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TryaxReck

A Chelovek Apology

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A bitter victory is no victory at all.

 

    We have struck at their prisons and palaces, their banks and hired brigands, and from what has happened today, it seems it has caused one of the most vile retaliations. 

    A workers strike not even affiliated with the Chelovek movement to liberate all under the autocracy of Oren was brutally crushed by the Empire’s army, killing many and injuring many more. It was only when the blades of the army were turned against its people did we Cheloveks decide to intervene, defending our goal of making sure no more life is taken from the working man. 
    We have failed this goal. Brothers and sisters have died. Fathers lost their sons. Mothers their only child. We expected the violence against those who bore the black gear, a symbol of the overworked labor done to us. We expected to be killed and strung up like animals. But we never expected that in order to stop us, the Empire would ransom its own citizens against us, forcing us to retreat and to reconsider our actions. It is a time of deliberation, now. Do we continue the fight, people of Helena? Do we fight for your rights and put not only our own, but others' lives at risk? Or do we succumb to the demands of the regime, and turn in our blades to maintain safety. 
    
    The Chelovek Union issues an apology to the people. For we have failed you. We have failed the people protesting, the people who have been worked to death by their masters. We have failed the children, young and old. And now we ask for forgiveness. Brothers and sisters, we do not wish for conflict, let it be known. But if such violence is to continue against us, and the only way we can stop it is by remaining in the shadows.

 

    We will do it. For you. It has always been for you. I am sorry.

 

They put angels in the hanging chair,
The hanging chair, the hanging chair
God fearing angels in the hanging chair,
The hanging chair, the hanging chair

They put angels in the hanging chair,
The hanging chair, the hanging chair
God fearing angels in the hanging chair,
The hanging chair, the hanging chair

 

And no one knew or no one cared
But burning stars lit up their hair,
And burning stars lit up their hair
And crawled to heaven on golden stairs...

 

And oh! how we to and fro,
To and fro, to and fro!
Oh! how we to and fro,
To and fro, to and fro!

Oh! how we to and fro,
To and fro, to and fro!
Oh! how we to and fro,
To and fro, to and fro!

 

This is our torched estates!
We're your sweet mistakes

 

And all them vulgar kings on their dirty thrones –
Who among us will avenge those who lost their home?
And all them vulgar kings on their dirty thrones –
Who among us will avenge those who lost their home?

There's fresh meat in mud tonight
God bless our dead queens
Someone had an accident above the burning trees
While somewhere distant peacefully
Our vulgar princes sleep
Dead kids don't get painted in murals obscene
God bless our dead queens

 

The hungry and the hanged
The damaged and the done
Striving 'long this spinning rock
Tumbling past the sun
Get through this life without killing anyone
And consider yourself golden

 

Lost a friend to poverty
Couple friends to the black
Troubled hearts map deserts
And they rarely do come back
Lost a friend to oceans
Lost a friend to hills
Lost a friend to suicide
Lost a friend to the mills
Lost a friend to monsters
Lost a friend to shame
Lost a friend to marriage
Lost a friend to blame
Lost a friend to worry
And lost a friend to wealth
Lost a friend to stubborn pride
And then I lost myself

 

There's fresh meat in the mud tonight
God bless our dead queens
Someone had an accident above the burning trees
While somewhere distant peacefully
Our vulgar princes sleep
Dead kids don't get painted in murals obscene

 

 


God bless this century. 

                                                                                                                             edaeeb760f24af4d23f7fcc8d8aa2534.png

 

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6 minutes ago, TryaxReck said:

Do we continue the fight, people of Helena?

“But you people set the cathedral on fire, which trapped citizens and clergy inside, how do you fight for the people of Helena?” asked Boniface, upset over his dead steed who died in the fire.

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Chelovek couriers were rushing about, listening in to all comments made by all in Helena, whispering to each other and sending birds to base, for writers to scribe the words Vozhd spoke as he responded. The birds flew back and forth, messages were posted alongside the original fliers, discreetly. This one seemed to be addressed to the thoughts of a holy man, speaking about trapped men and burning crosses.

 

“I am a man of faith as well, I worship as often as I can, to my family that believes me dead. The flame we carry is dangerous. While our men meant to throw it to stop the army, instead the licks of heat climbed up the steps of the cathedral and turned a house of god into ash and smolder. It is no excuse to defile god, however do not believe our intent was to kill the working men and women. Our intent is to fight for the people of Helena. We fight by offering bread to vagrants, our members purchasing goods made only by the most impoverished, paying extra. We understand our peaceful actions will go unnoticed, for our more defiant acts in the face of tyranny will be all we are known by. If you wish to see how we help. Ask a man for a loaf of bread, or an old man for advice. Ask a woman for an extra blanket or leather worker to repair your boots. These simple acts, the ones no one will notice as an act of a Chelovek, are the ones we value most. As it helps the poor. The people we wish to free of their chains.”

 

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