a being could breathe without seeing the trail of heat coming from their mouth and nose. Still the Reavers paid no attention to it. They felt the cold, but they ignored it completely. To them it could be burning, or it could be freezing, and they would still charge to do what they did.

After giving the call Vykaar brought his spear down to pound on the snow beneath him. The seven foot pole of metal which had a massive collection of blade points at the top, smacked the ground. It dug straight through the snow and hit the rock beneath it. It gave metallic clunk as it did, and from his nose he snorted four times. He looked over as the tribe washed over the people, dragging woman by there hair, killing any that so much as resisted. Some of the structures were put to the torch, and large spikes of metal had been shot out into the ground.

There would be no mistaking for anyone that The Prophet Vykaar and his tribe had been there, and that pleased Vykaar. It pleased him knowing that the god’s would be satisfied with his gift of blood and sacrifice to them. To know that one of the bright circles in the dark abyss above the worlds would be extinguished was all he lived for, and this would be a bright circle extinguished indeed.

He stepped forward over the snow towards the center of the town, where a group of his tribesmen stood. All around him, there were people being dragged back to the shuttles that they had descended from. They screamed and they begged and they cried. And all they did was leave a more satisfied feeling in Vykaars black soul, as it was what the gods wanted. Their slaughter and sacrifice would be what brought them their salvation. If they would see as the tribe saw, then they would be fortunate. If not, they were merely weak and blind and there blood would stain the halls of the vessel in orbit above.

Arriving at the center of the town, Vykaar saw that the Reavers held down a man. He was large, and had a beard on his face. He was no doubt the strongest Vykaar had seen in the town. As Vykaar approached the other Reavers moved aside. They began to go into a crazed frenzy, jumping and screaming and striking their chests. An animalistic rage, that was not matched by Vykaar. He had a look of a hateful rage, that was kept under control, those his breathing was like that of a tired beast. The breath from his nose shot hard and was followed by quick inhales.

He could see the fear in the man’s face, as the image of Vykaar washed over him. The towering Reaver looking down on him with a massive jagged spear in his hands was a sight that couldn’t have even been imagined in nightmares. And still being restrained by a pair of Vykaar’s followers, it was clear this would likely be his end.

Tears streamed down his face, but Vykaar didn’t see them. He stood centered with the man and he hefted the spear off the ground. He turned it in his fingers and brought his other hand on it. The point drifted down to the mans chest, and with no wondering of last words, he thrust the spear into him. The red sacrifice ripped from within as the spear was removed, and he fell to the ground, with a look of shock still on his face.

”Buuuuuuuuuuuurhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaa”

Vykaar yelled out once more, and the Reavers jumped into a frenzy once again. Some struck the ground, others hit each other, and some hit the body. Vykaar held the spear over his head as he yelled and turned around with it in his hand. Their sacrifice to the gods had been made, and all the Reavers knew that the gods were pleased as Vykaar roared to inform them of the fact.

Slowly he made his way back to the ship, as the town was emptied of useful items and its inhabitants. The winds were picking up as they moved, and the red stained town would soon find itself as nothing but a sign of Vykaars devotion to the gods.

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