This is my stone, and these are my words carved upon it. You now read the carving of Momuz Ceilingempire, for I am bored and am now going to keep a journal to keep me company. And you must be bored as well, or else you'd have stopped reading by now. And I'm probably off carrying something, so be sure to set my stone down carefully and exactly where it was, or I'll know someone's been reading it and I'll wonder who and have to write stranger and stranger things - some of them true - until I can catch you sneaking back to read more or maybe just watching me all the time to see if you can catch me at what I write.
I really didn't come here to carry things, but it is nice to work near others again. Our home is getting nicer and nicer, though I'm really surprised there's still no real need for burning yet. Metalwork and the beauty of controlling fire to make coal isn't really important here yet. It will be, though. Already kobolds are starting to test us, looking to see if we are wimpy or worthy. They trade with the goblins, so the goblins will come soon too. We'll have armor and weapons, or we'll wish we had; and either way we'll make them or we'll make them. Before or after, though perhaps better for us if it's before the after.
The shadows here are still beautiful, and I've never had a room as nice as this before nor eaten in so fine a dining room. This is going to be a very special place one day and someday the fires of the forges will leap in wild delight, feasting on finely made coals as the smiths shape their form of beauty.
I'm really looking forward to disciplining fire again into making my form of beauty. I long to force the flames to tame their lustful hunger and simply taste, caress, touch the willing, still wet wood; to coax and pry, to pet and tease the raw lignate and bituminous stones until the fuels are giddy with longing.
Raw fuels -can- light a forge, but their heat is uneven. One moment bursting with heat, the next instant the fuels remember their raw state, guttering their resistance and ruining the work of those who would master metals. Instead, my teased fuels are ready and willing.
Taught to love the flame, and grown wistful for their chance to truly burn, the products of my art are always ready for the forge. They will give even brilliance and steady high heat until the tasks of the metalworkers are finished. And the shadows from their flames will be the most beautiful of all.
Erm! Err, that is, may I claim Momuz Ceilingempire?