Jenrak
03-05-2005, 22:08
Watching his eyes were, as a predator of the wild, surveying his wearied prey. Too long from the emptiness of his chambers, the echoing chasmic feelings of his halls that Arborgard, heir to Nuir Enkur, and the strongest of the Chemical Lords, saw his men die in foreign lands, too quick to judge as he has done.
He had hoped his armada was invincible, unstoppable; his armies undeniable. But he was not Ciranaar, the lord of Judgement, and he cannot bring back those who were lost to him. He was not a god, a great cunning monster of immeasurable cruelty; he was still human, and his thoughts could only go so far.
Then again, on a more lenient note, he was not his anscestor, no matter how much blood is in his writhing veins. Long has his thoughts been bent on the chaos ensued by Enkur, but he is not Nuir Enkur either, the great destroyer. He was merely a man, encased within a dream, a dark dream, of shadow and emotionless pain, and his dreams have ever crept into his physical world, swallowing his life.
And that, as he stood there, while his soldiers burned, his people flailed for life, his country on black fire, he called upon the ideals of a disciplined world, a world were war could only be a battle fought within the minds of others, a mere game of wit, no longer costing the lives of many. Long has he fought in those kinds of wars, but never did he accomplishment much.
So, as he sat aboard the Great Throne of Sadism, feeling the burning of the souls outside his confined walls, he called forth the assemblage of an international unity, a massive league of nations who had no common interest, but are content with not peace, but discipline and order throughout this ravaged world. Booming loudly, as his advisors and generals sat at his heels, watching his every move, drinking his every word, Arborgard spoke to the conscious, as if his voice could reach mountains and glide through skies of sorrow.
All nations of the world, I extend to you an offer of an international unification. Too long has our armies fought each other, as our strength wittled away on deathly proportions. So long has our forces felt the pain at the hands of others, and the gripping torment.
When we could be strong, when our economies could grow, our consciousness could expand, our researching could prosper. When we spend money on a great army, vast and destructive, we could have found a cure for every disease found to man, every single ailment seen. But no, our insight does not reach that far.
We are men as men has been from the beginning of time; leaderless, broken, divided, testing ourselves pointlessly and constantly against others, to prove our worth, yet our worth is the value of a whole, a single entity in strength.
Hear me now. I am not speaking of frivolous protection, or meaningless pacts that break in moments. I am talking of an assimilation of economy, an assimilation of military, and a great single entity seen only as an entity. What is your ideal? Shall you join the unification? Or try to break the boundings of your nature?
He had hoped his armada was invincible, unstoppable; his armies undeniable. But he was not Ciranaar, the lord of Judgement, and he cannot bring back those who were lost to him. He was not a god, a great cunning monster of immeasurable cruelty; he was still human, and his thoughts could only go so far.
Then again, on a more lenient note, he was not his anscestor, no matter how much blood is in his writhing veins. Long has his thoughts been bent on the chaos ensued by Enkur, but he is not Nuir Enkur either, the great destroyer. He was merely a man, encased within a dream, a dark dream, of shadow and emotionless pain, and his dreams have ever crept into his physical world, swallowing his life.
And that, as he stood there, while his soldiers burned, his people flailed for life, his country on black fire, he called upon the ideals of a disciplined world, a world were war could only be a battle fought within the minds of others, a mere game of wit, no longer costing the lives of many. Long has he fought in those kinds of wars, but never did he accomplishment much.
So, as he sat aboard the Great Throne of Sadism, feeling the burning of the souls outside his confined walls, he called forth the assemblage of an international unity, a massive league of nations who had no common interest, but are content with not peace, but discipline and order throughout this ravaged world. Booming loudly, as his advisors and generals sat at his heels, watching his every move, drinking his every word, Arborgard spoke to the conscious, as if his voice could reach mountains and glide through skies of sorrow.
All nations of the world, I extend to you an offer of an international unification. Too long has our armies fought each other, as our strength wittled away on deathly proportions. So long has our forces felt the pain at the hands of others, and the gripping torment.
When we could be strong, when our economies could grow, our consciousness could expand, our researching could prosper. When we spend money on a great army, vast and destructive, we could have found a cure for every disease found to man, every single ailment seen. But no, our insight does not reach that far.
We are men as men has been from the beginning of time; leaderless, broken, divided, testing ourselves pointlessly and constantly against others, to prove our worth, yet our worth is the value of a whole, a single entity in strength.
Hear me now. I am not speaking of frivolous protection, or meaningless pacts that break in moments. I am talking of an assimilation of economy, an assimilation of military, and a great single entity seen only as an entity. What is your ideal? Shall you join the unification? Or try to break the boundings of your nature?