Address The Masses

Thunder cracked over the night sky of Novum Dolorum. This hostile world of conflicting weather formations had been designated the training grounds for the coming faction wars. Across it's surface, beneath the vast electro-storms warping it's heavens, various clans dug in and set up their bases in lieu of the battles ahead. Shade of mountain and depth of ravine offered housing for the numerous titans that would, in the coming days ahead, shake the very ground upon which they all stood. The ebon darkness that encased the planet would soon be split by the brilliant fractures of laser fire and atomic lesions of war.

Many had stood this event in the past and many had survived. Of course, there were those who still bathed in their victories, and those who yet hungered for either glory or vengeance. Time was a telling mistress and the future was a witch who weaved her magic, but the present... oh, the present was a whore of contemplation and longing.

Earth-breaking explosions split the silence and, on a local scale, the curses and praises of technical advance and failure rang out across the wastes. Soon the reckoning would come. Many had re-formed as they once stood during the first faction wars. Others? Well, they had found new homes beneath fresh banners.

In the camps and bastions the possibilities of prospective foes were weighed and considered. Line up's were juggled and specialists tested and regulated their formations. If such a hive of activity could be measured it would give cause for our greatest scientists to re-evaluate many theories. This will be a cataclysmic event of monumental proportions; In the air hung the words: "Let the games BEGIN"!









Submitted by  Steve Ross #162076