User blog:Emperor Maximus/Age of Industry II: Ashes of the Past -Prelude-

The airship landed on the mountainside, steam bursting from the rock as it tried to settle itself down. The captain, a Bosmer, was yelling out commands as his crew ran about the ship opening valves and correcting pressure guages.

'Set her down, lads! No, slower, or she'll rupture!' he yelled out.

As the airship was landing a few robed and hooded figures ran out of the old monastery that was situated on the hillside. One of them looked up at the giant ship, and read the name on the side - Wind Reaver. Captain Meledran had returned to the monastery.

A gangplank was lowered, and the Bosmer slowly stepped down. He was clad in a dark-coloured flightsuit, with several guages covering it. He removed his mask to reveal the brown skin underneath. Meledran breathed in the clear mountian air, and sighed. 'I realise why you live here now - it's a wonderful place.'

'We think so,' muttered one of the monks.

Meledran turned in annoyance to him. 'Take me to the high priestess - now!' he called out threateningly. His hand twitched as it reached to his cutlass.

The monks looked nervous, but eventually led him into the monastery. A monk in a purple robe came up to Meledran, and looked angrily at him. 'Why did you come back? Haven't you disturbed us enough?'

'Apparently not,' the skypirate said, smiling slightly. 'Well, Carador, are you going to take me to her?'

The monk stared at him. 'And why should I take you there?'

The Bosmer sighed. 'Well, either you take me there, or I have a slip of the tongue - tell the Senate that the Adamantine Monastery is sheltering practicers of Pacts of Darkness.' Meledran smiled at this, as he watched the monk's face contort with anger.

'Fine' Carador spat out at him. 'This way.'

'I know.'

They walked along the corridors, which twisted and turned as the mountain did so. On the walls were paintings - paintings of angels radiating with light. They were surrounding another angel - one with six wings. He was far brighter than any of the others, and in his hands he held both pieces of a shattered heart. The two men turned left, and came to a large wooden door.

'The high priestess is through there, in her study. She asked not to be disturbed.'

'Well, you don't always get what you want, do you?' asked Meledran rhetorically. He pushed the door open, and went inside.

The office was dark. The windows had been closed, and only a dim gas lamp hanging from the ceiling gave off a feeble glow. The only furniture in the room was a large wooden desk, a chair, and a matlepiece above a fireplace. The hearth was not lit, and the room was cold. On the mantlepiece were various items - religious icons, small statues, and the occasional scrap of Dwarven metal. In the centre of the matlepiece, where it drew the most attention, was an old, battered Dwarven chronometer.

Sitting at the desk was the high priestess, bent over bits of parchment, rapidly scrawling all over them. She did not even look up.

'I asked not to be disturbed,' she said angrily.

'And I haven't the time to wait for you,' Meledran replied in annoyance.

At the sound of his voice, she looked up. Her face was almost all covered by her red hair.

'Meledran. It's been a while.'

The skypirate smiled.

'Hello Marya.'