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The Hypogeum Ch. 08-09 free porn video
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Knowledge becomes evil if the aim be not virtuous.’ – Plato
The two women settled back in their chairs, Taika leaned forward and took Alma’s hand as it sat in front of her on the table. She said, ‘Now t’is time for you to learn of Baphomet. I’ll be showing you something that the Forest could not,’ Taika forestalled an interruption with a raised hand and continued, ‘I know what you are about to witness, not because the trees showed me, but because I have seen for myself. I have no need to boast, deep is my connection with the Forest than you are or ever will be. I share their memories, just as you share the thoughts, strengths and memories of another, you have simply forgotten.’
The old woman stared into space for a while and Alma sat and waited in silence. Presently, Taika spoke again, ‘The trees are gentle creatures who have been thrust into a position where they have to witness some evil things… And make some terrible decisions. Not terrible in that they made poor choices, I mean that they were forced to make choices that no living thing should ever have to face!’
She lapsed into silence once more. ‘What are you going to tell me, Taika?’ asked Alma gently.
‘I will tell you nothing, you are going to see for yourself.’
‘What?’
‘You are going to see how we got to this point from when Baphomet first became aware of this world,’ she saw the horrified look cross Alma’s face and hurried on, ‘Be not fearful child, remember that nothing can harm you, t’is a waking dream, nothing more, but once lived, you will know why Baphomet fears you.’
Eyes wide with astonishment, Alma exclaimed, ‘A demon that’s been around for thousands of years fears me?’
‘Yes child. He hates you, but he fears you more.’
Thoughts of Baphomet and what he had cost her tumbled through Alma’s mind and when she thought of him fearing her, she could feel her resolve stiffen, ‘Show me,’ was all she said. Taika sat up straight and said, ‘Look into my eyes Alma Baines.’
The young woman looked into Taika’s eyes and could see green fire in them. It flickered and danced, swayed and shimmered…
Alma couldn’t feel her body, she imagined that she moved her hand in front of her face to look at it, but not only could she see nothing, she could also feel nothing, as though she were a ghost… No, not a ghost, but a spirit… A mind bereft of the bonds of physicality. She thought to be frightened, but felt nothing of any emotion. Neither happy or scared, hot or cold. She felt nothing, she could do… Nothing. Nothing except watch.
On a large circular mound of earth with a flattened top was a bustling Neolithic hill fort, several people walked purposefully on their errands and a few children played a game involving the skull of a sheep, kicking it from child to child and laughing. A chill wind blew up from out nowhere and everyone in the village stopped what they were doing momentarily as their vision blurred, like they were trying to see through harsh tears. As quickly as the haziness and wind had sprung, it passed and everyone carried on with his or her normal lives.
Far beneath the ground, directly below the village, deep in the earth that made the circular mound upon which the settlement perched, there was pain. The Earth felt a stab as the shockwave passed into the ley node. That strange place where physicality and spirituality met, where the power of the Earth’s life force pulsed with ferocious strength. The force of the impact went unnoticed on the surface being more akin to spiritual power than physical, but the Earth felt it and the pain she felt was unimaginable to any mere mortal. Something shattered deep inside the node and a black mass grew. A face appeared in the midst of the mass, it had soulless eyes and a wide mouth full of vicious teeth. Tentacles appeared within the bubbling pustule and they began to push outwards from the centre of the bubble of pure evil that had invaded the world. They sank into the soil and rocks in the immediate vicinity and like roots began to feed upon the life that they found. Insects, burrowing worms, everything living that came into contact with the tentacles died, and with each death the evil grew stronger. He had tasted the life in this new place and he wanted more.
He wanted all of it!
Baphomet roared!
High above in the settlement, an old man sat sharpening arrow heads for the young men who were going on the hunt tomorrow. He felt a shiver down his spine and suddenly felt quite apprehensive, but for no reason he could fathom. His weather-beaten face frowned as he shifted into a more comfortable position and tried to continue with his task.
He had great difficulty getting to sleep that night and his wife grew angry as he woke her once too often with his tossing and turning.
