youthculture
Elite
Here we open our eyes and are greeted by a dawn -- a dawn that many of us questioned if we would even see. The fields are still painted red with blood. Our spirits have weakened; others have been lost forever, the final sacrifice to an old world. But with it comes hope: Void is dead. Puriel is dead. The Withering retreats from the land. Through loss we have wrought our victory. I have never been prouder of each and every one of you, and my heart sang to fight alongside you.
What remains now does not belong to us; it belongs to the farmers, the weavers, the blacksmiths and soldiers. It belongs to the mothers and fathers, daughters and sons. For five years we have been the sword and the shield, the executioner, the reapers. Now we must take this piece of clay and shape it into the world that we want, and the one that so many others desperately need.
The time of the Deadlands is over. Let the reclamation begin, and let us lead the way.
Ria Sevaria of Goshawk
What remains now does not belong to us; it belongs to the farmers, the weavers, the blacksmiths and soldiers. It belongs to the mothers and fathers, daughters and sons. For five years we have been the sword and the shield, the executioner, the reapers. Now we must take this piece of clay and shape it into the world that we want, and the one that so many others desperately need.
The time of the Deadlands is over. Let the reclamation begin, and let us lead the way.
Ria Sevaria of Goshawk