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The Symbol Of Night


Gamerbird

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The Symbol Of Night

 

We were told it was a search for a missing ancient artifact.

An artifact over 5000 years old. Why did we believe such a thing.

There are now only two of us, we set out with seven.

How long until there is one, or none.

 

It started in the Ancient History Museum.

I happened to work there as one of the currators and relic hunters.

I had worked there for nearly 9 years, the best job I could of taken.

Then came the public information evening.

This was the day where the public could tell us of ancient artifacts they had information on and we would go and look for it.

 

One of them came along and told us of an Ancient Tribe that lived in the middle of the Burneu Rainforest.

This was true as we had heard of many hidden artifacts being there, 3 currently held in our museum.

We decided as a group to follow this up.

It took a fortnight to plan out, we had to gather resources, set out our route and much more.

Now it was the time to get our artifact!

We made our way to the forest by plane, planning to drop us off above the forest, to parachute down.

 

It took less than 2 hours to reach our destination.

We slowly jumped out of the plane, one by one.

We were all flying down towards the canopy of the forest as a dart was shot from out of the forest.

It hit the Museum owner.

 

Another one was fired and it hit his parachute, hurtling him towards the forest floor.

As he hit the canopy, the tropical birds came flying out, frightened by the Museum owner falling in to the forest.

It took another 10 minutes for us to land in the forest clearing.

We decided to go and find his corpse as he had the supplies with him.

 

We readied our blades to cut through the vines that hung from the trees.

It took 2 hours to reach the position where he fell.

He was hanging from the trees, his parachute caught up in the trees.

Worst of all, one of his eyes were hanging from their sockets, blood covered, the other eye was missing.

 

His chest had been stabbed multiple times, his blood covered the ground below.

This was just the beginning.

As we continued our trek through the forest, over the next fews days, we were all getting picked off, one by one.

The last one to go was one of the other currators, she died the worse.

 

She was nailed to the tree, through the jugular vein in her neck.

Her hands had also been nailed to the tree, making sure she stayed.

Her hands had been marked with a symbol, known as the symbol of night.

It was used by the tribes to mark the fallen.

 

What caused this? Or better, who caused this?

How long until me and the guide were slaughtered?

This could be the last time I ever see my wife, the last time I see my children.

 

As we moved through the forest we arrived at the edge, there were troops of soldiers waiting.

They asked us what we had been doing, what had happened.

We hesitated to answer, then they saw the blood on our bodies.

'We need an answer now or your next breath will be your last!'

 

We tried to explain but they didn't understand.

They claimed us to have gone crazy, so we were killed.

One shot straight to the head.

 

Nothing is right with the army.

They were the ones who were crazy.

Not giving anyone a chance.

If you only take one thing from this story then take this.

There are no winners of war, only losers.

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