Difference between revisions of "Eda Demir"
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A city lost to memory, ruins long since abandoned and reduced to sand between your toes. It was a pillar of its day, housing everything a booming city needs to prosper: industry, agriculture, art, theater, old men past their prime arguing of war and politics. Perhaps it was inevitable such a sight would collapse in on itself. A miniature age within an age. Those within thought themselves indestructible and beyond reproach. When the new king rose to power, it was clear he had forgotten the gods that ensured their safety. A protection racket sans suits and ties. We did not exist in these stories by name, but, sweetling, do not think we sat idly by and watched the naked emperor without action. Alas, it was of no use. It came crumbling down. | A city lost to memory, ruins long since abandoned and reduced to sand between your toes. It was a pillar of its day, housing everything a booming city needs to prosper: industry, agriculture, art, theater, old men past their prime arguing of war and politics. Perhaps it was inevitable such a sight would collapse in on itself. A miniature age within an age. Those within thought themselves indestructible and beyond reproach. When the new king rose to power, it was clear he had forgotten the gods that ensured their safety. A protection racket sans suits and ties. We did not exist in these stories by name, but, sweetling, do not think we sat idly by and watched the naked emperor without action. Alas, it was of no use. It came crumbling down. | ||
| − | Warning! War instigated! Warning! Trade routes opened! Warning! Priorities forgotten! | + | Warning! War instigated! |
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| + | Warning! Trade routes opened! | ||
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| + | Warning! Priorities forgotten! | ||
Where has their output gone, sweetling? Why do they not produce enough for the war effort? Why do their tradesman not meet the demands of an increasingly greedy leader? The men of influence sought the answer. Perhaps it was a sickness in their veins, or maybe their hearts were not inspired. Blame was shifted, accusations made. | Where has their output gone, sweetling? Why do they not produce enough for the war effort? Why do their tradesman not meet the demands of an increasingly greedy leader? The men of influence sought the answer. Perhaps it was a sickness in their veins, or maybe their hearts were not inspired. Blame was shifted, accusations made. | ||