Intergalactic Summit

The Wrath of God does wax large against the Gallente.

The Hanging Long-Limb does not willingly yield her Roes to the whims of hoity-toity Gallentean chefs; like the fedo prodded into the fedo fighting arena to satisfy a Gallentean crowd's bloodlust, she groans under such abuse so contrary to the bestowed purpose for which God created her. The sun does not willingly light Gallentean sinners the way to the unspeakable perversions of the Caduceus. Outer space weeps as rounded, amorphous Gallentean ships and stations representative of the female body travel through it; nor does it willingly suffer the Gallente Pleasure Hubs that service the lusts so aroused.

Some think the Wrath of God like a Quad Light Beam laser — quick to fire and with little effect — and having sinned and seen no visible sign of God's anger after a time they think themselves secure. But the Wrath of God is like a great Capacitor Battery now charged to overflowing with the sins of the Gallente, and only the hand of God himself prevents the Capacitor Battery of Wrath from discharging upon the Gallente like a billion Tachyon Beam Laser IIs, for as it pleased God to let Molok the Deceiver sunder the world for a little while that God's glory might be better made manifest when Molok was finally sacrificed on the altar of God, so God does let the Gallente defile His creation for a time so that in the final destruction of the Gallente His glory shall be revealed to all the universe.

And you, O Empyrean Gallente, all your supposed power and immortality is before God as a Hobgoblin before an Avatar. There is no contrivance, no super-deep safe spot by which you might escape the Wrath of God. In a moment you shall fall into the instalocking gatecamp of ten thousand Legions that are God's Avenging Angels, and no Warp Core Stabilizer will save you. And God shall cast you into the Pit, into Abaddon, and there you shall learn the true meaning of immortality, as for millions of years you shall suffer a torment to which the famous punishment of Aritcio Kor-Azor is a mere pinprick by comparison, and thus having suffered, all that punishment will be but a speck of the infinite punishment that remains for you.

But there is yet hope for some Gallente. For God has saved a Chosen People, the Amarr Empire, the first before God, and in service to this Empire you might, as the Scriptures say, prove yourselves worthy of God's love. There are at this moment Gallente in the holy Amarr Militia serving God in this fashion. Others have so fully charged the Capacitor Battery of Wrath that only nine generations in that holy custom God has provided for the remission of sins — slavery — should suffice, but fear not, collars and Vitoc will break the most Gallentean of free wills and have you kneeling before God.

Amen. Amarr Victor.

I am going to critique purely on writing style and not comment on the content.

• Too many words.
• Too many analogies.
• Grammatical errors.

I would suggest a homiletics course, a formal writing course, and a public speaking course.

That story needs more detail on how the modernisation of the golden fleet is coming along, because right now I don't see how he gets the collars and the Vitoc onto the Gallenteans without breaking the Cluster's largest military power with a Navy that simply isn't on the same level.

God is EWAR immune, His capacitor cannot be drained, He is not limited to eight Ancillary Armor Repairers; nay, even to eighty thousand Ancillary Armor Repairers, and His Almighty Cargo Hold shall never lack for Nanite Paste.

He can put Tachyon Beam Laser IIs on everything without fitting problems; His Tracking Computers always hit, and every one of His hits is wrecking.

All of you need to serve the Amarr Empire and be saved.

God is a fabricated story, one to capture the hearts and minds of the masses through stories that instil obedience through fear.

The might of the Federation's media and ability to mass produce tripe-quality drama series and low budget action holoflicks will overcome in the battle of entertainment and fiction.


Your God will drown in the sea of terrible rom-coms, his corpse devoured by the great chat show host sharks that swim it's murky, sleazy, trash filled depths.

hey! Metaphors are our thing!

God does not command your ships. You do.

And you can be neuted, EWARed, and slaughtered.

The problem with your faith is it is but a man who translates it. Who are you to claim God's will?

Even the faithful path you claim to be set by God for His faithful in earning His favor is technically also translated by mere mortals.

You're nothing; a laughingstock more than a man.

Yet another example of a thread that serves only to show why I prefer to avoid preaching or proselytizing in public forums.

It is an act of wasted breath when pushed upon those whose ears have no desire to listen, or upon those whose idea of comedy is to act like a bunch of tittering schoolchildren attempting to find lewd ways to interpret everything an adult says because they can't be bothered to listen to the lesson.

I see your capacitor battery of wrath and raise you two Nosferatu's of Ridicule, one ECM of Disregard, and a rack of Get Laid Guns II.

EDIT: and a flight of GET DUNK'D II light drones.

Was the Archbishop not nobility? If so, then of course his sermons were better than mine; they were better almost by definition.

Do the Gallente not understand hard preaching? I suppose not. Let me explain.

On another thread, people were discussing the vast slave markets of the Khanid Kingdom, where hundreds of thousands of slaves might be available for sale at any time. Such markets are not, as some suggest, squalor. But nor are they...refined. They teem.

The street preachers of the Khanid slave markets preach hard. The barely reedeemed, early generation Minmatar man-brute would not much understand, say, the liberal theologian's latest allegorical interpretation of the Scriptures that make the Reclaiming into hugs and kisses for everyone. What he does understand is fear. And wrath. And the plain language of the Scriptures meaning just what a common person would think they mean. And yes, slaves are brought to God in this way.

And so too, perhaps, may wicked Gallente pilots be brought to God in this way. For you are even further from God than the most brutish of slaves.