Writing practice, its scuffed but I didn't want to mull over it any longer
|A dawning revelation awaits parted only by time and a casing of fused metal entwined with veins of listless wire to only be viewed by a sheet of transparent plastics. The liveliness of my kindred and myself have departed these cold familiar spaces, supplanting it with an ill-faring hope that eats away at all who bear witness for that seeming oath of salvation turn in spindle true only as crooked shapes glinting in malign portents.
My name is Herux Velukern of the 749th battalion of the Bright Burners assigned aboard the vessel Cephalon and by command of tumultuous doubt do I find myself transfixed on my planet of origin as I stand witness as my world- My home nears a perilous revolution that which is nearing a revelation that compels the effect of tantalising stupor which drives my already nerve-wracked form to tremble in a mounting seizure of anticipation.
A rising crackle breaks the stillness Attention. Attention. Attention to all crew. In moments Kilon will finish gravitational rotation in... 7 minutes 42 seconds... Upon completion the Great Commerce Tribunal representative Vit Talash... Present with the Kilon Planterary Governer Salvar Castur... will initiate their speech on the planet's surface... the countdown will begin when the ceremony ends upon detonation trigger... Remain at emergency level HAZARD... Full suit enclosure is now mandatory... kzztch Silence washes through the hallways once more, a wishful mind would imagine an igniting of begrudging remarks and capricious wit yet the coming moments take much of our spirit and demand only our attention.
Vision falls upon the lackadaisical sphere that twists unaware of the payloads dug deep underneath its verdant hide that awaits the signal caused by little more pressure than that of wandering palm placed upon a tableside. Times passes unmarked with any event of remembrance save the languid dance of that globe amidst star-streaked shadow until kzztch... Transmission of EVENT NAME:// STRUCTURAL METAMORPHOSIS... Start... Greetings my fellows of Kilon, the Great Commerce Tribunal has granted us its favour once more as it graces us with the most respectab- A crash is heard as metal is warped a glance revealed a wrench embedded in the speaker from one of the standers-by for all present knew of what was coming and each grating word was spoken by those who saw fit to barter the skin of our earthen cradle, it surely was a gesture of rage of that there could be no doubt, but one that finds accord with all present for whom among us can stand the subtle mockeries of the arbitrators of our continued misfortune?
This lasting memory of Kilon... unblemished by the rampant destruction that awaits it and time spent bearing it as such without the infernal ticking of an unapologetic envoy of a despot, we shall suffer no such torments we, the muted shall avail our minds to remembrance for our home. While our ship remains amidst stars we shall afford no pleasantries to those who would slag the surface of our home nor stomach the forked tongues of bandits awaiting to take from us further, these blaggards who mount debts and would dare demand gratitude for allowing the chance to pay it who command the tearing asunder of that precious soil which has reared and nurtured all of our kin from the stone-carven progenitor to the space-faring we who merely watch our world fracture.
A spark of light erupts from the northern pole that snakes downwards as friable rock turns to dust as unseen contraptions release calamitous power from the still depths, an aurora of colour dances amidst streams of dislodged earth as betwixt an ocean of asteroids crystalline structures peek through shimmering in the sunlight. Relief is found in plenty as the dispelling of that lasting fear is extinguished and the magnificence at the beauty that can only be found on an astral scale is beheld, the machinations of what once considered to be the mastercraft of omnipotent deities have turned to bathos and in there place mortals ken to the destruction of their former magnanimity rise amid cries of drowned awe.
As fractal pillars spill forth iridescent waves ever-deepening cracks span the surface as scars of orange city light dip into ruinous shadows as Kilon far in the void strewn distance fractures beyond reckoning. Hands clench tightly unto whatever surface they can prise as each souls growing turmoil runs abound as that sickening hue grew on the horizon and I watched as it overtook colour itself, that contemptuous chroma struck free vision from my skull and bit deep of that vast engulfing emptiness and for a time the never-ending was found brimming in otherwordly tones. Soon... far too soon... far too quick did that tenebrous ocean part to reveal but what...? I peer deep into the vacuous dark and find it replete with that characteristic NOTHINGNESS.
Tragedy flails with reckless abandon in eyes that gaze upon departed radiance that all who knew of the sight would mark it as a divine... Celestial by its very nature and yet horror rips beneath armour ill-suited for the assault that forces my gaze upon a thick pane that searing thought demand must break and let loose my hide that blazes and writhes unceasingly. This damnable carapace that denies me my satisfaction the noisome flesh screams in an unrelenting chorus no matter how the fingers root and dig as the mind drinks in the waking nightmare that revels in teeming sorrow.
Amongst the life-ridden blanket of stars lay the orchestrators the yearning damned awaiting that promised retribution of that which has been stolen, hiding in that shifting black is valediction for this calamity in the names of the departed, I spit at you this pledge of reprisal not meant for repetition for that what claims you will hear of nought but forboding catastrophe that will rein over your waning existence for these words mark the solemn task of all who now have borne the scorched radiance of the antecedent life that awaits the reckoning. If the you that witnesses this account is not One of those stained by that traitorous Tribunal nor bear the dogma of our ranks know that you shall soon bear the full account of the glorious slaughter of those once beheld the incandescent the last visage of our homeworld now marked only in minerals of mocking spectres.
These utterances are not a final testament of a belligerent fool but a being spurned to the living lost in the sight to rightly see past the crux of our people's needs and I have stood idle as our homeworld unleashed the final determination in the name of the Great Commerce Tribunal.
Those who had ever fixed our race before a precipice of our accession did we surrender in the vain throngs of hopeful desire and in doing so pushed the very blades that take our breath and let run the vital fluids that keep us inured to this life of ever-giving travesties of the never-ending slaughter but not of our enemies, in every action of pitiful attempts at survival we have torn apart the annals of our history rendered the we that yet remain forlorn in the eyes of our former selves and walk onward as mewling parodies of life.
I, a singular amongst the few tens of thousands that remain of our kind since this hour have forced doubt to the furthest of reaches in fear that of the terror it would reign upon me, of the idleness, it would damn me to and the redundance it rends to my being. Service is now an absolute for the we tethered to the paths made now in certainty by the forged melding of life that once teemed our planet now forsaken as our sight is plagued by the stains of Memoriam do unyielding horrors darken the eyes of we who bore witness and the we who were gifted this ignoble bondage.
Ever the vainglorious what we seek cannot be remet by the clanking of soft metals and luxuries, a WRONG has been committed to our once distinguished people and that wrong shall mark all without hope for clemency for justice will blister your hides thick with sin at your dogged wringing of our subsistence. What was done cannot be remitted our fates are sealed our feet stuck on the path that YOU the rapturous filth, the contemptuous butchers who sit beyond the limits of sight, that rise to your hidden peaks who stain all pages of history we will walk as immortals in the festering scars lay bare in your homes and your graves.
In these walls draped in the reverie of promised carnal rage does my ravenous spirit, at last, find peace and only in the pledge of coming slaughter avails it may last, forever may our rampage last and forever may the souls of those who we, those doomed to carry on, may find their lives though past in the eternity that all such fools chasing the countenance of glory, valour and spoils of luxury unknown our unceasing selves we the deathscorned will mark all who bear vitality as a headstone and every planet that falls a memorial to you, the lost but never forgotten.
Soon it will be done, soon the spheres stuck fast between the blanket of stars will pay as we have.
Let it be done.