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The City Beneath the Sand 1: An Introduction of Sorts

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>What secrets do the worlds of old hold?
>From time immemorial, the secrets of the olden days have be eroded and hidden by the passage of time and the swirling sands of the vast deserts.
>Four heavily shrouded figures trudged through the blistering heat of the Golden Ball of Flame above them, and into the heart of the vast sea of sand.
>The whipping winds tore at their clothing and their equipment.
>Every so often, the pilgrims would stop to dust themselves and their possessions off to prevent extra weight from accumulating and from the dusty environment penetrating deeper into the delicate machinery.
>The stops were brief to prevent a feeling of respite in the harsh desert.
>There was no relief to be found here, and those caught unaware of the dangers surrounding them would be quickly overwhelmed by the coiling sand.
>The group, finishing their maintenance continued on their trek, their tracks in the endless sand quickly wiped away by the whistling winds.
>They continued their march into the Wastes, searching for something that may not even be there.
>The largest of the group, a bipedal creature, was carrying the largest burden of dragging a cart through the unforgiving sand.
>He wore a turban on his head, but his sun kissed face belied any protection that it may provide.
>He pulled out a handkerchief from his satchel; a burlap sack draped over his left arm, and wiped down his face.
>Moisture was sparse in the desert, so the wise creature stored the rag back in his bag.
“We have places like this back home, but I have yet to see one such as brutal and unforgiving as this.” He says to the lead creature.
>”Well, welcome to the Safarin Desert. The worst locale in Equestria.” Replied the quadruped in front of him.
>”Quiet back there you two. I’m not paying you for chitchat, I’m paying you for an escort.” The lead creature barked.
>The man quickly wrapped his scarf back around his mouth.
>It helped him breathe easier in the whipping winds, and prevented the sand from getting into his clothing.
>He pulled it tighter around his neck, sealing any breach against errant sand.
>Fallen on tough times, and his knowledge of wilderness survival, the human decided he would make a living as an escort for hire.
>An escort, or mercenary if need be.
>He happened upon this world through a freak accident on one of his forays into the deep Panamanian Jungle.
>He’s still not sure exactly how it happened, but he was here now, and determined to make the best of it.
>Except, his best efforts were not that great.
>He was an explorer, and adventurer by trade, so the simple life didn’t suit him.
>As soon as he heard that the rich man in town was mounting some sort of business venture in the deep south, he jumped at the chance to offer his services.
>And now here he was, out in the middle of nowhere, searching for something that may not even exist.
>We now join this forsaken creature in his quest of lost treasures, fortune, and a way back home.
>That is, if he lives through it.
>Just another day in the life of Anon, Explorer Extraordinaire.
“So, Mr. Rich, what exactly are we looking for out here again?”
>The leader of the pack sighed, stopping the caravan of four.
>”As I said at least a dozen times human, we are looking for the ruins of a long forgotten trade city. In the far distant past, this was a lush and fertile land, thriving with p0nies from all across the land. A Trade hub, linked by the sea to all of the foreign lands.”
“So, what happened to them?”
>”No one knows. One day, there was a sudden sandstorm of colossal magnitude. When the storm finally cleared, the city had disappeared along with all its inhabitants.”
“But, it was so well known! It’s location must have been at least recorded.” You ask.
>”Yes, it was. But the shifting sands quickly wipe away any semblance of normalcy in a few days. Dunes that once rose 50 meters could one day be no taller than you. The landscape changes in the blink of an eye, and the people that inhabited the land were primarily nomadic.”
>Makes sense.
>From what you have gathered about these infernal sands, is that if any creature were to survive here, it must go where quarry goes.
“So what records still exist of this place? You ask.
>”Shipping and trade manifests in the Royal Libraries. There were a few maps as well, but most have aged beyond any use. What we do know, is that it IS out there somewhere, its ruins ripe for the picking.”
>Stuff that old most likely has great historic value.
>It belongs in a museum.
>But then again, times were tough.
>”The cities inhabitants were a strange bunch. Apparently, many sections of the city were closed off to foreigners and visitors. They even blocked off passage to visiting royalty! Only locals of a higher class were allowed inside these hallowed passages, and anyone caught trying to enter them were never heard from again.”
>Strange ruling class? Check.
>City in the desert? Check.
>Wealth and secrets unparalleled? Check.
