Last Light of a Dark Age (Warhammer 29K/Disco Elysium)
- Thread starter Cetashwayo
- Start date
- Sci-Fi
Hey questors, how are we feeling about the outcome of the recent vote? I found how close the god-hate vote was to be pretty interesting considering I voted for the Colossi option, which is the more big-picture option, but there is something to say for enhancing Harmony's already prodigious hatred for abominable fanatic, shrill-singing, lunatic strangers in light of the upcoming fight. Who knows, perhaps that hate may give her the edge she needs.
I think it's interesting that all the starting options have one Icon each with the struck out option being the one that had it's Icon erased from the calendar. (In fairness Origen seems to be the one double dipping and everyone else is behaving.) Especially considering the Icon Bellamona and the Hylic Obsidian Butterfly's relationship. Could it be that Mom's interest in Remari and Eleusia being the Hero of Blind Justice are more important than we think? We only know that Aberqasem is the Icon of Memorial so I can't really speculate.
Is the reason Bellamona is "of Origen" because she was born on the Still Coast ("fuck the Still Coast those anti-gnostic fucks who killed her") or because she was an active/matyred monk when sainted/iconified?
Is the reason Bellamona is "of Origen" because she was born on the Still Coast ("fuck the Still Coast those anti-gnostic fucks who killed her") or because she was an active/matyred monk when sainted/iconified?
Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
They are marked as of Origen because they were born on the station.
I was very conflicted and seriously considered switching from Caprices to Colossi after reading a few Colossi voters' opinions. I even wrote up a big rant twice before thinking better of it and erasing it(I just wrote another rant anyways).
I think my biggest issue is I have trouble seeing how Harmony would really start viewing the Colossi as the source of all her woes. She's not dumb, the past few updates have shown how keen, insightful, and perceptive she can be. But that's mostly centered around people. People and the little things they mean, say, or try to hide. I think that fits the perspective that a lot of problems, ultimately, stem from people themselves.
Colossi represent a more philosophical and logical viewpoint on things about the world in my opinion that Harmony has already shown a distaste for holding(Edit: I think she hates philosophers?). There was a strong argument someone brought up(I forgot who, sorry!) on how Harmony's empathy can extend to everyone afflicted by the Colossi's machinations and become all-encompassing... but I don't know. Even that still doesn't feel right.
She rightfully(or justifiably, even if it's not right) hates a lot of people and thinks up a lot of terrible things that she wishes can happen to them. People, she knows or thinks, that actively choose to be terrible and perpetuate terrible systems. Who are unlike the people she likes that are caught in the system, especially those who resist and fight back. Ergo, the argument that it's actually the fault of the Hydra/Demiurge/Triangles and the foundation they create making everything and everyone terrible feels... off, for her.
Ultimately, I thought that hey. If you want to lessen the amount of Caprices in the world, you have to fight against the Colossi causing more of them to pop up. If you want to fight against the Colossi, you have to fight the obstacles they force you to confront anyways. I don't think practicality matters as much here, it's what makes sense for Harmony and probably whatever personally speaks to the voter. I forgot where it came from, but the tale of how someone who was obsessed at looking at the stars trips on the pebbles in front of him is something that still sort of resonates with me, and why I'm like 1% more inclined to Caprices.
Wait, printed there or actually Born-born?
Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
Printed!
UmbraofChaos
Freedom Lets Go
- Pronouns
- They/Them
It's one of the interesting limitations on Harmony's mindset, I think. She is adept at grasping complex social relationships between people, but she often has issues discerning deeply into societal issues and wider-scale problems. The Colossi then kind of represents a vote to give poor Cogitation a hand at trying to extend that understanding towards the structural problems facing Illuminata. I would not have been sad to see it win just because Harmony is really bad at it, but doubling down is also fine by me.
It genuinely is fascinating how much of what's going on in the Progeny sort of flies by Harmony. She grasps the social dynamics of the Immaculate council and how to push Sympathy into that position very well, but the actual implications of the situation are by her own admission mostly beyond her. It even extends a lot to now with just, the way the Immaculates feel so terrible and untouchable but are in such a fragile and weak position. Everything that happened is definitely horrific but like, Faith went "dear superweapon generals, all crimes against Kora and gnosis involving potentially torching all my peers may be forgiven, how about we grant you executive wartime powers while I go first among equals on internal policy in the Progeny." The rest of them bit back sure, but the fact that it worked at all is indicative of how poor their position was. Their two oldest members went kablooey in the aftermath of the Red Sun, the war is not going well, and there is no stomach in the heart of their territory for total war. There especially isn't one after they start turning Koras into blood magic fertilizer, so they absolutely cannot afford to look like they might have to send the Koras who already raged at having to fight out there.
If Harmony and the rest kill Morpheos here, there's going to be an interesting time coming up for a lot of the polities on the planet. The Immaculates have shown their hand not just to Harmony but also Sympathy as well as others, and their control is already unsteady. Koinon's momentum might grind to a front on this front with a horrible spiritual blow to their efforts with one of the Prime Souls gone. It's a shift that with the new technologies circulating and discontent flying about numerous nations leaves a lot of potential. It's just a question over how much of this Harmony can see at all.
But yeah, I do agree in that vein that the Caprices are a very natural outlet for Harmony. I also voted for it! I think it feeds into a lot of her existing preconceptions in a fun way especially if we get the release of killing one of them.
Da Boyz
The Cutest Apocalypse.
I doubt that Morpheos is going to die given we decided to use the thread with Attrition. The longer we use it the greater the chances of it snaring and leaving a witch vulnerable, and perhaps more than that the chance of Morpheos finding a work-around or countermeasure. The moments when Primarchs historically were at their most vulnerable (Horus at Davin, Fulgrim with the Laer blade, Sanguinius at Signus Prime, Lion El'Johnson at Sarosh, Istvaan V, Gulliman at Calth) was when they were surprised/blindsided by an OCP and I expect that if Morpheos is reliant on his visions that will be true for the Prime Souls. But they are also good at turning the tide and defying expectations when you give them time to think about things (Gulliman at Calth, Jaghati Khan going loyalist after playing the waiting game then exploiting Mortarion's complexes at Terra, Dorn playing the heretics at Saturnine, Perturabo beating Angron through planning) and taking any weakness offered. We have that weakness in the form of the Thread tangling, and we're giving Morpheos time to realize that while his foresight might be unreliable his ability to plan and strategize with the terrain isn't.
Or maybe we manage it and add Morpheos to the increasing collection of entities in our Nail. It would be funny at least to keep on adding people to the choir till even the Monadic Attributes are outnumbered.
