A Dream Of Peace

[Eleatic 1033]

 

You see a rather tall elf sitting upon a treestump just outside of Oren, he's wearing a red coat, and a long pointy hat on his head, he looks about, a lute nestled in hand, he's strumming a melody, but he soon forgets it, stopping. Throwing the lute toward the wall in rude display. It smashing in twain, the strings clinging as they fall. The man stepping up, brushing his coat, looking toward the court, he grasps loose stones upon the top, making a quick, and rather pained stride above. His hands clinging upon each stone nervously, ten minutes until he is atop. Once atop, he clears his throat, and once more nervously brushing his coat, Before calling in a confident, and rueful tone.

 

"I, have a dream,

 

A dream of peace, a dream where the races live in bliss.

 

Where there is no need for gods or lords,

 

Where humility and kindness are second, and hopefully first nature to some.

 

Where we shed our skin of hate, and explore the world around us. To the skies, and to the seas.

 

Where we are all but bad beings,

 

Where our example paves the way.

 

Where there IS NO NEED. For kings. 

 

Where all are equal, and all are just.

 

And we strive toward the betterment of the world,

 

Where assassins are given fair trial,

 

And peasant's are treated with love, and aid..

 

Where a sword's edge is last resort.\

 

And we see we are all together in life.

 

Weather uruk, or elf, or dwarf. Or even dragon!

 

Look at ourselves,

 

What are we?!

 

WE ARE THE APITIMEY OF IDIOCRACY!

 

WE ARE ALL MALIN, HOREN, AND KRUG DID NOT WANT!

 

I ASK YOU ALL, WHO ARE WE?!

 

WE SHED OUR HUMILTY, OUR PEACE! Answer me,

 

Why?!"

 

He stares ruefully at those below, his eyes wide, stairng down with fear, obviously anticipating  a knight's blade at his throat quiet soon, he coughs, looking down, sitting rather contently, and awaiting the response. A glimmer of hope in his old eyes.

[Ford 1996]

((Nice MLK reference, but being PC? Tsk tsk.))

[Eleatic 1033]

((PC? o___O))

[Ford 1996]

((PC? o___O))

 

((Politically correct in times like these.))

[Eleatic 1033]

((PC -- Considerably, this is fantasy, not Medieval. And after seeing dozens of slaughters, I believe truthfully a character has a right to react like this.)) No more OOC, please.))

[Ford 1996]

Ford laughs at the man and looks around at others, expecting the same reaction. He points at the knight and shouts out, "Kill 'im already!"

[Will (TauFirewarrior) 2466]

The Lord High Sheriff Shas'O Kais Ishikawa looks at the man raising an eyebrow at his comments

 

"Such are the ways of the world, no one can change it there will be no peace, the Orcs fight because it is in their blood the humans fight for gain and achievement the Dwarves fight for honour and riches and even the elves fight to protect themselves. You cannot change the way we are, you speak idiocy yourself, you want fair trials for Assassins? Men who are paid to perform the act of murder in a dishonourable fashion, they live by the sword and they will die by it, the same is said to any soldier who chooses to die with honour. Now enough with this nonsense and just live your life."

[FORƎST 1312]

A pirate watches the Twig's speech, a genuinely amused grin plastered to his face. Hands stuffed into his pockets, the end his cloak whips around between his knees every time the wind picks up. He glances both sides after the ranting has come to an end and trudges up to the elf.

 

"Public speakin' be dangerous work. Don't be a fool about it."  He beams amiably.

 

He turns to walks away, but quickly stops himself. Smelling of Saltwater and limes, he leans down in to the Elf's ear and whispers:

 

"In dis world askin' for 'elp may aswell be askin' for trouble. Yer just showin' off your weakness mate. Take a note from the pinnacle ov' Orcish philosophy; Seize what ye can, burn everything ye can't seize."

 

Davey glances around again, slipping a sheathed dagger to be cradled the Elf's arms, and winking drunkenly before striding off.

[Will (TauFirewarrior) 2466]

Captain Robert Howe watches the elf make a fool of himself from afar he chuckles as he hears the elf speak of freedom and fair trials, he speaks up for a moment

 

"Nothing in this life is fair my friend what you must do is take what you can and give nothing back."

