| Miles Prower (Kebir Blue) | Thursday, March 26, 2009 - 08:30 pm 
A darkened pall hung over the ashen remains of the once great city. Plumes of smoke massed in great columns towering high into the heavy sky, visible for miles around.
The empire had fallen. All hopes of victory had long since been extinquished by the rain of hellfire unleashed upon what had been a thriving metropolis. A way of life laid to rest with all the anger and fury of a final judgement
Nothing remained alive down in that barren waste of twisted metal and splintered concrete. There were no more cries for mercy - no more prayers for salvation or absolution. The Reaper himself had long since departed, his quota realised by those who had been damned that day.
There would be no great salvation.
From the passing of the first wave the attack had seemed different somehow - more ferocious, more vengeful than the last. Salvo after salvo had decimated the proud metropolis, megatons strewn freely to reduce the city to nothing more than a graveyard of ashes and rubble. Lives were cut short, snuffed out in the blink of an unforgiving eye, condemned and forfeit by unseen jury.
Resistance had been fierce, brief, and ultimately futile. Defences were cast asunder, torn to pieces and oblitorated before they could be fully brought to bare. Paltry losses inflicted upon the offensive were shrugged off as the aircraft swarmed overhead in their thousands.
Defenceless, citizens scrambled for shelter wherever they could find it - in their homes, in their cars, at their place of work. But in the end, as the true horrors of reality clamped their jaws around the mortal coil like vicious Cerberus without remorse or sympathy, it was all for naught.
The Reaper's first quarry of that day soon became a bounty, souls departing in time with each explosion of death and destruction.
And then the second constenation came. Those unfortunate enough to survive the first wave were greeted by an altogether more horrific twist of fate. Cruel tricks of chemistry and engineering, blistering the skin, the eyes, the throat - choking, blinding, maiming. Those who had not died soon wished for that one small mercy from their gods.
But for some poor, unfortunate souls the end still did not come. The final destination awaited them further down the line.
The final wave - an idignity reserved as retribution for the few who dared to cling to life - declared it's presence with hellish mechanisms more ferocious than that of suns.
The cause of such hate-filled anger did not warrant such asperity, but come it did, wreaking out final judgement on behalf of unforgiving gods. Though in the end only death prevailed.
The blink of an eye, a grand civilisation in ruins, smouldering now in a bed of its own ashes. Lives extinguished by a fate shared, irrespective of creed, race, gender or guilt. Damnation eternal, unwavering and absolute.
The darkest hour.
But for a few gold coins more, history would repeat itself.
Lest the player log off. |
| Kiteless (Little Upsilon) | Thursday, March 26, 2009 - 08:42 pm
Eat some cheese and relax  |
| Laguna | Thursday, March 26, 2009 - 09:26 pm
Well, this is better than the two spam threads currently active on the General Forum. |
| Matthew Haataja (Kebir Blue) | Thursday, March 26, 2009 - 09:28 pm
Yes me likey very muchso, very entertaining!! |
| Pathetic Sheep | Thursday, March 26, 2009 - 09:32 pm
Miles, instead of dwelling on the negative you should ridicule the enemy for having wasted convention ammo on both the garrison and the population and then wasted a chem bomb before nuking the place anyway.
Most Simpeople do not die in nuclear attacks. They become refugees. You should honor them for their heroic sacrifice.
Steel and concrete do not become ash. |
| Miles Prower | Thursday, March 26, 2009 - 09:59 pm
You over-analyse, Pathetic Sheep. This is writing for the sake of writing.
Imagination is my paintbrush, words are my pallete. Anything can happen. |
| Daconia (Fearless Blue) | Sunday, March 29, 2009 - 06:45 pm
It was very poetic. (Brushes the tear from the corner of her eye)..Sniff Sniff..Enjoyed it. |
| TuCulo EsMio (Little Upsilon) | Monday, March 30, 2009 - 04:22 am
HAHA, very good. Who did that to you? |
| Pathetic Sheep (Little Upsilon) | Monday, March 30, 2009 - 11:18 pm
If you use words to paint a picture the words should not contradict each other. The towering pinnacle of the desert plain glowed with the iridescent purple of freshly cut grass like drips from a new pencil.
There are various ways to conjure the image of rubble. Some more poetic than others. Images of rubble do not match images of ash. I suppose you could have ash falling like snow on the rubble so I didn't have much of a point.
I assumed you were complaining that your simpeople got blown up. You can add poetic inspiration to the list of good reasons for war in simcountry. |
| Noproblem | Tuesday, March 31, 2009 - 03:23 am
Good way to mourn. |
| Miles Prower | Tuesday, March 31, 2009 - 05:58 am
Ashes and rubble, Mr Sheep. Not ashes of rubble. Rubble conjures images of twisted and desolate buildings, whislt ashes proves somewhat reminiscent of the people themselves, and the more organic of objects within their day to day lives.
Still, if you wish to equate the two, then by all means do. Words affect different people in different ways, and the varying interpretations lend contrast to the colours I opt to paint with.
My simpeople remain intact, I was simply trying to entertain. Not that I truly mind the critique. |
| Noproblem | Thursday, April 2, 2009 - 02:04 am
Job well done! |
