The shouting started just after midnight.

People opened their doors, curious as to what was happening, only to have the English devils’
guns rammed into their faces. They were forced out and all marched to the town center, in front
of a massive bonfire that had been thrown together from old wood and quickly-cut trees. The
blaze continued to grow higher in conjunction with the crowd, and soon everyone was either
rounded up or had fled to the surrounding wilds. The starving townsfolk cried and wept, for they
expected a proclamation that they were now under the governance of the restored Raj. These
well-fed soldiers would take what little food was still left, and the abandoned villagers would all
waste away.

Their suffering was much less prolonged.

With not even an announcement of what was happening, the British opened fire and massacred
all they had gathered. Not a one escaped, but a few managed to play dead, feigning death
when they were only injured. They would soon come to regret that choice. The demons
gathered the corpses into rough piles, searching them for anything of use. When they found one
that was still alive, they would haul it over and toss it straight into the fire. The maimed
screeched in agony as the flames consumed them. The already-dead were then brought to
roast, and soon the Englishmen held an unholy feast, gnawing on children’s bones and tearing
into the flesh of young men. They departed just as the sun was rising, taking what they could
and leaving a massive heap of charred and half-eaten corpses. Almost no one dares to reenter
the village, horrified of what they will find there.

In times like these, however, there are a desperate few who will not let such a massive amount
of food go to waste.

(as Mountbatten) “Our men shall never starve, for God provides us with meat.”

(as anyone who isn’t a fucking british cannibal) “The depths of hell have consumed the Earth.”