Baphomet was puzzled, he didn’t understand how or why he had come to this place. It felt the same as his home, the Hypogeum and also different. The same in that it was dark and warm where he was, but different in that it was teeming with life, life that he and his brethren had virtually extinguished in the dimension of his birth. Also, he felt powerful, much more power ran through his being than had ever down in his own reality, where he was a very minor player in a very big game. He knew that instead of hiding in the night and hunting for weaker demons to feed his craven appetites, here he had the opportunity to rule. Powerful or not, he knew that more was needed, and the lowly insects and worms that had only a moment ago thrilled him as he felt their life force flow into him would not be enough. Still… He had time. Time to ponder and to plan.
Weeks passed, months and then years. Baphomet probed outwards with his thoughts, just as he had on his own world when seeking out prey. This time though, his ability to reach out with his thoughts was stronger. He didn’t know it, but the shockwave that had brought him here had at the same time linked his nature to the ley node that had ruptured. Slowly he let his consciousness travel along the mystical pathways of the Earth and searched out the nodes similar to the one with which he was now combined. The flow of energy that coursed through the veins of the planet were far too strong for him to subvert, he could only ride them. But wherever they took his thoughts, he could also hear the thoughts of those animals that were close by. Baphomet tried to break free of the node that both freed and imprisoned him, but could not. He was too weak, at least for now.
Still, as his thoughts travelled, they grew and he learned the secrets that lived in the hearts of men. Secrets that he knew could aid him. The planet was too strong for him to subvert, but these puny humans, as they called themselves, were not. He discovered how the humans were linked to the Earth in a manner that was beyond their ability to understand, at least on the conscious level, but at the unconscious level things were different. Had they not built edifices at some of the most powerful places on the surface of the Earth? Stone circles that were a testament to man’s place in nature.
It was his thought that perhaps these places of worship could be used to help him gain the strength to break free and conquer this place. Baphomet sent out his mind along the highways and byways of energy that criss-crossed Earth. Where he found a node of particular power, he searched the local populace for a suitable candidate. When he found one, a man or woman that was hungry for personal power or gain or who had a highly developed sense of piety, he would reach out tendrils of thought to make subtle changes. A thought here, another thought there. Where necessary a human who he considered might be a stumbling block was sent along another pathway. A path that could mean deciding not to go to the village meeting tonight, or a path that could lead to the individual deliberately taking too great a risk that led to their death. Regardless
of the thoughts changed and the pathways chosen, his plan started to grow to fruition.
All around the world at roughly the same time, stone edifices were built and used for worship. Baphomet could feel his strength grow with each prayer that travelled through the ley lines to the conjunction where he resided. Every node of power that he could find had a structure of wood or stone. Once Baphomet was of the opinion that he had found every such point in the planet’s nervous system, he made his first attempt to break free. The demon gathered his will and directed his mind to breaking free from the ley node that held him fast. Slowly at first he started to strain against his bonds as he felt the energy flowing into him from all the nodes where Neolithic people prayed to the gods of the seasons, the sun and the moon. All were mistaken in their beliefs, all they were doing was helping a demon try to free himself from the ley node’s seemingly unbreakable grip. As his might grew, so did his struggle. Baphomet strained and pulled against the tendrils of power, harder and ever more fiercely did he try to escape, but to no avail. The ley node buried deep under the ground was just too mighty.
Exhausted, Baphomet collapsed backwards against the node and as he did so, the energy he had been using to break free exploded from his person and travelled in the only directions open to it, along the channels of ley lines to the two other nearby clusters of Earth energy and directly upwards into the hill fort. The wooden construction of the buildings directly above Baphomet had no way of withstanding the furious energies he had released. The ground shook and rippled, fences fell and houses collapsed. Wooden struts shattered into thousands of shards that filled the air with deadly shrapnel, flying though the air in all directions.
