mojo
02-12-2008, 06:27 PM
The Lost Tribe (http://www.abovetopsecret.com/forum/thread292016/pg1)
The sun was a fiery orb, relentlessly searing the parched earth. A
once lush and inviting land now stood barren and burnt. Balish
moved quickly from one shaded rocky outcropping to another, his
eye's darting about nervously. He was in Anasazi territory now,
searching for game, a risk that he felt forced to take as his tribe
waited anxiously back at their redoubt in a narrow canyon many
miles to the east.
They were starving. His people had suffered for a generation now,
not only from the lack of food and water but they were slowly
being hunted down and slaughtered year after year. At first they
had thought the Anasazi were responsible, but a survivor of a
brutal attack managed to describe their assailants before he died.
They were demons he said, with faces made of flint, they came at
night with a thundering of hooves and weapons of unknown origin
whistling through the air, but not a sound escaped from their stony
visages. They dispatched men, women and children without
compunction in savage delight. They burnt their homes to the
ground, sometimes burning alive the survivors, sometimes
torturing and toying with captives for hours before finally ending
their suffering in grisly fashion.
The bodies that they found and buried had been smashed and
mangled, some with their necks snapped back to rest between
their shoulderblades, contorted and defiled. The world had gone
from a place of beauty and plenty to one of fear and desolation.
Balish's clan was the last of the Gallina (http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2007/07/070712-chaco-massacre.html), hidden in a canyon in their last
stronghold. Only thirty of them were left, mostly women and
children. Balish and the few other men were out now in the
scorching heat searching for what food and water they could find.
They had always lived in peaceful communion with the
Anasazi (http://www.mnsu.edu/emuseum/cultural/northamerica/anasazi
.html) but since the beginning of the great dry period
there close proximity to each other had become more and more
uneasy as resources slowly disappeared. Many of the Anasazi of
late had also started to fall victim to the demons of the night.
Tensions were now at an all time high between their people.
Balish stopped suddenly, a glint of light from just ahead caught his
attention. He lowered himself to his stomach and crawled slowly
forward, the baking earth burning into his gut, he grimaced silently
and inched onward.
Soon he came to a break in the rocky escarpment, an animal trail,
recently used crept through the opening into a narrow cavern. The
rocky cliff's above converged to create a dome shaped
amphitheatre, small breaks in the roof allowed just enough filtered
light in so that Balish could see.
Down the sides of the natural room stood statues of magnificent
horses many hands taller than any of the horses he had ever seen
before. The beasts were covered in a strange armor, like a snakes
scales, pitch black as though made from obsidian. Further in,
reflecting dully in the broken sunlight, statues of the demons that
had been terrorising his people stood silently against the red rocky
walls. The dim red glow from the walls seemed to bathe the
statues in bloody light. The demon statues also wore the scaled
armor like the horses as well as blank masks of stone with only
slits for their eye's and which hid their other features. The beasts
stood two metres tall and radiated power, their hands and feet
ended in webbed and taloned claws.
At the far end of the cavern stood a massive arch, around its outer
edge strange heiroglyphs intertwined. Balish stood to his feet and
moved silently into the room, his senses heightened by the surge
of adreneline rushing through his body. Surely this was the home
of the demons who had been slaughtering his people. He
approached one of the statues and rapped upon it with the hilt of
his knife and was relieved to hear a hollow clink in return, statues
they were.
Feeling bolder now Balish approached the massive gate, the
strange writing meant nothing to Balish, his people had no written
language. He ran his hand over the heiroglyphs that he could
reach and as his hand passed over them they seemed to glitter
ever so gently, in a fully lightened room he would never have
noticed. The rocky wall within the arched door seemed strangely
different to the rest of the cavern, duller and its edges soft, as
though out of focus, he rubbed his eye's and reached out with his
left hand to touch the wall. There was no resistance, his hand
disappeared up to his wrist before he suddenly realised what had
happened and withdrew his arm with a curse. He looked at his
hand, it was unharmed. He eyed the wall with suspicion, and years
of ingrained superstition raised itself within his mind, he turned to
run.
Perhaps at any other time in history he would have fled in terror,
but this was no ordinary time. Balish thought of his clan, hungry
and scared, huddling in fear at every sound. He looked again at
the wall, breathed deeply and thrusting his knife before him he
strode forward into and beyond his world.
