It was a strange thing to solemnly admit to himself, to watch a civilisation under his protectorate be torn apart to slowly die. The governor silently mused to himself while watching the chaos and carnage unfold through the lofty window of his office, high in a palace that had been built a millennia ago. The first attacks begun at the dawning of the day on Tarkim. Reports came flooding in of a rain of fire destroying every military base and star port that surrounded each city of the lightly populated agri-world. This was in turn followed by a rain of steel coloured drop pods and gunships from the smoke choked heavens. Had his meagre defence fleet in orbit fallen just as quickly he asked? No one could truthfully answer him for no communications had been received of an attack during the night. Images of steel shod angels attacking defensive positions had come to his office, carried by hurried adepts and scribes. Why had the angels of myth and legend that were sworn to protect humanity come to wreak havoc upon his world? He knew though, these were not the saviours he had known of, but traitors to all he had ever held dear. These were not the angels he thought he knew. These were his solemn destruction and ending solace. The governor collapse to his knees and begun to weep at his failure as his world burned around him. His world in flames.
Posted on: Wed, 02 Apr 2014 01:36:25 +0000
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