THE PRINCESS THAT WAS PROMISED
War. It goes on, it goes back. Such life was predestined for men like Argilac. Born amongst the rocks and corrals of the stormy coast of Dubrillon, a metaphorical son of the God of sea and thunder. The storm giveth and the storm taketh away. When you find a man, so small, yet so mighty, a survivor to the truest sense of the word. Born into slavery, he was saved. Thrown into the gutter, he made it out alive. Swarmed by chaos incarnate, he rose off the defiled ground, a man he no longer is. All his life, it was a maze of eternity for Argilac. Confusing, crushing, claustrophobic. Yet there were always sparks of light at the end of every tunnel. Lights that were stolen by the sodomy of civilization that was the Maw. What is the point of all this, if the perverted hands hand can just take what it desires. Beauty, life, nature, all replaced by the gargantuan sadomasochist demon wombs that was set to molest the very soul of the galaxy. In the end, what are we fighting for? Perhaps they were right. Death is salvation, the only cure to chaos has never been order, it was destruction.
Hope is no longer a concept in broken Argilac's soul. Not until that one eventful night. Anobis is not Dubrillon, at least the majority of it. Yet in Argilac's broken soul, a piece of Dubrillon had to be replicated. A remnant of the past he clinged so hard to, something that reminds him of what it felt like back in the day, chasing that millisecond glimpse of light. On the concave rock formation off the coast of the Hinterlands of Desh, he built Storm's End. A small yet mighty fortress. Something that resembles the man he was. Until the nineteenth day of the ninth month of that year. Exactly nine months of prophetic dreams of storm and fire. Day twenty of the great storm that hit Hazaria, day three of the forest fire at the Hinterlands. A baby left to die, for the storm or fire to claim. What happened that day was blurry, mythical, and should be taken with a grain of salt. Yet it is said that both the storm and the fire fought to claim the little girl, yet just like that she survived. Just like Argilac did all those years. Argilac often questioned what are we fighting for after all. The answer came straight on his doorstep.
The blue eyes of the young one is all the hope it takes for Argilac. No, not hope for him nor his generation. It's already too little too late for that. Salvation is a closure, only in the next life, for the next generation. From that day, old man Argilac raids, fights, deals, and builds. All for the little girl, Argella Gladiolus, the daughter of storm and fire, the Princess That Was Promised. A prophecy will only be fulfilled if you act upon it and that's what the warlord of Anobis Imperial Remnant does. Old man Argilac can only pray and prepare for a future he will never see, a future brighter than it has ever been. The sun might have set on the old order, but hope survives for another day.
Hope is no longer a concept in broken Argilac's soul. Not until that one eventful night. Anobis is not Dubrillon, at least the majority of it. Yet in Argilac's broken soul, a piece of Dubrillon had to be replicated. A remnant of the past he clinged so hard to, something that reminds him of what it felt like back in the day, chasing that millisecond glimpse of light. On the concave rock formation off the coast of the Hinterlands of Desh, he built Storm's End. A small yet mighty fortress. Something that resembles the man he was. Until the nineteenth day of the ninth month of that year. Exactly nine months of prophetic dreams of storm and fire. Day twenty of the great storm that hit Hazaria, day three of the forest fire at the Hinterlands. A baby left to die, for the storm or fire to claim. What happened that day was blurry, mythical, and should be taken with a grain of salt. Yet it is said that both the storm and the fire fought to claim the little girl, yet just like that she survived. Just like Argilac did all those years. Argilac often questioned what are we fighting for after all. The answer came straight on his doorstep.
The blue eyes of the young one is all the hope it takes for Argilac. No, not hope for him nor his generation. It's already too little too late for that. Salvation is a closure, only in the next life, for the next generation. From that day, old man Argilac raids, fights, deals, and builds. All for the little girl, Argella Gladiolus, the daughter of storm and fire, the Princess That Was Promised. A prophecy will only be fulfilled if you act upon it and that's what the warlord of Anobis Imperial Remnant does. Old man Argilac can only pray and prepare for a future he will never see, a future brighter than it has ever been. The sun might have set on the old order, but hope survives for another day.
