Pawns on the Run (closed)

[Scarovese]

OOC: Closed to Elthas. Future posts will be shorter, promise. Also, future posts will be from Scar's p.o.v. Thanks!

Seven cloaked figures stood underneath a large pine tree, its gloomy branches reaching down to brush the forest floor. Last night’s rain lingered on the branches, amplifying the smell of its boughs to mingle with the natural scent of the woods. Needles littered the ground, lying forgotten and waiting to be crunched underfoot. The local fauna silently protested the intruders, giving them a wide berth as they went about their business. Steel scraped leather as one of the figures drew a small dagger. Its polished surface gleamed in the dawn light and the forest seemed to hold its breath. With his other hand, the figure withdrew an object from inside the folds of his cloak. Holding both high above his head, he looked around the group at each member individually. Finally, his gaze settled on a single member of the group. He lowered the dagger, dropped his hood, and spoke, “Master Black, would you like some cheese?”

The man to which he spoke also lowered his hood and signaled for the rest of the company to do the same. “Why yes, Master Emerald,” he responded jovially, “I believe that would be a lovely start to our meeting.” Black’s brilliant blonde hair was thinning at the temples, but it did nothing to detract from his hawkish appearance. If anything, it drew attention toward his angular features and cunning smile. As he spoke, a woman handed a wineskin to him and gestured for him to drink. Black eagerly drank deeply, allowing the faint traces of berries and chocolate to play across his palette before passing the skin along. “Mistress Scarlet,” he gushed, turning to the lithe elf that had procured the wine, “your vineyards do not disappoint!” Black strode into the center of the semi-circle, his back against the pine tree that shrouded them from the rest of the forest. “Everyone, feel free to help yourself to the refreshments provided by Master Emerald and Mistress Scarlet. In the meantime, I call this meeting of the Rilasciare to order. Mistress Lavender, how are our shipping interests performing?”

A diminutive human woman of roughly forty years stepped forward and bowed her head to Black. “Masters and Mistresses,” she began, her silky voice instantly putting them at ease. “Our contacts in Scara Brae assure me that the last of the lumber will be loaded by tomorrow with the vessel arriving as schedule. The small hiccup in our plans that developed over the last few weeks has been… dealt with.” Her smile left no doubt as to the fate of the thieves who had tried to rob a Rilasciare-protected ship earlier in the month. “We will, of course, be on the lookout for any accomplices poking around, but I believe the matter can be put to rest.” She bowed her head again and stepped back to her place in the circle.

“Master Gold,” Black moved on to the next member on the agenda. “Please comment on the status of the mercenaries.” He helped himself to a wedge of cheese as Gold stepped forward to speak.

Gold’s bald head nearly brushed the bottom of the branches protruding from the trunk of the large pine. His dark cloak blended with his dark skin, both serving to accent his bright blue eyes. In one step, his muscular legs carried him nearly next to Black as he turned to address the assembled members of the Rilasciare. “Masters and Mistresses,” he spoke in a deep voice thick with the accent of his homeland, Fallien. “Our army numbers one hundred fifteen strong. The men are ready to march at my command, but work on securing the outpost until such an order is given. Two intruders were discovered a few days ago and while one turned to our cause, the other was slain. We gave the traitor misinformation about our plans and wait to see what he will do.” Taking the wineskin from his neighbor’s grip, he threw his head back and drank as he returned to his place.

“Excellent choice,” Black commented as he removed a small book from his cloak. “I will need more specifics before we disperse.” Gold nodded and Black moved on. “Mistress Scarlet, any information on the warehouses?” The beautiful vintner shook her head, rarely was there something to report from her area of the movement. Black appreciated the tight rein she kept on all her operations. Rarely did the Rilasciare need to get involved in her affairs, which left more time and resources able to be dedicated to others’ problems. Like Steel. “Master Steel?” Black hesitated to call him forward; the other reports had been going so well.