>Sounds like a recipe for disaster to you.
>Or maybe a recipe for riches...
>”Any MORE questions?” Filthy Rich asks snidely.
>You shake your head no, moving forward with the cart full of supplies.
>Sure, you were the only human here, but your superior upper body strength lent itself better to the arduous task of heaving the equipment around.
>You groaned in discomfort, pulling the heavy load along the whirling sands.
>By your calculations, you’ve been walking for about a few hours now.
>The blazing sun overhead would be setting soon, and with it, the heat would quickly dissipate.
>The group slowly makes its way over the massive dune in front of it, revealing a small speck in the distance.
“Hold up.” You say, pulling a pair of binoculars out of your satchel.
>You look through them, and focus on the tiny black speck in the distance.
>It appears to be a makeshift camp.
“Camp up ahead. Could be locals.”
>Filthy snorts. “Or it could be p0nies after MY lost city.”
>Fucking guy.
>His greed would get the better of him one day.
“I doubt it. By the looks of the camp site, it must be nomads. If we keep an eye on our stuff, we should be fine.”
>The business p0ny nods his head. “Fine, perhaps they can give us some direction after all.”
>The march continues slowly towards the camp.
>In about half an hour, the sun slowly begins to dip behind the horizon, casting a red glow on all of your surroundings.
>You see the camp is a small one, not consisting of more than maybe a dozen tents.
>You can also see that they are in rather poor shape; they could do with some supplies. From what is apparent about their tents, they could use some serious repair.
>A group of the darker furred creatures comes out to meet you.
>Pushing ahead of Filthy, you set down your load, and hold out a canteen of water.
>”What are you doing?” he says.
>You shush him quickly and kneel down.
>The leader of the group approaches you.
“Um-soo lay la. Lee shen sho ush ill mak til.”
>He eyes you curiously.
>”The strange creature knows the language of our forefathers. Come, honoured guests. Accompany us tonight in these haunted wastes, for there is safety in numbers.” He says, pointing a hoof at the camp
>Filthy and the two other p0nies stand slack jawed as the nomads walk back to camp.
“You asked me to learn, and so I did. I offered water as a offering to share their camp for the night. Water is a precious commodity out here.”
>The group nods in unison, as they head inwards into the camp, leaving you with the supplies.
>Once inside the camp, you notice that it much like a village on wheels.
>All around you had families who were enjoying the coolness of the night air, but there was a feeling of unease in the air.
>Many of the parents looked overly protective of their children as you set up camp.
>Filthy and his cohorts refused to help you set up the massive tent.
>You’ve dealt with his kind before on expeditions.
>They were asses, but the paid well enough if you got the job done.
>If.
>You finished preparing the tent for the evening, when the leader of the group approached you once again.
>”Mysterious creature, may this one ask your name?”
“My name is Anonymous, and I hail from foreign lands.”
>”What of your companions?”
“My boss is Filthy Rich, and I know not who the other two are.”
>”I admire your forwardness in this Anonymous. You seem to know well of my People’s customs.”
“I pride myself in learning of people’s cultures. I am somewhat of an amateur historian and researcher.”
>”Well then, it would do you well to speak with the elders of this land. Perhaps they can illuminate you further in our history.”
“I was hoping to find out more about the Desert actually.”
>”We know much about this Desert. Our people have travelled it as far back as we can remember. What is it you wish to know?
“I need to know about the City of En’kila.”
>The nomad narrows his eyes on you.
>”We do not speak that cursed cities name in these parts,” he says quickly make a mark in the air with his hoof “It is misfortune to talk of the City Beneath The Sands.”
“I meant no disrespect. My knowledge of these areas is limited.”
>”You are forgiven outsider.” He says, his tone returning to its previous calm level. “You may still ask the Elder about it, if you wish.”
“I would appreciate the opportunity.”
>”Then follow me, I shall take you to him.”
>The dark furred p0ny leads you to the largest tent.
>On the way, you spot Filthy helping himself to some of your food supplies and the other two also digging in.
>They didn’t even wait for you.
>You sigh, and continue following the local.
>It seems like a majority of the nomads live in relative poverty from what you can tell.
>They seem happy though in their simple existence.
>A couple of Children are out running around, playing a game of tag.
>One bumps into you, he looks precariously.
>You give him a kindly smile, and ruffle his mane.
>He smiles back, and takes off after his playmate.