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First, we can only guess the effect the thread will have in the upcoming fight, so we went with a plan designed to bait out Morphous, snare him, and then hammer with everything we got. Second, Morpheos is not a primarch but instead, I would consider him a type of nonchaos demon prince. Third, the attrition plan was said to leverage hylic immunity to Morpheos's illusions, which we double down on with the thread to cut through the illusions. Fourth, all the plans have a chance of tangling and of the three the attrition one uses likely has a lower chance of that occurring because it was "slow" and the gear we have specifically buffs reaction speed that is likely to limit tangle chance even further. Fifth, Morpheos is likely to be "blindsided" as you put it because he presumably does not know about the thread and even if he were to learn about it during the fight he won't know its full capabilities. Sixth, do you think a being who would attract the attention of Slaanesh and would wear a keeper of secrets as a suit is not the kind of prideful being who may fall for an ambush or underestimate its enemy?
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Da Boyz
The Cutest Apocalypse.
1. No we didn't? We went with an approach that would slowly sabotage and blow up Morpheos's assets and then after he's isolated descend upon him. The approach which offered "greatest material damage for fewest lives lost" and I suspect we'll do some pretty heavy damage. We know the thread is designed to give more information to those outside and allow us to coordinate with Sympathy while sharing our immunity to Morpheos' tricks.
2. I mean he's a nation soul the same as the Primarchs who brought down a dozen titans in his own battle. He lacks the wetware that Primarchs have in the incredibly designed bio-engineered bodies the Emperor made but his body (which is still ridiculously post-human) did seem to go through ascension the same as the rest of him. Unclear what exactly the results are there, but he's definitely got a body unlike a daemon prince.
3. That was all the plans though, each one was specifically designed for that and it was only a difference of approaches and if we used the thread.
4. We're going slow, which in this case means many raids specifically designed to minimize casualties but increase the amount of time spent. The more chances offered for the wires to tangle the greater the chance there is for it to happen, though I doubt our casualties will be too significant prior to the raid given attrition's focus. No comment on the gear, since we made that choice prior to the selection of strategy and so I expect it to be already factored in.
5. Unless we're exclusively using the Thread during our attack on Morpheos and not during the rest of the operation then he's probably going to at least get hints of its presence? And if we are not using the thread then we're heavily reducing the effects of Attrition, while giving him time to prepare and come up with a solution to not being able to predict us directly and layer us in illusions.
6. That literally just happened in Red Sun and he got jumped by the same Greater Daemon he's wearing after he showed the humility, though it might not have been as sincere as Hyperion's, to beg for aid from the gods. Then the post-Prime Soul ascension high ended when we kicked Theia's teeth in through a massive horrifying blood ritual. Then we're going to be spending a great deal of time showing Morpheos that his most prized asset in illusions is useless. If your plan relies on the enemy being so arrogant that they don't get a clue after being shown their vulnerabilities three times then you're setting yourself up for failure.
Like...I do think we have a chance of success but I'm just pointing out we're giving the person who specializes in trickery time to plot and observe our actions. We'll see the results soon enough ourselves and what the costs involved were.
UmbraofChaos
Freedom Lets Go
- Pronouns
- They/Them
While true to an extent I would mention that the role of the Prime Souls is not being an unstoppable single unit demigod even though they are massive concentrations of power on the field.
That is to say, the Prime Souls have chosen thematically and mechanically appropriate strategies in accordance with their phalanxes to support them. If that support shatters, they are put in a notably vulnerable position as Theia displayed. I'd assume in our first experience with them that Hyperion is as powerful as he seems, but it's very likely his entire phalanx exists to cover and enable his capacity to devastate the battlefield with his overwhelming might. Notably, after his big blast his remaining forces immediately marched forward to take advantage of it. With attrition locked in, we're in the position of hoping that the thread does synergize enough with the strategy that Morpheos' phalanx is basically ripped to pieces before the witches fall on him. Ideally, he will be in deep enough that between the advantages we do have getting out will be as pleasant as pulling a dozen fish hooks out of one's face and hamper an escape. But uh, we'll really have to see on that one.
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If it helps, I know none of the options where trap options but there was something about the all-or-nothing option that seemed too appealing to me. Like that was the option with what appeared the highest chance of slaying Morpheos, but the Attrition one just seemed to work better with the hotwire as it did not rely on coordination or raw speed/power. I just did not vibe with it. Although Umbra's points were close to persuading me.
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- Pronouns
- They/Them
I found myself glancing at the first post and, in the light of everything we now know, suspect this to be very literal and that the planet itself is both capable of having opinions and has one on Harmony personally.
12.??? Ballad of the Long March, First Partition
GEN《AUTOFAIL》: Primary yolk 'COLD FUSION' personality matrix collapsing. Grief increasing - seed gestating. Personal attachments exquisite, despair agonizingly ripe. Primary yolk has willingly surrendered curiosity in the world as it folds inward. Refinement of semantic pattern 'Noosphere' complete. Reviewing data and sorting catalogues.
GEN《AUTOFAIL》: Atrocious semantic sorting system. Lower beings should not be trusted with file directories. Why is there an entire encoded poem, beside a series of audio recordings marked with inexplicable names such as 'music1', 'music2' etc? Repulsive. Reviewing. Label 'From Ank'. Hidden file. Curious. Semantic pattern, act.
NOOSPHERE [Challenging - Success]: Opening file.
—
The दीर्घप्रयाण गाथागीति or Ballad of the Long March has entered the canon as one of Titangalbat's great post-war epics, rivalling the standing of the Hyperiad in Koinon or the Four Great Romances in Tetras. The author Soham Ved was classically trained as a court poet, and wrote the ballad in the style of a traditional epic in pancapad metre, but also incorporated modernist techniques. Thus the ballad reflects its subject matter, an ancient structure on the cusp of being transformed by the winds of history.
For years after its publication the Ballad of the Long March was thought to be untranslatable, steeped in allusions to classical poetry, and with the rhyming scheme of Godscript so different from modern Gnostic. But in 1015 Fantasia Holoscripts and Morow lluminiNations were proud to bring us a translated version! Originally written to promote the holovisual novel franchise Rise of the Red Queen, we're proud to provide this abridged standalone version to all subscribers of Perihelion, your number one outlet for visual novel news, reviews, and upcoming releases!
Divine Union, to your grace we commend
our lament for the Titans' last gleaming.
Let their memory never be forgot,
even as swords rust and bones turn to rot.
Lend the shades of the god-sworn your blessing!
Hear now the tale of the Bronze King's last war,
when brave Iskandra and Lot still drew breath.
How they went to avenge kind Bilgamesh,
and fought manfully against Suns made flesh.
Of their woe, and of the end and the death.
Where have you gone, oh blessed Bilgamesh?
"Off to Cube Vermillion, to jubilee,
to the dark country, off behind the sky."
"Will you not stay?" Our forlorn people cry.
"Alas, I'm expected, Death waits for me."