In a matter of moments not a single piece of unbroken timber could be seen. The earth beneath Stonehenge shook and the mighty standing stones toppled, the lintels that they supported fell to the ground and cracked and broke as they hit each other on the way down. Sandstone heel-stones that marked the entrance to the sacred circle shattered under the forces that assailed them and all the people who had been worshipping fled in terror as they tried to escape what they thought was the anger of the gods.
Meanwhile, the energy that assailed Woodhenge a few miles to the north was if anything even more devastating. The wooden poles that had been sunk into the ground, shattered as the terrible forces sent shockwaves through them, one or two even flew into the air as though struck from beneath by a giant hammer. Loud was the wailing of the Neolithic people when they surveyed the damage wrought to their holy places by forces they had no means of understanding.
And loud also, was the roar of Baphomet as he let loose with such rage as the world had never seen.
He screamed!
He roared!
He thrashed against his bonds!
Long and fearsome was the raging lament of the demon, still trapped in the Earth, but also still trapped outside the earth. It took the lifetimes of many men for Baphomet’s rage to peak and then die down and when it did, he started to ponder why he had failed. The answer came to him, it was a matter of power, not enough power. He needed more power if he were to break free. But how? Where could he get such power as he needed? If the thoughts and prayers of all humankind on the planet channelled through the ley lines had not been enough, then where. Baphomet thought long about the problem even as he started sending his thoughts out into the world again, and what he discovered caused him to stop and take stock.
What had seemed like a few moments to him had actually been many generations. The humans he noted had made improvements, they had discovered the working of more advanced metals, improved methods of farming. It would appear that he savage creatures could learn, could improve and could advance. He thought this was interesting and important, if they could evolve new things, why not new means of generating power, power he could use to break free and stride this world like the colossus he knew he was destined to be? Baphomet settled down to make his plans.
Sorviodunum was a military station at the junction of five important roads. And beneath it, Baphomet waited. He sent out questing thoughts, searching for suitable candidates. He was looking for the greedy, the devious, the lustful, the quick, the clever, the dark and the powerful. And wherever he met a human mind that suited his dark purpose, he invaded it and offered up promises of whatever that person desired most in return for a little thing. Such a little thing. Just a prayer perhaps.
Baphomet used his power to influence many different people all over the world, ensuring that they would come to positions of power and wealth and in return all he asked was a prayer. Cynric, a Saxon king, made his home there. On the whole, he was an adequate ruler in many ways as well as being a fearsome warrior. But he was proud and hungered for power, traits that were useful to Baphomet. He sent out his thoughts to invade the dreams of the king, offering promises of power in exchange for little things, a prayer perhaps and an altar stone.
Slowly, over time Cynric’s dreams began to occupy his waking thoughts. Why not? He said to himself, what harm could it do? Even if it is but a fancy, it can cause no harm. But if, on the other hand, the dream voice were to be real and true, the rewards would be magnificent. He had visions of himself leading a great army to victory after victory until he was the undisputed ruler of Saxon England. He began work on a new room for the fort, it was to be underground deep beneath the centre of the complex. Teams of peasants worked in shifts to dig down into the earth. A system of ropes and pulleys hauled baskets of rocks and earth up to the surface and the workers used a series of ladders in the side of the shaft to climb down to the bottom. Picks, axes and shovels bit their way ever deeper until their king, Cynric ordered them to stop digging down and start digging outwards. As the new room grew in size, further teams of masons and builders followed the labourers into the hole and began the process of turning its earthen walls into walls of stone and cement.
Gradually the project took shape. A side tunnel was dug that led from the main room and this to was increased in size so that it too could be shored up with rough hewn rectangular stones. And still the work continued, as the tunnel was lengthened and started to incline gently back up towards the surface until the grafting diggers and labourers had created a long corridor that broke out into a field about half a mile from the vaulted room. Teams of builders followed them laying flagstone flooring and cementing stones together for the ceiling and walls. The ceiling of the main room was completed at the same time that the final touches were added to the floor, a circle was inscribed into the flagstones and an ornately carved centrepiece was added that showed an image of a grinning monster with a mass of tentacles were there should have been arms.
