[War is a two-way street. Each side does what they believe they are in the right to do. When met with resistance, they fight back. When their lives are endangered, they defend themselves. Regardless of who instigates the war, once it starts good and evil becomes a matter of opinion.
Many of the remaining victims of the chemical fallout, the remaining trolls, had arrived not long before 11/11/11 day. Though they had been raised for this exact purpose, they were still very green. Inexperienced. The invasion seemed as good as complete, as far as the youngsters were concerned. It was very unfortunate for those eager to make a mark in history. Those who had something to prove.
Then the virus struck. There was nothing to prove anymore.
There was only survival.
Abandoned by the very empire they were fighting for, they were left to deal with the aftermath. Their own forces -in some cases, their own friends- were turning against them. Many alien brethren who they had witnessed fall before them rose once more and attacked indiscriminately.
Their culture was not unfamiliar with the undead.
They were unfamiliar with it en mass. They were unfamiliar with the territory.
It became a quick and growing problem throughout the sweeps to come. The remaining few, the ones immune to the disease, were hunted down by human and undead alike. The former with a vendetta and pride in what was left of their miserable planet. The latter were eager to feed upon them, make their numbers grow. There was little rationality. No kinship. No remorse. There was only suffering.
The day time was hardly a safe time for a still stable-minded troll to be out and about. No time was, really. The undead we less of a threat during the day, but there were still the humans to worry about. Though fewer in numbers they were still dangerous.
Especially to a troll with no powers. Nothing to give him an edge over his predators.
But the day time was the only time he could avoid the undead, who were an even greater threat in his mind. Humans can't manipulate trolls. They have no psychic powers to use against them. It took greater strength for humans to take them down than a fellow troll. Or former fellow troll, he guessed.
Still, while the sun was nowhere near as painful as the Alternian one, it was still a pain to have to endure. Begrudgingly it was a pain he needed to trudge through to get to safety. He had survived this long. Dying now would be fucking stupid.
With sickle in hand he carefully traversed the dystopia that was once a human community. As soon as he heard a sound in the distance he made sure to take cover behind what he could only assume was the wall of a former hive. He looked up to spot a figure in the distance.
Human. Shit.
Avoiding confrontation would be best, but it was only one human. Maybe he could take him out before he even noticed he was there?
He decided to watch for a few minutes more, trying to find an ideal opening to strike.]
no subject
Many of the remaining victims of the chemical fallout, the remaining trolls, had arrived not long before 11/11/11 day. Though they had been raised for this exact purpose, they were still very green. Inexperienced. The invasion seemed as good as complete, as far as the youngsters were concerned. It was very unfortunate for those eager to make a mark in history. Those who had something to prove.
Then the virus struck. There was nothing to prove anymore.
There was only survival.
Abandoned by the very empire they were fighting for, they were left to deal with the aftermath. Their own forces -in some cases, their own friends- were turning against them. Many alien brethren who they had witnessed fall before them rose once more and attacked indiscriminately.
Their culture was not unfamiliar with the undead.
They were unfamiliar with it en mass. They were unfamiliar with the territory.
It became a quick and growing problem throughout the sweeps to come. The remaining few, the ones immune to the disease, were hunted down by human and undead alike. The former with a vendetta and pride in what was left of their miserable planet. The latter were eager to feed upon them, make their numbers grow. There was little rationality. No kinship. No remorse. There was only suffering.
The day time was hardly a safe time for a still stable-minded troll to be out and about. No time was, really. The undead we less of a threat during the day, but there were still the humans to worry about. Though fewer in numbers they were still dangerous.
Especially to a troll with no powers. Nothing to give him an edge over his predators.
But the day time was the only time he could avoid the undead, who were an even greater threat in his mind. Humans can't manipulate trolls. They have no psychic powers to use against them. It took greater strength for humans to take them down than a fellow troll. Or former fellow troll, he guessed.
Still, while the sun was nowhere near as painful as the Alternian one, it was still a pain to have to endure. Begrudgingly it was a pain he needed to trudge through to get to safety. He had survived this long. Dying now would be fucking stupid.
With sickle in hand he carefully traversed the dystopia that was once a human community. As soon as he heard a sound in the distance he made sure to take cover behind what he could only assume was the wall of a former hive. He looked up to spot a figure in the distance.
Human. Shit.
Avoiding confrontation would be best, but it was only one human. Maybe he could take him out before he even noticed he was there?
He decided to watch for a few minutes more, trying to find an ideal opening to strike.]