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The Pilgrimage to Queyta

Incinerator Clayton

Guest
I
It was the Firehawk that told him to go to Queyta, he could feel it in his bones. The madness that spoke to him, no not spoken madness, shown. The dream, a vivid dream. Of Fire and smoke and screams. The Firehawk demanded sacrifices, wanted them. Screaming pierced the air as he slowly lowered the cage over the fiery molten rivers of Queyta, the cargo freighter having an ample supply of chains and heretics that the Firehawk demanded.

"Yes, yes my Goddess. Sacrifices for you! For the Firehawk!"

His voice sounded labored as he wheezed slightly, tying the chair off to a rock as the cage hung so close to the molten river. The heat pouring into it as the crazed man moved about. No he wasn't crazed, he was following the voice of his deity that spoke to him within his head. She called for more, and more the Firehawk would be given. As he hobbled to the freighter once more, screams filled the cargo hold. The passengers and crew had been gathered, those that had resisted were sacrificed immediately. He had done much in his short time since he took the freighter. They never seemed to think to look in the food containers for stowaways.

"More, more! The Goddess demands!"

Grabbing a crew member that he had knocked out just moments earlier before he landed, he drug the body towards the edge. Dropping the limp leg of the being onto the ground. Rolling the being to the edge as he looked up.

"Oh Goddess! Oh Firehawk! For You!"

With a quick push of his foot the form fell into the fiery river below. The screams filling the air once more as he turned back to the freighter, seeking out the next sacrifice that the Goddess called for.
 
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