...But no, he'd handpicked these men, chosen them for their abilities, and for the trophies they wore around their necks, relics of so many battles. Chosen the ones that displayed them proudly, hard-won as they were from the people who called themselves civilized.
“Tonight we strike.” He said, his voice low enough that the men were forced to crane in to hear. “Tonight we rain hell and damnation down on them. Tonight the Gods come to earth.”
“But...” the man who spoke was slight, almost as thin as the captain was massive. The captain glowered, but the man continued. “We're a strike and run vessel.”
“We're a raiding vessel.” The captain stressed the word. “We run for no man.” he paused, making sure this had sunk in. “And we will commit a raid vaster than any in the know world. We will take this city for all it's got. We will turn their machines to trophies, all the trappings of their steampowered empire to war prizes for our men, and jewelry for our women. We will wear their fall around our necks.”
He paused again, looking at each man and woman in turn. “We are each the sons and daughters of Thor, and he has blessed us.” He clasped a fist around the wire-wrapped trinket at his throat. “I won this, by right of arms. Have any of you done less? Would any of you do less?”
The men and women muttered their assent.
“I said, would any of you do less?” the captain roared.
“No!” The shout echoed back from the clouds.
“Then arm yourselves, and be ready to throw off the lines. We'll fight them in their very streets, till we're sated and have taken what we came to take.”
Baring his teeth in a grin, the Captain stood back and watched his crew scatter, ready for the battle that was to come.
Story by S.M Smith. Read more by S.M. Smith here.
xo ~ Mad