The Second Omen
14 Nov 2018Ironwatsas
Does not the blacksmith realize, he himself forges the dagger that will eventually be plunged into his own heart?Should he see the chance of his demise by a tool of his own forging, and fear such an ironic end, does he not smash and destroy his hearth, his forge, and anvil? Cast away the tools that give him purpose. His hands and knowledge become meaningless, if he does not apply them to some greater task. He dies not of a dagger to the heart but of poverty and hunger, or of war. When he cannot forge the daggers and swords and spears his people need to defend themselves, and when the bandits come, they show no mercy.
This is the paradox into which humanity has directed itself. The Bandits are at the gates. The Great Thargorum has begun, and humanity, thus far, has been blindly flailing in the dark. It has no daggers nor swords of it's own forging to stab at the heart of the alien foe, but merely the shards of a dead race as a mere stopgap.
And what of the Guardians? They defeated the Thargoid menace, by their own virtue. Not that of anyone else. They used every resource at their disposal, and spared no expense in the pursuit of victory. They forged their daggers, used them as they should be used, but like the fearful blacksmith, were stabbed in the heart with them. Of course, had they not, they would have just as well been destroyed by the Bandits. The Thargoids.
Here lies the paradox. Does one choose to die of their own action, or their own inaction? Be it an individual, or a civilization?
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When a dagger remains but a dagger, it has one purpose. To stab, to cut, to kill. And ultimately, it may well find it's way back to the heart of the one who forged it. But when the dagger's steel can be melded and folded to other purposes, does it remain as deadly? Can not the Blacksmith turn his swords into plowshares?
The Sword becomes the plow. The plow breaks the earth and allows the farmer to plant his crop. The plow can be reforged into a beam that can be put into a building, a rail for a railway, an iron fence, a steel hull of a ship. That is the choice of the outsider, of the fearful or enterprising blacksmith, but who is to say, that is what the Dagger itself would choose were it given the chance?
Would the dagger choose to remain static, to kill? Or to change and evolve? To become a pillar of a society that can produce more daggers, more efficiently.
The blade has given way to the gun, the gun has given way to the pulse laser and plasma accelerator. The Dagger would need to change, to adapt, to evolve to keep pace with the march of war, lest it become a rusted and forgotten relic.
The Dagger must be remade and remolded into something useful for the new era. Lest it rust and rot away, or be forgotten as a relict of the past.
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Times change. The Cycle progresses. The Omens are cast. The Stars are right.
Mankind must change. We must follow the cycle. We must be wary of the omens. The Stars are in it's grasp.
I am the sole conservator of the Omens and the Axioms. I know what needs to be done and why. There are of course, others, who have likely come to the same conclusions, that they are logical and should be followed. Yet no one but I, no living man woman or child. No human information database or Thargoid Queen or Guardian monolith understands where we are in time, and why it is now significant.
I cannot state these reasons in absolutes. There are few who would understand the significance of this information. Fewer still who would know how to respond to it. And live on with their hearts and minds and souls intact.
And it is this Few, who will become key in the coming months. There are individuals, whom fate has decreed to cross paths with I, out there as we speak. Extraordinary men and women, whom shall become my champions.
I will need to find them. Those who are worthy to know the secrets of the Universe. I will demand of them an oath of blood and soul and absolute loyalty.
I will require an Adjutant - A visionary worthy of understanding and shaping the secrets of the universe. One whom will have a guiding hand in forging the omens made manifest. One whom shall be the Executor of the Axioms and embrace with determination and jubilation and absolute loyalty, the path set forth.
I will require an Archivist - One born of an extraordinary mind, an ability to perceive beyond their peers, a thirst and lust for knowledge. Information is both a tool and a weapon and a resource to be hoarded. I will need one whom can wield the mind and the letter and the databank as both a carrot and stick.
I will require a Magus - Mankind has lost it's belief in the occult, the arcane, and the eldritch. I will require someone who hasn't. One who will sing the songs and hymns and omens and joyous madness of the ancient, horrible, and hellish things, slithering in the frigid black beyond the realms of the scientific, the schematic, and the empirical.
I will require a Dragon - A god born of war. A rose of killing thorns. There will always be those who will fear the omens, the change, the unorthodox. Or simply those too blind, mad, or self interested to see co-operation or diplomacy as pertinent and good. Violence and death are as much tools as politics, finance, or technology. Let the dragon spread his wings, and ensure that the blood of those who make themselves enemies flow hot and free.
I will require an Industrialist - Money is power. To achieve anything will require a honeyed tongue, and a wide pocket book. Machines must be built, ships must be maintained, spears kept sharp. The Industrialist shall be my diplomat, orator, and logistical, to ensure the Cycle is not perturbed or delayed by matters animal, vegetable, and mineral.
Only when these men and women present themselves and prove themselves worthy shall the hands take their tools and forge the vast and inscrutable works that shall finish what others started.
The search for these spirited souls begins thus.
The gathering flame shall be lit and the paths intertwined.
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The Second Omen. The Paradox of the One and the All.