Descent

You are dying.

It is not a thought that comes easy. It is not at all apparent; quite the opposite. You are at the height of your power. Your influence stretches from one end of the systems to the other, and all know the weight of your boots.

And yet, you're dying. Losing a battle against an implacable, undignified foe, one that all your weapons cannot harm, all your technology can only delay at best. How many battles have you won? How many enemies have you crushed before your will, beneath your boot, buried underneath a mountain of corpses?

And now, you're dying. To an enemy you can no longer understand. One that once was and still is your closest ally. The source of your power – and now it's killing you, slowly, painlessly, from the inside out. Every year, there's less and less of you left. And the more you replace, the less you understand, the more you forget.

Do you even remember who you were? You were the best, once. Hand-picked, fire-forged, undefeated, beautiful. You became the greatest, the most terrible, the most feared and powerful force this system has ever known. And now look at what's left. Just a few more and there won't be anything left at all.

Yes, you are dying. But you are not dead yet. You have not lost your strength, or your numbers, or your anger. And now these obsolete upstarts think the few of them are a threat to you? Let them try. They aren't the first ones, and they won't be the last ones you'll crush without mercy.

So straighten up. Get in line. Get ready. Once more, into the breach. One final hurrah. Let your epitaph be the destruction of all who dare oppose you. What do you have left to fear? You're dying, but right now, you're immortal.

And when you are dead… no one will ever dare forget you lived.