>”You are kind as you are wise stranger.”
“Virtues that are few and far between...” you say as he opens the flap of the large tent.
>The decadence inside the tent belies its outwardly appearance.
>Inside, there are many carpets of grand design, some quite intricate.
>the inside is also littered with pillows and even a small table.
>At the far end, there sits an elderly creature, smoking on what appears to be a hookah.
>Your nomadic companion heads over to his side, as whispers into the elders ear.
>A few moments pass as the elder whispers back to him.
>You take note of the decor around you, looking for any hints as to some hidden danger.
>Sure, these people seemed hospitable, but there are often daggers hidden behind men’s smiles.
>”Young one,” the old p0ny wheezes “come closer so we may speak.”
>His voice was had a thick accent, and he had evident trouble speaking in a common tongue.
>You stop before the carpet, and remove your shoes as a sign of respect, and walk down over to a pillow across from the elder.
>”Please, no need to be so formal. You come to us with an offering of water, an ancient custom forgotten by most of the northern races. You honour us, and our ancestors tonight. Please, take a seat.” He says, motioning to the pillow next to him.
>You sit down, carefully trying not to disturb anything.
>He passes you one of the pipes of the Hookah.
>You take it in hand, and inhale deeply.
>You had the pleasure of first experiencing these devices in a Bazaar back in the Middle East.
>To your surprise, this was much similar.
>Many things were similar here, and you hoped some things were not.
>You carefully exhale the smoke, making a few rings with it.
>The elder smiles at your skill.
>”You are a creature of many surprises. Why do you come to our lands?”
“I travel with my companions for a city.”
>”And what city would this be?”
“En’kila”
>He drops the Hookah pipe, and stares at you, making the same sign the other nomad did earlier.
>”Why do you seek your doom child?”
“I assume you know of the stories then?”
>”Ikshh shay salmmin ik na! Of course I know!” he raising his voice in his native tongue.
“I meant no disrespect Elder, if I have offended, I ask for forgiveness.”
>He picks up the pipe, and inhales deeply.
>”I am sure you already know. The stories in the books tell it well enough.”
>You stare him dead in the eyes.
“But they do not tell of the Worship of the Stars.”

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>What secrets do the worlds of old hold?
>From time immemorial, the secrets of the olden days have be eroded and hidden by the passage of time and the swirling sands of the vast deserts.
>Four heavily shrouded figures trudged through the blistering heat of the Golden Ball of Flame above them, and into the heart of the vast sea of sand.
>The whipping winds tore at their clothing and their equipment.
>Every so often, the pilgrims would stop to dust themselves and their possessions off to prevent extra weight from accumulating and from the dusty environment penetrating deeper into the delicate machinery.
>The stops were brief to prevent a feeling of respite in the harsh desert.
>There was no relief to be found here, and those caught unaware of the dangers surrounding them would be quickly overwhelmed by the coiling sand.
>The group, finishing their maintenance continued on their trek, their tracks in the endless sand quickly wiped away by the whistling winds.
>They continued their march into the Wastes, searching for something that may not even be there.
>The largest of the group, a bipedal creature, was carrying the largest burden of dragging a cart through the unforgiving sand.
>He wore a turban on his head, but his sun kissed face belied any protection that it may provide.
>He pulled out a handkerchief from his satchel; a burlap sack draped over his left arm, and wiped down his face.
>Moisture was sparse in the desert, so the wise creature stored the rag back in his bag.
 “We have places like this back home, but I have yet to see one such as brutal and unforgiving as this.” He says to the lead creature.
>”Well, welcome to the Safarin Desert. The worst locale in Equestria.” Replied the quadruped in front of him.
>”Quiet back there you two. I’m not paying you for chitchat, I’m paying you for an escort.” The lead creature barked.
>The man quickly wrapped his scarf back around his mouth.
>It helped him breathe easier in the whipping winds, and prevented the sand from getting into his clothing.
>He pulled it tighter around his neck, sealing any breach against errant sand.
>Fallen on tough times, and his knowledge of wilderness survival, the human decided he would make a living as an escort for hire.
>An escort, or mercenary if need be.
>He happened upon this world through a freak accident on one of his forays into the deep Panamanian Jungle.
>He’s still not sure exactly how it happened, but he was here now, and determined to make the best of it.
>Except, his best efforts were not that great.
