319.M42 - A Dream
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
[Since this turned out to be a massive issue for some: THE STAR CHILD IS A BIASED AND UNRELIABLE NARRATOR. TAKE THEIR WORDS WITH A SPOON OF SALT.]
The Aries-Secundus Class refit of the original Aries designed a mere two centuries ago awakens to the world in its womb of steel and machinery, thousands laboring for years and years to create the ship to specifications given unto them by strangely intense engineers and officials. Month by month, the super-structure of the vessel begins to grow before its innards slowly unwind around and within itself, hallways and fluid systems installed alongside machinery and crew quarters, the bridge fitting snugly within as Engineseers consecrate the Enginarium with holy oils and blessed incense. Yet, the weapons fitted into the ship are...strange, to say the least. Their machinery arcane for even the Glimmering Federations most learned, their effects terrible and outlandish, and yet devastating and terrible to behold upon the practice targets it fires against.
And when the ship leaves its berth, it is like a dream has been ripped from those responsible for setting the whole thing in motion, the meanings of beautiful configurations and arcane drawings slipping from minds no longer able to hold the touch of their Divine, a ship and a blueprint for the Aries-Secundus the only thing that tells that reality was wrought, and no mere dream had, even as none would ever be able to divine the ways the Chainbreaker and Lover's Dance use to enact their fury against the foes of the Star Child.
And like a dream, so too wake those assembled by the order of Teeln, Prophet of the Star Child, to discuss a matter of Faith close to home, and of grave importance for the Age to come. And those assembled closely match the topic at hand, as where before the large hall had been filled with priests of flesh and souls and ordinary folk, now there was a mass of mystics and seers, engineers and machinist, those who tended to the spirit of technology and the motion inherent in all things but within that of machinery first.
Some had argued that no aid was to be given, but unknown technology taken, while others denied both. Many spoke of 'proof' and 'worthiness' when the topic of raising the Xenos occurred, with those splintered heavily between every metric and view of such 'worthiness' to be found. Others merely sought to raise those who stood side by side in combat and faith while letting all others languish, while the same numbers were in favor of taking technology until the Xenos could but inhabit a single world and relied utterly on the Federation to travel and colonize.
And yet, of all the multitudes of faithful assembled here, none were spared of a vision by the Star Child as they had tried to figure out when, or if at all, Xenos should be raised to the technological level of the Federation and when the technology they themselves didn't possess should be taken or traded for.
It was a dream that left eyes stinging with tears, throats hurting from raging shouts, and limbs weak at the devastation wrought against humanity through foes innumerable and malevolent beyond knowing.
A dream that showed the millennia where humanity stood as equals amongst a galactic federation with thousands of Xenos species...or so they thought, for it was only the military might that humankind possessed that gave them such unprecedented peace amongst the stars.
A dream where unshackled Abominable Intelligences shattered the dream of an eternal utopia, and the veil presented by half of the Xenos found, for they sunk their blades into our backs at the first opportunity.
A dream that showed butchery beyond measure enacted by those deemed treasured friends and allies, leaving us to stand side-by-side to the bitter end with those once deemed unreliable or incompatible with our thoughts.
A dream that angrily demanded all within the hall to listen and see what C̴̪̞͙̘͙̣̝̩͐͆̀͒̏̿̒́̂͜h̴̜̟̥̦̝̘̀̑̆̑͝ȃ̴̯̦̩̭͔͓̜̪̟͂̑͊̓̒̕o̷̫̩̊͒͐͆̊s̷̡̼̦͖̥̦̫̙̆͗̓̇͗̓̐͜͝ had wrought, corrupting those who stood and those who fought alike, muddling the lines and leaving paranoia to fester and whisper.
A dream that lamented.
A dream that demanded.
A dream that drew a line.
There would be no blind trust.
There would be no blind hatred.
There was only the future to be created, and those either lifted alongside, or left behind as nothing more than names within history.
So spoke the Star Child.
So spoke our Divine Not Yet Born.
And when the assembled preachers and practitioners of the faith's practical aspects awoke, there was only one thought on the mind of them all:
How do we write this down?
