| The names of many angels, a few which stood at the top: Michael, Gabriel, Pravuil, Adoil, Muzaloft and Santanail, as well as the one Santanail created, a slug of a life, a demon of the dark, he's blemished. An angel of the night, driven by lust. A thing with bat wings. Santanail drives him like a right hand and calls him Sotona, brother to Heliac, blood to the One too come. Heliac was the first.The stones went on to read of two others. These two, lead a mortal man to this very spot. Their names, Samuil and Raguil, the two giants forced the mortal to toil. He was the one, which scribed these words. He wrote, "two winged creatures, brought me to this place, they're giants, armed with blue steel. Their weapons cast green fire and black embers." I'm certain, this forgotten man, wanted me to find the tablets. There is a sinister thing driving me. The tablets lay hid in an anicent, jungle city. A foul city, filled with cone shaped buildings and thousands of huge craters, running deep into the ground, standing high and as far as eyes could see, giant dead volcanos, peaks luming in the clouds, a cold dark moon. Inside the deep craters, great caverns, running in all directions, a spider's web, we lit our path with torch light into the darkness, deeper we traveled downward. The caves appeared to have no end. The first night as our camp came to life with many fires. The smell of rotted meat was everywhere, bugs buzzing in our ears, something dead. The odor drifting on a western breeze. The ruined cities coned topped buildings began to light, appearing like small, glowing pyramids. Shadows flashed in the near distance as if the place were populated. But there was no one, only our small caravan. The old city appeared to have an eternal generating system, far beyond anything we understood. Maybe perpetual motion, a strange power was igniting the entire area. For sure it was created in hell and ran by the Devil Himself. There was a whining noise, cranking the wheels. It burned our ears. The sound screamed and the ground trembled, running and working, with not a soul in sight. It put us ill at ease, all the men, honing and leather strapping a razors edge on their steel. Eyes streching and searing along the jungles perimeter, as dark fell even blacker, other noises began to emerge, deeper and darker, hellish sounds. Chains and iron tools beating and rattling, a God awful tune. The jungle, it too, seemed as if it were grearing up, coming to life. The noises grew louder and closer, moving toward us with horrific and alarming speed. Crashing uprooting the dead trees, raging beasts. Then something emerged. We saw it! It appeared, as if magic. Dark Angels, the men with wings. They charged with thunderous speed... Desiring all the females with... |
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