By all rights, humanity should have been wiped out by the Heavenfall. The meteor was bigger than the moon, and, caught in a rapidly decaying orbit about earth, spent two months showering the planet with its shed pieces. When it finally came to rest, it landed close enough to Yellowstone that the resultant impact and eruptions wiped out almost all of America, and leaving a mangled pillar of meteor and lava large enough to be seen from space.
The rest of the world fared better, but had by no means been spared, people and planet alike decimated by the months of bombardment. The earth was broken and twisted, plants struggled to grow, animals died out. Humans looked like to follow.
Yet the herald of calamity also provided mocking salvation. From rends in the crystalline structure of the meteor fragments flowed a steady, unending stream of what came to be called Godsblood. A sort of proto-matter, scientists discovered ways to transform the blood into water, food, power, even atmosphere. It could have heralded a new golden age.
Except there was never enough. The flow was steady, and unending, but it could never cover every possible use. And those who controlled the supply controlled everything. Water and the nutrient slurry used as food were essential, but tightly rationed, and expansion demanded ever greater supplies, as the remaining populations were forced to congregate in the shadows of that which destroyed them.
The blood of humans was swift deemed cheaper than that of the gods.
The wars fought were frequent, and bloody, and devoid of any true victor, fought on foot, or in walking mechs that could traverse the rent landscapes of post-Heavenfall Earth. But there were always those who look to the future, the minds, brilliant and broken, who would advance even warfare.
In the laboratories that lie in the shadows of the Citadel of Bern, one such dream draws close to its bloody fruition.
Hosted and narrated by:
Andrew Crossley (Kjelfalconer)
Scenes played: 3
License: Community License