ancient tribal mares sacrifice mare to the sun god


                                            >Deep and doleful drums rumble out across the night

                                            >Torchlights burn in a long row towards a dark, oppressive edifice

                                            >An ancient stone temple, stepped, pyramidal and decked in crude malevolent-faced sculptures

                                            >A blood red twilight begins to glow like an ember in the east

                                            >A light blue-coated mare named Soothing Rain, drugged and blindfolded, is led by a rope and a crude leather bridle decorated with small bones and cowrie shells

                                            >Her blindfold is soaked with tears, no amount of drugged delirium can elude the poor mare from what is about to happen to her

                                            >She is marched down the torchlit procession in front of the imposing temple

                                            >The drumming gets louder, beats faster.

                                            >She is marched up the long staircase up to an apex at its peak overlooking the dark city

                                            >The weeping blue mare is led towards a stone table in the middle of the plateau.

                                            >A mare with a blood-red coat, black tribal paint, and an enourmously elaborate feathered headdress beset with predator skulls walks out from the dark stone doorway at the top of the temple.

                                            >The drums crescendo and go quiet.

                                            >The mare, Priestess Scarlet Altar, looks down and out at the procession and city, and looks out as if to the Gods, and speaks.

                                            >“My little ponies, the Gods have not been happy.

                                            >The sun has dimmed, the crops have failed, and the ponies, will starve...” she hung on the last part, to a deathly quiet procession.

                                            >“...But we will give our dues, and the Gods will be made happy!”

                                            >“The Gods need blood, pure blood, noble blood.”

                                            >“Healing Rain is a daughter of one of our most noble kin, my niece, and her blood WILL appease the Gods.”

                                            >A cheer rings out. The drumming continues, more methodically rhythmic.

                                            >She approaches the hapless bound blue mare, who cannot contain her sobs and pleas.

                                            >The red mare pulls out a stone knife and lifts it to the air.

                                            >A lower priestess nearby holds a skull-shaped whistle to her lips and blows.

                                            >The skull whistle rings out a terrible noise that resembles screaming.

                                            >It duets with the Soothing Rain's screams, as the knife comes down.

                                            >Priestess Scarlet is skilled and works fast, carving into her flesh and cutting through tendon, sinew and bone with surgical skill despite Rain's violent heaving and thrashing within the tight rope binding

                                            >Scarlet digs her hooves into a gushing dark red pit carved into blue mare's chest.

                                            >Soothing Rain's screaming dies down to a gargled whimper as she coughs up blood violently out of her mouth until it covers her face and her struggling dies down.

                                            >She goes still.

                                            >Scarlet Altar reaches her hooves around something in the bloody chest cavity and yanks upward.

                                            >She pulls the mare's warm heart, still beating, out and holds it dripping above her head, holding it aloft for the entire procession, city, and hopefully, Gods, to see.

                                            >Cheers ring out and the drumming returns with a crescendo.

                                            >A light brownish coated filly nervously walks out, also bedecked in paint and headdress wear.

                                            >She is the priestess' daughter, and heiress to the temple clergy.

                                            >She didn't look at the body of her cousin on the table, she grew up with her, had played with her, loved her, and was going to miss her.

                                            >Her mother is hooved a gold cup. She lifts the heart and squeezes blood from it and partly fills the cup.

                                            >Scarlet takes the stone knife out again, and holds it to her genitals.

                                            >With a moan of pain and pleasure she cuts into her clitoris.

                                            >She holds the cup under her crotch and bleeds into it, topping off the cup, moaning in agony and orgasm.

                                            >Priestess Scarlet hooves the cup to her daughter.

                                            >The first deep gold beam of the sunrise breaks the horizon

                                            >A shaft of light pierces through a gate through the temple and illuminates just her as she stands at the precipice of the temple plateau holding the cup.

                                            >The daughter, with a dead expression, holds the the cup to her lips and drinks from it.

                                            >The procession cheers louder than ever, reaching a climax, and cheers ring out through the city as the sun rises.