Sid's Exodus. A tale of the N.L.A
 

Ok, so this is the first part of another fiction i scrounged from my imagtination. It's a sequal to my first fic. The link to which can ber found in ym signiture. Don't worry. if you haven't read the first one, it makes no difference, the stories do relate, but are not mutally exclusive, so you don't have to have read the first to understand the second.

It's a tad longer than the other ones too. Enjoy.

And now with no more ado i present

Sid's exodus, a tale of the N.L.A


Prologue:
The plains are quiet now. The violence has ended, and our sacred land has long since resumed its peaceful state. No slavery blights the lines and we have continued to protect our home.

The Plains are quiet now.

But it wasn’t always this way.

The N.L.A? They are all bones now. They lie beneath the earth where we sit, but if you like I will tell you about them. Just allow me a few moments to cast my mind back over the decades. To the days of the N.L.A

The “Native Liberation Army” They called themselves. To the settlers, they were nothing more than extremists, rebels, relics of an old forgotten culture. But there are those of us that revered them as the heroes who saved the Lines from slavery.
Still, this might take a long time; you can’t really grow to appreciate them without having been there. But we’ll do our best.

Ah yes, gather round me. And speak of the N.L.A
And I will tell you our story.
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Miles from where Rupture Farms once stood, on the old Mudokon Lands. The Cliff covered rugged lands give way to countless grassy plains and stinking swamp as far as the eye can see. A great valley carved by eons of rushing water was cut from the hills. And Abe’s moon shone brightly in the sky. The white light dancing on the cold metal of the train.

The colossal structure in the distance blighted the otherwise beautiful horizon. An ugly thing, built into the side of a very large cliff. A million chimneys belched smoke into the sky, the land around the structure was burnt black, the earth scorched and scolded into glimmering glass. At the base of the cliff, stood the refinery, the din of the grinding conveyer belts and clank of metal echoed from inside, above another large train rumbled into a station hundreds of metres from the ground, the screaming of the tracks as the train ground to a halt affronting Omar’s ears.

Omar and his two fellows sat in a carriage of the train. Slight, slim, blue and with a few large green feathers protruding from his headpiece and big orange eyes reflecting the glint of the night sky. Omar, James and Charlie. All mudokons, all quiet, nervous, savouring the coming weeks. All silent in the realisation that they were at last here. Bound to spend an indefinite time in the closest thing to hell the Monsaic Lines had to offer. The Native’s called it the hellgate Mine Omar tilted his head towards the giant structure, burping fire and smoke into the cold night air in the distance.

Omar was (unlike most of his brothers) not coming here as a slave, nor were the other mudokons sharing the carriage with him. As Far as the Industrialists were concerned., They were Mudokon businessmen who were taking advantage of the commercial thoroughfare the Glukkons had forcibly built on the Native’s land. As Far as the industrialists were concerned, these were peaceful muds, sympathetic to their aim, who had seen the future and fancied throwing in their lot with the Sligs and their evil taskmasters ... the Glukkons.

How very wrong they were.

Wow. Very interesting, very good descriptive language. Very dark and ominous. If this fanfic can continue to completion, I foresee it will be one of the greats...

wow! very good! whens the next part coming?

one of the greats like yours lord stanley!

Omar sighed and breathed a mouthful of cold air, seeing is breath rise as white smoke in the cold night-time atmosphere. The train skidded and ground as it pulled into one of the Mine’s main gates, the doors flew open and Omar and his fellows stood up.

“Remember” Omar whispered to James and the others. “ Keep cool, we don’t want out cover blown”

James nodded. “Ulahborah, ceh foorthec Omar,?” He said.

Omar whipped around. “Shut your mouth!” He hissed. “You can’t speak Native here, the sligs won’t understand our language and we want to come across as friendly as possible!”

“I’ve brushed up the more common dialects” Charlie replied He wasn’t a very stable mud.
And this was his first mission.

“Sorry Omar” James replied.

Omar nodded. “No native language, understand!?”
James looked puzzled; he wasn’t used to switching away from the indigenous language all the time.

“shestalla?!” Omar sighed despairingly.

“Oh, yeah I understand” James smirked. “Lead the way Omar!”

Omar lead the two of them from the train, the platform was empty, apart from a small group of sligs and a vyyker. Who stood eagerly awaiting the arrival of such valuable business partners. The whole place was grey andiron built, such an ugly blemish on the land which for the sake of geographical ease we will call “The Monsaic lines”

“Hello sirs ” The vyyker said reaching out a hand. Which Omar shook.

“And which mudokon tribe do you represent?” The vyyker asked.

Omar smiled. The vyyker had bought their story. “Oh .. The Netchtach Tribe!” He replied. “We’re very happy to be working with you!”

“Excellent!” The vyyker laughed clapping his hands. “ Always good to have some prestigious natives working with us! You’ll be staying in a house just near the base of the structure, the guards will escort you”

“Thank you” Omar replied. “Shall we”

The sligs beckoned them to follow and they walked from the platform. Omar sneered as he stared up at the black stone face of the mine. The very building they hoped to destroy.




The industrialists were none the wiser.

It's good to see some more story from you, Shaman.