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Gahlran thought he could glimpse a faint violet glow on the inside of the helm as it drew nearer. | Gahlran thought he could glimpse a faint violet glow on the inside of the helm as it drew nearer. | ||
“Isn't it beautiful?” Calus asked, as the voices echoing from the helm grew louder. | |||
“No,” Gahlran replied. | “No,” Gahlran replied. | ||
He thought he should run. He tried to stand, but he found that he could not, rooted to the floor before the | He thought he should run. He tried to stand, but he found that he could not, rooted to the floor before the Emperor's throne by the will of the Councilors. | ||
“I do not like this,” Gahlran said. | “I do not like this,” Gahlran said. | ||
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“This,” said Calus, as the Councilors crowned Gahlran, “is why you were born.” | “This,” said Calus, as the Councilors crowned Gahlran, “is why you were born.” | ||
The violet interior filled | The violet interior filled Gahlran's vision. | ||
“What does it feel like?” asked the Emperor. | “What does it feel like?” asked the Emperor. | ||
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“Fear,” Gahlran said. | “Fear,” Gahlran said. | ||
Calus must have responded, but Gahlran | Calus must have responded, but Gahlran couldn't hear him over the cacophony of voices. | ||
He suddenly found that he could see. | He suddenly found that he could see. | ||
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//AUDIO UNAVAILABLE// | //AUDIO UNAVAILABLE// | ||
They call themselves [[Hunter]]s. Scouts. Survivors scavenging from races older and nobler—so that their people might rebuild what | They call themselves [[Hunter]]s. Scouts. Survivors scavenging from races older and nobler—so that their people might rebuild what they've lost. | ||
They call themselves [[Titan (class)|Titan]]s. Soldiers. Killers—slaying the enemies of humanity so that their City might live one more day. | They call themselves [[Titan (class)|Titan]]s. Soldiers. Killers—slaying the enemies of humanity so that their City might live one more day. | ||
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They call themselves [[Warlock]]s. Martial philosophers. Harbingers of Light. Scholars searching for meaning when all is already lost. Their machine god abandoned them long ago. | They call themselves [[Warlock]]s. Martial philosophers. Harbingers of Light. Scholars searching for meaning when all is already lost. Their machine god abandoned them long ago. | ||
They | They don't understand yet, but they are, all of them, so much more. | ||
It falls to you, my [[Loyalists]], to show them the way. | It falls to you, my [[Loyalists]], to show them the way. You've met them. You know their conviction. | ||
So I unleash you. | So I unleash you. |