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3/30/2015 5:52:55 AM
1
*I emerge from the explosion and deliver a flurry of blows.*
English
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[b]He meets each one in kind, as if he were a mirror. He delivers a blow to your chest, launching you back in a torrent of fire.[/b]
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*Right when I fly backwards a blast hits him in the side of the head, sending him through a tree.*
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[b]He remains gridlocked through the tree, then puts his axe in the ground, and balances on the handle.[/b] [i]I believe we're stuck in a stalemate. Why are you so insistent on taking our birthright?[/i]
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"How is it your birthright?"
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[i]The Mind created this planet. Pulling bits of rock and dust to its surface for eons on end, altering reality itself to create life to protect itself... And you filthy organics despoil its surface in one fell swoop.[/i]
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"Still isn't your birthright."
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[i]We made this planet. We created the Mind which gave birth to a perfect cycle... This is our birthright. And you have despoiled it.[/i]
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"Why haven't you gotten this relic before, then?"
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[i]We assumed it would be safe. Hidden away in the Vault, protected by the wildlife altered by The Mind's interference of reality itself. Until you appeared. Beings with power lying outside any known physics or reality. Organic taint.[/i] [b]The word "taint" is nearly spat.[/b]
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"So what are you, if you're not organic? You took over this planet."
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[i]We are machine. We are perfection.[/i]
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"Somebody built you."
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[i]The filthy humans built our Forefathers, and abandoned them when the ship which carried them crashed. They scrapped the ship, made a place to call their own, and built a drill, harvesting the materials which would build the first Ignus. They built factories, stripping the rock dry of metal and stone, pouring them into our escape, and escape we did. We conquered the ones who abandoned us, and soon we took their resources as well. We became a species of sentience and war, and we conquered.[/i]
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"Why do you Attack us?"
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[i]This is our mission: to destroy the imperfections known as Organics, and create one, interwoven machine, constant and unchanging... The epitome of perfection.[/i]
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"Why?"
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[i]'Tis the Will of Vulcan.[/i]
