The night was clouded once more with ash - the air dead and ringing with an all too familiar sound of marching footsteps against the broken ground. The humming of their ships, so noticeable, so aggravating with its constant, rhythmical harmony of gears and flame tossing and churning inside those wretched machines. Those machines, to us - looking like monsters instead of just plain ships. What was simply a machine to us, was destructive and so toxic. To be feared, ran from.
Oh, but lie beneath them was the true terror. Those hollow masks, in representation of what that lightening tower had drawn forth from the earth. More flames, scorching terror and death - but this time, in the form of our own flesh. Buried beneath armour, and uniforms. An incarnate of what we were, and contorted into a more nightmarish frame. Where we did not have faces, nor rational thought.
We were monsters, marching on feverishly so - us, our brother and blood, turned cold and bitter. The only pure would be in rebellion, or the masses that have long sense fled from this city of ruin, but where many were just the same! Little refuge, under the reign of the Swine King.
Perhaps it was a blessing - this old Commander of the King. Callous, seeming - but with more remorse and more calculation than the man so easily seen before these hollowed souls. Red eyes, two as opposed to one, standing in their own terror. Mechanical insanity, something both delightful and corrupting - so evident in his gaze! The lapdog, the shock collar, as if too, an emissary of that electric tower. If not its incarnate itself.
His power unstable, and his own demons having their lives on their line in his presense. Quick to make them suffer, as much as us and our blessed cities. Our architecture, our lives. The screaming of his manic voice, barking out orders or laughing - soon followed by more destruction, explosions. A removal of his helmet, showed the terror had a face, much alike us.
Something human, in a monster. Something that can easily be seen in us all. Something I have seen countless times, and will continuously to this day. I will act as if I was innocent in my days, and that I was an ordinary civilian, but no. I am more, but less than my fellows. An infiltrator, an instigator. This very terror, I may too, have to serve for, and in such an act, once more I will plead for my forgiveness.
Claus, Lucas, Donovich — and the list goes on! Those who oppose to this march. Another battle, will soon commence. We know, our lives are in danger, countless times as we watch our own kin be butchered like the pigs that rule.
I, the serpent will say this now - that we, just as much as they always take part in that walk. Constantly, endlessly.
-Thomas Montgomery, The Serpent’s Eye