01-09-2020, 05:34 PM
A day in, and he was already getting antsy.
Complacency didn't sit well with him - hell, inaction didn't sit well with him. Not when he didn't have a big scheme planned out, not when there wasn't a domino of events leading out to him on top. No, he was on the very bottom right now, above the prisoners of war - or lack thereof - but lacking any real power. Sure, he could probably win in a fight against most, but power wasn't true power. The world wasn't kill or be killed, one had to be a bit more ingenious to succeed, to fulfill their goals, and his was a lofty goal indeed. One nation. One world power. No more borders. The words repeated in his mind, a broken record spitting out the true goal of anyone with half a mind, the goal that would lead to a perfect world. A utopia.
But now he had to start from ground one. His scheme was but a sapling, one he had planted and fertilized with the soil of intellect, and one he would have to water with intel, that would grow with his influence. The metaphor felt a little ham-fisted, in his head, as he gathered loose wood, but whatever.
His plan as of right now: gather intel. Gain allies, preferably ones he could control. Gain power. Pull a coup or two. Unite the world into one nation.
He was a king at gathering information, of course. Torturing it out of people was one way, something he excelled at, but you typically didn't stay very buddy-buddy with someone you had just broken emotionally. No, the easiest key to someone's wealth of knowledge was to befriend them. Gain their trust. Sure, they were mostly useless after that, and maintaining those friendships was an exercise less in your ability to tactically manipulate those around you and more an exercise in patience - but the efforts on the surface still stuck.
That was his justification for this campfire, one he set alight as the sun lowered itself, one he sat next to in the dark, grey eyes reflecting the flickering fire. "Gather 'round the campfire," he called, with a small flourish of the stick he was holding telekinetically, "gather around, and tell a story about yourself." With that, he sat down, pulling out one of the knives he had strapped to himself and sharpening said stick with it, to pass the time.
Complacency didn't sit well with him - hell, inaction didn't sit well with him. Not when he didn't have a big scheme planned out, not when there wasn't a domino of events leading out to him on top. No, he was on the very bottom right now, above the prisoners of war - or lack thereof - but lacking any real power. Sure, he could probably win in a fight against most, but power wasn't true power. The world wasn't kill or be killed, one had to be a bit more ingenious to succeed, to fulfill their goals, and his was a lofty goal indeed. One nation. One world power. No more borders. The words repeated in his mind, a broken record spitting out the true goal of anyone with half a mind, the goal that would lead to a perfect world. A utopia.
But now he had to start from ground one. His scheme was but a sapling, one he had planted and fertilized with the soil of intellect, and one he would have to water with intel, that would grow with his influence. The metaphor felt a little ham-fisted, in his head, as he gathered loose wood, but whatever.
His plan as of right now: gather intel. Gain allies, preferably ones he could control. Gain power. Pull a coup or two. Unite the world into one nation.
He was a king at gathering information, of course. Torturing it out of people was one way, something he excelled at, but you typically didn't stay very buddy-buddy with someone you had just broken emotionally. No, the easiest key to someone's wealth of knowledge was to befriend them. Gain their trust. Sure, they were mostly useless after that, and maintaining those friendships was an exercise less in your ability to tactically manipulate those around you and more an exercise in patience - but the efforts on the surface still stuck.
That was his justification for this campfire, one he set alight as the sun lowered itself, one he sat next to in the dark, grey eyes reflecting the flickering fire. "Gather 'round the campfire," he called, with a small flourish of the stick he was holding telekinetically, "gather around, and tell a story about yourself." With that, he sat down, pulling out one of the knives he had strapped to himself and sharpening said stick with it, to pass the time.
tags - "speech"