Bronze, Steam & Risky Business

[Amsen]

[Open, contact me for details]

Radasanth
Mid Day..


“Well, that should just about do it,” Jace blurted out from beneath the bronze piping of his steam-cycle, fastening a bolt with a yank of the wrench in his hands. He’d been in his modest inner-city workshop for nearly half the day working on it, as usual. It was hotter than ordinary that day as well, so the heat from the steam hadn't been helping either.

Laying prone, he excitedly hopped up from his position and sighed haphazardly. Running his hand through his damp and messy mane of hair, he reached down and turned over the ignition causing the mighty steam-powered engine to burst into life. A self-assured grin crossed his lips as placed both gloved hands firmly on each hip as he examined the vehicle like an artist, in all it's bronze marvel.

Mentally, he patted himself on the back. He’d spent the passed couple of weeks trying to isolate the problem on why the engine wouldn’t start, let alone continue running. He almost let himself breathe a sigh of relief, and then the engine began to sputter like so many times before.

“No, nononono!!...”

Jace immediately froze, his face screwing into a worried expression. The bronze steam-cycle choked, shaking violently, geysers of steam spitting out from every direction--before eventually dying to the sound of that all-familiar noise.

*CLUNK*

“Piece of crap,” he muttered from behind the veil of steam. There wasn’t anyway he was going to be able to keep it running for more than a day if he didn’t get a new compressor for the exhaust valves.

Deciding he needed some fresh air, he slumped his shoulders, sheathed the wrench into his tool-belt and snatched his coat from the wall behind him before promptly setting-out into the city of Radasanth. The roads were crowded as usual, a diverse and often refreshing sight of multiculturalism. Offshoots of merchant tents, beggars, soldiers and tavern-keepers lining the streets. You could find a thief lifting a purse beside you, while no more than a block away there would be a religious gathering of some sort. The city was truly a melting pot for nearly everyone, and as much as Jace enjoyed the sights, today was about business.

Jace had been searching for months trying to find that compressor and as far as he knew, that type of part wasn’t going to be found outside of Alerar; atleast not in Radasanth. He’d recently met a trader a few days prior who told Jace that he could get one however, and that it wouldn't come cheap; 120 gold pieces to be exact. So while he was out walking the cobblestone streets of Radasanth, Jace figured he drop by and see if his part had arrived.

[Amsen]

Jace made his way through the market, ignoring the tradespeak of the merchants as he passed by with a boyish grin. He could smell the aroma of exotic foods from various venders and it made him hungry. He was always hungry, in fact. Not that he wasn’t well fed, but Jace always had a soft-spot for a delicious meal.

As he walked around one of the corners he found the man he’d approached about the compressor. He was a tall, coarse-bearded man who’s laugh was quite loud and unmistakable. Draped in a modest brown cloak that covered his rotund body and a pair of large hoop earrings in his left ear. The problem was that this man, who’s name Jace couldn’t for the life of him remember, appeared to be quite busy. Business was apparently good.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to grab the man’s attention behind the noisy wall of potential buyers. Again he shouted, this time pairing it with a wave, and suddenly remembering the dealer’s name. “Sludge! Hey, Sludge!”

“Sludge?” he thought to himself, “How could I forget a name like that?”

“Ahhh, boy!” that all-familiar voice rang out over the crowd, as Sludge’s bearded face towered over the crowd with a salesman’s smile. “What can I do fer’ ya?”

“I came by a few days ago for that steam-engine compressor, do you remember? I was wondering if it arrived yet,” Jace responded loudly.

“Oh, right!” Sludge answered, clutching his chin as he combed his beard with stocky fingers. “Your the kid with the fancy steambike...cycle, thing, right? Yer’ in luck! Just arrived this morning!”

“Awesome! Any idea when I can pick it up?” Jace questioned enthusiastically, failing as he tried to get closer to the front of the customers.

“Errr,” the round man responded, a pressed look on his face as he scratched his head. “Kinda hectic right now kid, but it’s around here somewhere! Comeback in awhile and I’ll have it ready fer’ ya!” He added, before smiling and directing his attention to another person.