[Zebanamana 410]

The sea sat gentle under the mid morning sun. It was without bound or breach for leagues upon leagues. Three weeks they had been at sea already; three weeks of sailing and rationing and rowing. Gilneas was sick of the uneclipsed sun, tired of the unending babble that came from the mouth of his bunk mates, and significantly bored. I never thought I would miss the White Rose as much as I do now. The young man thought dismally as he clung to the rail of the ship dejectedly looking into the azure waters at his reflection.

 

"I look like ****." He groaned. His face was burnt red; his eyes shallow and weary, and the robes that Tanith had generously tailored for him were stained with sea salt and stone mason vomit. Three weeks without a proper bath had matted his hair beneath his cap, and Captain Dulren's rationing of food had hollowed his cheeks considerably.

 

"Eh, yer damn right Chaplain." A gruff voice came up from behind him and grasped Gilneas' shoulders tightly. "Now, Oi know tha' this ship is small, an' we be 'avin' considerable interactions between us all, but I don'think tha' talkin' ta yerself is gonna 'elp anythin'."

 

"I shall take that into consideration Wulvrak." Gilneas sighed and turned his gaze from the water back to he who was both a son of Horen and Urguan. "I thought you were sick?"

 

The stocky man twisted his firey red mustache with brevity as if he were lost in thought and raised a finger, "Right you are Chaplain, right you are," before plunging himself to the railing and voiding his sickness it the waves. 

 

"Delightful . . . "Gilneas muttered as he stepped from Wulvrak gingerly and made quickly for the forecastle. So long as he avoids doing that in the bunk again there shall be little issue. Three weeks at sea, it had been just over twenty one days stuck on board a ship with dozens of sailors and even more stone masons, lumberjacks, and foremen all bound for this new land to prep it for  the exodus of an entire empire. Designs were struck, the early maps of the land had been poured over for over a year as they planned out the cities and villages to come. Already dozens of ships crammed with builders had made landfall on this new land and begun the construction of their settlements, but with this ship came the men and the plans for a cathedral befitting of a new age of the Church. 

 

He smiled under the grime of ship life and sunburn and thought of the plans he had collected from the Lord High Chancellor Alexander Stolistes. The  cathedral would be great for High Pontiff Lucien, and it would be the start of a new and pronounced and unquestionable Faith. So long as we finish deciphering those Scrolls. Gilneas thought with great irritation at the slow pace of discerning the texts, and truthfully had barely touched the tomes he had brought with him.  "Patience." He sighs with a breath. The reign of the Pereas and Sheffields had done damage unprecedented to the history and collective knowledge of the Sons of Horen, so much had been lost and so many pieces were scattered across Aegis and even more sparingly in Asulon. So much that had caused the strength of man to wane for a century.

 

"Westfall."

 

"Captain Dulren," Gilneas responded plainly as he turned his head to the helm of the ship. The Captain stood stalwart looking out to the sea ahead with unquenchable purpose. The nautical master had gone between Asulon and the Verge a number of times, and to this new land three times and no less. Haggard and salted, but with the resolve of carved stone Dulren stood.

 

"I would like a word." 

 

Gilneas obliged without hesitation. He owed nothing to the man and he was not directly under the Captain's command, however he had seen the peak of the man's temper and the treatment sailors who stood against his orders recieved and understood the folly of delievering insult to him.

 

"Yes, Captain?" Gilneas took his place beside the captain; swaying steadily on the uneven floor below.

 

Dulren looked him up and down once with his gray eyes before smirking, "Thou art filthy . . . My condolences for being bunked with that blowhard Wulvrak." 

 

Gilneas smirked, "So long as he does not vomit on anything important there shall be no issues."

 

Only a nod was offered in return. "I am glad to be off that forsaken island. The place is vile."

 

"I cannot argue. It seems the elves cannot seem to put the concept of "our nation, your nation" into their heads. For such a long lived people they have little wisdom." 

 

"Aye." Dulren replied. "They seem to believe that they should be the ones changing our views and way of life. How much would you wager there is an elf shouting about peace and secularism right this minute?"

 

Gilneas thought a moment glancing out into the sea. "I am not a gambling man . . . However I would wager that being very likely, and likely rather counter intuitive."

 

"More like bloody stupid."

[Thatpyrodude 2008]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.