Pact Stone Cut Scene's page

This cut scene might be of interest – though remember that it’s all out of character knowledge. You may be suspicious, but I actually prepared this quite some time ago, back when the Dune Squad was resting in the chamber with the scales. I had planned to post it then but I realized I couldn’t post it when a fight immediately broke out between the Dune Squad and Ro An Hap, as it might have affected your actions. At this point I feel relatively safe. <--- famous last words.

[Cut Scene]

[Chamber of the Half-Sphere - six hours earlier. . .]

The guardian laid on the floor, tied like a swine, rolling across the flagstones in vain as he strained against the silk rope.

Suddenly a visitor arrived, casting his shadow over the beaten guardian.

"You!" shouted Ro An Hap. "You have no cause to be in this esteemed chamber. Be gone!"

"Come now, my vain warrior,” said the stranger with a throaty chuckle. “Surely you can see that you could use a little help."

"I am thousands of years old Suekahn. Wise enough to know that aid from a fiend does not come without a price."

The visitor sighed. "I suppose you would rather I just left then. I have better things to do than listen to you huff and puff, Once-Man."

"I said, ‘Be Gone’!"

"It's too bad really. The living, breathing men who breached your wall spoke the truth you know. I have seen outside the walls. The pyramid truly is surrounded: an army at the gate. You are going to be a most impressive guardian when they finally storm this chamber.

"Lies!"

Will you face them belly up, I wonder? Or is your plan to deflect them with your ass?”

"Lies!!!"

"Oh they are coming all right. These first men are just the vanguard. Can't you tell from my wondrously jubilant mood?"

There was silence as the visitor stalked away, leaving Ro An Hap to think. There was little time.

"You serve the Pharaohs as I do,” he called. “It is your duty to release me to defend Ahn’Sehlota and its secrets!"

The visitor turned and roared back at the broken man. "I serve NO ONE!" Ro An Hap was stunned into silence as the visitor continued. "Not you, and certainly not your treacherous pharaohs. I am bound by a contract, Once-Man. That is all. A contract soon to be completed." The walls shook from the force of his anger. The statue of Lydia bounced on the floor. It caught the visitor’s attention.

He moved towards it. Effortlessly, he scooped it up with a single horribly pincered hand.

"But that's about to change. This here is the first of many. I will reach my number, and soon. And when I do, I will be gone from here."

"What do you want, fiend? Release me and name your price."

"I’m not sure I need anything from you when I have this. I suppose you could leave a message for me. Is that so hard?"

The ancient warrior thought carefully, but saw no other way. "No,” he suddenly answered in defeat. “I could be your messenger. Release me then and release the curse that guards the entryway and I will bear your message to any who come to this room."

"No! Don’t you dare try to bargain with me Once-Man!" spat the visitor. "I will release you and you alone. The curse remains trapped as it is. I won't have it slaying any more thieves. They are all mine - all of them."

"Impossible! You are bound to defend this pyramid. You cannot refuse."

"I am defending the pyramid, Once-Man. Did the pharaohs also un-make your intellect when they took away your vitality? There is nothing in my contract that says I need to cooperate with the pyramid’s other guardians to do it."

Ro An Hap glared at the visitor.

"But I will release you. You amuse me, just as you have over the centuries. I suppose you can try to hold off the advancing horde by yourself. That ought to be enjoyable, oh great general. You couldn't even handle the first few stragglers that made your way."

Ro An Hap tried to ignore the creature’s attempts to shame him and focussed instead on what ever sacrifice he would be called to make. "What is the message you would have me bear? What falsehood must I bear for my freedom?"

"You wound me, Once-Man. You need tell only the truth. I am the one that curses, not the Deceiver.”
Suekahn continued. “Tell all who come, that I have this one." He tapped the statue with his other pincer. "She'll be in the throne room. They can find her there: living and breathing. As long as they don't make me wait too long. It’s been thousands of years – my patience wears thin."

[/cut scene – before I give away every plot point in this pyramid.]

Back at the Golden Tent. . .

“Great Exemplar, they have arrived!” announced the new High-Slave of the Golden Tent. The High Slave made his announcement with enthusiasm, for the post was still new. His recent appointment, of course, was courtesy of the untimely death of his predecessor, Anyo the Testemetarian, a controversial mishap at the dig site only two days earlier.

“Then bid them enter,” answered Khymrasa with a wave of her hand. “I would see these two for myself.”

Finally, they were here.

Khymrasa knew her guests presented the perfect opportunity. She knew it because she was certain that both Master Soan and the Sand Sage hated it. Ever since she had done the impossible and excavated Ahn’Sehlota, the two men had both become increasingly unreliable. She could practically smell their own agendas, diluting their loyalty: the Sand Sage doing everything he could to persuade her to delay further expeditions, while Master Soan all but demanded his moon-skinned foreigners be permitted inside the pyramid to handle the retrieval for her. Both had pledged loyalty to her, yet both were growing more untrustworthy with every passing day.

Now mercenaries on the other hand, these men understood money. And that meant Khymrasa would understand them. And more importantly, if she wielded the full powers of her privilege, it meant she could control them.

“Yes, my Exemplar,” answered the High Slave as he snapped at the guards in the entrance way.

“Excellent,” she continued. “Now are you certain it is truly them, not some impostors?” her question though was not directed to the High Slave, but to the Oasis Lord.

“I am certain,” answered the dark-skinned man with the black turban to the left side of the tent, sipping from his crystalline water goblet. It was he who had arranged the introduction. “You will know it for yourself when you see them. A normal man will know fear at the sight of such a pyramid. These two will be excited. They are not. . . normal.”

