Hyperspatial Travel
10-10-2005, 08:34
Beauty surrounded him, this man, the man unknown. None knew his name, and it was doubtful any ever would, for, in truth, he was not a man. Not even the most powerful pskyer would have been able to discern the fact that he was a scrap of pure darkness, but one with great power. Not of his own, no. The power he sought was to push the united League into a war, a true war, not the minor squabbles they had been involved in.
His careful maneuvering had brought about the hatred of Taledonia, a nation that he personally had no feelings for. Taledonian minds were unreceptive to the power of the Scythe-Lords, he had found. Most were, but those that were receptive were nothing more than clay in his precise and masterful sculptor's hands.
He concentrated, and his 'body' broke into a million pieces, black flakes littering the air. Another one formed, lightyears away, on another planet. The world of Scios, a world where the current Grand Council was being held. He could not let affairs go ahead as they were, indeed, peace was not his goal.
He walked up the street, his face arranging itself into an expression of excitement; many citizens of Scios, a small, backwater world, would be grateful, excited, and annoyed, all at the same time, for the extra business the Council generates. He walked a little faster, and, threading his way through the muddy streets, and the ignorant faces that polluted them, he smiled.
He swore mentally, as he felt a decision being made. One that he had not controlled. Damn the Enemy and it's damnable action of sealing the Scythe-Lords away. It cost them so much just to walk the worlds that they had left unravaged, indeed, with the power he was expending now, he should've been able to level a thousand worlds, without even blinking an eye.
He snarled.
He concentrated again, and he was somewhere else. No-one noticed him, that was part of the trick. Again. Again. AGAIN!
He breathed heavily, as if he had been running, but he was there. On top of a building, looking down at the Council's deliberations. Of course, there were security guards, but they were useless against him. He smiled, and felt the surge of the minds that were all thinking on the same thing: War, or peace?
His power roared around his true form, and the power he wielded to affect their minds would've burnt a world shielded by even those pitiful 'Eternals', or 'Ascendants" to a crisp, indeed, the sun nearby him could not stand the sheer proximity to his power, and ceased to glow, winking out as if it was never there. Finally. His power trickled through their minds, making them aggressive, angry, hating, hating those Taledonians and their arrogance, hatred for the Taledonian race, the fine black lines of destruction trickling through them, more, and more.
One stood up. Those on the Council would know him to be a hatefilled, warlike man, Barlim, representative for the Gnarlan system. "I propose we declare war on the hateful Taledonians! Too many times have they ran from us, too many times have they proven their cowardice, and too many times have they proven their arrogance!"
The Council cheered. Without another word, they began voting. The more peaceful creatures among them were shocked, but could still feel hatred for the Taledonians; indeed, even the most peaceful creature among them, S'siar, a being who had never known hatred, knew it now. There was to be no question of the answer, almost nine out of every ten Councillors voted 'yes'.
The unknown man smiled. The death and devastation this war would bring would give the Scythe-Lords power, perhaps power enough to break through the barrier, as they would give the fleet of the League power enough to break through to the little dimension the Taledonians had hidden them in. Indeed, the only reason this war was happening was because of that dimension, from the little place Taledonia had hid, they could gather power. He smiled again, and, with a whirl of his cloak, he was gone...
His careful maneuvering had brought about the hatred of Taledonia, a nation that he personally had no feelings for. Taledonian minds were unreceptive to the power of the Scythe-Lords, he had found. Most were, but those that were receptive were nothing more than clay in his precise and masterful sculptor's hands.
He concentrated, and his 'body' broke into a million pieces, black flakes littering the air. Another one formed, lightyears away, on another planet. The world of Scios, a world where the current Grand Council was being held. He could not let affairs go ahead as they were, indeed, peace was not his goal.
He walked up the street, his face arranging itself into an expression of excitement; many citizens of Scios, a small, backwater world, would be grateful, excited, and annoyed, all at the same time, for the extra business the Council generates. He walked a little faster, and, threading his way through the muddy streets, and the ignorant faces that polluted them, he smiled.
He swore mentally, as he felt a decision being made. One that he had not controlled. Damn the Enemy and it's damnable action of sealing the Scythe-Lords away. It cost them so much just to walk the worlds that they had left unravaged, indeed, with the power he was expending now, he should've been able to level a thousand worlds, without even blinking an eye.
He snarled.
He concentrated again, and he was somewhere else. No-one noticed him, that was part of the trick. Again. Again. AGAIN!
He breathed heavily, as if he had been running, but he was there. On top of a building, looking down at the Council's deliberations. Of course, there were security guards, but they were useless against him. He smiled, and felt the surge of the minds that were all thinking on the same thing: War, or peace?
His power roared around his true form, and the power he wielded to affect their minds would've burnt a world shielded by even those pitiful 'Eternals', or 'Ascendants" to a crisp, indeed, the sun nearby him could not stand the sheer proximity to his power, and ceased to glow, winking out as if it was never there. Finally. His power trickled through their minds, making them aggressive, angry, hating, hating those Taledonians and their arrogance, hatred for the Taledonian race, the fine black lines of destruction trickling through them, more, and more.
One stood up. Those on the Council would know him to be a hatefilled, warlike man, Barlim, representative for the Gnarlan system. "I propose we declare war on the hateful Taledonians! Too many times have they ran from us, too many times have they proven their cowardice, and too many times have they proven their arrogance!"
The Council cheered. Without another word, they began voting. The more peaceful creatures among them were shocked, but could still feel hatred for the Taledonians; indeed, even the most peaceful creature among them, S'siar, a being who had never known hatred, knew it now. There was to be no question of the answer, almost nine out of every ten Councillors voted 'yes'.
The unknown man smiled. The death and devastation this war would bring would give the Scythe-Lords power, perhaps power enough to break through the barrier, as they would give the fleet of the League power enough to break through to the little dimension the Taledonians had hidden them in. Indeed, the only reason this war was happening was because of that dimension, from the little place Taledonia had hid, they could gather power. He smiled again, and, with a whirl of his cloak, he was gone...