Artitsa
20-12-2006, 11:04
Deep behind the mountains of Askovo, before the hills of Bol'n lies the Silent Mile. In actuality this stretch of once proud roadway spanned more than 10 miles, lined with tall gothic buildings with dark doorways and even darker windows. Frayed flags dangled above every doorway, swaying gently in the light breeze.
Crisp snow hides any sign of the long unkempt grass. The husks of ancient trees hunch over the roadway, which has become cracked and worn with time. At the end of this long road lay a large palace; massive in size. Great spires twist and weave into the air. A massive set of wooden doors crossed with iron bars dominated the front of the building. Artitsan flags flew proudly from masts strung around the grounds, smoke gently wafted from massive chimneys. Inside many were stirring; hunch backed aids scurried about carrying large tombs of information to and from great banks of machines.. Many of which seemed to have men formed within them.
The great gates themselves shuddered loudly as a giant iron bar lifted from its grips in the doors. They lurched forward as light from inside spilled out onto the roadway; a clamour of noise rang out as the doors banged against the solid stone walls. A figure stood in the doorway, shrouded in a long billowing robe, topped with wolf’s fur draped across his shoulders. Artitsa's Foreign Ministry was open once more for business.
Slowly the hundreds of embassies lining the road returned to life.
Crisp snow hides any sign of the long unkempt grass. The husks of ancient trees hunch over the roadway, which has become cracked and worn with time. At the end of this long road lay a large palace; massive in size. Great spires twist and weave into the air. A massive set of wooden doors crossed with iron bars dominated the front of the building. Artitsan flags flew proudly from masts strung around the grounds, smoke gently wafted from massive chimneys. Inside many were stirring; hunch backed aids scurried about carrying large tombs of information to and from great banks of machines.. Many of which seemed to have men formed within them.
The great gates themselves shuddered loudly as a giant iron bar lifted from its grips in the doors. They lurched forward as light from inside spilled out onto the roadway; a clamour of noise rang out as the doors banged against the solid stone walls. A figure stood in the doorway, shrouded in a long billowing robe, topped with wolf’s fur draped across his shoulders. Artitsa's Foreign Ministry was open once more for business.
Slowly the hundreds of embassies lining the road returned to life.