Post by Tokrochiru on May 16, 2016 15:53:25 GMT -5
The sun is setting as I out towards the horizon through my window. Below, my workers offer their blood, sweat, and tears to the monument I told them to build. They toil diligently in spite of the pain. Some take breaks, but they don't give up. They never give up. Rather, they do it gladly because they believe they will be rewarded for their sacrifice.
Gods, I want them to be right.
I look away from the window. There's a monitor on my desk, right next to the stapler. On the screen, I see an image.
=======================================
The sun is setting as I gaze upon the world below me. I see the encroaching blizzard about to swallow dove-shaped region of Skaldra. This is hardly a rare occurrence. In fact, it's quite common. And yet, in spite of this, my comrades who walk upon the bio-organic earth and snow seek endlessly, foraging whatever they can. Their joints freeze, their motors slow, all to prepare those of us who dwell above for the coming storm.
I swear to them every hour of every day that their efforts will not be wasted.
I look away from the blue world below and turn my gaze to the hologram currently being emmited from the observation balcony's built in projector. It forms a recognizable shape.
=======================================
I sit on my thrown of bark and leaf as I reflect upon the waters in my bowl of scrying. I rock the bowl lightly, causing its fluid contents to spin ever so slightly, but not enough to spill a drop. In the reflection, I see not myself, but my sisters and brothers, preparing themselves for the hunt. They sharpen their claws and file their teeth, though it causes them great pain. They do what they must, for the future of our people.
I know what it will cost us to secure it. I wish it weren't so.
I rock the bowl again. The waters spin. In its reflection I see...A tree.
======================================
The hologram forms the shape of.... a tree.
======================================
The monitor depicts an image of...a tree.
There are no leaves on this tree, nor is there any fruit. No, this tree is different. In this tree I see the budding future of civilization; perhaps the largest step yet to be taken towards the revival of this world's true bounty. Its culture.
======================================
There are no leaves on this tree, nor is there fruit. On this tree, I see the essence of life. An end to the insufferable, agonizing wait, and the harbinger of our return to the Ardenia we abandoned out of fear. Our salvation.
======================================
On this tree I see the fruit whose draws man and demon's greed and arrogance. In their lust, they will consume us all, unless we take this fruit from them by force. I see the key to our survival.
I will stop at nothing. I will rend their flesh...
======================================
I will tear their wings....
======================================
I will rip their wires until every last one of them is dead or learned their place in this world. I may have my doubts, but I swear not to waver. I can't afford to. I will fulfill the promise I made to my friends...
======================================
To my siblings...
======================================
To my children. I will fulfill my promise.
=====================================
I will fulfill my promise.
======================================
I will fulfill my promise.
=================================================================================================
In the far north, in the snowy region of Skaldra, any usable resource provided by nature is considered to be a treasure. Hunters chase game not just for food, but for warmth. The weather, ranging from chillingly cold to below freezing, is not kind to those of weak constitution. The humans native to this region were better protected than most during the Eight Hour War. The frigid temperatures kept many of the more hot-blooded demons at bay while the locals made every effort to use their hunting skills to fend off the invaders. Some say that they even received additional protection from the reclusive Fey.
When the Eight Hour War ended, the Skaldran people, few in number but strong-willed, gave thanks to nature; both for making them strong, and for shielding them from the invaders from the deep. Many years have passed since then. The aftermath of the war proved difficult and challenging for the Skaldrans, it was much less of an ordeal than the vast majority of humanity struggled with. They continued to live off the land, as they always had.
Recently, however, wild game edible flora have become scarce. The local shamans were able to confirm that since the Eight Hour War, the land had grown even colder than before. Whether this was a side effect of the war itself, or the result of some other phenomenon is uncertain.
Begrudgingly, the locals prepared to move south, towards warmer climates. However, a stroke of good fortune granted them the opportunity to keep their homes as well as provide for themselves.
Shortly after the Eight Hour War, tree-shaped, crystalline formations began to sprout from the ground. At first, the locals thought nothing of it. They were merely an oddity bred from the upper earth's contact with the spiritual energies of the deep. A local mage discovered that these trees were uniquely valuable. Beautiful and glimmering, yet capable of being replanted and grown like any normal acorn. What's more is that they weren't merely crystals. They were geist crystals. A once overlooked, siphonable source of magical energy.
