November 16, 2018, 07:58:11 PM
April 07, 2013, 07:06:16 AM by horizon in Battlefleet Gothic

Blogs... why have one and then forget about it?

something funny I wrote pretty long ago,

Heavy rain fell from dark clouded skies.
He was in comfortable place. Here in his room. His small appartment within this large house on top of a small hill just outside the village. By all means it was an old house as well. It had aged well. Now and then, once or twice in a decennia, parts had been rebuilt or renovated.
As he touched the walls, made from ancient oaks, he could feel the warmth resonating through his veins.A feint smile curled onto his old face. He was old as well, nearing the respectable age of hundred and thirtyfour. His Master had hired him as chief butler many decennia ago. The payment was good and he had a place to stay, a much better prospect then working his bones off in a factory or on the farmland. And yet, he had seen his Master only a few times all these years.
His Master appreciated how he kept the house and ordered the maidens. He made that obvious during his last visit some seven years ago. A gift! His Master had given him a exotic guide about pottery. He never told him but somehow he knew that pottery was his hobby. A truly good Master.
A far distant sound, the noise of a vehicle, made him drew the curtains from his window to the side. In the distance, through the heavy rain, he could make out the diluted, barely visible, headlights of a car. He knew those headlights. The vehicle turned onto the long driving way leading to the house. Gently he hung the curtains back. Slowly he made his way downstairs.
Dutifuly he stood behind the door, through the windows he saw how his Master, soaked because of the rain, walked towards the door. Still leaning on a cane. All that wealth and still he hadn't got a new leg or proper bionics. He knew that was his Master's way of staying humble. And now it was timing for which he was trained. A last glance at the maidens, running around doing their duties, made him feel comfortable. Once again he had done his job. Smoothly he opened the door.
Soaked his Master stepped inside, together with a pool of water and rain. He quickly closed the door, keeping out the rain and wind. While he did he addressed his Master:
'Lord Inquisior, your coat, please.'
Jeremiah Crowe smiled. Home.


hope to update this more. The blog that is.

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