curiousferret
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2014
- Messages
- 65
- Location
- Wisconsin U.S.
Hacking his way through the over grown brush of the latest unexplored forest archeologist Andrew's trudged along searching for any clues that might lead him to his quests end. Research had suggested a lost tribe of Greek warriors that had established a hidden city of wonder that had been swallowed by the forest after a great local disaster. Cutting with his machete into a clearing where smoke could be seen prompted the scientist to smile hopefully.
The clearing shows obvious signs of human presence. The smoke appears to come from a recently-extinguished fire. Naturally camouflaged against the jungle vegetation behind it are a series of wooden houses, tents made using locally found fibers and materials, and most striking of all: a wide, elevated platform with stone steps approaching a short, rounded boulder surrounded by several stone carvings having human features. Disappointingly, there does not appear to be anyone nearby. As he prepares to approach, the sound of a nearby stick snapping causes him to turn his head and shockingly finds several half-nude women armed with spears, sharpened sticks, and bows and arrows pointed menacingly at him.
Coming to the archaeologist raises his arms in a gesture of placation as his eye widen as he takes in the attire of the feminist warriors. "Hello," The man greets in Greece hoping the natives have keep the language. "I'm sorry to trouble you ladies I seem to have lost my self in the woods. What village is this?" The scientist asks nervously as he takes in the gathering falling to investigation as he waits for a response.
His response comes in the form of the shaft of a spear to his face. His fedora flies off his head as he falls to his knees. He barely has time to touch his face to examine the wound before he is shoved to the ground, hands forced behind his back and held there as he is dragged into the clearing. A crowd of excited women materializes from their hiding places in the jungle. The archaeologist is thrown and tumbles as the energetic crowd surrounds him smiling, pointing, and chatting amongst themselves in a language he can't decipher.
Rolling onto his shoulder the scientist takes the force of the blow on his right arm wincing as he makes contact with the ground. Crawling to his knees the man wipes his forehead as blood trickles into his eyes struggling to identify the strange language he is hearing. Fighting to his feet he holds his arms out in front of him to ward off any other blows. "Please stop, there must be some misunderstanding. I mean you no harm!" Andrew proclaims in another language hoping to find one the women recognize.
One of the armed ones behind him waits until he almost completely stands up before kicking him in the back of his calf, sweeping his legs out as he falls on his back. The wind gets knocked out of him as the crowd laughs. The laughter is short-lived, for the crowd quickly becomes silent as a woman makes her way through the crowd. Her body is painted entirely in black and she wears a necklace consisting of small bones. The silence continues as she grips the man's chin and he moves his head left and right, studying him intently.
Drawing in a painful lung full of breath the archeologist can only stare wide eyed as the painted woman, clear the matriarch of the village, inspected the man. Only in his early twenties the scientist was of a trim toned build bronzed by the many years of field research. Clutching his ribs as he gasped for air the man could only stare back at the bizarre leader hoping to past what ever test she was performing.
The painted woman stands up and shouts something to the crowd, which erupts in jubilant cheers. Several women descend on the man and tear off all of his clothes, then fit him with a similar woven loincloth that they all wear. They lift him up, walk him to the stone platform while securing his hands behind his back, and push him to his knees.
The archeologist squirms and protests as his cloths are torn off and his wrists bound. Staggering behind his captives he stumbles up to the platform falling to his knees starting to get a sick feeling in his stomach.
The young woman who initially struck the archaeologist ascends the stone steps to the platform. She smiles as the matriarch uses her thumb to apply red paint or dye to her face, and then leaves the stage. The archaeologist is dragged up the steps by the two holding him with two more following. In a haphazard way, the four each grab a limb on the man, lift him up, throw him onto his back on the boulder, and press down upon their assigned limbs, bending him backwards and pushing his chest upwards forcefully.
"Wait, what are you doing?!" The man cries as his chest is forced up into hyper extension stretching out his ribs and pulling the muscles and flesh taunt. Pulling on his limbs the archeologist struggles to free himself thrashing desperately.
