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Blood Reavern (650 words)
Cynicus
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
So, one of the criticismsmsms I received on my previous story was that I didn't set the stage properly and it didn't have a strong sense of place.
So I wrote a thing, which may or may not be a story, that tries to do well at setting the stage and giving a sense of place.
Nargrill walked through the cramped corridor towards the sacrificial pyramid.
The last of the offerings just rolled down the side, and the attending men and women howled in triumph. The yellow, intricately carved stone blocks were streaked with blood, new and old, and the square thronged with fighters drunk on blood and bloodlust.
There were many scenes like this going on all across the island, at half a dozen pyramids and scores of smaller fonts. They had had a good raid last night, and Nargrill's reavers were satisfied. That would not last long though. Soon the bloodgod would thirst once again, and its children would be compelled to go out into the sky and find it fresh sacrifices.
For now, though, there was revelry. Already, their god's blessings were manifesting amidst the reavers. New claws were being brandished, fangs bared, and a blessed few were crawling away from the bright sun even now. Those men and women would not be seen again for some time, if ever again. Nargrill would have to strike them down when they emerged. He had been like them, once, and challenged the reigning bloodlord for ownership of the island and its people. Perhaps some of these wretches would one day pose a real challenge to him, but he doubted it.
Nargrill walked out into the sunlight, now no longer a threat to him, and strode towards the pyramid. The crowd parted instinctively for him, and the yelling, screaming, and miscellaneous festive noises quieted down. He walked up to the pyramid, where even the haemophants had gone quiet and still. Nargrill had an announcement to make, and he was making sure everyone there knew that he had come for a serious matter. The tension was palpable, but silence was only occasionally broken by an unfortunate who was taken by surprise and gutted. There would be many more sacrifices later today.
The crowd was a mass of faces, pale, gaunt, scared and wide-eyed. They stared at Nargrill. Some met his gaze, others averted their eyes, but all of them parted for him.
'My lord.' one of the haemophants started when Nargrill reached the top of the pyramd, but he cut her off.
'Silence.' he commanded, and the priestess obeyed, cowed.
'My people!' Nargill bellowed out over the square, spreading out his arms to receive their adulation. The last murders died down, and Nargrill took a moment to survey their awe and fear with satisfaction.
'The prey has gone to war!' he exclaimed.
The reavers immediately started talking again, some chattered among themselves and other yelled questions to the top of the pyramid.
'Do they come at us at last?' and 'They'll all die, and then we will starve, will we not?' and 'If they come here, it means we don't need to leave any more!' we among the more coherent remarks made.
Nargrill motioned for silence, and was immediately obeyed.
'The prey does not bring war to us, but to each other. This is good news for us, for it means that their attention will be elsewhere. Last night was just the beginning!' Nargrill said.
The square exploded into violent jubilation, and Nargrill watched with pride at their blood-thirst.
He was in a celebratory mood himself, actually, and grabbed the haemophant that had thought to address him earlier.
He wrestled her down to the font and dragged a single finger nail across her throat with one fluid, practiced motion. The priestess gurgled helplessly, and then her blood drained into the basin and snaked towards the central hole in the middle, where it disappeared into a dark hole that led down to the bowels of the island, where the master slept.
A sense of satisfaction descended on Nargrill, and he savoured it. It had been so long since he had gotten to do that, he really should indulge himself more often.
So I wrote a thing, which may or may not be a story, that tries to do well at setting the stage and giving a sense of place.
Nargrill walked through the cramped corridor towards the sacrificial pyramid.
The last of the offerings just rolled down the side, and the attending men and women howled in triumph. The yellow, intricately carved stone blocks were streaked with blood, new and old, and the square thronged with fighters drunk on blood and bloodlust.
There were many scenes like this going on all across the island, at half a dozen pyramids and scores of smaller fonts. They had had a good raid last night, and Nargrill's reavers were satisfied. That would not last long though. Soon the bloodgod would thirst once again, and its children would be compelled to go out into the sky and find it fresh sacrifices.
For now, though, there was revelry. Already, their god's blessings were manifesting amidst the reavers. New claws were being brandished, fangs bared, and a blessed few were crawling away from the bright sun even now. Those men and women would not be seen again for some time, if ever again. Nargrill would have to strike them down when they emerged. He had been like them, once, and challenged the reigning bloodlord for ownership of the island and its people. Perhaps some of these wretches would one day pose a real challenge to him, but he doubted it.
Nargrill walked out into the sunlight, now no longer a threat to him, and strode towards the pyramid. The crowd parted instinctively for him, and the yelling, screaming, and miscellaneous festive noises quieted down. He walked up to the pyramid, where even the haemophants had gone quiet and still. Nargrill had an announcement to make, and he was making sure everyone there knew that he had come for a serious matter. The tension was palpable, but silence was only occasionally broken by an unfortunate who was taken by surprise and gutted. There would be many more sacrifices later today.
The crowd was a mass of faces, pale, gaunt, scared and wide-eyed. They stared at Nargrill. Some met his gaze, others averted their eyes, but all of them parted for him.
'My lord.' one of the haemophants started when Nargrill reached the top of the pyramd, but he cut her off.
'Silence.' he commanded, and the priestess obeyed, cowed.
'My people!' Nargill bellowed out over the square, spreading out his arms to receive their adulation. The last murders died down, and Nargrill took a moment to survey their awe and fear with satisfaction.
'The prey has gone to war!' he exclaimed.
The reavers immediately started talking again, some chattered among themselves and other yelled questions to the top of the pyramid.
'Do they come at us at last?' and 'They'll all die, and then we will starve, will we not?' and 'If they come here, it means we don't need to leave any more!' we among the more coherent remarks made.
Nargrill motioned for silence, and was immediately obeyed.
'The prey does not bring war to us, but to each other. This is good news for us, for it means that their attention will be elsewhere. Last night was just the beginning!' Nargrill said.
The square exploded into violent jubilation, and Nargrill watched with pride at their blood-thirst.
He was in a celebratory mood himself, actually, and grabbed the haemophant that had thought to address him earlier.
He wrestled her down to the font and dragged a single finger nail across her throat with one fluid, practiced motion. The priestess gurgled helplessly, and then her blood drained into the basin and snaked towards the central hole in the middle, where it disappeared into a dark hole that led down to the bowels of the island, where the master slept.
A sense of satisfaction descended on Nargrill, and he savoured it. It had been so long since he had gotten to do that, he really should indulge himself more often.
Cynicus on
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'Bloodlord' seems like a really clichéd title for anyone, and a little silly sounding besides.
Also, when Nargrill is speaking to the crowd the scene seems a bit odd:
How can he hear what a few audience members are saying? Surely it's a pretty large crowd if he sees them as a "mass of faces" a little earlier? Also, his response is a little like he's addressing one person and there's not really a great sense that he's shouting down at them.
I think you may be right about it being the start of a story, I'll try to come up with a way to continue it.
Yeah, I'm not really satisfied about the guy's job description, but I'm mostly terrible at coming up with names for things.
The idea was that the 'gifts' that Nargrill was given by his master included good hearing, so he would be able to pick out the things his minions say.
Obviously that's not coming across very well, so I'll do something about that. I'll also try to give a better sense of shouting somehow.