>He was an explorer, and adventurer by trade, so the simple life didn’t suit him.
>As soon as he heard that the rich man in town was mounting some sort of business venture in the deep south, he jumped at the chance to offer his services.
>And now here he was, out in the middle of nowhere, searching for something that may not even exist.
>We now join this forsaken creature in his quest of lost treasures, fortune, and a way back home.
>That is, if he lives through it.
>Just another day in the life of Anon, Explorer Extraordinaire.

“So, Mr. Rich, what exactly are we looking for out here again?”
>The leader of the pack sighed, stopping the caravan of four.
>”As I said at least a dozen times human, we are looking for the ruins of a long forgotten trade city. In the far distant past, this was a lush and fertile land, thriving with p0nies from all across the land. A Trade hub, linked by the sea to all of the foreign lands.”
“So, what happened to them?”
>”No one knows. One day, there was a sudden sandstorm of colossal magnitude. When the storm finally cleared, the city had disappeared along with all its inhabitants.” 
“But, it was so well known! It’s location must have been at least recorded.” You ask.
>”Yes, it was. But the shifting sands quickly wipe away any semblance of normalcy in a few days. Dunes that once rose 50 meters could one day be no taller than you. The landscape changes in the blink of an eye, and the people that inhabited the land were primarily nomadic.”
>Makes sense.
>From what you have gathered about these infernal sands, is that if any creature were to survive here, it must go where quarry goes.
“So what records still exist of this place? You ask.
>”Shipping and trade manifests in the Royal Libraries. There were a few maps as well, but most have aged beyond any use.  What we do know, is that it IS out there somewhere, its ruins ripe for the picking.”
>Stuff that old most likely has great historic value.
>It belongs in a museum.
>But then again, times were tough.
>”The cities inhabitants were a strange bunch. Apparently, many sections of the city were closed off to foreigners and visitors. They even blocked off passage to visiting royalty! Only locals of a higher class were allowed inside these hallowed passages, and anyone caught trying to enter them were never heard from again.”
>Strange ruling class? Check.
>City in the desert? Check.
>Wealth and secrets unparalleled? Check.
>Sounds like a recipe for disaster to you.
>Or maybe a recipe for riches...
>”Any MORE questions?” Filthy Rich asks snidely.
>You shake your head no, moving forward with the cart full of supplies.
>Sure, you were the only human here, but your superior upper body strength lent itself better to the arduous task of heaving the equipment around.
>You groaned in discomfort, pulling the heavy load along the whirling sands.
>By your calculations, you’ve been walking for about a few hours now.
>The blazing sun overhead would be setting soon, and with it, the heat would quickly dissipate.
>The group slowly makes its way over the massive dune in front of it, revealing a small speck in the distance.
“Hold up.” You say, pulling a pair of binoculars out of your satchel.
>You look through them, and focus on the tiny black speck in the distance.
>It appears to be a makeshift camp.
“Camp up ahead. Could be locals.”
>Filthy snorts. “Or it could be p0nies after MY lost city.”
>Fucking guy.
>His greed would get the better of him one day.
“I doubt it. By the looks of the camp site, it must be nomads. If we keep an eye on our stuff, we should be fine.”
>The business p0ny nods his head. “Fine, perhaps they can give us some direction after all.”
>The march continues slowly towards the camp.
>In about half an hour, the sun slowly begins to dip behind the horizon, casting a red glow on all of your surroundings.
>You see the camp is a small one, not consisting of more than maybe a dozen tents.
>You can also see that they are in rather poor shape; they could do with some supplies. From what is apparent about their tents, they could use some serious repair.
>A group of the darker furred creatures comes out to meet you.
>Pushing ahead of Filthy, you set down your load, and hold out a canteen of water.
>”What are you doing?” he says.
>You shush him quickly and kneel down.
>The leader of the group approaches you.
“Um-soo lay la. Lee shen sho ush ill mak til.”
>He eyes you curiously.
>”The strange creature knows the language of our forefathers. Come, honoured guests. Accompany us tonight in these haunted wastes, for there is safety in numbers.” He says, pointing a hoof at the camp
>Filthy and the two other p0nies stand slack jawed as the nomads walk back to camp.
“You asked me to learn, and so I did. I offered water as a offering to share their camp for the night. Water is a precious commodity out here.”
