Post by Charlotte on Apr 20, 2019 10:59:17 GMT -5
The humans.
Their cousins.
Everywhere.
Their scale. Their priorities. Their notions. Their epochs.
You know the shape. My friends, you know the silhouette. None have the luxury of remaining ignorant of this ugliness. Bilaterally symmetrical bipeds, it is all awkward bulbous heads perched atop brittle necks run through with locked-up bones bracing bucketlike torsos. Blind from the back, foolishly defenseless, the bearers scrabble to cower within the metals and stones of the galaxy to protect themselves. Their scrawny, inflexible limbs; their stiff compositions. Bend them nearly any way: they break. Their stinking guts sit eager to be spilled out of their spongy frames. How is it that this inferior design dominates?
Long have we looked, but not seen.
There have been Jedi. There have been Sith. There have been sorcerers and gangsters by other titles, by other means. What are the names? Shall I speak them? Those who have torn us all asunder as if they wait in queue to be born to the task?
Revan.
Bane.
Palpatine.
Vader.
Moonrider.
Tlin.
Buffton.
Vikas.
How many others? Smaller of scope, yet no less vicious? I can name many, from countless Systems. I know you can as well, my friends. I know.
Long have we looked, but not seen. We accepted the story of a battle of Light and Darkness. We believed we witnessed the churning of creation itself, good and evil, the gentle and the harsh.
We were wrong.
The enemy has but one shape. The enemy has but one silhouette. We know it well.
Those who would destroy us and the galaxy--the enemy--the only enemy there has ever been--the only enemy who has ever mattered! It does not make itself known by the unveiling of hidden powers! It makes itself known readily, by its form alone!
Two arms.
Two legs.
One head.
One fleshy trunk.
When this shadow is cast toward you, you know yourself to be in the presence of the pestilence of this galaxy.
And you, my friends, know what you must do.
Their cousins.
Everywhere.
Their scale. Their priorities. Their notions. Their epochs.
You know the shape. My friends, you know the silhouette. None have the luxury of remaining ignorant of this ugliness. Bilaterally symmetrical bipeds, it is all awkward bulbous heads perched atop brittle necks run through with locked-up bones bracing bucketlike torsos. Blind from the back, foolishly defenseless, the bearers scrabble to cower within the metals and stones of the galaxy to protect themselves. Their scrawny, inflexible limbs; their stiff compositions. Bend them nearly any way: they break. Their stinking guts sit eager to be spilled out of their spongy frames. How is it that this inferior design dominates?
Long have we looked, but not seen.
There have been Jedi. There have been Sith. There have been sorcerers and gangsters by other titles, by other means. What are the names? Shall I speak them? Those who have torn us all asunder as if they wait in queue to be born to the task?
Revan.
Bane.
Palpatine.
Vader.
Moonrider.
Tlin.
Buffton.
Vikas.
How many others? Smaller of scope, yet no less vicious? I can name many, from countless Systems. I know you can as well, my friends. I know.
Long have we looked, but not seen. We accepted the story of a battle of Light and Darkness. We believed we witnessed the churning of creation itself, good and evil, the gentle and the harsh.
We were wrong.
The enemy has but one shape. The enemy has but one silhouette. We know it well.
Those who would destroy us and the galaxy--the enemy--the only enemy there has ever been--the only enemy who has ever mattered! It does not make itself known by the unveiling of hidden powers! It makes itself known readily, by its form alone!
Two arms.
Two legs.
One head.
One fleshy trunk.
When this shadow is cast toward you, you know yourself to be in the presence of the pestilence of this galaxy.
And you, my friends, know what you must do.