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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Sci-fi · #1974645
Chapter One
Proceeds of War
By: Elfin Dragon; aka Lisa

Chapter I
In the dark recesses of an analogy men define as time; there is an age where wisdom is shared by the separate races of all dimensions and realms of the universe.  Where all one need do is ask and an answer be given or found.  Where those with vast age and wisdom can cause the very substance of air to reply.  Where truth, above all else, is the deciding factor of life; the moral from which to live by.

         Some told me I had glimpsed a fragment of displaced time.  Others decided it was only a germ of thought from a demented soul.  Most believed it to be a small fragment of imagination from someone desperately wishing for peace never attained.  For here, in this existence we have declared home, peace has never existed.  It has escaped our grasp like the sweeping winds across the endless expanse of our deserted plains.  We are prisoners of deceit.  And death, not life, is the motto we hold most dear.
         In the age of our realm, wisdom is harvested and then squandered upon vile deceptions; existing only for monetary, political and military self empowerment.  For us the universe has existed since the beginning of our history with only one clear purpose in mind.  The purpose of war.
         War is the very essence of our reason for being.  We thrive on the knowledge someone will die.  Exist to create scapegoats, pawns, for some devious plot against those around us.  No one is safe from our schemes.  From the lowest dregs of society to the highest echelons of government, no one is immune to the subterfuge which undermines the will of even those we call family.  Each time we take a breath it clears our minds to create new and more deadly forms of war which is gladly what give our lives for, and there are many kinds to choose from.
         There are the obvious military bouts vying for strategic positions across the width and breadth of our universe.  They are short, vicious bloodbaths never giving or gaining enough to be noticeable the rarest form of war in our realm, occurring only often enough to curb a bloodlust never satisfied.  Then there are the other wars which we use to vie for the lives, nay the very souls, of those associated with us.
         Lives are what we wager upon.  The living and the dead are poker chips we base our victories upon, as well as our losses.  Each move and countermove tests the will to live or die. 
         We thrive on ever thickening plots against everyone and have the patience to see them out.  We will wait years to see one come to its full potential and even generations if we have the means within our grasp.  The longer someone suffers before they die, the better it is for our finances egos.
         And yet while I stand in this realm I call home, the realm I was born in, I have no desire to die here.  Somewhere in my wanderings I have glimpsed peace and no longer desire the war which has been ingrained in my very soul since birth.  Somewhere in that small glimpse of a different age, a different reality, I have lost and gained more than I could ever imagined.  And I know not if it was a dream of misgivings or the truth of reality.  But I am now lost to the hope of that truth.  I have become lost in that dream and I must do something to come to that reality. Even if it means my own death.
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