Nightfall -As Expected-The Guardian
Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2010 12:36 am
To continue in my fluffyness. This was written as a prelude to the Guardian/Aspect Warrior Faction section. I wrote an "As expected" scene for each Faction, to further illustrate their motiviations and the justification each has found for fighting the others.
You may be relieved to know it is much, much sorter than the first bit.
The Guardians/Aspect warriors fill the role of traditionalist, back to basics, law and order types. You know, if everyone just respected authority like in the old days, everything would be fine.
The Scene
The Guardian stands erect, carried through a vast chamber on an invisible chariot of air. Row upon row of soldiers in elegant battle dress stand at attention, immobile as statues. Banners unfurl at telekinetic command, holograms of the Guardian’s countless victories are projected, martial music swells.
The chariot carries her to an immense armored door. Layers of iridium peel back, humming energy fields dampen to allow entrance, entrance into a hall, a hall, but without visible floor or ceiling. It is still called the command center, but it has the air of a mausoleum. Once images of military intelligence streamed through this hall as quickly as thought, a cascade of fleet deployments, alien insurgencies, and weapons test data. An army of technicians angled in this torrent, sifting, sorting, analyzing. Now, the wars won, a single armored figure stands alone. His gaze cast into a single display screen, he seemingly ignores the Guardian's approach.
The Marshal- Reports say the meeting was as expected. I’ll hear your opinion and recommendations.
The Guardian- Yes sir, it was as you anticipated. The factions remain obstinate. They cannot see the simple fact that their behavior is dangerous to our way of life, to the Path. As always they justify their ambitions by wrapping them in philosophy.
You already know my recommendation.
Just give the command.
At the Marshal’s though, the chamber comes instantly to life.. Endless displays of endless military might erupt into the air. There are fleets of battleships, each one capable of incinerating a star system, countless legions of titantic, striding war machines, lethal gliding tanks, and weapons to exotic to even begin describing, A mighty fist, held in check by his hand alone.
The Marshal- No.
(turning to the Guardian) No. In the end the Path, and Authority…ultimate Authority, has always been in the hands of the warrior. The Factions know this and fear. The others must be sent a message, curb your excesses or pay the price. But to unleash this arsenal on our own people is not a viable option. Not under the current conditions. The message will be discreet, covert, precise application of force at the right place and time.
Summon your Grand Autarchs. Have them find dependable warriors, patriots, who have the skill and resolve to accomplish these types of missions.
The Guardian As you command.
You may be relieved to know it is much, much sorter than the first bit.
The Guardians/Aspect warriors fill the role of traditionalist, back to basics, law and order types. You know, if everyone just respected authority like in the old days, everything would be fine.
The Scene
The Guardian stands erect, carried through a vast chamber on an invisible chariot of air. Row upon row of soldiers in elegant battle dress stand at attention, immobile as statues. Banners unfurl at telekinetic command, holograms of the Guardian’s countless victories are projected, martial music swells.
The chariot carries her to an immense armored door. Layers of iridium peel back, humming energy fields dampen to allow entrance, entrance into a hall, a hall, but without visible floor or ceiling. It is still called the command center, but it has the air of a mausoleum. Once images of military intelligence streamed through this hall as quickly as thought, a cascade of fleet deployments, alien insurgencies, and weapons test data. An army of technicians angled in this torrent, sifting, sorting, analyzing. Now, the wars won, a single armored figure stands alone. His gaze cast into a single display screen, he seemingly ignores the Guardian's approach.
The Marshal- Reports say the meeting was as expected. I’ll hear your opinion and recommendations.
The Guardian- Yes sir, it was as you anticipated. The factions remain obstinate. They cannot see the simple fact that their behavior is dangerous to our way of life, to the Path. As always they justify their ambitions by wrapping them in philosophy.
You already know my recommendation.
Just give the command.
At the Marshal’s though, the chamber comes instantly to life.. Endless displays of endless military might erupt into the air. There are fleets of battleships, each one capable of incinerating a star system, countless legions of titantic, striding war machines, lethal gliding tanks, and weapons to exotic to even begin describing, A mighty fist, held in check by his hand alone.
The Marshal- No.
(turning to the Guardian) No. In the end the Path, and Authority…ultimate Authority, has always been in the hands of the warrior. The Factions know this and fear. The others must be sent a message, curb your excesses or pay the price. But to unleash this arsenal on our own people is not a viable option. Not under the current conditions. The message will be discreet, covert, precise application of force at the right place and time.
Summon your Grand Autarchs. Have them find dependable warriors, patriots, who have the skill and resolve to accomplish these types of missions.
The Guardian As you command.
Oh, and its "too" with two Os. (The first one, that is. The second one just has the one "o".)