Something A Bit Like Home

[Mirtok 2853]

 

"Drop sails and raise anchor!"

 

*The little harbor filled to the brim with giant wooden and stone vessels of a peoples salvation explodes with movement as every ship begins to float out and away from the rapidly freezing island. Shouts of many different orders and of many languages fill the air, the decks of the ships around them buzz with activity- men at a half-sprint race to meet their sea captains demands so that they may finally leave these forsaken lands.

 

*The Hochmeister stands by his newly appointed captain, Throdo Therving, an old friend and comrade in many battles. The Sariants below usher Hansetians and others down below decks in preparation for the voyage ahead, a pair of scouts climb the center mast so that they can report the surroundings from a vantage point. Mirtok turns his head to look at the white flag bearing the legendary Black Cross flapping whispingly in the wind as the boat slowly begins to build up some speed. There was no turning back now.

 

 

*Mirtok gives the deck one last sweep with his eyes before descending down the steps and opening the door to his cabin. His wife and daughter had perched themselves at the edge of his desk, talking lazily to one another in order to pass the time on what had no far been a boring voyage. He nods to them both, issuing them a good evening before retiring to his quarters. He takes a last look at the setting sun from a window in his room then he falls backwards onto his bunk and closes his eyes.

 

"Incoming!"

 

*Mirtok is jerked away as the ship rolls over the waves in a suddenly violent sea. He looks around his room and into office to see the quarters completely empty and otherwise void of activity if it were not for the screaming of men over the screeching of wind and rain battling with volume on the other side of the door. Without a moments hesitation, the old battle-hardened Hochmeister leaps from his bed, grabbing the war hammer propped up on the wall as he crashes through the door and out into the new battlefield.

 

"They've breached below the decks, get the civilians out of there!"

 

*Sariants stand off against a shambled horde of armored undead minions, their golden armor glinting in the moonlight. A pile of rotted and dismembered bodies forms from under the invasion force as Sariants bring down the tools of their trade, ferrum blades hack away, iron arrows fire clean through ancient corpses. Mirtok rushes forward to help bolster their ranks.

 

*The other boats in the fleet emit the same sounds of battle as The Halgrim as some great evil throws themselves at the fleeing races. The bloodshed continued for hours into the night, the bodies of the slain pushed into the raging sea in preparation for the next wave to invade the ship. Mirtok stands at the bow, studying the scene before him. Every boat, from nation class war ships to tiny private vessels, none were spared from the assault that was still raging on. He thinks to himself in silence, recalling the events leading up to his current moment and discerning his next course of action.

 

"What the **** is that?!"

 

*A bloodcurdling and multi-sourced screech fills the air, brining some of the armor clad Sariants to their knees clutching their ears. Mirtok turns to face the new visitor, warhammer held in both of his hands. Men push through another wave of undead and up towards the wheel of the ship, a three-headed monstrosity hovers above them all. The rage of an Undead slayer floods Mirtok's senses and he charges towards the Demon- the faint sound of flapping wings and a bellowing roar could have been heard through the howling winds and crash of the ocean waters, another great battle over taking some other ship. A few Sariants are flung over the Hochmeisters head as the Demon thrashes at its attackers; He sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes for a split second . . .

 

 

"Sir, what do we do now?"

 

*Mirtok opens his eyes again, standing atop a small hill among the stumps of harvested lumber. Brother Richard waits patiently beside him, holding a pickaxe in his left hand, his other positioned into a salute . . .

 

"Gather up some stone and have the mercenaries start on their tavern, we should have at the very least a palisade set up by the end of the day."

 

"Understood, sir. The scouts have reported signs of past civilization in these lands, some mentions of a place called Aegis. What do you think, Hochmeister?"

 

"It's been a long time, but I think I'm finally home."

 

[Chrome 9]

Vettias is relieved to have set foot on land, knowing that this is the beginning of a new chapter of the Order.

[Guest Fireheart_]

*Talitha sighs in relief gazing over the new lands to be explored* "A new beginning for the order is upon us."

[Lynesse {Celia/Jazzy} 398]

Jon leaned quietly on the railings of the balcony, jutting out of the rickety wood tavern. He held himself to a brief glance of the the area, a large snowy taiga region, seemingly engulfing everything around him. The cold was not good for his old bones, but the rough voyage was arguably worse.

 

He was not among the company of friends evidently. Despite the hustle and bustle of Company 2-11 workers, who were now about furnishing their new home, a small tavern in the Greenedge. However, most of the people around were that of the Teutonic Order, clad in black and white tabards. 

 

His slowly deteriorating body would not allow him any more time to survey his surroundings. He made a slow hobble to his newly carved wooden seat, taking a small sip of his fine scotch, one of the few things he brought from Thales.

 

The Teutonic Order had made a point that this was to be a new start, in a new land. Though Jon often clashed in ideals with the Teutons, mayhaps because of the thick Orenian blood that once pumped through his veins, he welcomed the fresh start as any, and he certainly did not mind the Order's hospitality with giving them land. 

[TheBareSheet 194]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.