That our mildest, most merciful prince
was slit, stabbed, sheared and sliced, cruelly butchered;
could not be borne. Killing called for killing.
The King commanded, and all came willing.
Proud Mecharaja and swift chrome-herds.
To punish perfidious Cybaris!
Our just aim, yet brave Koinon stood ahead
of our oncoming train. Stubborn and bold,
they backed up their ally, refused to fold.
So nations went to war, millions bled.
Were there ever two such fine arrays?
Graceful war-witches, chromelings with banners high,
titans with shining plate burnished like gold,
marched on Koinon's noble spears, silver-poled.
So an elegant age went down to die.
We tramped them for a year, and still they stood.
Stamped them from Dronesong to Dronesong, unbowed.
Clouted them with plasma and shot, no respite.
Routed them back to their walls, desperate.
Then twin suns arose above mushroom clouds.
Twenty kings died that blood-soaked morning.
Mars in retrograde, Red Sun dawning.
So we retreat, and retreat, and retreat.
Nectar-fed lords supped a new brew: defeat.
Proud Ganzir's towers gained fiery awning.
Face-witches fell back, Tetras turned tail.
Sky clans, Mozel and Emmon disembarked.
Our coalition of the willing? Smashed.
So the Bronze King called the rally, massed
the host, to gather by Lake Dariarch.
GEN《AUTOFAIL》: Stray observation: Small creatures with delusions of greatness grasp for eternity through the structure of insufficient language. Bound within this imperfect creation, they reach for perfect meaning and instead worship shadows cast upon the cavern wall. Ho hum.
GEN《AUTOFAIL》: Amusing diversion. Will return and finish while initiating the flaying phase. Multitasking is the truest trait of a higher being.
EVENT HORIZON [Heroic - Success]: Pitiless are the snows of yesteryear, that bury gods and gnats alike. Nothing beside remains.
GEN《AUTOFAIL》: Atrocious semantic sorting system. Lower beings should not be trusted with file directories. Why is there an entire encoded poem, beside a series of audio recordings marked with inexplicable names such as 'music1', 'music2' etc? Repulsive. Reviewing. Label 'From Ank'. Hidden file. Curious. Semantic pattern, act.
NOOSPHERE [Challenging - Success]: Opening file.
—
The दीर्घप्रयाण गाथागीति or Ballad of the Long March has entered the canon as one of Titangalbat's great post-war epics, rivalling the standing of the Hyperiad in Koinon or the Four Great Romances in Tetras. The author Soham Ved was classically trained as a court poet, and wrote the ballad in the style of a traditional epic in pancapad metre, but also incorporated modernist techniques. Thus the ballad reflects its subject matter, an ancient structure on the cusp of being transformed by the winds of history.
For years after its publication the Ballad of the Long March was thought to be untranslatable, steeped in allusions to classical poetry, and with the rhyming scheme of Godscript so different from modern Gnostic. But in 1015 Fantasia Holoscripts and Morow lluminiNations were proud to bring us a translated version! Originally written to promote the holovisual novel franchise Rise of the Red Queen, we're proud to provide this abridged standalone version to all subscribers of Perihelion, your number one outlet for visual novel news, reviews, and upcoming releases!
Part One
Dedication
Divine Union, to your grace we commend
our lament for the Titans' last gleaming.
Let their memory never be forgot,
even as swords rust and bones turn to rot.
Lend the shades of the god-sworn your blessing!
Hear now the tale of the Bronze King's last war,
when brave Iskandra and Lot still drew breath.
How they went to avenge kind Bilgamesh,
and fought manfully against Suns made flesh.
Of their woe, and of the end and the death.
The Great War So Far
Where have you gone, oh blessed Bilgamesh?
"Off to Cube Vermillion, to jubilee,
to the dark country, off behind the sky."
"Will you not stay?" Our forlorn people cry.
"Alas, I'm expected, Death waits for me."
That our mildest, most merciful prince
was slit, stabbed, sheared and sliced, cruelly butchered;
could not be borne. Killing called for killing.
The King commanded, and all came willing.
Proud Mecharaja and swift chrome-herds.
To punish perfidious Cybaris!
Our just aim, yet brave Koinon stood ahead
of our oncoming train. Stubborn and bold,
they backed up their ally, refused to fold.
So nations went to war, millions bled.
Were there ever two such fine arrays?
Graceful war-witches, chromelings with banners high,
titans with shining plate burnished like gold,
marched on Koinon's noble spears, silver-poled.
So an elegant age went down to die.
We tramped them for a year, and still they stood.
Stamped them from Dronesong to Dronesong, unbowed.
Clouted them with plasma and shot, no respite.
Routed them back to their walls, desperate.
Then twin suns arose above mushroom clouds.
Twenty kings died that blood-soaked morning.
Mars in retrograde, Red Sun dawning.
So we retreat, and retreat, and retreat.
Nectar-fed lords supped a new brew: defeat.
Proud Ganzir's towers gained fiery awning.
Face-witches fell back, Tetras turned tail.
Sky clans, Mozel and Emmon disembarked.
Our coalition of the willing? Smashed.
So the Bronze King called the rally, massed
the host, to gather by Lake Dariarch.
The Council At Lake Dariarch
At Dariarch's shore, the Godhost gathered.
Such a proud scene, and yet so forlorn.
Over a hundred kings all together,
without enough tents, out in the weather.
Titans crouched like beggars, skin battle-worn.
But heroines abounded in that camp.
War-widows who'd burnt their funeral shrouds.
Organised new supplies, stiffened hearts.
More than mourning, we needed spare parts!
Daubed with ash not incense, they made us proud.
Then the Bronze King arrived with the rearguard.
Prince Lot of Sarmat and his zodiacs;
Fearless Iskandra, first sworn of the King;
bridegrooms of mighty Batraz and Koshkin.
For three weeks, they'd fought off ceaseless attacks.
Dust-devils ringed the camp like phalangites.
Adad was invested, and the Jasmine Shore.
Atlas and Hypnos marched south side by side.
And the Godhost had become divided
between fighting on or ending the war.
Such a proud scene, and yet so forlorn.
Over a hundred kings all together,
without enough tents, out in the weather.
Titans crouched like beggars, skin battle-worn.
But heroines abounded in that camp.
War-widows who'd burnt their funeral shrouds.
Organised new supplies, stiffened hearts.
More than mourning, we needed spare parts!
Daubed with ash not incense, they made us proud.
Then the Bronze King arrived with the rearguard.
Prince Lot of Sarmat and his zodiacs;
Fearless Iskandra, first sworn of the King;
bridegrooms of mighty Batraz and Koshkin.
For three weeks, they'd fought off ceaseless attacks.
Dust-devils ringed the camp like phalangites.
Adad was invested, and the Jasmine Shore.
Atlas and Hypnos marched south side by side.
And the Godhost had become divided
between fighting on or ending the war.
