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RP: Origins

This land was born of a war known as Armageddon. From the aethereal sea came the sky ships, forming a fleet representing the absolute subject at the center of all being, imperceptible but all knowing and all powerful, whom demanded we all become one with him, which he conceived as the utmost point of liberation. He told of his toil, meant for us, by which he meant all, not just us. He was refused, he know he would be considering what he asked of us, but regardless took it as grounds for our annihilation. There are countless stories of it, but it in itself has no overarching narrorative, how absurd! Our beseigement by untold horrors, the annihilation of the bulk of the people which live here was won not by a concerted effort on our part, but by disparate forces in wailing in defiance and tearing reality assunder. The one true God was toppled by an onslaught of broken souls' nonsense. That woe aside, this is the reason for which silver sword orders exist. We are the phenemon which started as continuations to these disparate forces meant to stave off the monsters which persist long after the war's end such that civilization may go on despite divine wrath.

Danik trembled a bit reading over the memo he'd been handed at the initiation ceremony. Aggrivated questions would fly through his mind.

For all this work, that answer? For the death of his family, no grand cause to fight for? Just... persistence? Why isn't anyone else upset about this?

"This can't be right" he'd belt out at the empty space in his quarters, "There has to be more to it"

With that he'd turn away from his desk, shaking his head and staring blankly at the stone brick flooring "They're hiding something about our history."