It was a cold Martian day in the city of Tezt-Maral. The city was one of the Martian holy sites on the east slope of Olympus Mons.
"The size of my home state of Texas" loudly proclaimed an American I had the misfortune of travelling with. The one thing I can say about this blighter is that at least he is an American from the Confederacy and not the Union. The Union colonials are nothing short of bloody berks.
I was fortunate to find a guide willing to take a party up to the high peak. Most of these Martian savages consider it sacred as it was where the "prophet" of their debased "religion" ascended into "heaven".
Sheer balderdash!
Soon right thinking missionaries from the Empire shall pound the truth into their souls. Personally I do my duties to the Church like my duties to the Crown but I pay no heed to it myself but others should as it has a civilising effect.
The guide was a greedy little Canal Martian by the name of Gzorgin, but I renamed him George after a shepherd I once employed. He was short and green with those souless black eyes and jet black hair common to the Canalfolk. He spoke English in a horrendous accent probably taught by a Welshman. Quite possible as where he comes from had a large number of Methodist missionaries from Wales. At least 'til the mission was destroyed by Desert Martian raiders.
Members of His Majesty's marines still brag about capturing them and feeding them to the Barzath. Members of the debased Martian religion consider the barzath either unclean or sacred and believe that their souls will be lost forever if fed to one.
Ha! Using their savage relgion against them to confuddle their feeble minds. Now they fear harming any human in Imperial territory.
Anyway, we started our trek. Myself, the Texan, George, and our bearers.
To be continued....
More please!
ReplyDelete