Return to the Marathon Fan Fiction Archive

Title: A history of the diggers. Author: The Jjaro have a saying...

There was a race.

They lived far beyond us. In a differnt time, past our own. They were an enormous race. And like all enormous groups of peoples they had radicals. One radical group left, to seek out a new life, free to their own. They settled far from the galatic center. It was a small brown planet, the perfect kind for Diggers.

Diggers dig, thats what they do, and they do it best. So they dug. The dug for days upon years. Time passed and they continued to dig. A digger's life isn't very exciting. A digger does not find much while digging, but rock, rock and dirt. The planet was a barren one, there were no ancient artificts for them to behold. No fallen civilizations. Anylife had died long long ago. But they dug. Diggers like to dig, its what they do best.

Infact they dug, they dug until the day they stopped. One digger, he had found something, not rock or dirt. Something ornate. It was reflective, and had fine small detail. Symbols foregin to the diggers were etched on its surfaces. The diggers knew the object was complex, perhaps a device. That is all they knew, that, and that it was very old. Older than perhaps all of the living diggers (A digger lives for a long time in comparasion to a human).
All over the planet (and through it) the diggers passed the object to eachother, in hopes someone knew what it was. A very old digger, one who hardly dug anymore was shown the object. All the symbols were foregin to him. All except one, he had seen a long time ago. Before he was a digger, when he traveled the stars.

He had been told a tale during a stay in a small village. It was a grand story, of war, and conquest. It involved several races, mostly however one force opposed another force. The first battle was on a grand starship, the second battle took place on a distant planet. The battle was faught long and hard and its outcome affected the whole universe. Many of the names of the battle had been changed, from civilization to civilization. Events were out of order, but the vast majority of the tale held true. And in that one moment, the old man mouthed the word inscribed upon the relic in his hands, "Durandal". A hush fell upon the diggers. This was something new to them, it was not rock, it was not dirt, it was not a digger.

They had their god, he had a name.

"D U R A N D A L"
PgUp/PgDown/Arrows To Scroll >Disconnect

Return to the Marathon Fan Fiction Archive