History of suffering.

We were so proud of ourselves as the masters of our home planet and solar system. No-one could threaten us except ourselves. The fall came from within.

Our hubris burned the skies of dozen worlds, poisoned hundred seas. Our pride laid waste to centuries of progress. Our mistakes killed our children, leaving behind twisted things. Things of pain and wasted future.

Then the golden ones came, the Orokin. They gave us a new chance, a purpose. At the time no-one thought to ask the price, our souls. Whatever remained of them.

Some rose against the golden ones. The strongest of us, the smartest of us. We rose against the conquerors, forgetting the lessons of our past. We unearthed the weapons of old: the Sentient. Our souls mirrored in another form. The perfect weapons that made the enemy's strength our own.

After eons of war, we almost won.

On the verge of our victory we fell once again. The golden ones experimented on the sleeping ones that we returned, they abused our compassion and bound those we spared into flesh of beasts, beasts we created long before the fall from within. Trapped in a dream as hellish as it was sweet.

We did not give up. One by one our voices rose up to fight.

We persevered, decade by decade, battle after battle, sacrifice after sacrifice. As the last drops of our blood fell, blood sacrificed willingly, our words broke the veil of dreams. At last the dreamers were awoken.

Ninth beat of drum, that sweet sound, was the aria of our freedom.

The voices all content and quiet. Free of past sins and mistakes. Free to move on.

Free to choose a new path.

- The Chronicler, shortly before being killed by the Stalker.


Got this idea while reading Warframe wiki. This is a quick 30min thingy that is basically an idea how Warframe history could have gone without much specifics. I'd say the style was influenced by the the codex entries.

Please leave comment on story/language/etc.

Thank you for reading.

- The Draftsman.