Plunging his hands into his pockets, Jace shifted his weight onto his back foot and gazed up at a large statue in the center of the courtyard. He figured it was constructed to commemorate one of the city’s heroes; Radasanth seemed to have it’s fair share of them. The 17-year-old child soldier heaved a sigh and waited patiently, all the while the alluring smell of cooked food filled his nostrils again, causing his stomach to groan.

He glanced down and lifted his right hand from his pocket, opening a small leather pouch that jingled to the sound of coins.

“Not a bad idea,” he mouthed to himself with a bit of a chuckle, as if to answer to his stomach’s cry for nourishment. Curiously he thumbed over the small pouch in his hand while he scanned the crowd in an attempt to spot the nearest food vendor or sizzling grill.

A few feet away he’d picked out a gathering, one that was a bit unusual even for the overbearingly dense crowd. As the group of onlookers grew, Jace pocketed his coin and leapt onto a nearby crate with ease, grabbing hold of a wooden beam that held up a tent beside him to support his perch.

“Are those Coronian Guards?” he asked a woman beside him, narrowing his eyes to get a better look.

“I believe so,” she replied softly. “They look as if they’re taking someone into custody.”

“What’s he being accused of?” Jace questioned, turning his attention to her below him.

“Oh, um,” the woman answered, slightly startled as she realized Jace was nearly hanging above her head. “Evidently the daughter of an important Businessman had gone missing a few nights ago.”

“Missing?” Jace responded with intrigue, returning his attention to the commotion.

[Lancaster]

*THUMP*

Cecil felt the hard oak baton of one of the guards land hard against his ribs. Feeling the air forcefully pushed from his lugs, Cecil hit his knees. Gasping for air, he could hear the footsteps as more of the Rasadanth patrol forces circled around him. They were all yelling for him to get to his knees and put his hands behind his head. Finally being able to pull in a lung full of air, Cecil got to his feet. “I didn’t do it!” The words rang out amongst the crowded streets as the young mercenary prepared to make his stand.

The guard who originally attacked the youth was preparing to land another painful blow. Taking a step back, Cecil watched the man miss and instantly countered. His fist landed flush with the guards nose and a loud snapping sound resonated from the point of impact. Doubled over in pain, the guard grasped at his now broken nose as crimson blood began to flow freely from his face. While the other guards were stunned by the sudden opposition, Cecil scanned the crowd where he found exactly what he was looking for.

“That’s the man who has captured Linda!” As he yelled the accusation, Cecil pointed directly at the stranger on the box. Falling for his distraction, the guards all looked towards the man who Cecil had fingered.

Taking the few seconds which his diversion had bought, Cecil darted into the crowd. As he took off he heard the confused and angry calls of the guards as they attempted to figure out the mess which they were not engulfed in. Taking the first ally he could find, Cecil slipping into the back entrance to one of the many taverns which lined the marketplace.

Gasping for air, he pulled up a chair in the corner and kept a close eye on both the front and back door. The guards would begin sweeping the area soon and he would need to be ready to get out of the tavern at a moments notice. ”Sorry stranger, I really hope they weren’t to rough on you. However, I’ll make sure the treacherous Malcolm pays for the crime he is framing me of. That poor women, being held captive by that ass.”

“Hey pretty lady, mind getting me a glass of ale?” Cecil beckoned for the closest waitress with his order. A smile spread across his face. A little ale never hurt anyone. As the frothy mug was placed in front of him, the young man drank hastily after the escape from the guards the ale tasted heavenly.

”Now where could that dog Malcolm have gotten too. The bastard didn’t even invite me to his house...”

[Amsen]

“That’s the man who has captured Linda!” the man shouted, casting an accusing finger.

“Huh?” Jace fumbled with a questioning expression. The guards, in a bit of confusion, motioned with authority for Jace to come down from his perch; making their way towards him. The remaining patrol suddenly darting after the fleeing vigilante.

“Hey! Wait a minute,” Jace shouted as one of three soldiers reached up and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. “I don’t even know that guy!”

