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Sweet Plants

Oren | The Ghost of Johanessburg

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Ghost of Johanessburg

 


 

The Holy Empire of Oren once stood as the sole bastion of Mankind. In its hold, I learned the traditions of GOD; inside its cradle, I noticed that though our life is short in comparison to the rest of the races that litter our lands -- our actions within it leave a grand, and ever-expanding mark on our collective history as thinking, breathing people. When things were well, it was a time of opulence and humility alike; whereby though Man knew himself as the one entitled to the birthright that is the world, he allowed the lives of fellows beyond Man to exist and even flourish. Such generosity no longer persists.

   

    A state worth its salt is self-evident. To need to insist on one’s power and need to declare to the world how much of it it is capable of accruing is no different than shouting from the rooftops; “Look at me, and how weak I am. Look at how much I bark, and how little I bite. Look at me -- I, who simply want to grow in strength, rather than utilize my strength in the benefit of fellow Man.” In this way, having power is not too different from being a lady. If you have to say you are, you are not. Once, Oren was unequivocal in its power -- revered and respected in all its shapes and sizes. Ever since the tragedy of Johannesburg, it's as if the egos of our leaders; the fragility of their masculinity; their all-encumbering paranoia; has seeped into the cracks of our foundations. When was the last time you ate something warm and nutritious, Orener beyond the army’s hold? When was the last time you had any autonomy over yourself? Now, in their final push -- Oren’s leadership pursues a war with Sutica. Their plan is for the people to assume the Crown’s untapped need for conflict and bloodshed. Place your bets as to who that benefits. The very seat of government where the Emperor sits; with his frilly brews of fine grape, when we, his henchmen; his criminals; drink only the common man’s brews of wheat.

 

    If war is what is sought after, then war be shown. Fan the flames, mold the metal. Raise the army. -- In how little they feed the Hansetian, his body won’t carry him a centimeter forth. With how poor the metallurgy of Helena is, the blades will snap and bend against the bone and sinew of even the weakest Sutican. Brothers and sisters -- you don’t face the Orenian Empire. You face a legion of beggars, wheezing over your plains. Sutica and company, stand united in your hundreds, with your weapons without number, with your purity of mind without question and your hearts beating courage through your blood. Forgive your superiors that you might have to waste your fury on such simpletons. Forgive your superiors that they must order you to waste arrows and dull your blades upon their worthless bodies. Assert your worth, as a people not only worthy of existing under Man’s glorious light -- but able to replace it with a luminescence that already blinds the wicked and corrupt. Make Mankind whole again.

 

I want to be proud. Please, give me that luxury.

 


 

-- An Orenian woman at her wits’ end.

 

   

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3 minutes ago, Sweet Plants said:

   

With how poor the metallurgy of Helena is, the blades will snap and bend against the bone and sinew of even the weakest Sutican. Brothers and sisters -- you don’t face the Orenian Empire.

 


 

-- An Orenian woman at her wits’ end.

 

   

 

“If I find this Orenian woman I will kick her in the teeth” says H.H.I. proprietor and metallurgist Achille Nicephore. 

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Tovelm would read the poem and sigh.

 

”Sometimes I truly wonder if some people leave their homes. The Empire is at one of it’s strongest points. The people were happy and land was at peace. This weak attempt at attempting to raise up the enemies whom have killed hundreds already of Orenian citizens and soldiers makes me sick. Sutica had voted to remove their Leader, they had agreed to oust the man whom killed Oren kin, and yet there is an Oren woman who wishes death upon her own? I’ve fought and driven for peace with multiple nations. It was Oren that gave me the second chance at redemption, and allowed me to carry out my goals. Through the lies woven within the last weeks, by the new founded coalition, it is this that hurts the most.

 

The large man would set down the letter gently and begin to start penning obituaries for his fallen brothers and sisters.

 

”It isn’t enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn’t enough to believe in it. One must work at it”

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12 hours ago, Sweet Plants said:

Place your bets as to who that benefits. The very seat of government where the Emperor sits;

The Princess Imperial is also a Hamilton fan.

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