Smoke on the Horizon

[Mirtok 2853]

*The sounds of sharp metal scratching away at rough parchment are all that can be heard in the nearly vacant Hansetian Embassy. While the men of the black cross march the streets of Arethor, the fields of Oren and beyond, Mirtok sits still near the lightly crackling fire with a neat stack of books to his right and a fresh ink well to his left. He scribbles endlessly, neatly, into a single black book with a small tassel stamped to the corner of the cover bearing the Teutonic sigil. Line by line the pages begin to fill and the well slowly empties; He stops momentarily to run his fingers through his clean cut and snow white hair, then back to the war against word-void paper.

"Your presence is requested in court."

*Mirtok pinches the brim of his nose, carefully closing the book and setting it atop the others. He rises from his seat and begins to walk towards the door. He motions for the Sariant to stow the books away as he lifts his Warhammer from the ground near the door and walks out; The thoughts of his work still prominent in his mind.

[Mirtok 2853]

*Mirtok once more returns to the Embassy after the conclusion of yet another court to dispute nonsense that means little him, however, he returns with the Emperor walking quietly behind him. They descend down towards the previously lit fire, surrounded by bookshelves and paintings. The Emperor stops short of Mirtok's tall chair and awaits for him to begin speaking. Mirtok runs a finger along the many tomes near the table, stopping on a scarlet edged book, pulling it free and laying it on the table . . .

"Take a look sir."

*The Emperor nods and slides the book over, tipping the heavy cover over to reveal the words within. He spends a few moments scanning the pages, flipping through the tome and stopping every so often at the many diagrams laid between the text. He snaps his shut and slides it back to the Hochmeister. Mirtok is the first to speak . . .

"Conceptual, sir; In due time."

*The Emperor nods smiling before being called away by several nobles whom cannot decide whether it is correct to bow or bow. Mirtok takes up the book from the table and heads down the lift in his Embassy.

[Mirtok 2853]

*Trees fall and brush burns. The Teutonic Order moves quickly through the ever shrinking forest, cutting down massive timber logs and hauling them off to be refined. The great Hansetian forests have been re-purposed a new fate awaits them. Their previous occupation of housing the varies wildlife and creatures of the frozen lands has become unneeded considering the Cloud wiped them all out. Now the mighty pines will feed Mirtok's fires and drive the Order's expanding influence, One stroke of a saw and one thump of a fallen wooden beast at a time

[Mirtok 2853]

*Heavy hands strike at stone and black lumps coal, causing them to tumble to the ground and echo off the expansive caverns. The trees would not be enough for what the Order plans to do. Sariants with long streaks of black powder and soot hammer away, collecting the resource often regarded as nothing of worth. The carts fill higher and higher with each passing day, the Order stores quickly become over saturated with the stuff, soon the men become lost as to where they can keep their haul.

*At the same time the more building savy troops work topside under the Hochmeister's watch. Beneath the small tent bearing the black cross, Mirtok writes and draws away. He fills out page after page, diagramming scroll after scroll, handing them off to his men for analysis He looks up from his work to see the product of his labor, the idea's of his mind made manifest. Mirtok chuckles to himself "Won't be long now." before resuming his duties. He can almost hear the rhythmic pings of tools and labor working in unison, producing the future.

[Phog 150]

Dain emerges from the tumultuous bowels of Hanseti followed by an assortment of Sariants. Black soot covers their bodies, and sweat drips down their faces. Each Sariants' heavy breathes are caught by the freezing air as cloud of vapor. Dain thrust the head of his pickaxe into the snow and takes a drink of water from the flask that hangs idly at his hip. He coughs before speaking to the group.

"Heresy grows from idleness, lads. Keep up the good work."

He then takes another drink before yanking his pickaxe out of the snow. Dain turns and leads the Sariants' descent back into the mine.

[SkyyoBee 249]

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