Swirling mists cavorted through the tangled underbrush of a lush
forest, strange sounds from the treetops reverberated in the damp
air. He stood atop a low ridge overlooking a luscious green world,
mind numbing scents assailed his nostrils and he looked stricken
into the sky, two suns shimmered above, one small and red, the
other much like the sun he knew. Balish fell trembling to his knees,
surely he had wandered into the land of the Gods, would they
strike him down for trespassing?
Soon he relaxed as nothing happened and he stood again to look
around at this new world. He now saw animals that he knew,
squirrels scurried across branches, a doe wandered into a clearing
and then bolted into the brush as she noticed him. Other animals
that were not so familiar also caught his eye, but they seemed only
interested in their daily existance and paid him no attention.
Below him at the bottom of the ridge upon which he stood he
noticed a building, some kind of fort hewn from massive stones,
made of obsidian like the armor of the statues. As he stood and
watched it seemed to slowly descend into twilight as the larger,
brighter sun vanished behind a large range of mountains on the
far horizon. The smaller red sun drenched the whole of the land in
a rose colored blush and a great door swung open in the fort
below.
Balish ducked down behind a tree as six figures on horseback
came forth and galloped up the mountain, straight past his supine
form and through the arch which existed on this side. Balish waited
only a moment after they disappeared through the wall then raced
headlong down the slope to the demons building, its giant
doorway still standing open. Hugging the wall he moved cautiously
within, no sounds reached his ears, no movement either snatched
at his vision. He stood in a courtyard of huge proportions, stables
lined one side and open doorways the other. Before him stairs
ascended to the ramparts and circled the whole structure. All over
the walls serpentine figures writhed and coiled, etched into the
rock.
Balish moved forward and entered the doorway nearest him. A
long passage descended downwards, lit by sconces placed upon
the walls at regular intervals. At times the passage curved gently
then straightened and there were other doors on opposite sides
of the corridor and Balish peered within each. There were kitchens,
bedrooms and armoury's with all manner of strange but obviously
deadly weapons. At last the passage ended and he stood before a
large wooden door, covered in the same strange symbols he had
seen on the arch. He pushed gently against the door and it swung
inward without a sound.
The sun was a fiery orb, relentlessly searing the parched earth. A
once lush and inviting land now stood barren and burnt. Balish
moved quickly from one shaded rocky outcropping to another, his
eye's darting about nervously. He was in Anasazi territory now,
searching for game, a risk that he felt forced to take as his tribe
waited anxiously back at their redoubt in a narrow canyon many
miles to the east.
They were starving. His people had suffered for a generation now,
not only from the lack of food and water but they were slowly
being hunted down and slaughtered year after year. At first they
had thought the Anasazi were responsible, but a survivor of a
brutal attack managed to describe their assailants before he died.
They were demons he said, with faces made of flint, they came at
night with a thundering of hooves and weapons of unknown origin
whistling through the air, but not a sound escaped from their stony
visages. They dispatched men, women and children without
compunction in savage delight. They burnt their homes to the
ground, sometimes burning alive the survivors, sometimes
torturing and toying with captives for hours before finally ending
their suffering in grisly fashion.
The bodies that they found and buried had been smashed and
mangled, some with their necks snapped back to rest between
their shoulderblades, contorted and defiled. The world had gone
from a place of beauty and plenty to one of fear and desolation.
Balish's clan was the last of the Gallina (http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2007/07/070712-chaco-massacre.html), hidden in a canyon in their last
stronghold. Only thirty of them were left, mostly women and
children. Balish and the few other men were out now in the
scorching heat searching for what food and water they could find.
They had always lived in peaceful communion with the
Anasazi (http://www.mnsu.edu/emuseum/cultural/northamerica/anasazi
.html) but since the beginning of the great dry period
there close proximity to each other had become more and more
uneasy as resources slowly disappeared. Many of the Anasazi of
late had also started to fall victim to the demons of the night.
Tensions were now at an all time high between their people.
Balish stopped suddenly, a glint of light from just ahead caught his
attention. He lowered himself to his stomach and crawled slowly
forward, the baking earth burning into his gut, he grimaced silently
and inched onward.