>The group nods in unison, as they head inwards into the camp, leaving you with the supplies.
>Once inside the camp, you notice that it much like a village on wheels.
>All around you had families who were enjoying the coolness of the night air, but there was a feeling of unease in the air.
>Many of the parents looked overly protective of their children as you set up camp.
>Filthy and his cohorts refused to help you set up the massive tent.
>You’ve dealt with his kind before on expeditions.
>They were asses, but the paid well enough if you got the job done.
>If.
>You finished preparing the tent for the evening, when the leader of the group approached you once again.
>”Mysterious creature, may this one ask your name?”
“My name is Anonymous, and I hail from foreign lands.”
>”What of your companions?”
“My boss is Filthy Rich, and I know not who the other two are.”
>”I admire your forwardness in this Anonymous. You seem to know well of my People’s customs.”
“I pride myself in learning of people’s cultures. I am somewhat of an amateur historian and researcher.”
>”Well then, it would do you well to speak with the elders of this land. Perhaps they can illuminate you further in our history.”
“I was hoping to find out more about the Desert actually.”
>”We know much about this Desert. Our people have travelled it as far back as we can remember. What is it you wish to know?
“I need to know about the City of En’kila.”
>The nomad narrows his eyes on you.
>”We do not speak that cursed cities name in these parts,” he says quickly make a mark in the air with his hoof “It is misfortune to talk of the City Beneath The Sands.”
“I meant no disrespect. My knowledge of these areas is limited.”
>”You are forgiven outsider.” He says, his tone returning to its previous calm level. “You may still ask the Elder about it, if you wish.”
“I would appreciate the opportunity.”
>”Then follow me, I shall take you to him.”
>The dark furred p0ny leads you to the largest tent.
>On the way, you spot Filthy helping himself to some of your food supplies and the other two also digging in.
>They didn’t even wait for you.
>You sigh, and continue following the local.
>It seems like a majority of the nomads live in relative poverty from what you can tell.
>They seem happy though in their simple existence.
>A couple of Children are out running around, playing a game of tag.
>One bumps into you, he looks precariously.
>You give him a kindly smile, and ruffle his mane.
>He smiles back, and takes off after his playmate.
>”You are kind as you are wise stranger.”
“Virtues that are few and far between...” you say as he opens the flap of the large tent.
>The decadence inside the tent belies its outwardly appearance.
>Inside, there are many carpets of grand design, some quite intricate.
>the inside is also littered with pillows and even a small table.
>At the far end, there sits an elderly creature, smoking on what appears to be a hookah.
>Your nomadic companion heads over to his side, as whispers into the elders ear.
>A few moments pass as the elder whispers back to him.
>You take note of the decor around you, looking for any hints as to some hidden danger.
>Sure, these people seemed hospitable, but there are often daggers hidden behind men’s smiles.
>”Young one,” the old p0ny wheezes “come closer so we may speak.”
>His voice was had a thick accent, and he had evident trouble speaking in a common tongue.
>You stop before the carpet, and remove your shoes as a sign of respect, and walk down over to a pillow across from the elder.
>”Please, no need to be so formal. You come to us with an offering of water, an ancient custom forgotten by most of the northern races. You honour us, and our ancestors tonight. Please, take a seat.” He says, motioning to the pillow next to him.
>You sit down, carefully trying not to disturb anything.
>He passes you one of the pipes of the Hookah.
>You take it in hand, and inhale deeply.
>You had the pleasure of first experiencing these devices in a Bazaar back in the Middle East.
>To your surprise, this was much similar.
>Many things were similar here, and you hoped some things were not.
>You carefully exhale the smoke, making a few rings with it.
>The elder smiles at your skill.
>”You are a creature of many surprises. Why do you come to our lands?”
“I travel with my companions for a city.”
>”And what city would this be?”
“En’kila”
>He drops the Hookah pipe, and stares at you, making the same sign the other nomad did earlier.
>”Why do you seek your doom child?”
“I assume you know of the stories then?”
>”Ikshh shay salmmin ik na! Of course I know!” he raising his voice in his native tongue.
“I meant no disrespect Elder, if I have offended, I ask for forgiveness.”
>He picks up the pipe, and inhales deeply.
>”I am sure you already know. The stories in the books tell it well enough.”
>You stare him dead in the eyes.
“But they do not tell of the Worship of the Stars.”

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