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Discourse # 1

                We flow ever more closer to our own destruction, riding the wave that is our own undoing. We rape, and murder. Pillaging our way ahead, our empire in ash, roads in ruin as we march forward. Children of chaos, children of the Apocalypse watching it unfold before their eyes through a shiny box, no longer recognizing their own reflections. Deliver the final blow, cripple their reserves and then when they least expect it demolish any hope to flee, to escape. To secure victory, sacrifice decency all in the name of glory, under the ruse of safety. There shall be no freedom to be had, only iron and chains. Shackles that will be sought. Then when the fog of confusion settles and the blood on the field dries, the silent cries will be heard. Echoing the pain across the lifeless wastes.