NationStates Jolt Archive

It has been long years since I have found the time to tell tales. Long years since I have regaled a soliloque half as long as that which I am about to disclose to you my friend.
Long, horrid, years filled to the brim with the nihilism of our nation and the founding of a new power: Forged in the fires of hate and immolation-bareing this same fate to all those new lands she should set her harrowing sights upon. Hearken This Warning Friend: You'll Find Nary Faith nor Fortune in my tale. Only Fate-The Simple Fate.
--------------------------The Death of Bleeding Moon---------------------
Once, once 27 years ago, we were the Principality of Lunas Sanguinas: "The Red Moon". It was 3033-JF (3033 years since the Just Formation of our intricate grandeur) when we vanquished our foes. When we cast off the abominable goliath that had besieged us for so long. In the Andes Mountains at Cuzco (our capital of days past: long reduced to rubble and dust) we found heart in celebration. The plague of the Striking Sun had been overturned and now we could drink without fear, eat without heed: live on more than just needs.

Indeed, the wine flowed at a pace vastly greater than a trickle for us that night: the last night of revelry any man alive today can say to have experienced. The Last Joy We Felt.

It was such a sight, walking in to that room with all those bodies. Such a magnificent sight, beyond anything I'd ever known, on or off the battlefield. The corpses were not mutilated, not a one had the taint of blood upon them, but there they lay: struck by rigor mortis with the most harrowing of simplicity remaining in their poses. Some still wore oafish grins, or were locking lips in a remnant of passion that could not beat the grave. But all were still as stone, pallid as bones-cold as the chrome feel of a blade-but not even the stealth of a knife laid claim to their deaths. No, the entire Council had just died in an instant. THE Prince had just perished in a moment so cataclysmic you CANNOT even BEGIN to imagine how the reprecussions would shape the world. How it is STILL shaping the world. That One Moment.

"MY LORD!!", I remember hearing the voice of my companion just before seeing her run to our dead Prince's side. I cannot remember anything but the screams for a time...just her screams.

Indeed the stupor that held me was strong enough for me to watch as the Princess (whom I had been escorting) first clung to and then drug her deceased husband desperately across the roam. She was frantic-Deranged. It was then I moved to help, but only to be batted away with manic furty: only to be confused by the lunacy of those left behind. And then she fell to, instantly as still as her cargo. Instantly silent and simultaneously Dead.

It was this way all over the palace: Only the few guards who had avoided liquor to maintain some kind of watch were still alive. Over a thousand men had drank the kegs of wine that destroyed a nation.

The next day the Prime Minister Vormier Lexen assumed the mantle of Prince of The Bleeding Moon. The man had always, to my knowledge, been as constructive as can be. Diligent and Ardent: a great combination. We could have our future in NO better hands we had thought-here is a man who we can trust with the fate of a Nation in Turmoil. But Even Good Harbors Evil.

In 5 days he had forcibly taken the Principality of Lunas Sanguinas. Subtle treachery it was at first...but then he was slaying opposition, torturing those till they screamed concession of his position. He now owned the most powerful nation in the world. In honor of the Bleeding Moon he had helped bring to ruin (and as a constant reminder to our loss those days), he redubbed his new nation The Dominion of Failing Moons. The Principality of the Bleeding Moon ceased to exist as we were successively beheaded of our bureaucracy, and the Dominion of Failing Moons went to cold war. The kind that killed everything and everyone you'd ever held dear. The Kind That Left Us In This Despair, and left me here to tell this tale.

----------------------------The Birth of Bleeding Sun---------------------
-Next

-The Birth of Bleeding Sun-

We Had No Choice.

Those words were my incessant, feeble, consolation. They helped bring me through the night without pulling the trigger to end a life that was no longer Mine. No, now Lexen owned my life. He had taken everything with poison and subterfuge, until at last he was ready to gain millitary control. Then he was unyielding-UnStoppable.

The Year of our greatest victory was now synonymous with the one of our FIRST AND GREATEST DEFEAT. And We Lost To A Man We Trusted Like A Brother.

This is typically the time in Normal tales that you hear of the resistance instantly forming. That someone had the brash-concern to battle this corrupt dominance, but none of that occured. Vormier Lexen is still in unquestionable control to this day-but he has not gone totally uncontested.

For 17 long years I served him, generaled armies against former great allies. Brought him, in astute servility, the heads of great and noble kings. I was the sword of the Dominion of Failing Moons, but merely an extension of Lexen's far-reaching arm.

Soon his reach stretched to cover all of South America besides our Andes Mountain country. And Then we took the ill-prepared meso-american area, in a small matter of 2 years actually. The Areas to the north of that, in North America, put up decidedly stiffer resistance though, and it took 11 out of those 17 years to quell their violent resistance...but they failed totally against the indomitable monster of Vormier Lexen. The visceral brutality that was my flesh and blood.

I used to think that I survived because of my skills in battle. That I wasn't terminated because he somehow needed me, but I learned about 4 years into his reign that he only kept me alive because he was my brother. He let me be general because there WAS an element of philos and affection in him for me. But I didn't think to take advantage of this...just bowed my head and let my older brother dominate me and everything I knew and loved.

Some would be contented by the voracious domination Vormier had committed. Some could look behind to their past conquerings and see no reason to continue on forward-and indeed Vormier did not look forward, he looked to the left and right. Australia and the United Kingdom were his next goals.

It was then that I could see my brother's madness-nay, not just see it: FEEL his raving lunacy as he preached of bringing the world under a single flag. Bringing harmony and unity to all, and he thought to be the one to do this.

He would get so fired up, so ready. When he was like that he could talk you into committing suicide for the cause. He had a way with words that was mystical: Phantasmal. There was none who could match the eloquency of his duplicity: and any that could of he had executed silently in the night.

Indeed as the wars raged on he grew only all the more discontent. Australia was fighting too hard, the British Isles had too many allies...and he took his aggression out on his own people. Tightened his iron grip into a Fist of Steel that was ready to crush out even his own subjects.

He had conquered South America in 4 years, Meso-America in 2, and all of North America in 11 long years of struggle: he was becoming impatient. So he took me off the British front and sent me to Australia, he believed that if we could just quiet one then we could take out the other. He put faith, money, and time into my armies-making sure they were ready to conquer one of the last free nations in existence today (since all of asia was "communist" dictatorships, Europe and Australia were all democracy had left).

But it was upon my arrival that something occured. My passions were stirred *have to go to work, more later*

The cool bite of the air had already begun to summon the blood to my pale cheeks-another night in the Australian desert: cold as a witch's titie.
I slowly lit my cigarette-dragging deep on the poisonous stick with reserved relish.
These were the moments of the day you could enjoy: where life was burnt out by the ember of relief. You could just relax, knowing that you were only one day (and one cigarette) closer to the end of your troubles. When you would no longer be bound to this facetious reality. When Vormier Lexen wouldn't dominate you totally.

"Sir.", a private strides swiftly up to you and stands there shivering-waiting for your recognition. *again I have no time, finish later*

I took one, long, final drag-holding the joy into my lungs. And then absently toss a salute to the private beseeching my attention.

"The supreme being Vormier Lexen greets you and inquires to his brother's well-being, he would also-", you toss your cigarette and interrupt him,

"Your wasting my time private.", he considers you in open awe for a momen-apparently convinced it was a crime to ignore even the pretend babble of his 'Holiness', as Vormier had taken to calling himself.

"Well...the gist of it is that he says you shouldn't fail."

"Or what?"

"You die."