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Perspective


Apotolofo
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A certain halfling could not but stand amidst the burning wreckage, fists clenched as an empty and used medical satchel sat at her feet. She cared not for the flames, the colors pleased her eye. She cared not for the screaming trees, they had not her pity. She cared not as Elysium burned, it had ceased to be her home long ago...

But she listened to the cries and screams of the children, her children of whom she stitched back together, of whom had innocently been caught in the crossfire... She cared not for any country or kingdom, only the people she held close. 

And she was angry. Nothing less than wrath overcame the small figure's form... But what was one halfling to do? And so she began to write. 

 

[!] All across almaris were fliers, strewn upon noticeboards and roads alike. 

 

“People of Almaris! A thought has stricken my mind.

Our attackers spin lies into fantastical tales, woven into tapestries that depict Elysium as stuck up and unrighteous, and themselves as saviors, bringers of freedom. 

Freedom is a strange name for terror, bloodshed and war. 

They attack this city, time and time again. They claim to never harm a child, yet time and time again I stitch my children back together like broken dolls. Hear me, Almaris. I want my children unharmed. 

As much as I wish to hate them, I can't help but wonder... What is their perspective? I never attempted to get their side of the story.

Perspective. 

I remember in my youth, when I served in the Elysian army. I wrote a missive then, too, and I don’t regret it one bit. I wrote how I was ignored, scorned, and swept under the rug. I sent it out and the same people scorned me, they jumped to conclusions without once asking for my perspective. But I watched this kingdom grow and evolve, and treat me like an equal. And they began to search for the second perspective. 

Elysium is not perfect. No nation is. Many a man harbors hate and rage to this kingdom, some for understandable reasons and some without. But I do not call to request you fight with us, or against anyone.  

I ask those who come upon my message to do nothing but imagine, to see through our eyes. Through the eyes of the innocent, the bloody-handed, and those who may have kindled the flame. 

For in the end, we all have but one perspective. Our own. 

Please, tell me of your own perspective, children of Krug and of Elysium alike, all and any affected by this war. Listen, read, tell and write. I can only hope that I may change the hearts of a few people who fight against us.” 

Signed, 

Aech Amberace

aechsignature.png.8722fb1959cdfd4e58ba6809e28d49b6.png

 

 

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Marellon stands amongst the town hall proceedings, listening to the discussion with mounting disdain.

Why are they concerned with the Azdrazi? They should be worrying about Krugmar instead..

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*reads her mother's letter and writes back to her, personally(the letter would be delivered to only her) . Having been separated by life, Amura now 18"

 

"What happened to only love those who love us? Why should we care for the perspective of those who wish to kill us? If the goal is making peace with our enemies then we should be asking what they want, not why. 

 

Love, 

Amura"

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An Adherent of Order would scoff upon sighting the missive, delivered by some squawking courier as she was at work within the great forges of the Ark. She looked to a pair of avians, one of steel and other of horrific mutation, speaking to them dully as she worked. 

 

"If one wishes for peace, it would perhaps be wise to move from the front - Elysium is naught but a nation of oath-breakers and vampire shaggers. There's good reason that few rise to its defense; there is nothing worth defending, a nation championed by liars, traitors, and fools in search of vainglory - all parading the banner of a god who despises their ilk. It is through adherence to the Sunlit Path that one would refute such sin... but it seems hard to be a good person, at least in recent years, my dear ones." 

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VZgP-HGqBBUzuEtR6BN_CRLOurWqBsrgjlp3sedb1BwAOyAE4HX5dz-tAiZ0IA3AN4rYhnzr3-LaRxs4LbAz4kH223iLaTXVGsRnDTsLbcQ7wtdwLa9dZzcogfnPGo_NHZ-38Eu0pnx-OmlqAw

 

Malgunuz would gaze at the burning city as the banners of the Horde danced around outside.  Today marked the day of the siege.  The long awaited day had come at long last.  The red uruk would heft up his sword as he returned to Krugmar to assist with preparing the trebuchets to finally tear the walls of Elysium down.  No longer could they hide from Krug's will for no walls can withstand the might of the Horde.

 

"Ouhr trebuchetz will beat upon latz wallz lyk a drone ubbun ah druhm.  Bettur fynd a bub'hozh hideeng playze!"

 

Malgunuz would grin as he began pushing the trebuchet he was assigned to the front-lines of the siege.

 

 

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The burned uruk stared at the walls of Elysium for the last time, for after today, only ashes would remain of this symbol of tyranny.

« Peep at uz, Heartbeat. We bring flamez agh blood. We bring freedom and peace.

Blezzed be thiz day, for tonight, we either feazt in Ztarguzh’Ztroh or we liberate the city! »

Then the Rex spoke in the old tongue, demanding for the spirits to witness their victory.

« Izù hôn lât! Baduzg ghaazh grîzh! Baduzg matûm! Grîzh hûl, grîzh hôn! »

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