Part One - Hok'tar
I own neither Stargate nor Buffy. Its all very sad. Boo-bloody-who.Author’s Note:
This wouldn’t leave me alone until it at least found a Word document. I decided to turn it into an exercise in concise writing. Each chapter cannot be over one page long in Word, roughly 400-500 words. Then I thought, hey, why not let you guys have a go at it anyway. Part One - Hok'tar
It was big. As in golly-gee-whiz-it’s-the-Taj-Mahal big. At first it seemed odd that such a teeny-tiny mountain village should have such a ridiculously massive temple.
But then, of course, then
, you noticed the other things as well.
The weathered designs on sections of the village walls. The avenue of pillars lining the road that led to the mouth of the valley. Daniel had said that this had once been not a village, but a small city, a miniature metropolis tucked away in these now dirt-tracked mountains. The temple would have doubled as a palace for the resident ‘god’, and lay at the opposite end of the valley to the gate, sandwiching the village in between.
Their favourite errant archaeologist was currently absorbed in the little moon’s history of civilization, sprawled in Technicolor glory across the main room’s walls.
O’Neill had wandered the perimeter for the hundredth or so time, paused, rocked on the balls of his feet, and wandered back to Daniel, who was, inevitably, frowning.
“What’s up, Spacemonkey?”
O’Neill rocked again, compressing his lips and curling one corner of his mouth. “You’ve got the look, Daniel. What’s gone wrong now?”
Daniel sighed, stood slowly and gathered himself. Sam and Teal’c drifted over, sensing something in their fourth’s posture.
“It’s the main story here. I mean, apart from the earlier stuff about their establishing god, our old friend Ra. The one I’m concerned about is this –” He gestured to a thirty foot high slab of soap stone, thoroughly engraved with what appeared to be Goa’uld. “It’s old, probably from around the time the Goa’uld were forced to leave Earth. The story spans several years, chronicling when a young woman showed up in the village.
“‘…yet as the last demon fell her guardian was borne down from the mountain unto his death, and there the Blessed One remained grieving for him, until the snow drove her to the arms of the city. Here she stays, blessed by the unseen, to fight back monsters, keepers of the dark. None can touch her in battle, nor catch her as she runs with the wind. No wound of hers shall flow for long, nor keep her from her duty. The future is not closed to her, neither waking nor sleeping.’
“Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we may have a hok'tar.”