A cycle of building something beautiful, struggling to defend it, and destruction. We were building a temple when one of their Kuirassiers fell from the sky and shattered the floor into rubble and debris. We all screamed before they opened fire. At us. At the temple walls. Stained glass shot out, light pouring like blood through the shards. Bodies and blood and warfare in a holy place.
When tyrants rise, people try to go on living, try to maintain normalcy, but that power takes over and now they're forced to change something about their way of life. Some try to carry on anyway, and are punished to cement the new authority. Some try to run, but empires don't stop until they fall.
The only option is to fight. Tyrants are gluttons who never stop taking and consuming; sick deer overgrazing until they puke, over and over and over without end, making the land barren. This is what must be hunted. This is what threatens us all. This is why we must bare our fangs.
Fuck Karrakis. Fuck Ras Shamra. We deserve better than tyrants and warlords.