Soon he came to a break in the rocky escarpment, an animal trail,
recently used crept through the opening into a narrow cavern. The
rocky cliff's above converged to create a dome shaped
amphitheatre, small breaks in the roof allowed just enough filtered
light in so that Balish could see.
Down the sides of the natural room stood statues of magnificent
horses many hands taller than any of the horses he had ever seen
before. The beasts were covered in a strange armor, like a snakes
scales, pitch black as though made from obsidian. Further in,
reflecting dully in the broken sunlight, statues of the demons that
had been terrorising his people stood silently against the red rocky
walls. The dim red glow from the walls seemed to bathe the
statues in bloody light. The demon statues also wore the scaled
armor like the horses as well as blank masks of stone with only
slits for their eye's and which hid their other features. The beasts
stood two metres tall and radiated power, their hands and feet
ended in webbed and taloned claws.
At the far end of the cavern stood a massive arch, around its outer
edge strange heiroglyphs intertwined. Balish stood to his feet and
moved silently into the room, his senses heightened by the surge
of adreneline rushing through his body. Surely this was the home
of the demons who had been slaughtering his people. He
approached one of the statues and rapped upon it with the hilt of
his knife and was relieved to hear a hollow clink in return, statues
they were.
Feeling bolder now Balish approached the massive gate, the
strange writing meant nothing to Balish, his people had no written
language. He ran his hand over the heiroglyphs that he could
reach and as his hand passed over them they seemed to glitter
ever so gently, in a fully lightened room he would never have
noticed. The rocky wall within the arched door seemed strangely
different to the rest of the cavern, duller and its edges soft, as
though out of focus, he rubbed his eye's and reached out with his
left hand to touch the wall. There was no resistance, his hand
disappeared up to his wrist before he suddenly realised what had
happened and withdrew his arm with a curse. He looked at his
hand, it was unharmed. He eyed the wall with suspicion, and years
of ingrained superstition raised itself within his mind, he turned to
run.
Perhaps at any other time in history he would have fled in terror,
but this was no ordinary time. Balish thought of his clan, hungry
and scared, huddling in fear at every sound. He looked again at
the wall, breathed deeply and thrusting his knife before him he
strode forward into and beyond his world.
Swirling mists cavorted through the tangled underbrush of a lush
forest, strange sounds from the treetops reverberated in the damp
air. He stood atop a low ridge overlooking a luscious green world,
mind numbing scents assailed his nostrils and he looked stricken
into the sky, two suns shimmered above, one small and red, the
other much like the sun he knew. Balish fell trembling to his knees,
surely he had wandered into the land of the Gods, would they
strike him down for trespassing?
Soon he relaxed as nothing happened and he stood again to look
around at this new world. He now saw animals that he knew,
squirrels scurried across branches, a doe wandered into a clearing
and then bolted into the brush as she noticed him. Other animals
that were not so familiar also caught his eye, but they seemed only
interested in their daily existance and paid him no attention.
Below him at the bottom of the ridge upon which he stood he
noticed a building, some kind of fort hewn from massive stones,
made of obsidian like the armor of the statues. As he stood and
watched it seemed to slowly descend into twilight as the larger,
brighter sun vanished behind a large range of mountains on the
far horizon. The smaller red sun drenched the whole of the land in
a rose colored blush and a great door swung open in the fort
below.
Balish ducked down behind a tree as six figures on horseback
came forth and galloped up the mountain, straight past his supine
form and through the arch which existed on this side. Balish waited
only a moment after they disappeared through the wall then raced
headlong down the slope to the demons building, its giant
doorway still standing open. Hugging the wall he moved cautiously
within, no sounds reached his ears, no movement either snatched
at his vision. He stood in a courtyard of huge proportions, stables
lined one side and open doorways the other. Before him stairs
ascended to the ramparts and circled the whole structure. All over
the walls serpentine figures writhed and coiled, etched into the
rock.
Balish moved forward and entered the doorway nearest him. A
long passage descended downwards, lit by sconces placed upon
the walls at regular intervals. At times the passage curved gently
then straightened and there were other doors on opposite sides
of the corridor and Balish peered within each. There were kitchens,
bedrooms and armoury's with all manner of strange but obviously
deadly weapons. At last the passage ended and he stood before a
large wooden door, covered in the same strange symbols he had
seen on the arch. He pushed gently against the door and it swung
inward without a sound.