HOME | DD

Description
A moving mountain of the gods leads a host of forged worlds and implacable citadels. At the their back, are their loyal legions of warriors and vessels, forged of shifting steel and woven together by living light, wielding the fury of the cosmos as brilliant spears to slay the vile beasts that advance to meet them. Each vessel is a constant bastion of order and authority, a reminder of the rightful rulers of the galaxy and the justice of their design. Within each vessel, each a blade of order spearing through a universe beset by chaos from all sides, lie a company of champions leading a host of steel angels and iron sphinxes. This greats host of order has the constancy of truth on their side and the living memories of generations of legend and heroes of over 10 million years of history behind their back, guiding and strengthening their every step, adding their conviction and purpose to their own.
Facing them are a legion of leviathans, dread serpents and , dominated by the will of voracious predators that hunger for death and destruction. Their masters are a people who eat, sleep, live and breathe war. Whereas the scions and chosen of the authority fight for their ideals, their enemies are those whose very existence is to fight. This makes them extremely dangerous, and has allowed the dark empire of the savages to master dark secrets of destruction that the forces of the authority have no defense against. Their vessels are cruel counterparts to the edifices and bastions of order and stability erected by the forces of the authority. Their vessels are built in the image of monsters from the blackest depths of lore from uncountable cultures, and their gifts them destructive supremacy, but not the resilience and constancy afforded to the followers of the authority. It is a question of how many bastions and hosts of order ill fall before the leviathans do. The heads and greatest engines of both the authority of the rulers and the dark empire have the means to smite stars and sunder whole systems. The results of such a confrontation will be remembered throughout history, unless the victors can undo even that.

The galaxy is alight with the silent brilliance of celestial destruction. Weapons beyond the imagining of any mere mortal tribes set the cosmos aflame, as two of history's greatest warrior-empires battle across innumerable kilometers of void and gas and rock. On one side is an empire whose civilization and culture have reigned supreme for over a dozen million years, expressing their desire to bring order and peace across the known cosmos with an imperial fist. They have brought low any enemy that hath thought to challenge them, to dare to dispute their rightful rulership as divinely-bestowed shepherds and guardians of the galaxy and all her life. By the brilliance of their artifice and by the might of their inexhaustible armies, this empire ministers an imperial peace as is theirs to minister under the writ of Authority bestowed upon them by the will of the gods themselves. This divine mandate is the Mantle of Responsibility, and the empire wear the burden and gravitas of it with pride and unwavering steadfastness. They march forth under the banners of the sacred emblem of the Mantle as it is meant of be, looking over the cosmos in a strong and firm embrace, serving as the implacable bulwark against all that wish to cause malice and chaos within the universe. Any foe that dares to try will meet the will of an empire united, enlightened by their knowledge and skill to surpass all other forms of life and whose mandate has been proven through strength for over 10 million years. Nothing will disrupt the rightful order of the universe if they have anything to say about it, and they always have something to say about it.

The imperial rulers of the galaxy sit content on their lofty thrones for so long ,however, they have now been forced to dirty their hands once again. The ideals and self-idealization of the ruling empire has left them ignorant to the truth of the universe, how suffering and chaos fester under the veneer of order they so vehemently enforce within their own borders, which they claim extend to the very edges of the galaxy. On the periphery of the cosmos, there lies a power other than the rulers, beings whose very nature screams out in defiance and rejection of all the rulers hold to be absolute. These beings are warrior, they are scholars, they are statesmen, they are scientists. They are the hopes and dreams of all the peoples of the galaxy who have had enough, those who look the rulers in their arrogant eyes and scream ENOUGH. They are the ones who break the chains of control sent out by the rulers, who see their existence of freedom and independence as one of subsentient barbarism and animal vileness, demonic cruelty made manifest. These beings are alike in their power and weapons and science in so many ways, and in so many others they are different. They did what they had to when chaos and evil threatened to engulf the galaxy, knowing that the rulers and their rules would never respond to the threat appropriately in time. With their minds unshackled by the strictures of the rulers, they did what they must. They held the shaping sickness at bay when no one else would. They gave their all to contain the plague and to spare the wider universe of its despair. And through the blood and war and strife, they prevailed. And in their willingness to do what they must, they enacted cruelties on the rulers and those they shepherded to save them form infinitely-greater cruelties, knowing the rulers could never understand. Their warnings of the sickness were dismissed by the rulers as the ramblings of an entitled child crying wolf. These peoples know the dread retribution that their actions will bring unto themselves, but they press on, knowing it is the right and only way to prevail and save the galaxy from the sickness.