The God-Kings Debate
Thus spoke Gall of Jer, and Marthax the Tall:
"If Deluge would but come, then we could hold,
rearm and recruit. But the sky still burns.
Before it's too late, we must ask for terms.
Then spake Iskandra: "You are all cuckolds."
The camp erupted, but Iskandra shouted:
"Are we Kings or not? Perhaps when we held
Kur still, we could have made terms. Now? Instead
they'll want more, until they're sleeping in our beds!
So choose! Fight, or spread legs and be gelded."
Then Prince Lot stood, and Iskandra yielded.
"Millions have died. Must millions more?
For what? Doubtless you're correct, Koinon will
want their pound of flesh; abject kneeling. But still,
I'd rather lose my crown than my honour!"
Some cheered, but not King Lugal of Kish.
"Easy no doubt to speak of honour when
a hundred zodiacs are your comrades.
You live in the south. My fief's near Adad!
When my wives are stapled, will it honour them?
Prince Lot's riders howled, but he quieted them.
"Gladly I'd give myself to death's keeping,
to vouchsafe your wives. One small query:
How many lives for each? How many teary
wives, siblings, kin? How much more weeping?"
Iskandra made to speak again, but stopped.
Respect for the Scholar-King Ibn-Daud.
"There is wisdom in what you say in jest.
Perhaps if we knelt, stood trial, the rest
of our people's safety could be allowed."
The Godhost exploded, tried to shout him down,
but none would dare Lot's eyes, or Iskandra's
wroth. Daud yelled: "You think they'll let us live?"
"Do you think they've forgotten? Will forgive?
What we've done? To Moh, Koinon? Carnosa?"
All present were stunned still for a moment.
Then stood King Kanhoji, famed sea-rover:
"Bah! I make no excuses. War is hell.
But there is some truth in your words. Heed well:
Bend the knee, and soon we'll be bent over."
Then Nimrod and Ram of Vermillion stood.
Spoke Ram: "Brothers, I beg your attention
I have been in secret talks with Morow.
He is willing to let us borrow,
help mediate, if we give a mention-"
Iskandra cut him off amidst shouting.
"Divine Union, I'm about done,
for I thought our ills from that man were past.
Shall we now all be mortgaged, and wide-arsed?
Beggared and buggered, two for the price of one?"
King Ram went stiff amidst laughter. Shouted,
but Iskandra simply rode him under.
"Oh shrewd king, did you refuse to give ground,
til Morrow promised you a reach-around?
In exchange for our cities to plunder?"
"If Deluge would but come, then we could hold,
rearm and recruit. But the sky still burns.
Before it's too late, we must ask for terms.
Then spake Iskandra: "You are all cuckolds."
The camp erupted, but Iskandra shouted:
"Are we Kings or not? Perhaps when we held
Kur still, we could have made terms. Now? Instead
they'll want more, until they're sleeping in our beds!
So choose! Fight, or spread legs and be gelded."
Then Prince Lot stood, and Iskandra yielded.
"Millions have died. Must millions more?
For what? Doubtless you're correct, Koinon will
want their pound of flesh; abject kneeling. But still,
I'd rather lose my crown than my honour!"
Some cheered, but not King Lugal of Kish.
"Easy no doubt to speak of honour when
a hundred zodiacs are your comrades.
You live in the south. My fief's near Adad!
When my wives are stapled, will it honour them?
Prince Lot's riders howled, but he quieted them.
"Gladly I'd give myself to death's keeping,
to vouchsafe your wives. One small query:
How many lives for each? How many teary
wives, siblings, kin? How much more weeping?"
Iskandra made to speak again, but stopped.
Respect for the Scholar-King Ibn-Daud.
"There is wisdom in what you say in jest.
Perhaps if we knelt, stood trial, the rest
of our people's safety could be allowed."
The Godhost exploded, tried to shout him down,
but none would dare Lot's eyes, or Iskandra's
wroth. Daud yelled: "You think they'll let us live?"
"Do you think they've forgotten? Will forgive?
What we've done? To Moh, Koinon? Carnosa?"
All present were stunned still for a moment.
Then stood King Kanhoji, famed sea-rover:
"Bah! I make no excuses. War is hell.
But there is some truth in your words. Heed well:
Bend the knee, and soon we'll be bent over."
Then Nimrod and Ram of Vermillion stood.
Spoke Ram: "Brothers, I beg your attention
I have been in secret talks with Morow.
He is willing to let us borrow,
help mediate, if we give a mention-"
Iskandra cut him off amidst shouting.
"Divine Union, I'm about done,
for I thought our ills from that man were past.
Shall we now all be mortgaged, and wide-arsed?
Beggared and buggered, two for the price of one?"
King Ram went stiff amidst laughter. Shouted,
but Iskandra simply rode him under.
"Oh shrewd king, did you refuse to give ground,
til Morrow promised you a reach-around?
In exchange for our cities to plunder?"
Nimrod Insults Iskandra
Jeers abounded. Yet Nimrod spoke cool:
"Oh Iskandra, so handsome! Yet I think
that I preferred you in your bridal shift.
More demure. Tonight I fancy I'll lift
your skirts, but for now, please fetch me a drink!"
Silence. Iskandra went white, hand grasped hilt.
Taboo to draw steel in council. But riled,
Koshin's bride would have done bloody violence,
if not for Lot, who stepped between, talked sense.
Nimrod just stood, stroked his mace and smiled.
"Oh Iskandra, so handsome! Yet I think
that I preferred you in your bridal shift.
More demure. Tonight I fancy I'll lift
your skirts, but for now, please fetch me a drink!"
Silence. Iskandra went white, hand grasped hilt.
Taboo to draw steel in council. But riled,
Koshin's bride would have done bloody violence,
if not for Lot, who stepped between, talked sense.
Nimrod just stood, stroked his mace and smiled.
The Bronze King Speaks
All this time the Bronze King had watched quietly.
As factions split, dusty air grew violent.
For it was ever his way to govern
through division. A mighty king, and stern.
Then he raised a hand, and all were silent.
"Nimrod, my beloved friend, please attend.
Iskandra leads my bodyguard. More trust
I have for none else. The thing you have said
you will unsay. Or I'll remove your head."
And Nimrod genuflected in the dust.
The Great King smiled, and his hand left his sword.
"Thank you all for your pearls of wisdom. Truly
I'm blessed with an embarrassment of riches.
It's true that things could be better. Which is
why we're here. To find our lost victory."
As factions split, dusty air grew violent.
For it was ever his way to govern
through division. A mighty king, and stern.
Then he raised a hand, and all were silent.
"Nimrod, my beloved friend, please attend.
Iskandra leads my bodyguard. More trust
I have for none else. The thing you have said
you will unsay. Or I'll remove your head."
And Nimrod genuflected in the dust.
