User blog:Dark dwarves 2/Gilded Emperor

The clacking of boots upon marble, the sound of Cherubs nesting in the eves of the arches and other cervices, and the low mummer of chanting and the drifting smoke of incense. Ever expanding hall ways running for miles littered on all sides with statues, guards, and pilgrims of all sorts and variety. Every once and awhile a scribe, slave, or servitor runs past bearing some sort of tool or scroll heading down to the next department and all of this is within on place, the Imperial palace.

Two officials stride through this all heading for the most sacred location of all, the Eternal gate, beyond it's doors lie the Emperor himself in all his golden splendor. Hardly ever do the doors open and when they do millions of pilgrims flood the outer walls and halls of the palace hoping to catch a glance at their Emperor.

"Look at all this filth just filling the halls. A massive tide of the dregs of society. Half of them can't even speak low Rin!"

"I can't say I agree with you Commodious, but you aren't wrong. Most of these people have made it there life's mission to catch even a glance of the Emperor even if it costs them tooth and nail."

"Fools if you ask me. What is to see in the Emperor? He may not 'age', but you can see the strain in the veins of his body. Heck it is said he can't leave that 'throne' of his for more then a week without finally succumbing to age."

"I've heard that even when out of his throne he wanders like a dead soul both lost and full of sorrow. It's said in his younger days he at least bathed with maidens but know he baths alone with only his slaves to keep him company."

"I heard he just sits and stares into the void crying and laughing like a mad man with his personal Cherubs just sitting in the dark just watching."

"That's not even the worst of it I heard tha...........

They run into (More their attendants and guards run into) the mass of pilgrims standing before the Eternal Gate within a few moments these doors will swing wide open to allow the Emperor's officials and councilors inside for their annual meeting on major Imperial affairs and plans. The two men's guards shove a path through the crowd into the police line which the rest of the officials are waiting.

With the toiling of a massive bell and a sound comparable to the crunching of a thousands pieces of steel at once the Doors swing wide open and as the officials walk in a fight over the front room seats/view begins among the pilgrims with the guards standing by to try and stop any runners, terrorists, or any other fanatics wishing to harm the Emperor.

"The Eternal Hall just seems to get bigger ever year now doesn't it?"

"A bit to big for my tastes. Look at the lavishness of this place, such a waste of Imperial funds and to think this complex just gets bigger and bigger."

"Be quite the Emperor is coming, remember what happened to count Laeo when he wouldn't silence his tongue and just blabbered on as the Emperor proceeded to sit upon his throne."

The Emperor proceeds to climb the many steps that lead up to his throne at his side are his personal attendants and at the base of the stairs, at his side, and standing near his throne are his personal Praetorians. As the Emperor ascends one cannot help but notice that half of his skull is replaced with metal and wire with large 6 large holes that descend from the top of his head down to the base of his neck. Those closer to his throne can smell perfumes and incense used in his weekly cleansing rituals. His bodies frame itself can be said to be although not starved very thin.

As he ascends the throne the high priest and their cultist through flower petals of all varieties and rarity at him while others swing lamps of incense or chant holy chants in his name or to the highest of the gods. As the Emperor finally sits upon his throne his attendants literally 'plug' him into it. With each of the six holes getting it's own bundle of wires and cords that plug into the throne and a master main frame within the bowls of the palace and the planet itself. The Emperor finally stares off into the massed ranks of officials, priests, slaves, and many others gathered before him and utters one word:

"Dicere."

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The Emperor sits virtually alone within the cool clear waters of his personal bath. In these small hours of peace and quite is when he is truly at peace only here can he truly be free not enslaved to the whims of his Empire both material and psychic.

Only here is he free from that throne, that cursed and damned throne, the machine that makes every waking moment torture. For when he is plugged in he enters a state of hyper reality in which he is bound to his Empire in both the Physical and Spiritual worlds, but also torn between them. He can sense everything that happens to his people and can see all. Although he has the ability to protect his Empire from larger threats he is forced to watch as the small things eat away at both his people and his soul. He watches the depravity, excess, and cruelty that dominates his Empire and at times it is said he sheds a single tear as he sits upon the throne.

But

None of this matters now for in these waters he is free if only for a few hours. In these hours he is allowed to ponder his fate and wade around as he pleases not bound by a throne. Yet that throne is his salvation for it has let him live longer then any other Emperor and will lead to his salvation for one day it will come,

"Forma Perfecta"