The woman with the red paint on her face looks down upon the man, her earlier facial expression of anger and hostility has been replaced with something more docile, caring, almost comforting. She places both her hands on his bare chest, closes her eyes, and mumbles something inaudible as she feels his breath and heartbeat. She opens her eyes, turns around, and takes a knife from a try in front of the stone idol behind her. It is stained dark with what could only be dried blood. Holding the blade in one hand she raises both arms to the sky as the other presses over the man's racing heart. She says loudly something, and the crowd of women watching drop to their knees and raise their arms to the sky as well
The man's heart forcefully pounds beneath the warrior's hand pumping hard in mortal terror. Looking up pleadingly into her eyes the man begs, "P...p...p..lease noooo." Sobbing in fright the victim squirms in the attendants grasp as the knife is raised above his heaving abdomen.
The young woman holds the knife above him for a moment, takes a deep breath, then plunges the blade into him just below the ribcage. He grunts loudly as the knife strikes him, his face twisted in pain. The woman continues cutting just until there is a large-enough hole in which to fit her hand, there is no delay between the time she removes the blade and inserts her fist deeply into the wound
Shrieking as the warrior's hand enters his body the victim's limbs shack and tremble. The man's eye's bug out of his head as he feels the cold hand pierce his rib cage and part his fragile organs. Blood spurts from the wound as the woman feels the hot pulsing organs of the man's chest cavity, his beating heart pulsating and dancing beneath her finger tips.
The warrior's breath stops as her fingers brush against the fluttering heart, she slowly glides her hand across it as her fingers firmly clench around it. She allows it to beat into her palm a few times more, then her face turns from wonder to intensity as she fiercely pulls her hand back out of the opening and the living organ along with it. Breathing heavily, she raises the pulsating object as high as her arms will stretch. The crowd erupts in cheering as blood from the object spatters on her body.
Gagging as blood fills his throat the victim can only gawk up horrified as his still-beating heart sprays his crimson life all over the altar and his body. Struggling to breathe the man twitches and begin to fade staring wide eyed at his living heart.
The woman places the heart in a fire started beside the altar. It continues to beat as smoke rises from it while the man's eyes glaze over
Falling limp the archeologist is carried off by the attendants to be disposed of while the crowd knees again and prays for their offering to be satisfactory.
The clearing shows obvious signs of human presence. The smoke appears to come from a recently-extinguished fire. Naturally camouflaged against the jungle vegetation behind it are a series of wooden houses, tents made using locally found fibers and materials, and most striking of all: a wide, elevated platform with stone steps approaching a short, rounded boulder surrounded by several stone carvings having human features. Disappointingly, there does not appear to be anyone nearby. As he prepares to approach, the sound of a nearby stick snapping causes him to turn his head and shockingly finds several half-nude women armed with spears, sharpened sticks, and bows and arrows pointed menacingly at him.
Coming to the archaeologist raises his arms in a gesture of placation as his eye widen as he takes in the attire of the feminist warriors. "Hello," The man greets in Greece hoping the natives have keep the language. "I'm sorry to trouble you ladies I seem to have lost my self in the woods. What village is this?" The scientist asks nervously as he takes in the gathering falling to investigation as he waits for a response.
His response comes in the form of the shaft of a spear to his face. His fedora flies off his head as he falls to his knees. He barely has time to touch his face to examine the wound before he is shoved to the ground, hands forced behind his back and held there as he is dragged into the clearing. A crowd of excited women materializes from their hiding places in the jungle. The archaeologist is thrown and tumbles as the energetic crowd surrounds him smiling, pointing, and chatting amongst themselves in a language he can't decipher.
Rolling onto his shoulder the scientist takes the force of the blow on his right arm wincing as he makes contact with the ground. Crawling to his knees the man wipes his forehead as blood trickles into his eyes struggling to identify the strange language he is hearing. Fighting to his feet he holds his arms out in front of him to ward off any other blows. "Please stop, there must be some misunderstanding. I mean you no harm!" Andrew proclaims in another language hoping to find one the women recognize.