Sloan glared at the dark stranger and not for the first time. As the newcomer rose in the Exemplar’s favour, so did the Shrine of Horns fall. Sloan was no fool. This man, this self-appointed Oasis Lord, was not what he seemed.

“My Exemplar,” began the Sand Sage, “In this, the Oasis Lord is correct. These two are not just abnormal. They are crazed – perhaps unstable. I again beseech you to reconsider. My divinations assure me they will wreak havoc with your plans.”

“Your divinations became useless, my sage, the day you told me you could not see inside the pyramid.”

“That limitation is true, but-“

The Exemplar cut him off with her raised index finger. “No more! These two men have been inside the Veinstone pyramid and lived to tell the tale. They are the voyagers we need to navigate Ahn’Sehlota. No more slaves and second-rate warriors to fail me.”

“But the last delegation!”

“Is already dead. Now open the chests. Let our guests see the beginnings of their promised reward as they enter.”
.
.
.
And so it was that Xaven Neversword and Hrokon the Assailant were granted entrance to the Golden Tent and became the latest to enter Khymrasa’s employ.

circa -1440

It was the highest honor.

When Ro won the Paru-Stibo tournament at age 15, it was the apex of his simple life, or so he thought. No one had previously ever reached such an athletic achievement at such an early age. He was invited to attend before the Radiant Pharaoh to receive his acknowledgement. But unbeknownst to the humble thevrin, his honors had only begun.

At 18, he was fast-tracked into the military as a True-Spear, whereupon he was awarded eleven Khu-nes for blood triumph by the age of 21. By 22 he was given command of his own Justri.

At 26, he died in battle in the loyal service of the pharionic conclave. He was raised that his distinguished service might continue.

At 32, the Fiend Pharaoh elevated Ro to his war counsel, one of only eleven An Haps. His extended family was moved to Tumen with a Isia-parade in his honor.

At 38, Ro An Hap oversaw the seventh War of True Borders, as the Four Pharaohs acting-designate on the front. It was a successful campaign that lasted three years.

At 41, Ro An Hap was murdered by an assassin of the Jistka Imperium during the 'Brief Rebellion of Misguided Futility', whereupon he died for the second time, this time at the peak of his powers. He was again raised, this time by direct-dictate of the Four Pharaohs. Reborn, he retired from the military in peace-time and transferred to civil service, acting as Administrator of the Eye for Io, Keln-ra and Ida in faithful service to the Ascension.

But it was at the age of 56 that Ro An Hap received his highest honor. He was amongst the very, very, very few to ever be invited by the Four Pharaohs inside Ahn'Sehlota.

. . . And he was never seen again.

(As a footnote: of course some might argue that several thousand years later in 4712 A.R. all of those honors were eclipsed when the Dune Squad also decided to recognize the great warrior: namely, by tying him up like a pig with a silk rope of all things, while Donkor sat on him and an octopus squeezed his head. But historians might argue the point.)

[1 day later . . .]

Using his magic, the Sand Sage reconstructed the central ramp winding down the sides of the pit, to the bottom. It was now more compact – more secure.

The pyramid was now completely unearthed. At least the workers thought it was. It was heard to know, as the pyramid could not be seen. Khymrasa had ordered the pyramid to be completely cleared of sand. Then upon discovering that without the sand she could not see her prize, she ordered the slaves to re-cover the outer dimensions with a loose blanket of sand, just enough to trace the pyramid’s outline.

What they had found was the presence of two giant torch staves at the pyramid base, perfectly preserved. In the early afternoon, at the advice of the Sand Sage, the Exemplar ordered the workchief of Crew-11 to light the staves.

The resulting smoke was unnatural. It was thick and black, as though it were burning not wood, but something that should never be burned, like leather or perhaps metal. But it wasn’t just the color—the smoke travelled along a set path. It hugged the four walls of the pyramid before coalescing into a great column on the top. The smoke seemed to do three things. First, it confirmed the pyramids true dimensions. Second, much to the dissatisfaction of the Exemplar, the column announced Ahn Selota’s unveiling to the rest of the world. The smoke would be visible for miles. It would have to be.

But thirdly, and most importantly the smoke betrayed the presence of a door – an open square hole beckoning within – a dark smoky shaft beyond.

Six thousand years later, Ahn’Selota was once again open, her mysteries about to be revealed.

* * * * *

[4 hours later . . .]

The activity in the pit was not unlike that of a hive of bees. Khymrasa’s slave masters had awakened the sleeping shift so that every last slave and laborer in the camp could be deployed. The work drums continued to pound, filling the slaves with urgency. Those who could fit into the hole cleared sand. Those who could not clear sand brought water to their brethren and awaited their turn to replace them in the hole.

By the next morning, several soldiers had been conscripted into the work crews to replace the exhausted. The build beasts, the giant bug-like creatures used for construction were all now devoted exclusively to sand removal. The slave-powered winch hauled sand up vertically pulling it from the deepening hole. But the slaves were no longer just digging downward – their purpose had become more focused - they were clearing the sand away from something truly remarkable.

The spike was getting bigger. Much bigger. Later that afternoon orders had gone out to widen all sides of the pit to accommodate it. How huge would this invisible pyramid be?

* * * * *

[2 days ago . . .]

The slave waited until he was sure. Until then, he kept digging.

But he was sure.

He definitely found something.

He called out to the others. At the very bottom of the pit, almost the precise epicenter in fact, there was a spike, triangular – exactly like the tip of the pyramid they were expecting.

What was strange though is that it had no color. Every time the slave wiped the sand away, the triangular tip seemed to disappear. He soon realized he only knew it was there by touch and the sand loosely packed around it.

The pyramid was invisible.

They had found the very top – the highest point of Ahn’Selota.

* * * * *