NationStates Jolt Archive

'What Can Wash Away My Sin?'

A foul stench covered the Martian Confederacy. This stench, smelled only by those who abhorred the needless slaughter of sentient beings, was repugnant and strong. This smell was the smell of Death, and Death ruled the Multi-verse.

The veil of Innocence, which so many people in the Confederacy believed in, was falling off. To place on this veil one must rebuke power, but now the Martians had rediscovered it and they welcomed it. They were becoming those whom they most hated.

Death was exacting its long overdue quota for the Confederacy. Murder rates had quadrupled, gun sales and weapon related accidents also increased. Hundreds died each day, where only a few years ago, less than a dozen died a day. To the peoples of the Martian Confederacy, this could not be tolerated.

Blame fell to the involvement in the latest war on Mars (this planet was finally being put to full use by the god of War.) Confederate forces had killed thousands, and the madness continued. Death reigned. Death eventually came to all, but Death awaited Death….

To the Confederacy there had to be a way of redemption. They had learned that sometimes war and killing needlessly was inevitable, but they could cleanse themselves…

The most obvious option seemed to be: Search and neutralize the remaining Khristian forces scattered throughout the multi-verse. They knew where they were, all they had to do was act….

Violence demands violence to repay itself.

’Nothing But the Blood of Jesus.'

Within the massive void of space,
Was an object out of place.
A massive station this would be,
Refugee of Khristians who were free.

Deep within the complex’s bowels,
Sat a man eating fowl.
His hair shined brighter than ivory,
And his face was almost ebony,
From staying up too late.

Finally he cleaned his plate,
And picked up a writing slate,
Otherwise known as a journal.
Into this room walked a Colonel,
Bearing news, always horrible
Of more vile acts that were deplorable.

The ivory haired man became more distraught.
He was soon lost deep in thought,
And asked finally
“How many survivors?”

He knew he would not like the answer,
But played along with the banter
Of statecraft and war.

Oh how he abhorred
How much he was adored!
He hated what he had become,
What had led to the fall of his kingdom,
And he brooded over it for hours.

And then came the reply
“None sir, they all died.”
“I suspected as much,
War never breaks for lunch.”
And with that he stood up.

His clothes were red and black,
And a silver cloak flowed down his back.
He turned, whirling the cloak,
Wishing for someone to garrote,
But no enemies could be found.
So on went the game,
This horrible game!
One must wait and debate,
Repair and relocate.
All the while people were dying.

His thoughts turned back onto himself,
This pitiful half-elf.
He remembered the days of old
Days of glory all untold.
And days of happiness and joy.

Now there was no solace,
No safe place.
They went to the rock
But the rock cried out:
“No hiding place!”
And so from their God they turned away.

There actions had been evil and greedy
Always biased against the needy.
Maybe this is what they deserved.
But no one deserved this.

And so this man
This pitiful man!
Heaved a deep sigh
Remembering the lies
Told by his successors and predecessors.


Who could this man be?
Why Quin Izumi! It is he!
On Earth is not his equal.