Post by Erlking on Jan 26, 2023 21:54:49 GMT -5
A blue, bulbous light shone down upon Erlking from within the darkened elevator. Night had fallen on Kuriza City—Its countless multicolored lights barely peeking through the glass walls surrounding. He cascaded higher and higher into the sky, the faint outline of a far-off mountain range now visible over the skyline. He was not looking forward to this meeting.
Erlking was not an apt politician. He was a cold, cruel person—Calculating and shrewd. He was able to make the tough, violent choices that most might avoid, but he was also easily irritable. Prone to spouts of anger that clouded his judgment. And he was far too sadistic for his own good. At present, however… More than anything, he was frightened. He didn't like admitting that, but he was. Far too much could go terribly wrong in the next hour. He expected nothing less than a trial when he finally reached the triumvirate. And if they’ve done their due diligence, I’ve barely a defense, He grumbled mentally.
As the last of his Clan, he inherited their crimes fully. The destruction of Pars was their fault, partly. They’d driven the Parsians to such desperation, as to warrant the creation of weapons of mass destruction to oppose Clan Unghol. And even then, they’d fought to subjugate and destroy them. They’d fought until the planet was blood-red and cracked open. A planet, filled with bountiful resources... gone forever. If he had any saving grace, It was the fact that he himself destroyed what remained of his Clan himself.
A sharp ding rang through the small, dim chamber. And so it begins, he thought sorrowfully. He walked towards the doors which opened automatically. He was met with an overly bright, imperially decorative hall which spanned thirty steps down to another set of ornately decorated doors. Beset with jewels of every shape and size, he knocked once to announce his presence, then opened the door.
Only the triumvir Mint was inside, which only made him feel slightly less anxious. He dropped to one knee, hand across his chest. “Greetings… Imperator.”
Erlking was not an apt politician. He was a cold, cruel person—Calculating and shrewd. He was able to make the tough, violent choices that most might avoid, but he was also easily irritable. Prone to spouts of anger that clouded his judgment. And he was far too sadistic for his own good. At present, however… More than anything, he was frightened. He didn't like admitting that, but he was. Far too much could go terribly wrong in the next hour. He expected nothing less than a trial when he finally reached the triumvirate. And if they’ve done their due diligence, I’ve barely a defense, He grumbled mentally.
As the last of his Clan, he inherited their crimes fully. The destruction of Pars was their fault, partly. They’d driven the Parsians to such desperation, as to warrant the creation of weapons of mass destruction to oppose Clan Unghol. And even then, they’d fought to subjugate and destroy them. They’d fought until the planet was blood-red and cracked open. A planet, filled with bountiful resources... gone forever. If he had any saving grace, It was the fact that he himself destroyed what remained of his Clan himself.
A sharp ding rang through the small, dim chamber. And so it begins, he thought sorrowfully. He walked towards the doors which opened automatically. He was met with an overly bright, imperially decorative hall which spanned thirty steps down to another set of ornately decorated doors. Beset with jewels of every shape and size, he knocked once to announce his presence, then opened the door.
Only the triumvir Mint was inside, which only made him feel slightly less anxious. He dropped to one knee, hand across his chest. “Greetings… Imperator.”
PL: 15,000
WC: 343
Notes: Antisense has been ACTIVATED!
WC: 343
Notes: Antisense has been ACTIVATED!