(6-Hour Moratorium)
[] (Write-In Xeno Uplift Doctrine)
The Aries-Secundus Class refit of the original Aries designed a mere two centuries ago awakens to the world in its womb of steel and machinery, thousands laboring for years and years to create the ship to specifications given unto them by strangely intense engineers and officials. Month by month, the super-structure of the vessel begins to grow before its innards slowly unwind around and within itself, hallways and fluid systems installed alongside machinery and crew quarters, the bridge fitting snugly within as Engineseers consecrate the Enginarium with holy oils and blessed incense. Yet, the weapons fitted into the ship are...strange, to say the least. Their machinery arcane for even the Glimmering Federations most learned, their effects terrible and outlandish, and yet devastating and terrible to behold upon the practice targets it fires against.
And when the ship leaves its berth, it is like a dream has been ripped from those responsible for setting the whole thing in motion, the meanings of beautiful configurations and arcane drawings slipping from minds no longer able to hold the touch of their Divine, a ship and a blueprint for the Aries-Secundus the only thing that tells that reality was wrought, and no mere dream had, even as none would ever be able to divine the ways the Chainbreaker and Lover's Dance use to enact their fury against the foes of the Star Child.
And like a dream, so too wake those assembled by the order of Teeln, Prophet of the Star Child, to discuss a matter of Faith close to home, and of grave importance for the Age to come. And those assembled closely match the topic at hand, as where before the large hall had been filled with priests of flesh and souls and ordinary folk, now there was a mass of mystics and seers, engineers and machinist, those who tended to the spirit of technology and the motion inherent in all things but within that of machinery first.
Some had argued that no aid was to be given, but unknown technology taken, while others denied both. Many spoke of 'proof' and 'worthiness' when the topic of raising the Xenos occurred, with those splintered heavily between every metric and view of such 'worthiness' to be found. Others merely sought to raise those who stood side by side in combat and faith while letting all others languish, while the same numbers were in favor of taking technology until the Xenos could but inhabit a single world and relied utterly on the Federation to travel and colonize.
And yet, of all the multitudes of faithful assembled here, none were spared of a vision by the Star Child as they had tried to figure out when, or if at all, Xenos should be raised to the technological level of the Federation and when the technology they themselves didn't possess should be taken or traded for.
It was a dream that left eyes stinging with tears, throats hurting from raging shouts, and limbs weak at the devastation wrought against humanity through foes innumerable and malevolent beyond knowing.
A dream that showed the millennia where humanity stood as equals amongst a galactic federation with thousands of Xenos species...or so they thought, for it was only the military might that humankind possessed that gave them such unprecedented peace amongst the stars.
A dream where unshackled Abominable Intelligences shattered the dream of an eternal utopia, and the veil presented by half of the Xenos found, for they sunk their blades into our backs at the first opportunity.
A dream that showed butchery beyond measure enacted by those deemed treasured friends and allies, leaving us to stand side-by-side to the bitter end with those once deemed unreliable or incompatible with our thoughts.
A dream that angrily demanded all within the hall to listen and see what C̴̪̞͙̘͙̣̝̩͐͆̀͒̏̿̒́̂͜h̴̜̟̥̦̝̘̀̑̆̑͝ȃ̴̯̦̩̭͔͓̜̪̟͂̑͊̓̒̕o̷̫̩̊͒͐͆̊s̷̡̼̦͖̥̦̫̙̆͗̓̇͗̓̐͜͝ had wrought, corrupting those who stood and those who fought alike, muddling the lines and leaving paranoia to fester and whisper.
A dream that lamented.
A dream that demanded.
A dream that drew a line.
There would be no blind trust.
There would be no blind hatred.
There was only the future to be created, and those either lifted alongside, or left behind as nothing more than names within history.
So spoke the Star Child.
So spoke our Divine Not Yet Born.
And when the assembled preachers and practitioners of the faith's practical aspects awoke, there was only one thought on the mind of them all:
How do we write this down?
(6-Hour Moratorium)
[] (Write-In Xeno Uplift Doctrine)
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