Steel plodded to the center of the clearing, his short stature betraying him as a dwarf even before the group had lowered their hoods. His graying beard was tied with leather thongs tipped in metal spikes that hung at chest-height. His large nose overshadowed his thick moustache and his eyebrows were stuck in a constant worried expression. Nervously wringing his hands, he addressed the group. “I-“ he paused to look around, noting the expressions of irritation on most of their faces. Gulping loudly, he continued, “There may be a situation developing in Ettermire. One of my unwitting agents has stumbled across the storeroom of a Syndicate operation. Well,” he looked down at his shabby boots before clarifying, “I believe them to be connected to the Syndicate. I couldn’t confirm that.” He tentatively raised his eyes back to gauge the reactions of his comrades. When they didn’t respond, he carried on, “Anyway, he is on the run in the city, trying to avoid a threat he doesn’t fully understand. I believe Master Gold has had contact with him recently, but he knows nothing of his ties to the Rilasciare.”

“What concern is this to us?” Black interrupted, fearing Steel would never arrive at a point otherwise. As Steel opened his mouth to answer, Gold’s large hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“The person in question is Scar Matthews,” he answered in lieu of Steel’s rambling reply. “I’m sure the assembled remember him?” The group nodded, Scar had been of particular interest to them since they learned the truth about his mysterious arrival in their world. Such breaches of the fabric of space and time were of interest to most anyone in a position of power. And with their influence felt across all of Althanas, the Rilasciare certainly were powerful. Black’s brow furrowed at this news, they certainly didn’t want their young prospect terminated over a dispute with the Syndicate. But neither did they want to tip their hand at their involvement in his life.

“Well,” Black paced back and forth, thinking over the best course of action. “We should all prepare for the worst. Shore up our holdings in-“ He was interrupted by the seventh member of the group who had not yet spoken or involved herself in the proceedings. Her vermillion hair swept across her delicate features, she made no attempt to pin it back or tie it up. It was an outward display of her inner chaos and power. Her translucent skin bore no wrinkles or lines, in stark comparison to the others around the circle. The rest of the Rilasciare were older and established in their business; it was why she had recruited them in the first place. Even the elves and dwarves had been around for hundreds of years and showed their maturity in their countenances. Although she had been on Althanas for longer than the other six combined, her complexion showed no trace of those years. Her ruby red eyes hinted that she was dangerous, but her sultry voice belied that. The fact that she had even moved at this gathering was the reason Black had stopped speaking so suddenly. She had chosen him to be her voice for this group, but it was she who had the last word. Mistress Crystal, as she was known to these people, was the founding member of the Rilasciare and the only one who saw the entire scope of their purpose in this land. It was as if the forest held its breath along with the other six, waiting for her to speak.

“The man will live,” she stated. A fact; not a demand. Her voice carried the authority of her people, long forgotten to most in this land. “See to it.” The group covered their heads again with their hoods and retreated in whatever manner they had arrived. Lavender walked some distance to her carriage, Emerald pulled a small silver whistle from under his cloak and summoned his mount, and Steel merely turned about and trudged away. Crystal and Black watched as they all quietly faded away before she laid her thin fingers on his arm and they both winked from existence.

[Elthas_Belthasar]

Elthas stepped off the boat to Etheria Port feeling completely out of place. As he looked around, he placed his hood around his head, hiding his handsome features for a long moment. Then walked down the plank towards the dock/port area of Etheria Port. The Syndicate Chapter House was located in Etheria Port out of convenience, not out of some political need. Elthas was a man on a mission, he knew where he needed to go. The one connection he had in Alerar was The Syndicate Chapter House in the first place. Elthas had memorized the contract that Seth Terrentius had given him. Brother of Theo Terrentius, both elder members of The Syndicate. A powerful crime organization that had it's roots in Corone, but by the time of the current sad tale, had chapter houses all over Althanas. Elthas was just one of many blades working for The Syndicate; hired cleaners who fancied themselves "professionals" and valued honour and duty above all other matters. Elthas walked towards the main dock/port area and saw the busy crowd of sailors, passengers, and a few pick pockets in full swing. Incoming sea-vessels were oft prime hunting grounds for pick pockets.

