Post by Asila on Apr 27, 2008 23:01:28 GMT -5
All right, before I began The Darkest Hour, I was writing a story about wizards and werewolves that would make a great rp, since the factions are so clearly defined and are locked in a very violent war when the story takes place. It is set thousands of years into the future, in a time when the world is plagued by a nuclear winter that has failed to pass for multiple millenia. I could go on, but there's no need to get really specific yet.
I wrote this letter, or rather a character of mine wrote this letter that pretty much sums the whole thing up. Her name is Ellesmera, but she is killed before my story takes place. It is her granddaughter, who just happens to be the first character that I ever gave my little pseudonym to, who is the heroine of the story. Either way, below is the letter. I think it is very sad, but that's just me.
For as long as anyone can remember, a mysterious race of beings who have proclaimed themselves to be "Guardians" have presided over the human race. Knowledge of where these creatures came from is lost to us. Understanding of the nature and workings of the magic wielded by this powerful race eludes us. They are wizards of some sort. This fact is certain. They have embittered themselves to the rival magics of the werewolf race. This too is proven. They spur the humans into a slow and bloody genocide of the werewolf race with false stories of the demonic nature and evil intent of wolfkind. The humans die in great numbers. For every wolf they succeed in killing, ten human warriors die. Still they surge on, utterly blind to the suffering of a war brought on by the malicious whim of aloof overlords. And they're succeeding. They are steadily exterminating the werewolf race through the sheer strength of their great numbers. Worse still, the protests of those who perceive the wrongness of their Guardian's doings are being silenced. I watch as these brave liberators are struck down by the iron fists of our warlock tyrants. I watch as these increasingly rare renegades are enslaved to the will of the Guardians. The wizards force these unfortunate individuals into their dark service by means of a black magic that twists the rebels minds and bodies into horrendous forms. A magic that eats away at their souls until they succumb to the will of their dark masters. These pitiful and frightful creatures have been dubbed the Forsaken, and they are by far the most powerful and unpredictable of the Guardian's extensive resources.
The Guardian's grow stronger with the dawning of each dark day, and I fear that mine is the only voice that remains to oppose them. The werewolves have been fatally weakened by the destruction of their greatest and strongest clan, the Zyren, and have fallen into a state of chaos. I am bitterly saddened by the irrevocable fact that the Guardian's will soon prevail over all opposition and continue their reign of death for a great many centuries. I will rise against them tomorrow and hope against all that is probable that other's remain who will oppose them as well. If not, this will be my last message. My legacy.
I pray to deaf gods that this letter will eventually fall into the hands of one who has strength enough to bring about a revolution and cast the Guardian's from their bloody throne. I pray that my dreams come to pass and that such a demanding request doesn't prove to be impossible. I pray that somehow the torn and bleeding races of a suffering and sickened world will unite and eradicate all that barricades peace.
~Ellesmera,
The last liberator.
I wrote this letter, or rather a character of mine wrote this letter that pretty much sums the whole thing up. Her name is Ellesmera, but she is killed before my story takes place. It is her granddaughter, who just happens to be the first character that I ever gave my little pseudonym to, who is the heroine of the story. Either way, below is the letter. I think it is very sad, but that's just me.
***
For as long as anyone can remember, a mysterious race of beings who have proclaimed themselves to be "Guardians" have presided over the human race. Knowledge of where these creatures came from is lost to us. Understanding of the nature and workings of the magic wielded by this powerful race eludes us. They are wizards of some sort. This fact is certain. They have embittered themselves to the rival magics of the werewolf race. This too is proven. They spur the humans into a slow and bloody genocide of the werewolf race with false stories of the demonic nature and evil intent of wolfkind. The humans die in great numbers. For every wolf they succeed in killing, ten human warriors die. Still they surge on, utterly blind to the suffering of a war brought on by the malicious whim of aloof overlords. And they're succeeding. They are steadily exterminating the werewolf race through the sheer strength of their great numbers. Worse still, the protests of those who perceive the wrongness of their Guardian's doings are being silenced. I watch as these brave liberators are struck down by the iron fists of our warlock tyrants. I watch as these increasingly rare renegades are enslaved to the will of the Guardians. The wizards force these unfortunate individuals into their dark service by means of a black magic that twists the rebels minds and bodies into horrendous forms. A magic that eats away at their souls until they succumb to the will of their dark masters. These pitiful and frightful creatures have been dubbed the Forsaken, and they are by far the most powerful and unpredictable of the Guardian's extensive resources.
The Guardian's grow stronger with the dawning of each dark day, and I fear that mine is the only voice that remains to oppose them. The werewolves have been fatally weakened by the destruction of their greatest and strongest clan, the Zyren, and have fallen into a state of chaos. I am bitterly saddened by the irrevocable fact that the Guardian's will soon prevail over all opposition and continue their reign of death for a great many centuries. I will rise against them tomorrow and hope against all that is probable that other's remain who will oppose them as well. If not, this will be my last message. My legacy.
I pray to deaf gods that this letter will eventually fall into the hands of one who has strength enough to bring about a revolution and cast the Guardian's from their bloody throne. I pray that my dreams come to pass and that such a demanding request doesn't prove to be impossible. I pray that somehow the torn and bleeding races of a suffering and sickened world will unite and eradicate all that barricades peace.
~Ellesmera,
The last liberator.
.