Mayan – The Universe of Shekvrak

3 days earlier…

Screams echoed through the simplistic build of the underground temple, each distinctively unique sound of pain and panic resonated between the stone walls of the hallway before escaping into the surrounding forested area. Within the main altar of the temple stood the remaining explorers and their translator, Ikal, who silently leaned against one of the three walls, his arms crossed while his eyes stayed fixated on the two foreigners. One Portuguese, the other Spanish, dressed in their respective national equipment which showed off their presence to be a government-funded one. Around the room lay the victims of the spears themselves, each showing the fates that accompanied the attempted wielding of a spear: Charred bodies, Hands covering the ears, or a look of all life being sucked from the body.

“You…” The Spaniard growled in his native language, holding a spear which held what seemed to be a bowl underneath the blade, water dripping over the edges of the bowl with the man’s movement as he stomped towards Ikal. “Why can’t they hold the last three? What did you do to them?”

“I didn’t do anything,” The Mayan replied calmly, “They just had no potential and couldn’t handle the power of the spears.”

“Then how come we can?” The Portuguese explorer questioned, holding a simplistic yet fully metallic spear, “And what happened to the other four? Did some people get here before us?”

“I don’t know. I’m not the only native here you know.”

The Spaniard spat on the ground in frustration, seeing his whole group become brutalised by three strange objects had hit him hard. There was a sense of uselessness within his mind, he would’ve stopped them before it happened. He could’ve told them to leave the spears after the first death. But why did he decide to keep trying?

“I want you to tell us how to find people with potential, I want those last three spears. And you are going to help us whether you like it or not, Savage.” He ordered, speaking his words through gritted teeth as anger slowly fuelled his mindset. “But first, we need to give these bodies a burial, they deserve it.”

“I suggest we also cover our tracks.” The Portuguese man added, “We will meet you in Merida next week, Ikal. Understand?”

“Of course,” Ikal sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in the process as he straightened himself from the wall. “Let me give you a hand with the bodies.” Continue reading “3: Rivalry” →

The city of Merida, capital of the Mexican state, Yucatan. Surrounded by farmlands and dense forests, mainly known for the ancient Mayan ruins of Chichen Itza located more inland of the state. Within the city, the Mexican inhabitants continued their day to day lives. Surrounded by the large stone buildings, the stone covered streets smooth with the wear of the people’s feet and vehicles. Among the citizens walked the four Englishmen: Garth, Damien, John and the captain of the Expedite. Their destination was the same for all travellers and explorers, an inn. This time, a specific inn was being targeted as a meeting site for their fifth party member; a Mexican native.

This man was known throughout the community of central american explorers, his ability to speak a variety of different languages paired with his knowledge of his native lands and customs made him a person of importance. Hired by countless explorers during his life while charging a hefty sum for his services. This man’s contact was given to Garth by his tutor back in Cambridge, a small advantage for the new archaeologist. With the help of the locals and a small pocket map, the group had quickly located their destination with ease.

Upon entry of the inn, the group were hailed by the lone bartender. Already informed of the Englishmen’s arrival, he had informed the group that their translator was waiting in a small meeting room upstairs. Pointing them in the right direction before asking if they would like a waitress to serve them, of course they would accept. The floorboards carefully squeaked under the feet of the explorers, each silence breaking sound reminding the group of the age of this inn. Even the slightly rotten wooden door screamed it’s need for replacement during the entry into the small meeting room, revealing the long wooden table, wall hung candles lined the cracked stone walls as the rays of the setting sun struggled to pass through the small singular window. At the far end of the temple sat the Mexican native. Wearing western clothes of the Mexican populace along with a simple Mayan headdress of feathers and bronze. His wrinkled face and greyed hair suggested this expedition to be the man’s last before retirement.

“So which one of you is Garth McLoughton?” The man spoke out, fluent in the English language while exhibiting an unrecognisable mixed accent. His arms crossed over his chest with some sort of professional aura emitted from his presence.

“I am, it’s nice to meet you, Ikal.” Garth answered, stepping forward with his hand outstretched in order to initiate a handshake. The native kindly dismissed the handshake with a small wave of his hand before pressing it forward as an invitation to the others to sit.

“I am aware of the gist of Garth’s expedition from the letter he had sent me,” Ikal began speaking, sitting back and raising his feet to rest on the table in the process, “Although, time had finally caught up with me. So I may need you to remind me on the plan, once that is done. I suggest you all head to your rooms and rest up, we will leave in the morning.”

With that, the group quickly jumped into their explanations. Introducing Ikal to their professions and goals of the expedition. The general area of Garth’s theorised temple had been outlined, confirming with Ikal the presence of a ‘hidden temple’. Continue reading “2: Discovery” →