DeletedUser
Guest
I recall one of these being on W59 general discussion forums. All it is, is a place to share things you've written. They can be poems, stories, allegories, whatever you want. Just follow the rules, and do try to keep flaming to a minimum. I'll begin with a little allusion to my W62 experience.
[spoil]It began, as all things do, fairly quietly. It creeped up on him, quietly stealing away from him that which made him human. He began to lose minutes, then hours of which he had no recollection. Soon, there were hours upon hours in which, after waking from his trance-like state, he gradually recalled that he did not know what had transpired.
His was a small village, merely a speck on the countryside. But he had ambition. He had drive. He had the motivation to grow, and that was what kept him working endlessly to better his small town. He had dreams of grandeur, visions of a future in which his people were fed and fat, and his noblemen had lands fitting their position. This was what kept him ruthlessly and riskily raiding other villages. Their resources were plentiful, their people weak or even barbaric, too busy fighting amongst themselves to reap the rewards of their fertile land.
His army grew in size, as did his village and its walls. Soon, he became the undisputed lord over all within 15 kilometers in every direction. Though he did not have his noblemen acting as heads of these other villages, they knew his power was unmatched in the area, and no longer resisted his armies when they came to pillage. His men saw their gaunt, hollowed faces, but this was the price of survival.
When he saw the destruction he wreaked, and noticed the way this work of pillaging was leaving him tired and in a fugue state for hours on end, he made a decision. He was not yet ready to rule; not yet ready to conquer the countryside and plant his banner upon the soil of other villages. His time was not nigh, and so he sent his army on what he believed to be a futile mission. He was amazed when a raven returned proclaiming his victory. Again, he sent them to another village, stronger this time. Once more, he was left in bewilderment when his army suffered only minimal losses.
In a desperate state, looking to submit to another, he attacked one who was not a mere person, but a collective. An oligarchy with minimal power, but still far outstripping his own power. When this group returned fire, after his army had been lost, he disappeared into the night.
He was biding his time, awaiting his return. Waiting for the moment in which he could finally say that leading was his divine right, and he could paint the countryside with his banner's color...the color yellow.[/spoil]
Don't be too harsh :icon_redface:.
[spoil]It began, as all things do, fairly quietly. It creeped up on him, quietly stealing away from him that which made him human. He began to lose minutes, then hours of which he had no recollection. Soon, there were hours upon hours in which, after waking from his trance-like state, he gradually recalled that he did not know what had transpired.
His was a small village, merely a speck on the countryside. But he had ambition. He had drive. He had the motivation to grow, and that was what kept him working endlessly to better his small town. He had dreams of grandeur, visions of a future in which his people were fed and fat, and his noblemen had lands fitting their position. This was what kept him ruthlessly and riskily raiding other villages. Their resources were plentiful, their people weak or even barbaric, too busy fighting amongst themselves to reap the rewards of their fertile land.
His army grew in size, as did his village and its walls. Soon, he became the undisputed lord over all within 15 kilometers in every direction. Though he did not have his noblemen acting as heads of these other villages, they knew his power was unmatched in the area, and no longer resisted his armies when they came to pillage. His men saw their gaunt, hollowed faces, but this was the price of survival.
When he saw the destruction he wreaked, and noticed the way this work of pillaging was leaving him tired and in a fugue state for hours on end, he made a decision. He was not yet ready to rule; not yet ready to conquer the countryside and plant his banner upon the soil of other villages. His time was not nigh, and so he sent his army on what he believed to be a futile mission. He was amazed when a raven returned proclaiming his victory. Again, he sent them to another village, stronger this time. Once more, he was left in bewilderment when his army suffered only minimal losses.
In a desperate state, looking to submit to another, he attacked one who was not a mere person, but a collective. An oligarchy with minimal power, but still far outstripping his own power. When this group returned fire, after his army had been lost, he disappeared into the night.
He was biding his time, awaiting his return. Waiting for the moment in which he could finally say that leading was his divine right, and he could paint the countryside with his banner's color...the color yellow.[/spoil]
Don't be too harsh :icon_redface:.