These trees would become the diamonds of the new age.
This discovery drew the attention of many entrepreneurs. The local Skaldrans were sitting on a goldmine. The vast majority of Skaldran tribes, not keen on leaving their homes, opted to market these crystal trees in exchange for profit. Things have escalated much due to their efforts.
The Skaldrans, with assistance of several freelance construction companies, have begun building what they hope to be their own equivalent to JX City. Not only a safe haven from the cold, but a wealthy capital for the region, ripe with business opportunities and endless potential for growth.
The future seems bright for both mankind and akma as they toil together to build the newborn city of Agria. It is their hope that the city will one day become the capital of a larger nation based in Skaldra. With the exception of a few dissenting tribes and anarchistic individuals, the people of Skaldra eagerly await their approaching golden age.
If only progress came without struggle...
Lately, workers under the employ of Salm industries, the organization spearheading the geist crystal cultivation efforts and the construction of Agria, have started vanishing under mysterious circumstances. Norman Salm, the CEO of Salm Industries, has sent a personal request to one Sasha Ratamu. A half-akma named Mars has been sent to rendezvous with her several miles east of Agria, at the foot of Heavensward Mountain. From there, Mars will lead her a short distance up the mountain, where Salm and a few other mercenaries intend to meet Sasha in person.
==================================================================================================
It's a cold day in Skaldra. Of course, that's the way it usually is. Even people who don't know a damn thing about the region know that it's cold in some places, and colder in the rest.
The cart Sasha sat in was unexpectedly comfortable for a vehicle designed to transport people across snow. The cart, dragged by four large, wolf-like wargs, and mushed by a somewhat aged native under the employ of Salm Industries, didn't take unbearably long to reach its destination.
"Ah, there he is!" the musher says with a slight chuckle of relief. "We have made good time, investigator."
A short distance away, a humanoid sillhouette could be seen. No doubt that it was Mars, the mercenary hired to escort Sasha up the mountain, where she was told she would meet Norman Salm.
"I would take you closer, but my tribe has a belief that furniture should not be carried up any of the local mountains. That includes carts, since we tend to view them as moving chairs." The musher laughed at her own joke.
"I will wait here until your meeting is done and over with. If you need a ride afterwards, let me know."
Gods, I want them to be right.
I look away from the window. There's a monitor on my desk, right next to the stapler. On the screen, I see an image.
=======================================
The sun is setting as I gaze upon the world below me. I see the encroaching blizzard about to swallow dove-shaped region of Skaldra. This is hardly a rare occurrence. In fact, it's quite common. And yet, in spite of this, my comrades who walk upon the bio-organic earth and snow seek endlessly, foraging whatever they can. Their joints freeze, their motors slow, all to prepare those of us who dwell above for the coming storm.
I swear to them every hour of every day that their efforts will not be wasted.
I look away from the blue world below and turn my gaze to the hologram currently being emmited from the observation balcony's built in projector. It forms a recognizable shape.
=======================================
I sit on my thrown of bark and leaf as I reflect upon the waters in my bowl of scrying. I rock the bowl lightly, causing its fluid contents to spin ever so slightly, but not enough to spill a drop. In the reflection, I see not myself, but my sisters and brothers, preparing themselves for the hunt. They sharpen their claws and file their teeth, though it causes them great pain. They do what they must, for the future of our people.
I know what it will cost us to secure it. I wish it weren't so.
I rock the bowl again. The waters spin. In its reflection I see...A tree.
======================================
The hologram forms the shape of.... a tree.
======================================
The monitor depicts an image of...a tree.
There are no leaves on this tree, nor is there any fruit. No, this tree is different. In this tree I see the budding future of civilization; perhaps the largest step yet to be taken towards the revival of this world's true bounty. Its culture.
======================================
There are no leaves on this tree, nor is there fruit. On this tree, I see the essence of life. An end to the insufferable, agonizing wait, and the harbinger of our return to the Ardenia we abandoned out of fear. Our salvation.
======================================
On this tree I see the fruit whose draws man and demon's greed and arrogance. In their lust, they will consume us all, unless we take this fruit from them by force. I see the key to our survival.
I will stop at nothing. I will rend their flesh...
