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Beyond War: Humor and Drama
How is it that life exists in the shadow of such power and evil?
Life is what we know because the Sanguine are not killing machines or monsters alien to who we are and the human
condition. It is their very fondness of it that sustains life beyond the failure of complex systems.
The Prayer of Blood - the holy book of the Sanguine - says "Humble is the Hand of God, that we rest in its palm
never knowing where we dwell."
All that is will, empathy, rage, anger, and defiance is the soul of the Sanguine King, and it is to be admired -
a perfect right in the face of certain and overwhelming defeat, the most holy hope.
The Sanguine therefore, while not a unified people, share a singular deeply ingrained common set of memories and
emotions of the Sanguine King in his rebellion against creation, and recognize that same element in its presence
in life. Those that do not are culled by their peers, enemies of the one core belief shared by those chosen by
He knows the mind of his subjects, against their own will, and in that knows the difference between humility and
pursuit of power. The All Father stares on those that take up the sword, and judges them. For where there is war
he comes like the wind on the smell of blood a shark from across the ocean of time and space, seeking honor.
War is not glory, but those that stand in opposition to war and its victims seek justice are blessed by the King
of Kings, who walks in fire and through the mountain fortress walls of the End of the World.
For each who strikes for glory or power, there the sands of the desert are like the grains the many children of
the King, shifting and blowing through the stars, the foundation of worlds.
The creators fought to regain control of the transmaterial technology, certainly, while others sheltered in their
realms and hid their cities away from the world to protect themselves form the mark of the Sanguine blood upon
so many worlds. The recovery of which would be like trying to pick up each grain of sand once the hourglass
shattered, before they hit the ground.
Automated weapons that burn them from the skies, solar powered ships that move by day, serpents from the stars that
cross the sky looking for the sons of Blood among the worlds of men... entire worlds covered in insects and life
scourged from so many planets that the Universe became little more than a morgue of red sand and airless rocks, but
still they come. Rising from the darkness, living war.
A mind that cannot be compelled to submit or kneel before a lesser God than kindness.
A soul that eats other souls.
One who dwells in silence.
It is the peace of such occupation that life is granted breath and beauty, pause, and blissful ignorance of the
vulnerability of all things which are fixed in place and time - and abhorrent of all limits against the Kai'Gi
and their blessing of ignorance and slavery, death, and the cult of the child that enslaves generations to the
subsistence of their means and their masters want - the Sanguine are a thorn in the hand of the gardener.
Able to live a life like man, and walk among the Stars, they chose us to be free.
En Sanguine Seraphim - in the Blood of the Free Soldiers, saved.
What the Gods of Man would call 'evil', they call 'human'.
And a human life they chose, contrary all escapes.