Hey, hey, hey! I've tried something a little bit different today! I've gone to writing a bit of fan fiction. This is based around Scalpel's pre-match warm up for her game against Si (@irons1de1)'s Union at the start of the Big League!
Hope you enjoy!
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The familiar sound of brandished blades being sharpened
shattered the silence of the confined dressing room. Chilling breath clung to
the air like clouds hanging in a clear sky. Players shared glances between them
knowing that one mistake could be costly – not just for their team but for
their lives.
Transfixed on the uneven cobblestones, Scalpel furiously
tapped her foot on the floor; reciting a verse on her lips with no words
appearing to pierce the air. Looks of confusion swiftly swept across the faces
of other players as the glances they shared with one another turned into
stares. The noise subsided back into the unnerving silence from whence it came
and the Morticians’ finest are finally ready to start their build up for the
inaugural game. The Archangels are ready to take flight.
Continuing her inane ritual, Scalpel proceeded to turn her
tap into a stamp. Throwing her jet black dreadlocks backward, she faced
skyward. Rising like a zombie from an open grave; arms rising upwards, legs
locked – she froze with an unsettling degree of suddenness. This time however,
the chant became audible:
“Help ons groot Elegua. Help ons groot Azrail. Seën ons groot Nayanezgani. Dood aan ons vyande. Die dood aan ons vyand.Die dood aan die valse gode.”
(Help us great Elegua. Help us great Azrail. Bless us great Nayanezgani. Death to our enemies. Death to our foe. Death to the false gods.)
“Kyk na ons guns en welwillendheid. Gift ons met horings , moed en presisie.”
(Look upon us with
favour and kindness. Gift us with swiftness, courage and precision.)
“Bring ons oorwinning vir die gode, ons familie en Figeon.”
(Bring us victory for
the Gods, our family and Figeon.)
Stunned into silence, the players watched amazed as
Scalpel’s body rose off the blood stained floor. Limbs turned limp and her head
retracted even further than before. Voodoo was at work here.
Pulsating intensely, the chant was repeated over and over.
The ground shook violently forcing those around to clutch on to whatever secure
fixings were available. Dirge’s wings flapped furiously as he tried to maintain
a suitable distance away from a seemingly dangerous sight.
“Look!” exclaimed Cosset, struggling to grasp the rusting hook
impaled into the wall.
Turning slowly as not to lose their positions, each team
member watched as a black mist engulfed Scalpel’s body, raising her higher
towards the ceiling. Forming into recognisable shapes, the cloud transformed
into heads of the deceased, the unborn and the familiar all twisting and turning
in a huge vortex of bleakness.
“Vir die gode.” she bellowed. “Vir
our family.”
The swirling mass
expanded, this time filling the room. Heads of ancestors past charged towards
the stunned players, crashing through them in a splash of black vapor. Taken
a-back, each player in turn lost their grip and slumped helplessly to the floor
– concious to the moment but devoid of all feeling. Laying helpless on the cold
stone floor, spirits continued to move in their own unique way – jolting and
jerking around, bouncing off walls and making their way through obsticales like
they were not there.
Scalpel’s jaw
displaced once more, screeching out : “Vir
Figeon!”
Each of the
spirits’ heads reared upward at the sound of the cry and shot towards the
ceiling, disappearing through the thatching leaving whispy wafts of their
entrails to disemminate back into the air. The engulfing cloud surrounding
Scalpel subsided as rapidly as it began. Earth which was once on the brink of collapse
below ground to a halt, giving those non-ritualistic players the chance to come
back to their senses and slowly regain some feeling in their bodies. For
Scalpel, she lie slumped in a heap on the floor – visibily devoid of life.
As the others tentatively
steadied themselves and rose to their feet, Scalpel remained lifeless in the
centre of the room. During the brief interchange of quisical glances and
shrugged shoulders, Ghast knelt beside his lifeless captain. Extending his arm,
he gently rolled her over.
Life returned.
With sharp
inhalation, Scalpel’s chest rose above the floor. Her eyes shot open into a
sharp stare and following the movement of her chest, the rest of her torso sat
upright. Gasping for breath, she looked around the room.
With a rye smile,
she stood. Removing her favourite blade from the scabbard, she examined the tip
with the point of her index finger.
“We’re ready...” she muttered, much to the surprise of those
around her. “The moment is now.”
She clasped the
door handle and turned it. Taking one final glance back into the room her smile
returned.
“Anyone else coming?” she enquired as she stepped out the door running
her knife along the brickwork as she went.
Everyone remained in the room in a stunned silence. Eventually, each member
of the team turned and followed suit, trudging out of the door. Silence was
last to leave. Before closing the door, he turned to examine the room.
“Next time I better bring my prayer beads!”
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Well, that's it from me for today!
Thanks for reading,
I'll see you soon!
@geekphotoguy
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