======================================
I will tear their wings....
======================================
I will rip their wires until every last one of them is dead or learned their place in this world. I may have my doubts, but I swear not to waver. I can't afford to. I will fulfill the promise I made to my friends...
======================================
To my siblings...
======================================
To my children. I will fulfill my promise.
=====================================
I will fulfill my promise.
======================================
I will fulfill my promise.
=================================================================================================
In the far north, in the snowy region of Skaldra, any usable resource provided by nature is considered to be a treasure. Hunters chase game not just for food, but for warmth. The weather, ranging from chillingly cold to below freezing, is not kind to those of weak constitution. The humans native to this region were better protected than most during the Eight Hour War. The frigid temperatures kept many of the more hot-blooded demons at bay while the locals made every effort to use their hunting skills to fend off the invaders. Some say that they even received additional protection from the reclusive Fey.
When the Eight Hour War ended, the Skaldran people, few in number but strong-willed, gave thanks to nature; both for making them strong, and for shielding them from the invaders from the deep. Many years have passed since then. The aftermath of the war proved difficult and challenging for the Skaldrans, it was much less of an ordeal than the vast majority of humanity struggled with. They continued to live off the land, as they always had.
Recently, however, wild game edible flora have become scarce. The local shamans were able to confirm that since the Eight Hour War, the land had grown even colder than before. Whether this was a side effect of the war itself, or the result of some other phenomenon is uncertain.
Begrudgingly, the locals prepared to move south, towards warmer climates. However, a stroke of good fortune granted them the opportunity to keep their homes as well as provide for themselves.
Shortly after the Eight Hour War, tree-shaped, crystalline formations began to sprout from the ground. At first, the locals thought nothing of it. They were merely an oddity bred from the upper earth's contact with the spiritual energies of the deep. A local mage discovered that these trees were uniquely valuable. Beautiful and glimmering, yet capable of being replanted and grown like any normal acorn. What's more is that they weren't merely crystals. They were geist crystals. A once overlooked, siphonable source of magical energy.
These trees would become the diamonds of the new age.
This discovery drew the attention of many entrepreneurs. The local Skaldrans were sitting on a goldmine. The vast majority of Skaldran tribes, not keen on leaving their homes, opted to market these crystal trees in exchange for profit. Things have escalated much due to their efforts.
The Skaldrans, with assistance of several freelance construction companies, have begun building what they hope to be their own equivalent to JX City. Not only a safe haven from the cold, but a wealthy capital for the region, ripe with business opportunities and endless potential for growth.
The future seems bright for both mankind and akma as they toil together to build the newborn city of Agria. It is their hope that the city will one day become the capital of a larger nation based in Skaldra. With the exception of a few dissenting tribes and anarchistic individuals, the people of Skaldra eagerly await their approaching golden age.
If only progress came without struggle...
Lately, workers under the employ of Salm industries, the organization spearheading the geist crystal cultivation efforts and the construction of Agria, have started vanishing under mysterious circumstances. Norman Salm, the CEO of Salm Industries, has sent a personal request to one Sasha Ratamu. A half-akma named Mars has been sent to rendezvous with her several miles east of Agria, at the foot of Heavensward Mountain. From there, Mars will lead her a short distance up the mountain, where Salm and a few other mercenaries intend to meet Sasha in person.
==================================================================================================
It's a cold day in Skaldra. Of course, that's the way it usually is. Even people who don't know a damn thing about the region know that it's cold in some places, and colder in the rest.
The cart Sasha sat in was unexpectedly comfortable for a vehicle designed to transport people across snow. The cart, dragged by four large, wolf-like wargs, and mushed by a somewhat aged native under the employ of Salm Industries, didn't take unbearably long to reach its destination.
"Ah, there he is!" the musher says with a slight chuckle of relief. "We have made good time, investigator."
A short distance away, a humanoid sillhouette could be seen. No doubt that it was Mars, the mercenary hired to escort Sasha up the mountain, where she was told she would meet Norman Salm.
"I would take you closer, but my tribe has a belief that furniture should not be carried up any of the local mountains. That includes carts, since we tend to view them as moving chairs." The musher laughed at her own joke.
"I will wait here until your meeting is done and over with. If you need a ride afterwards, let me know."