Elthas was glad that he had secured his personal affairs. He traveled light, but was heavily armed for the dangerous mission at hand. Some of the locales were staring at Elthas with daggers shooting out of their eyes, as the old expression went, but Elthas was not swayed. He had a duty to perform. Elthas took a deep inhale of the air in the port, and smelled the salty ocean around him. Waves could be felt moving in and out of the dock area, and there were several ships there. Elthas took a moment to identify marks from several different nations and factions. One particular ship did catch Elthas's attention. It was a ship that bore an emblem to a faction he had never seen before. Elthas was curious about that, and walked over to one of the dock guards. A big burly, sea dog, with a fancy looking weapon housed in a scabbard worn on the hip. The sea dog wore the emblem of Etheria Port. He was a burly human by all of Elthas's reasoning abilities, which were quite impressive.

"Say." Elthas began. "I'd like some information on that ship, yonder?" Elthas asked.

"Oh that vessel you speak of?" The guard immediately saw where Elthas was looking. "Belongs to lady coming off the ship now." The guard said in an almost dismissive way. "Lady's name is Leyla Romana. She's quite handsome you know, and quite influential 'round these parts. If ya need work, she's the right person to ask."

Elthas nodded towards the guard. "Thank ye kindly, sir." Elthas said and moved closer towards the vessel. He sawLeyla Romanawalking down the plank towards the dock, and watched as she bossed around many of the crew members and dock workers. It was clear that she kept a tight reign on her operations. Definitely someone to watch out for. Wouldn't wanna cross her path. Elthas observed Leyla Romana's actions for a long moment, and then decided to head towards The Syndicate Chapter House.

Walking in a generally Eastward direction, Elthas knew where he needed to head. Every major city, some known and others not, had a Syndicate Chapter House. Syndicate operatives would convene in The Chapter Houses and get information on local hunts, and other matters of interest. In certain cases, foreign operatives could get information back to their main branches in order to convey their progress. As a foreign operative, Elthas had to check in with Etheria Port's Chapter House. He needed to ascertain if there were any other operatives working on the same hunt as he, and if they could work in tandem with one another. Elthas entered The Chapter House and moved his way past the gathered crowd. Seemed, there was some sort of a commotion between several Etheria Port citizens and members of The Syndicate. Elthas made a mental note of that as he walked over towards The Chapter House guild master.

The man was a Drow named Leon Drake. Elthas immediately recognized the almost ashen-gray skin of The Drow folk and the sharp red eyes. The man had long, platinum hair. He was well dressed, all Syndicate guild masters had sizable fortunes at their disposal. Elthas narrowed his eyes and bowed his head towards the guild master.

"Lord Drake." Elthas said carefully. "I bring word from Master Theo Terrentius."

"Official business ye on?" Lord Drake responded and looked up at Elthas for the first time. He scoffed when he noticed that Elthas was one of those bastard Elves.

"That I am, sir." Elthas responded. Then he handed Lord Drake a parcel with an elegant Syndicate symbol emblazoned on it in wax. It was The Terrentius Estates' official emblem. "I am here to acquire the boy. Scott Matthews."

Lord Drake opened the sealed parcel and reviewed the documents carefully. His eyes went wide after he saw what he was reading. "Are you mad? Has Theo gone mad?" He asked twice.

"I don't understand, I was told I would be given full cooperation?" Elthas asked in response.

"I am going to be frank. You will receive very little assistance in this project. Even if it is by Old Theo's hands himself." Lord Drake said. "My chapter house is in full mobilization after a certain group has begun treading on us. You've come at a very bad time, Operative Belthsar." Lord Drake said.

"Let me know of how I can be of use immediately to ye." Elthas proposed. "My objective is the boy." Elthas continued. "But I suspect this will be a difficult mission as is. I am also here to assist you in whatever matter I can."