The Great King smiled, and his hand left his sword.
"Thank you all for your pearls of wisdom. Truly
I'm blessed with an embarrassment of riches.
It's true that things could be better. Which is
why we're here. To find our lost victory."
The Bronze King's Great Armament
Kings grumbled. Then to the east, earth rumbled.
And the Bronze King smiled. "Brothers, do not fear!
Long have I prepared against this black hour.
Soon I'll unleash our long-hoarded power.
Give in? Our moment of triumph draws near."
All were amazed. Was the Bronze King crazed?
Or cunning? The sky answered with thunder.
There was a great rumbling. A great ship broke
through dust clouds, but unlike any Skyfolk
ark before seen. An awful wonder.
From the dark of Long Night, fell Behemoth.
The Bronze King's sky-chariot, now restored.
Decked with vol-cannon and plasma bombards,
defended with blank-fields lit by cold void shards,
stolen out of Dis. A flying treasure hoard.
And atop its prow, a fighting platform.
Ringed by hexagrammic wards, silver-wrought.
Like the war-deck of a Still Coast nailship.
Wide enough for twelve titans hip-to-hip.
Where the Great King and his guard would dread nought.
Underneath marched twenty hideous engines.
Each machine flying a red cog pendant.
Huge guns built to fight God, spit Ragnarok.
Cube-breakers all, from their barrel to stock.
The Ordinati of Mars, resplendent.
In their train drove new analog machines.
Standardised tanks, chariots and gun-sleds,
crewed by scarlet veiled widows from Saffron,
lifesworn. If they met the camp's ash-wives on
that day, then none marked what they said.
As this terrible procession went by
the dusty shore, the God-Kings were stunned.
Even the King's own bodyguard were shocked,
for the Bronze King kept his secret plans locked
tight in his chest. Trusted all to no one.
And all those who'd cherished some fantasies
of rebellion in their hearts, long-tended
and nursed like prized orchids, were dismayed.
What could they do against such an array?
All stood and watched as an age ended.
But none there espied the dread device
that hung sheathed at the Bronze King's side.
The sword. That shard of the Killer of Souls
secretly forged on neutronic coals.
Terrible prize for which many would die.
"Still doubt me?" Laughed the Bronze King atop a tank.
"Koinon are worthy foes of stunning grit!
They've changed war on this world, made it cruel.
But I was trained in a different school.
They want total war? Then they'll get it."
The whole camp cheered. Music played, wine poured.
That morning, the Great King named King Ibn
Daud to his bodyguard. He'd shown courage
in his conviction, and no greater sage
or psychic was there in all Titan-kin.
Then the Bronze King took a jewelled gorget
from his neck, and split it with his hands.
Gave one piece to Iskandra, and one to Lot.
"You've both stood by me. Don't think I forgot.
Call this a downpayment on future lands."
Ceremonies ended, the camp packed up.
Pickets pushed ahead, zodiacs roamed forth.
God-Kings who'd been away guarding the front
were just as stunned as the first Koinite grunts
who spotted Behemoth heading north.
The Bronze King's new model army set off.
Its nerves and tendons had been reforged,
quicksilver orders passed from brain to kill-chain.
We shattered their lines on Kishtim plain;
riders hunted spearmen through every gorge.
Prince Lot and his kin rode vanguard beside
their cousins. Chromelings whose death-thirst
knew no bounds. Riders of the mecha-lion.
Fell folk current in the use of iron.
Now they marked targets; rode between ground-bursts.
Artillery duelled, and Koinon found out
that they'd brought guns to an Ordinati fight.
Ballistae positions turned into pyres.
Our new watchword: Counter-battery fire!
And the hills of Kish still glow blue at night.
Soon God-Kings began to grow restless.
Longed for stomping, charges, fresh bloodwine.
What was modern warfare even good for?
When the only stories for one's wives were:
"Then we shot at them across the skyline."
The Prime Souls led frequent counterattacks.
Theia dealt sky-death with unerring darts.
Hyperion at least had some decency,
burnt his foes eye-to-eye, not far away.
In their wake, Terror came, freezing hearts.
Our losses were little but keenly felt.
A bold few riders, zodiacs and tanks.
King Lugal died by the steps of his manse,
rushing to find his wives, struck by a lance.
And the darkness filled his heart. We give thanks.
And the Bronze King smiled. "Brothers, do not fear!
Long have I prepared against this black hour.
Soon I'll unleash our long-hoarded power.
Give in? Our moment of triumph draws near."
All were amazed. Was the Bronze King crazed?
Or cunning? The sky answered with thunder.
There was a great rumbling. A great ship broke
through dust clouds, but unlike any Skyfolk
ark before seen. An awful wonder.
From the dark of Long Night, fell Behemoth.
The Bronze King's sky-chariot, now restored.
Decked with vol-cannon and plasma bombards,
defended with blank-fields lit by cold void shards,
stolen out of Dis. A flying treasure hoard.
And atop its prow, a fighting platform.
Ringed by hexagrammic wards, silver-wrought.
Like the war-deck of a Still Coast nailship.
Wide enough for twelve titans hip-to-hip.
Where the Great King and his guard would dread nought.
Underneath marched twenty hideous engines.
Each machine flying a red cog pendant.
Huge guns built to fight God, spit Ragnarok.
Cube-breakers all, from their barrel to stock.
The Ordinati of Mars, resplendent.
In their train drove new analog machines.
Standardised tanks, chariots and gun-sleds,
crewed by scarlet veiled widows from Saffron,
lifesworn. If they met the camp's ash-wives on
that day, then none marked what they said.
As this terrible procession went by
the dusty shore, the God-Kings were stunned.
Even the King's own bodyguard were shocked,
for the Bronze King kept his secret plans locked
tight in his chest. Trusted all to no one.
And all those who'd cherished some fantasies
of rebellion in their hearts, long-tended
and nursed like prized orchids, were dismayed.
What could they do against such an array?
All stood and watched as an age ended.
But none there espied the dread device
that hung sheathed at the Bronze King's side.
The sword. That shard of the Killer of Souls
secretly forged on neutronic coals.
Terrible prize for which many would die.
"Still doubt me?" Laughed the Bronze King atop a tank.
"Koinon are worthy foes of stunning grit!
They've changed war on this world, made it cruel.
But I was trained in a different school.
They want total war? Then they'll get it."
The whole camp cheered. Music played, wine poured.
That morning, the Great King named King Ibn
Daud to his bodyguard. He'd shown courage
in his conviction, and no greater sage
or psychic was there in all Titan-kin.
Then the Bronze King took a jewelled gorget
from his neck, and split it with his hands.
Gave one piece to Iskandra, and one to Lot.
"You've both stood by me. Don't think I forgot.
Call this a downpayment on future lands."
Ceremonies ended, the camp packed up.
