We are warriors, bathed in blood.
We are patriots, forged in battle.
We are brethren, spawned in courage. Rohan (2968 CE)
My name is Rohan, rebel leader of a battle hardened group of freedom fighters who form the nucleus of our tribe, the Zetites. I write the accounts of the inhabitants of Tunnel X19 as a reminder of hope, a reminder of despair; a means of escape, a means of bondage; a journey of life, a journey of death.
We live in malicious times.
Our children disappear from our sight and our lives, taken by creatures that have no earthly shape, undetected by human senses, unseen by our eyes. Our elderly slip away in the night and we never know what happened…taken by those with no shadows, those who leave no footprints, those who have no conscience. Our women weep when our young and elderly vanish and are never to be heard of again, never to be embraced again, never to be loved again…and they say that we live in a compassionate world.
At the moment, we are in a life and death struggle against the unjust Lawgiver’s forces led by the cunning and brutal Commander Falkor. We have been a pebble in the boot of the devious Falkor for nearly a decade. While we have fought many times, the end result has been the same…a draw. We kill…we are killed. They kill…they are killed However; the time has come when we must either live as free men or die as brave warriors. There can be only one outcome, death or life, and my men and I welcome what shall come to pass.
This is our life.
We fight the coalition soldiers. We engage the other tribes. We battle for the scraps. Crumbs doled out reluctantly by The Lawgiver…one who has all when we have nothing. Is this living? Is this not dying but not being embraced by the earth? The malevolent microbes await our eventual fall onto the ground and we shall then nourish their kind as we vanquish our kind.
When shall we face our last battle?