Demona Chronicles: The Empire Strikes Back
"Fall of the Fortress" Pt. 3 (total finale)
The Empire is starving. We are not at the breaking point we are past it. In the dusty streets of our once great cities horrid wretches squabble over rotten meat and the carcasses of dead animals. They do not have time to look up at the still gleaming monuments to our fallen heroes of old. The towering Cathedral Opera House is now empty, the homeless sleep in seats once reserved for the elite of society. The Grand Clock Tower is stuck showing 0630, gravity holds its immobile hands pointing straight down. In Ferrum harbor, over thirty dreadnoughts rust away, some have already slipped beneith the gently splashing waves leaving behind only the tops of their funnels and quickly disapearing masts. We are a beaten people. Our way of life created an Empire that rivalled and then surpased our neighbors. But soon we were being crushed under our own weight. The cities emptied, left forgotten monuments to our past. Some still live in them, tending to train stations and polishing metal nobody cares about anymore. Even the government has changed. Where once the people decided, now a few very powerful individuals guide our course. We hope and trust they are wiser than we were but down deep we know it no longer matters. We are doomed. Yet there is light in this darkness.
Despite the best efforts of the fates, there still remains the will to survive. We are beaten, yes, but not conquered. In a small town by the sea the ashes of the Empire are being rekindled. Where we failed before we will now succeed. The lessons we learned too late can be applied, now that we know what must be done. This last symbol of the Empire, a lumbering dreadnought called the Prince Heinrich, shines in the morning sun. She flies not the well known battle ensign of the Imperial Fleet but a new flag. The crimson background stands for the blood lost in the past. The black stripes stand for the constant threat of darkness. The gilded condor stands for the coming light of a new era, replacing the old. She is the first ship of a new age and the last of an old one. She flies the flag of the Reich.
-Demona
The Empire is starving. We are not at the breaking point we are past it. In the dusty streets of our once great cities horrid wretches squabble over rotten meat and the carcasses of dead animals. They do not have time to look up at the still gleaming monuments to our fallen heroes of old. The towering Cathedral Opera House is now empty, the homeless sleep in seats once reserved for the elite of society. The Grand Clock Tower is stuck showing 0630, gravity holds its immobile hands pointing straight down. In Ferrum harbor, over thirty dreadnoughts rust away, some have already slipped beneith the gently splashing waves leaving behind only the tops of their funnels and quickly disapearing masts. We are a beaten people. Our way of life created an Empire that rivalled and then surpased our neighbors. But soon we were being crushed under our own weight. The cities emptied, left forgotten monuments to our past. Some still live in them, tending to train stations and polishing metal nobody cares about anymore. Even the government has changed. Where once the people decided, now a few very powerful individuals guide our course. We hope and trust they are wiser than we were but down deep we know it no longer matters. We are doomed. Yet there is light in this darkness.
Despite the best efforts of the fates, there still remains the will to survive. We are beaten, yes, but not conquered. In a small town by the sea the ashes of the Empire are being rekindled. Where we failed before we will now succeed. The lessons we learned too late can be applied, now that we know what must be done. This last symbol of the Empire, a lumbering dreadnought called the Prince Heinrich, shines in the morning sun. She flies not the well known battle ensign of the Imperial Fleet but a new flag. The crimson background stands for the blood lost in the past. The black stripes stand for the constant threat of darkness. The gilded condor stands for the coming light of a new era, replacing the old. She is the first ship of a new age and the last of an old one. She flies the flag of the Reich.
-Demona