One of the armed ones behind him waits until he almost completely stands up before kicking him in the back of his calf, sweeping his legs out as he falls on his back. The wind gets knocked out of him as the crowd laughs. The laughter is short-lived, for the crowd quickly becomes silent as a woman makes her way through the crowd. Her body is painted entirely in black and she wears a necklace consisting of small bones. The silence continues as she grips the man's chin and he moves his head left and right, studying him intently.
Drawing in a painful lung full of breath the archeologist can only stare wide eyed as the painted woman, clear the matriarch of the village, inspected the man. Only in his early twenties the scientist was of a trim toned build bronzed by the many years of field research. Clutching his ribs as he gasped for air the man could only stare back at the bizarre leader hoping to past what ever test she was performing.
The painted woman stands up and shouts something to the crowd, which erupts in jubilant cheers. Several women descend on the man and tear off all of his clothes, then fit him with a similar woven loincloth that they all wear. They lift him up, walk him to the stone platform while securing his hands behind his back, and push him to his knees.
The archeologist squirms and protests as his cloths are torn off and his wrists bound. Staggering behind his captives he stumbles up to the platform falling to his knees starting to get a sick feeling in his stomach.
The young woman who initially struck the archaeologist ascends the stone steps to the platform. She smiles as the matriarch uses her thumb to apply red paint or dye to her face, and then leaves the stage. The archaeologist is dragged up the steps by the two holding him with two more following. In a haphazard way, the four each grab a limb on the man, lift him up, throw him onto his back on the boulder, and press down upon their assigned limbs, bending him backwards and pushing his chest upwards forcefully.
"Wait, what are you doing?!" The man cries as his chest is forced up into hyper extension stretching out his ribs and pulling the muscles and flesh taunt. Pulling on his limbs the archeologist struggles to free himself thrashing desperately.
The woman with the red paint on her face looks down upon the man, her earlier facial expression of anger and hostility has been replaced with something more docile, caring, almost comforting. She places both her hands on his bare chest, closes her eyes, and mumbles something inaudible as she feels his breath and heartbeat. She opens her eyes, turns around, and takes a knife from a try in front of the stone idol behind her. It is stained dark with what could only be dried blood. Holding the blade in one hand she raises both arms to the sky as the other presses over the man's racing heart. She says loudly something, and the crowd of women watching drop to their knees and raise their arms to the sky as well
The man's heart forcefully pounds beneath the warrior's hand pumping hard in mortal terror. Looking up pleadingly into her eyes the man begs, "P...p...p..lease noooo." Sobbing in fright the victim squirms in the attendants grasp as the knife is raised above his heaving abdomen.
The young woman holds the knife above him for a moment, takes a deep breath, then plunges the blade into him just below the ribcage. He grunts loudly as the knife strikes him, his face twisted in pain. The woman continues cutting just until there is a large-enough hole in which to fit her hand, there is no delay between the time she removes the blade and inserts her fist deeply into the wound
Shrieking as the warrior's hand enters his body the victim's limbs shack and tremble. The man's eye's bug out of his head as he feels the cold hand pierce his rib cage and part his fragile organs. Blood spurts from the wound as the woman feels the hot pulsing organs of the man's chest cavity, his beating heart pulsating and dancing beneath her finger tips.
The warrior's breath stops as her fingers brush against the fluttering heart, she slowly glides her hand across it as her fingers firmly clench around it. She allows it to beat into her palm a few times more, then her face turns from wonder to intensity as she fiercely pulls her hand back out of the opening and the living organ along with it. Breathing heavily, she raises the pulsating object as high as her arms will stretch. The crowd erupts in cheering as blood from the object spatters on her body.
Gagging as blood fills his throat the victim can only gawk up horrified as his still-beating heart sprays his crimson life all over the altar and his body. Struggling to breathe the man twitches and begin to fade staring wide eyed at his living heart.
The woman places the heart in a fire started beside the altar. It continues to beat as smoke rises from it while the man's eyes glaze over
Falling limp the archeologist is carried off by the attendants to be disposed of while the crowd knees again and prays for their offering to be satisfactory.
