So I had this dream as I was waking up this morning.
Scene: Upland scrub forest. In the valley below there are worked fields and paddocks for livestock divided by split rail fences, and a gravel road. A sprawling set of buildings burn in the distance. A double line of men (there are a few women amongst them, but not many) in dirty, sweat and soot stained 19’th century style long underwear are being forced towards a hulking landing ship squatting in one of the fields by guards in black battlearmor and full face helmets, with automatic weapons {Think pulse rifles from Aliens, but in a rifle rather than carbine formation}. Weapons stud it’s side and chin, and it’s apparently quite heavy from the depth it’s landing legs have sunk into the chalky soil. By the side of the double line is a figure in blocky powered armor, carrying a tri-barrel. Scattered in thin windrows on the ground, mostly by the split rail fences, are gruesomely torn up dead men.
“I can’t believe they are resisting. Don’t they see how futile it is.”
Camera Pans to a group on one of the ridges overlooking this. There are a couple of humanoids (almost men, but with something not quite right, both of them are bearded) in hooded black robes with silver embroidered symbols on the hem. With them are two men with broad brimmed black hats and frock coats {The leader looks like Mal Reynolds, but I blame that on watching Firefly last night}. The group is surrounded by half a dozen guards equipped as the troops in the valley.
“Well, your honor, these Draka are a piece of nasty work,” states the human leader, trying to sound humble, and almost succeeding. “When we saw a demonstration of your firepower, we knew it would have been useless to fight”
“Quite, and we are being far easier on your people than those wretched bastards down there,” states the hooded leader, who had spoken earlier.
Down in the valley, one of the prisoners starts yelling and cursing his captors. He is pulled out of line by one of the troopers whose armor is slightly different {sleeker}, and shot through the head.
“Tough bastards though,” says the junior hooded figure. “We’ve had dozens of dead, and hundreds wounded taking this pisspot continent.
In the valley below, a third line of shackled humans is being pushed forward. This one consists of women and children.
The hooded leader looks at him. “That’s all to the good. They should make good janissary stock once we’ve broken them”
At this I woke up.
Scene: Upland scrub forest. In the valley below there are worked fields and paddocks for livestock divided by split rail fences, and a gravel road. A sprawling set of buildings burn in the distance. A double line of men (there are a few women amongst them, but not many) in dirty, sweat and soot stained 19’th century style long underwear are being forced towards a hulking landing ship squatting in one of the fields by guards in black battlearmor and full face helmets, with automatic weapons {Think pulse rifles from Aliens, but in a rifle rather than carbine formation}. Weapons stud it’s side and chin, and it’s apparently quite heavy from the depth it’s landing legs have sunk into the chalky soil. By the side of the double line is a figure in blocky powered armor, carrying a tri-barrel. Scattered in thin windrows on the ground, mostly by the split rail fences, are gruesomely torn up dead men.
“I can’t believe they are resisting. Don’t they see how futile it is.”
Camera Pans to a group on one of the ridges overlooking this. There are a couple of humanoids (almost men, but with something not quite right, both of them are bearded) in hooded black robes with silver embroidered symbols on the hem. With them are two men with broad brimmed black hats and frock coats {The leader looks like Mal Reynolds, but I blame that on watching Firefly last night}. The group is surrounded by half a dozen guards equipped as the troops in the valley.
“Well, your honor, these Draka are a piece of nasty work,” states the human leader, trying to sound humble, and almost succeeding. “When we saw a demonstration of your firepower, we knew it would have been useless to fight”
“Quite, and we are being far easier on your people than those wretched bastards down there,” states the hooded leader, who had spoken earlier.
Down in the valley, one of the prisoners starts yelling and cursing his captors. He is pulled out of line by one of the troopers whose armor is slightly different {sleeker}, and shot through the head.
“Tough bastards though,” says the junior hooded figure. “We’ve had dozens of dead, and hundreds wounded taking this pisspot continent.
In the valley below, a third line of shackled humans is being pushed forward. This one consists of women and children.
The hooded leader looks at him. “That’s all to the good. They should make good janissary stock once we’ve broken them”
At this I woke up.