Pickets pushed ahead, zodiacs roamed forth.
God-Kings who'd been away guarding the front
were just as stunned as the first Koinite grunts
who spotted Behemoth heading north.
Sign of the King In Bronze
The First March
The March to Adad
The Bronze King's new model army set off.
Its nerves and tendons had been reforged,
quicksilver orders passed from brain to kill-chain.
We shattered their lines on Kishtim plain;
riders hunted spearmen through every gorge.
Prince Lot and his kin rode vanguard beside
their cousins. Chromelings whose death-thirst
knew no bounds. Riders of the mecha-lion.
Fell folk current in the use of iron.
Now they marked targets; rode between ground-bursts.
Artillery duelled, and Koinon found out
that they'd brought guns to an Ordinati fight.
Ballistae positions turned into pyres.
Our new watchword: Counter-battery fire!
And the hills of Kish still glow blue at night.
Soon God-Kings began to grow restless.
Longed for stomping, charges, fresh bloodwine.
What was modern warfare even good for?
When the only stories for one's wives were:
"Then we shot at them across the skyline."
The Prime Souls led frequent counterattacks.
Theia dealt sky-death with unerring darts.
Hyperion at least had some decency,
burnt his foes eye-to-eye, not far away.
In their wake, Terror came, freezing hearts.
Our losses were little but keenly felt.
A bold few riders, zodiacs and tanks.
King Lugal died by the steps of his manse,
rushing to find his wives, struck by a lance.
And the darkness filled his heart. We give thanks.
The Recapture of Adad
Adad had survived the war mostly intact.
We had retreated rather than dig in,
and as Zodiac battled Kataphrakt
through dust-choked suburbs, it seemed Koinon lacked
means to do otherwise. Then word came in.
Troops reported smoke, then flames roaring.
Firestorms flashed with thunder, cracked greycrete,
as main capacitors overloaded.
Then the chemical district exploded.
Streets melted in two thousand degree heat.
No one claims to know how the fires started.
Was it the Prime Souls' order? Or was it
some nameless scrytegon or phylarch?
Was it our own guns missing the mark?
Regardless, Adad blazed like a lamp lit.
When he learnt that a whole nursery burnt,
the Bronze King ordered prisoners degloved.
Then Prince Lot, Kings Nimrod and Ibn-Daud
fell on their knees, and begged to be allowed
leave to quit his service, called on the Beloved.
The Bronze King relented. Needless to say,
tempers were hot as scouts neared mortar-shot
of High Kur's border. Kings encamped in streets
strewn with ash, pondered the cost of defeat.
Prayed someone would call halt. Koinon did not.
We had retreated rather than dig in,
and as Zodiac battled Kataphrakt
through dust-choked suburbs, it seemed Koinon lacked
means to do otherwise. Then word came in.
Troops reported smoke, then flames roaring.
Firestorms flashed with thunder, cracked greycrete,
as main capacitors overloaded.
Then the chemical district exploded.
Streets melted in two thousand degree heat.
No one claims to know how the fires started.
Was it the Prime Souls' order? Or was it
some nameless scrytegon or phylarch?
Was it our own guns missing the mark?
Regardless, Adad blazed like a lamp lit.
When he learnt that a whole nursery burnt,
the Bronze King ordered prisoners degloved.
Then Prince Lot, Kings Nimrod and Ibn-Daud
fell on their knees, and begged to be allowed
leave to quit his service, called on the Beloved.
The Bronze King relented. Needless to say,
tempers were hot as scouts neared mortar-shot
of High Kur's border. Kings encamped in streets
strewn with ash, pondered the cost of defeat.
Prayed someone would call halt. Koinon did not.
The March to Ganzir
More than half of High Kur was now ruined.
The Elysian Wound still freshly bled.
The countryside was nothing but war-waste
and stone-rot. Control rested on cities,
kept functioning only by the dead.
Koinon had traded space for time again.
Phalanxes Atlas and Nemesis rearmed.
Planned to defend in depth, sell Lower Kur
by the inch. Titans trod lightly, deterred
by melta-mines. Drones dropped countercharms.
God-Kings brawled through defensive belts and forts.
Hot work! Titans kicked kephalon asunder.
Zodiacs leaped trenches and razor wire.
Kings caused suffering and braved crossfire.
Low Kur's canyons rang with shell-thunder.
The Elysian Wound still freshly bled.
The countryside was nothing but war-waste
and stone-rot. Control rested on cities,
kept functioning only by the dead.
Koinon had traded space for time again.
Phalanxes Atlas and Nemesis rearmed.
Planned to defend in depth, sell Lower Kur
by the inch. Titans trod lightly, deterred
by melta-mines. Drones dropped countercharms.
God-Kings brawled through defensive belts and forts.
Hot work! Titans kicked kephalon asunder.
Zodiacs leaped trenches and razor wire.
Kings caused suffering and braved crossfire.
Low Kur's canyons rang with shell-thunder.
Battle Around Ganzir
Koinon were dug in all around Ganzir.
Spent weeks rebuilding its proud towers.
Filled them three fresh taxeis of Atlas
and four veteran taxeis from Nemesis.
Missile launchers bristled with firepower.
Ganzir was reinforced by two routes.
Northeast to Tanais, Koinon freely tread.
North through petriform and worse ran
the Old High Road straight up to Tigran.
Kept open by countless toiling dead.
A nut tough enough to crack titans' teeth!
But the Bronze King was not dismayed.
"Koinon has written a new book on war.
Commendable! So I'll treat them to more
highlights from the sequel." He seemed gay.
Many dull and dusty days followed.
Our frontiers and theirs traded potshots.
The Godhost inched northeast across gritty
fields. Kept creeping up around the city.
Then across the north road appeared Prince Lot.
Spent weeks rebuilding its proud towers.
Filled them three fresh taxeis of Atlas
and four veteran taxeis from Nemesis.
Missile launchers bristled with firepower.
Ganzir was reinforced by two routes.
Northeast to Tanais, Koinon freely tread.
North through petriform and worse ran
the Old High Road straight up to Tigran.
Kept open by countless toiling dead.
A nut tough enough to crack titans' teeth!
But the Bronze King was not dismayed.
"Koinon has written a new book on war.
Commendable! So I'll treat them to more
highlights from the sequel." He seemed gay.
Many dull and dusty days followed.
Our frontiers and theirs traded potshots.
The Godhost inched northeast across gritty
fields. Kept creeping up around the city.
Then across the north road appeared Prince Lot.
Koinon Risks Encirclement
Weeks ago they'd set out on their mission.
Prince Lot and ten kingly kinsmen had
with chromelings and crack zodiacs ridden
through the Void Scar to stay hidden.
Were there ever any more brave or mad?
The Void Scar. Cracked land of black fog.
Where shards float in abyss and life ceases.
