Capitalism
The sun crawled over the horizon with the same speed as sap running down the side of a tree. Time seemed to stand still as of late with all that was going on. The times seemed to bring him back into a life of conflict. He practically did everything in full armor anymore and he lost count how many sets he’d lost to the war. Heaving a deep sigh he rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. Anguish was clear in his eyes but he would not let his men or his allies see it.
He was always the first to embrace the blood of the dragon but so much death would always take its toll on any man. As much as wished to have a place as immortal as the Gods, he was still human. His place with Osiris had been left behind. The strength of his former alliance was clearly too much. His intentions when joining them were pure but over time it became clear that it was only domination by default due to sheer numbers alone. There was a voice in the back of his head that always urged him. This world is not meant to be ruled by such force. This world thrives on the competition within its own populace. The imbalance was more than he could bear. It quickly became obvious that he was not the only one to think so.
There was a slight chill in the air. His breath lingered after the last exhale, seeming to freeze before his very eyes. It was an ironic thing, almost symbolic to how time was nearly frozen in his world. At the base of the hill on which he stood was the source of beacon’s light. It reached into the sky as far as one could see. It was yet another generator claiming the territory of an enemy’s alliance. In the blink of an eye he could hear another voice from one of his most recent conversations.
“Why must you attack everyone? Why can’t this alliance work with ours?”
Artagan’s frustration came with a pure heart but Aegon knew his fervor held personal weight as much as political.
“Art, you must understand our position. We’re not simply vying for power and control. We want the people to thrive and they thrive on competition. It is an attempt at balance.”
“It makes no sense. I don’t understand how you justify it, old friend.”
Aegon watched as the frustration simmered. He knew that understanding was slowly overtaking the man’s personal reservations. He looked at the acting leader of Vanguard with nothing but consternation.
“Listen old friend, I know you have a lot of history here, but that holds no bearing with this new dawn. It is a new era. The Artifact remains a mystery to us all and we must follow the lead it has given us.” He was referring to the events that have transpired so recently that opened their eyes to the existence of the Valley of the Ancients as well as this new territory technology. “I have no doubt that the world will continue to change...but for now, this is the conflict we embody.”
Artagan nodded reluctantly, knowing that there would be no change. The wars would continue. Friends would be at the blade if for nothing else than to continue the competitive spirit and in some cases...well in some cases it was much more.
“I do not look forward to raising neither sword or bow against you, brother.” Art looked at Dragonstone’s leader with pause.
“Nor do I, but the Artifact protects us all from a permanent fate and our prowess will only get better.” A faint smile reached his lips as he shook the swine faced companion’s hand.
The air heated up and the hairs on his arm raised. A bolt of lightning hailed from the sky and struck the inhibitor not far from him. One, two, three, and four. Four allies came forth from the platform fully geared and prepared for any fight that might contest their attack. It was fortunate on this day, however, that no blood would be spilled.
“Ah, no Opyc?” A smile accompanied his words. Almost as though in queue a final bolt of lightning fell, spreading the team with a concussive blast. Aegon was a little rattled and shook his head to reset the world into focus, looking at the newcomer.
“What happened?” The question came from the esteemed worker from Albion. The look on Opyc’s face was confusion.
“You blasted us all with the inhibitor…”
“Oh. Sorry…”
Quiet laughter was all that could follow as the six of them stood and began walking toward the territory generator. Aegon glanced to each side and watched as his companions tossed the corks and bottles away from potions. He could still feel the viscous fluid from a Dwemer Fireblood Ale in his throat. The result was well worth the awkward texture as he felt like he could take on the world. His feet were swift, pressing his body forward with an acceleration unknown by normal standards.
His sword cut through the air with deft precision, ringing against the iron skin of the golems. Sparks flew and the ominous groans from the metal beasts were the only precursor to their strikes. He took a hit square to the chest, knocking the wind from him and sending him backward into a tree. Strafing was the only savior as the thing took another forceful step toward him. The fights differed greatly from those of human opponents. His mind still clutched the recent battles where Psy stood toe to toe with him in single combat as well as with his collective group of allies. He paused at the thought.
Parry, strike, repeat. The fight went on throughout the afternoon and night where the two men continued to shift between the inhibitor and the generator. Psy would seek refuge in his Protectors the same as Aegon would. It was a standoff and would only end with the first one that made a fatal mistake or decided they were done.
Aegon was relentless in his defense, nearly as much as Psy was with his attack. The small expanse between the two structures became a no-man’s land where they would clash. The leader of FKA slowly lost armor to the power of Dragon’s Bane and retreated to resupply. Aegon nearly had the inhibitor destroyed when he returned. The leader of Dragonstone was forced to play completely defensive on Psy’s return. Supplies had dwindled nearly to non-existent and his armor suffered such damage that too much of an attack would render him vulnerable.
The fight dissolved the same as Psy’s resolve. It was almost akin to suicide. The hour was late and the sun was starting to rise in their world. The notorious raider stepped forward amidst three protectors. One crushed his helmet, breaking it to pieces when iron fist drove downward. The other two struck hard against his body armor and his death came swiftly. Aegon gestured with a salute to the man as he fell, in honor of a good fight.
The pounding of iron feet on the ground pulled him back to reality. The recurring battles and years of service to the Artifact was taking its toll. He had scattered focus. The nights he spent in the brewery were no doubt making things worse. He glanced left and right at the brothers in arms that came together so quickly and with a force even the Osiris alliance felt.
That did not stop his sense of foreboding. There was always something more or something worse around the corner. It seemed to Aegon that this was no different than any other instance. The men he accompanied were already tearing into the doorway to the generator toward an exposed core.
What will come of Argus once we cross this new horizon of war? What will become of Loka when true battle creeps to their doorstep? There were too many questions to bother trying to answer them until the time came. Until then, it was the struggle for something more. Balance would not necessarily be the right word and it was nothing as proverbial as justice and all things right. Their purpose was much simpler and needed no further elaboration. As the core suffered its last blow everyone barreled outside and watched it crumble into ruins through the explosion….
Their purpose was to fight.
