The Name of your Conqueror
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Fire. Fire surrounds us.
Fire is chasing us. Not long after Tutu and I were dismissed by the Pope, fires started upwind of the lands of Remus.
My desert-based archnids were the first to fall victim to the fires. Their semi-arid biomes were the perfect kindling.
Many bless-ed darted for any body of water near them, but were greeted with grey boulders. These boulders almost matched the shape of the water that was previous the residing in those exact locations.
Our last havens are the river between us and the rebellious game, the Promised Lands that the Pope and our All-Father resides, and the vegetated biomes that surround the grey boulders. The flora in these parts won’t burn as easy however the rising waves of smoke are its own crisis.
My arachnids that can cast webbings, harvestmen and spiders, have taken to the airspaces between trees as there is no longer space for them to walk along with the refugee Bless-ed. For those walking this no problem, however Bless-ed that can fly have been grounded or else they would be ensnared.
“Hear me, children of the All-Father. These fires will die eventually and with that this heavy smoke.
“Do not give in! Do not show your Father a pitiful end to his creation.”
Yes, this won’t last for ever—
[SMOKE THEM OUT]
-_-_-_-_-
[Commander. Roughly 90% of the Demons have been exterminated in this area.]
[Good work, follow through with the Supreme Commander’s orders and exterminate the rest. I will report to her this afternoon.]
CAN’T. BREATHE.
THE SMOKE. INCREASED.
[It’s that the ones that remained are of higher level; explains the persistence. To think that I’d normally have to fight you to the death, all the while my own men dying in the process.
[The Sage, my beloved, has turned the common sense of war on its head. What it means to be a warrior, a conqueror, will never be the same.
[History will never record this [war] as a contest between opposing forces: This is the act of conquest.]
*Hlunku*
[Even you: a dignified woman from her head until her nethers, from there a scorpion. Even pierced through her heart, you won’t die.
[What remarkable lifeforce, such willpower. To think that such a monster is just maiden in front of a little smoke.
[Or maybe, your heart lies in the scorpion and the girl is just a headdress. Matters not, with these masks and your severed tail; I can take my time in learning how to slay a Demon.
[For the sake of Humanity. And in the name of your Conqueror: Cynisca Laconia.]
Emotional Intelligence
- Daniel Goleman
