The Gate War Letters.

[scarypuppy]

*Note, AF stands for After the Fracture, referring to a massive earthquake which split a major continent-island into a massive chain of islands and smaller continental planes. It is used as a reference point in relation to societal changes.

The following collection is comprised of assorted letters and official dispatches from members of numerous nations and peoples who were involved in the Vicious "Gate War" during the years of 1955af and 1964af. This war was on the heels of massive industrial competition and colonial aspiritions which led many nations to become bitter rivals on the world stage. Though this was considered the first fully modern and mechanized war, it was by far the most brutal of the time period. Though eclipsed by the Second Gate War  (1984-1990af) and its horrific scale of slaughter and world changing politics, this war was significant in its instrumental part in the buildup of anxiety and hatred amongst the world's nations that eventually exploded into the conlfict we know today.

These letters are from soldiers, officers, civillians and journalists during the first fully global conflict Hmaria ever fought.

[PhantomStone]

cool i can't wait to hear some more emo

[scarypuppy]

Poem carved into a Naviz Infantry helmet, found by Youranneian soldiers following the overunning of the Jukk feild artillery and trench systems following the unsuccessful Blight campaign.

The cold is my only lover.
I feel naught for the man next to me.
He is soon to death, so why would it matter?

The cold is my only lover.
My homeland condemns me to this place.
So why should I have love of country?

The cold is my only lover.
My weapon is nonliving, unloving.
It is simply a tool with which to deny myself peace.

The cold is my only lover.
I feel myself freezing, coughing, dying.
I feel the burning numbness as it spreads to my reddened limbs.

This world has taken all thought out of its doings.
And in doing so, it removed all feeling from mine.
Death holds no horror, it is routine.
The dead are no terror, only soon to be forgotten names.

The cold is my only lover,
feeding me a silent sensation,
letting me know that my body is much like the world about me.

The cold is my only lover.
She is considerate of my pain.
She slips me lovely cyanide in my dreams.

So that when I pass, in her loving caress,
I shall never live beyond my pain.