29-04-2023, 09:49 PM
Peace is a lie...
The tainted grey sky covering the earth beneath, beams of light barely being able to break through the corrupted heaven above, chilling waves of oxygen rich air from the core to it's surface were continuously surfing on the wind as they cooled the planet from the ground up.
Blending sounds of airborne wildlife shrieking through sky, the ignition of metalized birds marked with the imperial symbol, thrusters and engines boosting and decreasing in volume, the rabble of citizens down below, as well as the diverse noises of conflict, all being mixed together, then distilled, taking the form a pleasing echo that would resonate on without pause.
The marvelous landscapes of this sacred world filled with dangers and scenes still unexplored, arid wastelands protected by nature itself, soaring frost shrouded mountains of doom. Yet this revered earth held many wonders of life, from the howling beasts hunting their prey in the icy forests, to the screeching birds racing through the sky, but on top of the food chain, the true predators, those of purity, the Sith. These red skinned sentients resided in cities, greater, more powerful, more wealthy than one could imagine.
One of these great cities was known as New Adasta, filled with conflict yet unity, a prime example of tradition. The megalopolitan of the rich, the capable, the influential, the dark side. A society in which the strong rule the weak, the families of note crush those who hold no value. One such family worthy of mentioning were the Roniths, however they would not exist without the Vipions.
A Ronith, still young, inexperienced and without value would finally return from his occasional visit to the birthplace of the supiriour species’. The imperial marked bird of durasteel descended upon one of many specified landing nests. Metal meeting metal, creating a bothersome noise to those within the vicinity, only to take part in the astonishing composition of harmonics.
Before long it’s wings pulled back, allowing the craft to erupt a blast of snow-melting steam, searing the frozen layers of ice while it’s mouth opened, and slowly slid it’s tongue outwards. There he stood Khatatas Woashi Ronith, the inexperienced, the Acolyte. The pureblooded man slowly traced his feet down the ramp and gazed up at the sky, the red skinned being remained in place as he absorbed it’s beauty.
As soon as the young Ronith finished his admiration of his home, a sensation of nostalgia falling upon the man as he moved forward, marching through the city, giving him a heartwarming impression. Observing the erea, noting it deep within the corners of his psyche, locking it there, protecting it within the barriers of the pureblooded soul.
During Khatatas’ hike through the megalopolitan towards his destination, home, his vision got blurred, his consciousness hesitated. In response the man shaked his head, clenched his eyes multiple times. And as he did the vision upon his surroundings flickered, as if the quality of the holorecording got interrupted through technical error.
But then, there was a sudden flash of light, blinding the pureblood for a mere second, it felt like ages from the young Roniths perspective however. And then, just as sudden as the bright white radiation appeared, it turned into a veil of darkness. Fear taking hold of the man, confusion mingling with the horror of memory.
Slowly, the darkness faded, something the pureblood was relieved about at first until his vision had returned. The stench of death filled his nostrils while his ears were forced to absorb the sound of the populace crying out of help. Khatatas looked around, panicking. New Adasta, destroyed, it’s people, gone, trapped inside the void. Without warning a thick fog fell down upon the desecrated grounds of New Adasta, nothing was visible. Nothing but two silhouettes, two figures who were hidden in the mist. These shadows felt familiar, and as such the pureblood ran towards them without thought. But then what he encountered is something he did not expect in the slightest, the lifeless corpses of the two people he was able to be around and enjoy their presence, Temekel and Zutauha. The young Ronith closed his eyes in despair.
His eyes suddenly spat open as he sat up, panting rappidly. The golden yellow eyes instantly searched their surroundings. The Vipion estate, his room. The man wiped his forehead, feeling himself covered in sweat, a shaky breath escaping his mouth as he does. It started again, the nightmare of Ziost. He realized, peace truly is a lie…
The tainted grey sky covering the earth beneath, beams of light barely being able to break through the corrupted heaven above, chilling waves of oxygen rich air from the core to it's surface were continuously surfing on the wind as they cooled the planet from the ground up.
Blending sounds of airborne wildlife shrieking through sky, the ignition of metalized birds marked with the imperial symbol, thrusters and engines boosting and decreasing in volume, the rabble of citizens down below, as well as the diverse noises of conflict, all being mixed together, then distilled, taking the form a pleasing echo that would resonate on without pause.
The marvelous landscapes of this sacred world filled with dangers and scenes still unexplored, arid wastelands protected by nature itself, soaring frost shrouded mountains of doom. Yet this revered earth held many wonders of life, from the howling beasts hunting their prey in the icy forests, to the screeching birds racing through the sky, but on top of the food chain, the true predators, those of purity, the Sith. These red skinned sentients resided in cities, greater, more powerful, more wealthy than one could imagine.
One of these great cities was known as New Adasta, filled with conflict yet unity, a prime example of tradition. The megalopolitan of the rich, the capable, the influential, the dark side. A society in which the strong rule the weak, the families of note crush those who hold no value. One such family worthy of mentioning were the Roniths, however they would not exist without the Vipions.
A Ronith, still young, inexperienced and without value would finally return from his occasional visit to the birthplace of the supiriour species’. The imperial marked bird of durasteel descended upon one of many specified landing nests. Metal meeting metal, creating a bothersome noise to those within the vicinity, only to take part in the astonishing composition of harmonics.
Before long it’s wings pulled back, allowing the craft to erupt a blast of snow-melting steam, searing the frozen layers of ice while it’s mouth opened, and slowly slid it’s tongue outwards. There he stood Khatatas Woashi Ronith, the inexperienced, the Acolyte. The pureblooded man slowly traced his feet down the ramp and gazed up at the sky, the red skinned being remained in place as he absorbed it’s beauty.
As soon as the young Ronith finished his admiration of his home, a sensation of nostalgia falling upon the man as he moved forward, marching through the city, giving him a heartwarming impression. Observing the erea, noting it deep within the corners of his psyche, locking it there, protecting it within the barriers of the pureblooded soul.
During Khatatas’ hike through the megalopolitan towards his destination, home, his vision got blurred, his consciousness hesitated. In response the man shaked his head, clenched his eyes multiple times. And as he did the vision upon his surroundings flickered, as if the quality of the holorecording got interrupted through technical error.
But then, there was a sudden flash of light, blinding the pureblood for a mere second, it felt like ages from the young Roniths perspective however. And then, just as sudden as the bright white radiation appeared, it turned into a veil of darkness. Fear taking hold of the man, confusion mingling with the horror of memory.
Slowly, the darkness faded, something the pureblood was relieved about at first until his vision had returned. The stench of death filled his nostrils while his ears were forced to absorb the sound of the populace crying out of help. Khatatas looked around, panicking. New Adasta, destroyed, it’s people, gone, trapped inside the void. Without warning a thick fog fell down upon the desecrated grounds of New Adasta, nothing was visible. Nothing but two silhouettes, two figures who were hidden in the mist. These shadows felt familiar, and as such the pureblood ran towards them without thought. But then what he encountered is something he did not expect in the slightest, the lifeless corpses of the two people he was able to be around and enjoy their presence, Temekel and Zutauha. The young Ronith closed his eyes in despair.
His eyes suddenly spat open as he sat up, panting rappidly. The golden yellow eyes instantly searched their surroundings. The Vipion estate, his room. The man wiped his forehead, feeling himself covered in sweat, a shaky breath escaping his mouth as he does. It started again, the nightmare of Ziost. He realized, peace truly is a lie…
Discord:
lord_saltaeon