Once the work was completed, all of the rocks and earth that had been excavated from the main shaft were poured back in and the hole was filled completely, sods of grass were laid back on top and tamped down until no trace could be seen of anything out of the ordinary. Then all the teams of labourers were led to the place where the stone corridor ended in the field and the final touches were added there as well, stone steps were put in place so that people using the corridor could walk down instead of having to climb and a trapdoor made of solid oak was set in place over it. A stone built farmhouse grew rapidly under Cynric’s direct supervision as well as the associated outbuildings and barns. One of which was set directly over the trapdoor.
When the final brick was cemented into place, all of the masons, builders and
labourers who had toiled so hard for the king were crowded into the courtyard area of the farmhouse so that they could be addressed by Cynric, who was to thank them for their hard work and to pay them. Rumours were rife that they were each to be given a gold coin, so highly did the king rate their work. As the throng jostled and pushed in the crowded courtyard, Cynric sat on his horse and shouted, ‘My people who have toiled for me, you have the thanks of your king. And now you shall have your payment,’ he held up a gold coin for all to see and the crowd cheered their generous king as every eye in the crowd stared at the glittering prize in his hand. They failed to see the groups of soldiers armed with bows and swords surrounding them and there was a stunned silence when Cynric withdrew behind one of the squads and shouted, ‘Ready!’
Bows were raised, and arrows aimed at the people in the courtyard. Cynric shouted, ‘Kill them all!’
A volley of arrows flew into the crowd, each found its mark and those hit collapsed to the ground, dead. Another volley, and another and yet another, until almost every worker in the courtyard was dead.
Then there was silence broken only by the muffled moans of the few who had been injured, but not killed. A squad of soldiers searched through the bodies, looking for any survivors who were quickly despatched with a blade. Another squad of soldiers began dragging the bodies away and loaded them onto wagons to be taken away and disposed of. Cynric had sat on his horse and watched the entire grisly massacre from start to finish without a word. He was listening to a voice in his head whispering promises of glory and power for this day’s work… But there was still something yet to do.
He climbed from his horse and motioned to a soldier nearby, ‘Come with me.’
Somewhat surprised to be called upon, the soldier followed his leader to the trapdoor, where he then opened it and followed the king down and along the corridor to the vaulted room with the strange decorations on the floor. Once they were stood together over the decorated tablet of the monster, Cynric asked, ‘What is your name?’
‘Rodric Sire,’ answered the young soldier.
The king smiled and said, ‘You are about to be given a great honour, Rodric.’
Eagerly the soldier asked, ‘What is that, my king?’
Cynric pulled a dagger from the sheath at his side, grabbed Rodric by the arm and slid the blade between his ribs. Rodric stood open eyed in shock as he felt the spurt of blood arc from the wound and splash the tablet at his feet. The king’s smile was one of pure evil as he said, ‘You are to be the first sacrifice to my new lord, Baphomet.’
Rodric’s knees gave way as he weakened and he fell forward across the tablet, his blood poured over it.
Below him, Baphomet sensed the rich energy-giving fluid, sweet and so much stronger than the lower life forms that had provided his sustenance until now. He reached up eagerly and when he touched the tablet, he felt the energy flow into him from the blood, intoxicating and thrilling. Greedily, Baphomet drank and as he did so, he felt the power pulsing as it flowed into his being. He reached up further and for the first time felt the true air from this new world. Baphomet pushed through the stone tablet, feeling his form take on the properties of the stone and transform to flesh as he passed through it until he was stood in all his glory in the centre of the vault.
He looked down at the dead body sprawled at his feet and at the king, now cowering away in terror as he stared at the monster he had summoned.
Baphomet laughed long and loud before saying, ‘Cynric, fear not. You shall not die this day while you are still of use to me.’
When Cynric made no motion to move, Baphomet continued, ‘Attend me Cynric. Pray to me with blood and flesh and I shall reward you. Serve me above all others and you shall be great amongst men. Fail me and you shall surely die.’
Marisol
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