Now the rulers face them with their full might and fury, with the power of destruction and conquest with their living ancestors and ten million years of history on their side. Suns are drained of their celestial fire and worlds stripped down to dust to fuel their war machine, the primordial rock of the universe smelted in the forge of celestial providence and woven with luminance and alloyed with radiance made solid. Armadas are raised, more numerous than the stars the eye can see, blotting out the skies and vision of those who would dare to question the righteousness of the rulers and their authority. Their enemies, the unbowed, those who have spat in the face of their authority for eons past, and rose up to do so again every time the rulers thought them broken and put in their place. The unbowed are one, but are many. They are a panoply of voices and cultures and wills united in the common belief that they serve no outside force. As the rulers decry and demean them as barbarians and animals, they see themselves as realists. The rulers accuse them of promoting violence and cruelty across the galaxy on their whim, with no iota of justice of righteousness, but they know that they do what will save the most. Their aggression ,their paranoia, their preparations for war have not failed them as of yet. They were shattered and broken before, and every time, they stood back up and started again. The sickness has ravaged and maimed them, and they yet push on. Now the rulers see their actions of cruelty, and, ever blinded by their own ego and self-righteousness, scoff at the warnings and evidence declared by the unbowed. The rulers scoff, for how can barbaric animals know of selflessness and sacrifice, hallmarks of the righteous? The rulers see the unbowed as a stain, a sickness on the galaxy to be expunged and put in their place. The unbowed are defiant, and they will drown the galaxy in the still-screaming corpses of the rulers drowning in their own blood if that is what it takes to make them understand that their iron rule, their oppression and repression will not go accepted.

And so this conflict of Tyrants and Liberators, this clash of Gods and Demons, this confrontation of Authority and Unchained drags on, scoring the galaxy with brilliant displays of power and light and death. The two empires, cardinal opposites and anathema to each other in mind and soul if so similar in form and knowledge, continue their battles for centuries. The rulers undoubtedly have the advantage in sustainability and resources, capable of outlasting and overwhelming the unbowed brutes and their violent existence. However, the unbowed are cunning, devious, adaptable, extremely hard to excise and cleanse from a place. These attributes, providing so easy an avenue for the rulers and their indoctrinated peons to jeer at and belittle, are also the traits that make them strong. Even if the rulers can send a thousand soldiers to die for each one of the savages they cleanse, how many fathers and sons, mothers and daughters do they have to sacrifice to an ignoble end? How many lives and families do they have to shatter before they can build a ramp of martyrs tall enough to storm the savages' ramparts? How much suffering can they add to the whole before their people began to lose the will to go on? After enough time, even the strongest of wills will wane, and even the strongest of warriors will tire, even the fiercest of forges will lose their fire. They might be able to overcome the savages, the unbowed, but can they do it without being made to bow themselves? This is the nature of the war between the Authority and the Unbowed, and it will not be the last such war to plague the galaxy.

Halo 4 & 5 © 343 Industries and Microsoft

Description
A moving mountain of the gods leads a host of forged worlds and implacable citadels. At the their back, are their loyal legions of warriors and vessels, forged of shifting steel and woven together by living light, wielding the fury of the cosmos as brilliant spears to slay the vile beasts that advance to meet them. Each vessel is a constant bastion of order and authority, a reminder of the rightful rulers of the galaxy and the justice of their design. Within each vessel, each a blade of order spearing through a universe beset by chaos from all sides, lie a company of champions leading a host of steel angels and iron sphinxes. This greats host of order has the constancy of truth on their side and the living memories of generations of legend and heroes of over 10 million years of history behind their back, guiding and strengthening their every step, adding their conviction and purpose to their own.
Facing them are a legion of leviathans, dread serpents and , dominated by the will of voracious predators that hunger for death and destruction. Their masters are a people who eat, sleep, live and breathe war. Whereas the scions and chosen of the authority fight for their ideals, their enemies are those whose very existence is to fight. This makes them extremely dangerous, and has allowed the dark empire of the savages to master dark secrets of destruction that the forces of the authority have no defense against. Their vessels are cruel counterparts to the edifices and bastions of order and stability erected by the forces of the authority. Their vessels are built in the image of monsters from the blackest depths of lore from uncountable cultures, and their gifts them destructive supremacy, but not the resilience and constancy afforded to the followers of the authority. It is a question of how many bastions and hosts of order ill fall before the leviathans do. The heads and greatest engines of both the authority of the rulers and the dark empire have the means to smite stars and sunder whole systems. The results of such a confrontation will be remembered throughout history, unless the victors can undo even that.

The galaxy is alight with the silent brilliance of celestial destruction. Weapons beyond the imagining of any mere mortal tribes set the cosmos aflame, as two of history's greatest warrior-empires battle across innumerable kilometers of void and gas and rock. On one side is an empire whose civilization and culture have reigned supreme for over a dozen million years, expressing their desire to bring order and peace across the known cosmos with an imperial fist. They have brought low any enemy that hath thought to challenge them, to dare to dispute their rightful rulership as divinely-bestowed shepherds and guardians of the galaxy and all her life. By the brilliance of their artifice and by the might of their inexhaustible armies, this empire ministers an imperial peace as is theirs to minister under the writ of Authority bestowed upon them by the will of the gods themselves. This divine mandate is the Mantle of Responsibility, and the empire wear the burden and gravitas of it with pride and unwavering steadfastness. They march forth under the banners of the sacred emblem of the Mantle as it is meant of be, looking over the cosmos in a strong and firm embrace, serving as the implacable bulwark against all that wish to cause malice and chaos within the universe. Any foe that dares to try will meet the will of an empire united, enlightened by their knowledge and skill to surpass all other forms of life and whose mandate has been proven through strength for over 10 million years. Nothing will disrupt the rightful order of the universe if they have anything to say about it, and they always have something to say about it.