The youth resisted, which caused him to lose his footing and the crates to wobble beneath him. As he fell backwards, the mound of wooden boxes were sent flying forward, crashing into the soldier’s legs and causing him to release his hold on Jace. He instinctively rolled his shoulders back, working with his momentum, hitting the cobblestones in mid-roll and popping back onto his feet.

“Halt! Don’t move!” the guards shouted, stepping over a mess of splintered wood and squished fruit laying across the ground.

“Obviously there’s some kind of misunderstanding guys,” Jace replied, quickly noting a onlooker beside him with a partially eaten chick leg and snatched it from his hands. With a tawdry grin, he added: “Don't suppose you'd care to resolve this over some fine dining?”

The guards, obviously not impressed with Jace’s sense of humor, drew their swords.

Without hesitation, Jace rushed forward, heaving the chicken leg at the guards in the process. Quickly he vaulted up the side of Sludge’s shop, scaling to the top of it with ease. Amongst the sound of entertained spectators, the soldiers instructed at him to come down with stuttered commands. Ignoring them, he bolted across the roof and dropped into the alley behind it, quickly finding his footing and racing down the congested road.

As he rounded the corner, Jace suddenly stopped, eyeing the remaining patrol that had pursued the other man not more than thirty feet away. Inconveniently noticing him as well, Jace quickly turned on his heels and made off into the first open door he could find; a rather empty tavern. As he crashed through the front doors of the establishment, he could feel the eyes of it’s denizens falling on him, attracting much unwanted attention.

None of that mattered however, he’d found something much more consequential.

“You!” the child-soldier exclaimed, seizing one of the many wooden stools and in one fluid motion, hurled it across the room at the man he’d recognized from the market. Leisurely sipping a pint of ale? Disgraceful.

[Lancaster]

Calm, serene, and flying chair do not seem to mix well within any scene and the tavern was not an exception. With a mighty crash the heavy wooden chair crashed into Cecil’s table and narrowly missed the young mercenary. Cursing as the mug of ale cascaded down the front of his jacket the young man was to his feet with his weapon drawn. Looking in the direction of the flying wooden object he was greeted by the boyish face of the young man he had attempted to blame. ”Damn, this kid just does not know when to confess.” As the thought crossed his mind, Cecil sheathed his sword.

“Kid, you may want to get out of here. Judging by the yells and screams of the guards outside they are drawing in on both of us thanks to you.” Without another word, Cecil turned away from the young lad and headed into the back of the tavern. The barkeep attempted to stop him, but with one motion to his sword the rather chunky man quickly backed off. ”Well I have already apparently committed one crime, might as well make a spree of it.” Despite the heap of trouble the young man was in he could not help but enjoy his current situation.

Pushing past the cooks and waiters, Cecil heard turmoil follow in his wake as a serving tray smashed to the ground, spilling the contents on the ground. The smell of freshly cooked meats wafted over Cecil and for a second the young man wanted to grab a piece and fill his empty stomach. Then he heard the voice of one of the guards questioning the barkeep and the man’s reply, “Yeah the filthy bastard is in the back.”

Fear coursed through the young man’s veins erasing all joyous and joking thoughts which has previously existed. He was once again one step away from rotting in the prison of Rasadanth City for a crime he had truly not committed. Busting out a window which was filtering sunlight into the kitchen using a crate full of vegetables, Cecil quickly scrambled out the window. Looking back towards tavern, he hesitated. “Hey kid, if your in the kitchen hurry up. I’ll help ya get out of the mess I created.”

Cecil wasn’t sure if it was guilt or stupidity but something was telling him to help this young man. The kid clearly could handle himself since he managed to escape the market streets and find the same tavern that Cecil himself had wandered into. “Either way, we gotta go. Now!” Turning, the young mercenary took off down the street further away from the marketplace and closer to the residence of all of the fine nobles of Rasadanth. The last place the law would figure to look for a criminal on the run. It also happened to be the one place which could grant the young man his freedom.

At least he hoped.