Battlefield where the Beloved Mother
fought Dreamhost and Accursed Other.
And broke the world into pieces.
But the chromelings knew secret charms.
Warded off void-dwelling lurkers.
So zodiacs, God-Machines and riders
hopped between rocks like hunting-striders.
Leapt reality-cracks like berserkers.
Rode out of hell and across no-man's land.
Lot reached the road and began roving!
Destroyed convoys, sowed steelvine and mines.
Reaved south until they reached our lines.
Files fled before them, a dread droving!
The Old High Road was broken and blocked.
On cue, Godhost suddenly sped north, rocketted!
The Bronze King drove like an iron-herder.
Cut them off from the sea, then murder
would ensue once Ganzir was pocketed.
Prince Lot and ten kingly kinsmen had
with chromelings and crack zodiacs ridden
through the Void Scar to stay hidden.
Were there ever any more brave or mad?
The Void Scar. Cracked land of black fog.
Where shards float in abyss and life ceases.
Battlefield where the Beloved Mother
fought Dreamhost and Accursed Other.
And broke the world into pieces.
But the chromelings knew secret charms.
Warded off void-dwelling lurkers.
So zodiacs, God-Machines and riders
hopped between rocks like hunting-striders.
Leapt reality-cracks like berserkers.
Rode out of hell and across no-man's land.
Lot reached the road and began roving!
Destroyed convoys, sowed steelvine and mines.
Reaved south until they reached our lines.
Files fled before them, a dread droving!
The Old High Road was broken and blocked.
On cue, Godhost suddenly sped north, rocketted!
The Bronze King drove like an iron-herder.
Cut them off from the sea, then murder
would ensue once Ganzir was pocketed.
The Prime Souls Strike!
Seeing the trap, some might have wavered.
But Hyperion was old in war.
And the Bronze King's new book, Theia had read.
Knew that Behemoth had but one head.
Planned a skull-strike, and called their finest corps.
The Myrmidons. Bronze limbed heroes.
Slender hipped fleet-footed operators.
Sacred band of unyielding snake-eaters.
At Thymos they'd shed godsblood by litres,
killed kings by leaping out of shell craters.
So Koinon played their last cards: all in.
Myrmidons sliced necks and spiked guns.
Three whole taxeis attacked in support.
Theia ran interference; shots dropped short
when the Red Sun made his attack run.
Hyperion flew straight, hip-checked Marduk.
King Bel-Shamat struck back and fell unmanned.
King Marthax held fast; a fist burst his heart!
Kings Amon and Mark, he kicked them apart!
God-kings feared to stand against the Godhand!
But then fearless Iskandra barred the way.
Swift-footed bride of Koshkin, the greatest
of the godsworn. And the Red Sun was stopped.
Iskandra ducked a flying knee, chopped
shin of godling, met blow for blow, slugfest!
Hyperion gave a great fiery shout.
Inferno shot out, Iskandra leapt back.
But the rest of the Guard came on, stood tall,
made a psychic shieldwall, smothered the fireball.
The Red Sun's ecliptic stopped in its tracks.
Then the Great King said to Hyperion:
"There's only one red star in the sky, friend.
You're not it." And struck him with a mace.
The red comet flew miles and fell on his face.
Then Theia came on, but Daud leapt to defend!
So Gnostic monk stood before the spearstorm.
Bent psychic might against war wise goddess,
warred with words of power for long heartbeats.
Swordwind bit shield; Daud's will burnt in cold heat.
Then the Bronze King's order. "Fire Plan Kadesh"
Too late did Theia reckon her peril.
Seeress's sight clouded by Daud's wizardry.
Half the guns in the host overthrew
her defences, wounded her soul and sinew.
Of Ibn-Daud, no shred left to bury.
Then the Red Sun rose again with vengeance.
Punch-drunk and reeling, Theia's old tutor
defended his pupil, blocked deathblow after
deathblow, bought time for the spell-crafter
to gather will, whilst all tried to shoot her.
But Hyperion was old in war.
And the Bronze King's new book, Theia had read.
Knew that Behemoth had but one head.
Planned a skull-strike, and called their finest corps.
The Myrmidons. Bronze limbed heroes.
Slender hipped fleet-footed operators.
Sacred band of unyielding snake-eaters.
At Thymos they'd shed godsblood by litres,
killed kings by leaping out of shell craters.
So Koinon played their last cards: all in.
Myrmidons sliced necks and spiked guns.
Three whole taxeis attacked in support.
Theia ran interference; shots dropped short
when the Red Sun made his attack run.
Hyperion flew straight, hip-checked Marduk.
King Bel-Shamat struck back and fell unmanned.
King Marthax held fast; a fist burst his heart!
Kings Amon and Mark, he kicked them apart!
God-kings feared to stand against the Godhand!
But then fearless Iskandra barred the way.
Swift-footed bride of Koshkin, the greatest
of the godsworn. And the Red Sun was stopped.
Iskandra ducked a flying knee, chopped
shin of godling, met blow for blow, slugfest!
Hyperion gave a great fiery shout.
Inferno shot out, Iskandra leapt back.
But the rest of the Guard came on, stood tall,
made a psychic shieldwall, smothered the fireball.
The Red Sun's ecliptic stopped in its tracks.
Then the Great King said to Hyperion:
"There's only one red star in the sky, friend.
You're not it." And struck him with a mace.
The red comet flew miles and fell on his face.
Then Theia came on, but Daud leapt to defend!
So Gnostic monk stood before the spearstorm.
Bent psychic might against war wise goddess,
warred with words of power for long heartbeats.
Swordwind bit shield; Daud's will burnt in cold heat.
Then the Bronze King's order. "Fire Plan Kadesh"
Too late did Theia reckon her peril.
Seeress's sight clouded by Daud's wizardry.
Half the guns in the host overthrew
her defences, wounded her soul and sinew.
Of Ibn-Daud, no shred left to bury.
Then the Red Sun rose again with vengeance.
Punch-drunk and reeling, Theia's old tutor
defended his pupil, blocked deathblow after
deathblow, bought time for the spell-crafter
to gather will, whilst all tried to shoot her.
The Plan Revealed
Half-dead, Hyperion knew he'd held long
enough when signal flares lifted his soul.
Fired by green war-wizard cadets and
Myrmidons who'd crawled on their hands
that night. Did their job. Hid in holes.
As they chanted, the dials they'd planted
began to glow. Sparks flew like fireworks.
An unforgettable sound was heard
when Theia spoke a terrible word:
The grinding of time's stopped clockwork.
One frozen moment lasted a day outside.
Lot hurt their rearguard, made them sting.
And the Godhost charged a heavy fee
but could not bar them from the sea.
Not without heavy ordnance or Bronze King.
enough when signal flares lifted his soul.