The imperial rulers of the galaxy sit content on their lofty thrones for so long ,however, they have now been forced to dirty their hands once again. The ideals and self-idealization of the ruling empire has left them ignorant to the truth of the universe, how suffering and chaos fester under the veneer of order they so vehemently enforce within their own borders, which they claim extend to the very edges of the galaxy. On the periphery of the cosmos, there lies a power other than the rulers, beings whose very nature screams out in defiance and rejection of all the rulers hold to be absolute. These beings are warrior, they are scholars, they are statesmen, they are scientists. They are the hopes and dreams of all the peoples of the galaxy who have had enough, those who look the rulers in their arrogant eyes and scream ENOUGH. They are the ones who break the chains of control sent out by the rulers, who see their existence of freedom and independence as one of subsentient barbarism and animal vileness, demonic cruelty made manifest. These beings are alike in their power and weapons and science in so many ways, and in so many others they are different. They did what they had to when chaos and evil threatened to engulf the galaxy, knowing that the rulers and their rules would never respond to the threat appropriately in time. With their minds unshackled by the strictures of the rulers, they did what they must. They held the shaping sickness at bay when no one else would. They gave their all to contain the plague and to spare the wider universe of its despair. And through the blood and war and strife, they prevailed. And in their willingness to do what they must, they enacted cruelties on the rulers and those they shepherded to save them form infinitely-greater cruelties, knowing the rulers could never understand. Their warnings of the sickness were dismissed by the rulers as the ramblings of an entitled child crying wolf. These peoples know the dread retribution that their actions will bring unto themselves, but they press on, knowing it is the right and only way to prevail and save the galaxy from the sickness.

Now the rulers face them with their full might and fury, with the power of destruction and conquest with their living ancestors and ten million years of history on their side. Suns are drained of their celestial fire and worlds stripped down to dust to fuel their war machine, the primordial rock of the universe smelted in the forge of celestial providence and woven with luminance and alloyed with radiance made solid. Armadas are raised, more numerous than the stars the eye can see, blotting out the skies and vision of those who would dare to question the righteousness of the rulers and their authority. Their enemies, the unbowed, those who have spat in the face of their authority for eons past, and rose up to do so again every time the rulers thought them broken and put in their place. The unbowed are one, but are many. They are a panoply of voices and cultures and wills united in the common belief that they serve no outside force. As the rulers decry and demean them as barbarians and animals, they see themselves as realists. The rulers accuse them of promoting violence and cruelty across the galaxy on their whim, with no iota of justice of righteousness, but they know that they do what will save the most. Their aggression ,their paranoia, their preparations for war have not failed them as of yet. They were shattered and broken before, and every time, they stood back up and started again. The sickness has ravaged and maimed them, and they yet push on. Now the rulers see their actions of cruelty, and, ever blinded by their own ego and self-righteousness, scoff at the warnings and evidence declared by the unbowed. The rulers scoff, for how can barbaric animals know of selflessness and sacrifice, hallmarks of the righteous? The rulers see the unbowed as a stain, a sickness on the galaxy to be expunged and put in their place. The unbowed are defiant, and they will drown the galaxy in the still-screaming corpses of the rulers drowning in their own blood if that is what it takes to make them understand that their iron rule, their oppression and repression will not go accepted.

And so this conflict of Tyrants and Liberators, this clash of Gods and Demons, this confrontation of Authority and Unchained drags on, scoring the galaxy with brilliant displays of power and light and death. The two empires, cardinal opposites and anathema to each other in mind and soul if so similar in form and knowledge, continue their battles for centuries. The rulers undoubtedly have the advantage in sustainability and resources, capable of outlasting and overwhelming the unbowed brutes and their violent existence. However, the unbowed are cunning, devious, adaptable, extremely hard to excise and cleanse from a place. These attributes, providing so easy an avenue for the rulers and their indoctrinated peons to jeer at and belittle, are also the traits that make them strong. Even if the rulers can send a thousand soldiers to die for each one of the savages they cleanse, how many fathers and sons, mothers and daughters do they have to sacrifice to an ignoble end? How many lives and families do they have to shatter before they can build a ramp of martyrs tall enough to storm the savages' ramparts? How much suffering can they add to the whole before their people began to lose the will to go on? After enough time, even the strongest of wills will wane, and even the strongest of warriors will tire, even the fiercest of forges will lose their fire. They might be able to overcome the savages, the unbowed, but can they do it without being made to bow themselves? This is the nature of the war between the Authority and the Unbowed, and it will not be the last such war to plague the galaxy.

Halo 4 & 5 © 343 Industries and Microsoft