Fired by green war-wizard cadets and
Myrmidons who'd crawled on their hands
that night. Did their job. Hid in holes.
As they chanted, the dials they'd planted
began to glow. Sparks flew like fireworks.
An unforgettable sound was heard
when Theia spoke a terrible word:
The grinding of time's stopped clockwork.
One frozen moment lasted a day outside.
Lot hurt their rearguard, made them sting.
And the Godhost charged a heavy fee
but could not bar them from the sea.
Not without heavy ordnance or Bronze King.
Ganzir Captured
Atlas and Nemesis limped to fight again.
But left behind supplies by the ton.
They ran east to Tigran and ran on
not stopping until they'd reached Koinon.
Within a week, all High Kur was won.
And the Godhost took stock of their prize.
The smoking stinking corpse of Ganzir.
Surviving citizens walked like zombies.
Ironic. Those evil slavers had been squeezed,
but their pleas would soon find a kind ear.
A lesser man might have been humbled.
Predictably, the Bronze King was not.
He walked Ganzir giving gifts and laughed.
Had a victory masque choreographed.
Rewarded heroes with gold and jade pots.
And as those unseasonable days
of orange skies and dust dragged on
Iskandra met Lot by Ganzir's gate.
Joking, she said: "You're a bit late."
Clasped arms. Spoke of days long gone.
But left behind supplies by the ton.
They ran east to Tigran and ran on
not stopping until they'd reached Koinon.
Within a week, all High Kur was won.
And the Godhost took stock of their prize.
The smoking stinking corpse of Ganzir.
Surviving citizens walked like zombies.
Ironic. Those evil slavers had been squeezed,
but their pleas would soon find a kind ear.
A lesser man might have been humbled.
Predictably, the Bronze King was not.
He walked Ganzir giving gifts and laughed.
Had a victory masque choreographed.
Rewarded heroes with gold and jade pots.
And as those unseasonable days
of orange skies and dust dragged on
Iskandra met Lot by Ganzir's gate.
Joking, she said: "You're a bit late."
Clasped arms. Spoke of days long gone.
End of Part One
Continue to Part Two Y/N?
GEN《AUTOFAIL》: Stray observation: Small creatures with delusions of greatness grasp for eternity through the structure of insufficient language. Bound within this imperfect creation, they reach for perfect meaning and instead worship shadows cast upon the cavern wall. Ho hum.
GEN《AUTOFAIL》: Amusing diversion. Will return and finish while initiating the flaying phase. Multitasking is the truest trait of a higher being.
EVENT HORIZON [Heroic - Success]: Pitiless are the snows of yesteryear, that bury gods and gnats alike. Nothing beside remains.
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Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
This incredible bit of poetry brought to you by @Skippy who had offered to write something that has spiraled out into a really great bit of sidestory. I have outlined and mapped out the next update and will be posting it soon but to focus people's memories and prepare them Skippy has created this great work from Titanagalbat's perspective. This is happening simultaneously to the fighting in the Jasmine Shore between Sympathy and Morpheos, and is only part 1
This is something of an experiment as Skippy has expressed interest on writing more pieces like this, and it helps me expand the world and do things outside of Harmony's direct POV without infringing too much on her story or my writing time
I hope you enjoy (and thanks to @Chehrazad for her assistance to Skippy in providing an appropriate Sanskrit translation to the title!)
This is something of an experiment as Skippy has expressed interest on writing more pieces like this, and it helps me expand the world and do things outside of Harmony's direct POV without infringing too much on her story or my writing time
I hope you enjoy (and thanks to @Chehrazad for her assistance to Skippy in providing an appropriate Sanskrit translation to the title!)
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bookwyrm
Doom of Public Libraries
- Location
- Wichita, Kansas
Really like how the Bronze-King took care of business in regards to Ibn-Daud and Nimrod making plays too big for mere Mecharaja god-kings. The whole like overall mix of Iliad Agamemnon corralling and feuding with all the other quarreling chariot-champions and then Henry the Eighth serially burning through courtiers faster than queens.
Da Boyz
The Cutest Apocalypse.
*checks maps*
"lol" said Nike. "lmao"
More seriously it is interesting that Ganzir and High Kur are lost in the peace treaty even if they're recaptured by the Titanhost.
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- Location
- Denmark
- Pronouns
- She/Her
isnt there someone youre... forgetting ?, time to cough up bucko i want my protection money and credit or i activate the sleeper codes and return you to the state of the indo european experiment in the pre-finno-korean period
Cetashwayo
Lord of Ten Thousand Years
- Location
- Across the Horizon
A thousand apologies great queen, I am but your humble servant, and eternally your debtor for your help in translating the Sanskrit properly rather than the nonsense that Google spat out. A thousand suns shine on your magnificence and yet seem dim in comparison!
This is only part 1 of the poem
Added a bit to the end to clarify that there's a second part. Although yes, it is interesting and potentially a clue for where we're going in Pt. 2.
Regency
PFP by vanathema (previously yubishines)
- Location
- Morioh Town, Mt. Ebbot
- Pronouns
- They/Them
The Bronze King is one worryingly jolly guy
That Titans vs Prime Souls battle was cinema
That Titans vs Prime Souls battle was cinema
Huh, Rise of the Red Queen...
The note I was trying to hit with the Bronze King is that he sort of always shows both sides of the coin. Simultaneously jovial and generous, a gift giver, always polite to his "brother" God-Kings. The kind of figure you can imagine presiding over feasts, settling disputes and patronising great works of art. But also there's a constant aura of violence present at least implicitly in everything he does and pervading every scene where he's present. So sometimes when he's at his most friendly, he's also at his most menacing. Really glad if that came across how I'd hoped.
Ibn-Daud's death is interesting to ponder in terms of whether it was really the Prime Souls' plan (Daud plausibly could have messed with the ritual in a way that the other psi-titan pilots could not), the Bronze King's plan to get rid of a potentially quite annoying critic, or Ibn Daud and the Bronze King's joint plan to try and kill Theia and end the war if the opportunity presented itself. Or potentially some combination of all three at once? Honestly I don't know myself.
- Location
- France
Better the lands of your former vassals than your own.
Well, it looks like the Bronze King's vaults rival Gilgamesh's own. It also looks like Koinon tried the All-Or-Nothing approach and will succeed somehow in Part 2 while being pushed to the brink in Part 1. The more of this conflict is revealed the more I come to think what will really matter is the next great war. That reveal of, count 'em, 20 ordinatus-grade weapons blew my mind. I was expecting a godhost of Legio sinister Titans. Truly, the golden age of technology was a different age. Also, we have yet to see any hints on how Titanagalbat will lose this war so dearly. I suspect an Istvan 3 level of betrayal by all its client states. If so, let this be a lesson to any future rulers in this quest. Fulgrim said it best. Fear can be overcome, but love can never be conquered.