"Well spoken." Lord Drake suddenly said. Lord Drake leaned in close to Elthas for a moment. "All right, look." Drake began. "If ye could bolster some of my locale agents in certain matters after ye've completed your hunt, I would be more willing to exchange information with ye."

"Fair enough. Does ye know where I could stay for a refreshment and a place for the night?" Elthas asked.

"Ye can stay at the chapter house inn. It's called the raspberry ale." Lord Drake said. "Don't worry about charges and fees. I shall consider that as part of the cost of the job."

"Fair enough my lord. Does ye know the whereabouts and last known sightings of the boy?" Elthas asked.

"Yeah. My agents spotted him last operating near Ettermire. He has some time ahead of you already." Lord Drake said. "Oh and Elthas. Welcome to Alerar, try not to make trouble for me here, okay?"

[Scarovese]

Tankards slammed into the bar counter as the two ruffians escalated their argument into a brawl. I ducked as a stool flew across the room and smashed against the back of a dwarf. He shouted in anger, rallying his friends to descend upon the two idiots who had started the fight. I backed away; my only goal had been to grab a quick drink at the bar before retiring for the evening. This was not my fight. That thought was punctuated by the roar of one of the tavern-goers as an errant bottle smacked the side of his head. As he turned to see where the projectile had originated, I realized he wasn’t human, elf, or dwarf. His green skin looked like the surface of a cauldron, all boils and roils and bumps. His teeth were broken and gnarled and two large tusks stuck out from each side of his mouth. His nose was short and snoutlike, his eyes sunken back into his skull. With a guttural roar, he lunged toward the bar and grabbed both offending parties in his gargantuan hands. Growling as he pressed his face into theirs, I saw flecks of spittle spray from his mouth and land on their faces. I grimaced, glad I wasn’t in their shoes. Then, with a mighty heave, he launched them across the room and their bodies slumped against the far wall.

The tavern quickly returned to its usual bustle and the monster and his friends left the establishment, passing by the unconscious bodies of the drunkards as they did. My curiosity peaked, I followed them at a safe distance. Their route was straightforward; clearly they did not expect any visitors. We turned into the factory district, the smokestacks silent since the workers were home at this hour. When the group stopped at a warehouse and looked around cautiously, I figured we had reached our destination. The brute leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the street, his tongue running across his crooked teeth as he gazed languidly into the darkness. I kept my head down; the last thing I needed was a run-in with that… thing.

“What is it?” came an angry whisper from the warehouse door. The two figures with the monster parted and let whoever was inside get a good look at the beast. I heard an exasperated sigh and then the warehouse door slid open. “He’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow!” the voice protested, but the party stepped inside before the door slid back into place. Then the voices became dull noises and I couldn’t make out anything else that was said. Sighing, I turned to make my way back to El'inssring and found myself face to face with a young man around my age. He wore black leather armor and simple leather pants, no sword or stave at his belt. Unsure what to make of his sudden appearance, I decided feigning ignorance was best.

“Evening, sir,” I greeted him, giving him a bow of my head as I tried to skirt by. He stepped easily in front of me, putting one arm out to rest his hand in the center of my chest. I knew it was either act or be apprehended, so I wasted no time. I raised my right foot and stomped down swiftly on his left, gripping his wrist with my opposite hand as I did. He yelped in pain and raised his injured foot, leaving his balance in my hands. I pushed his arm away and raised my knee to push his hop along the same direction, diverting his body weight to send him flying into the street. Not bothering to look behind me to see if it kept him down, I scrambled around the corner and sprinted down the street. I heard the clatter of weapons being drawn by the warehouse and knew others had come to see what the commotion had been.

“Take him alive!” I heard a shout behind me and I renewed my efforts to put as much distance between my attackers and myself as possible. Judging from the footsteps, there were at least five guards pursuing me. Last time I follow someone on a whim, I thought regretfully as I skidded into an alley just outside of the factory district. Hopefully I could lose them among these houses and shops which allowed for much more maneuverability than the long corridors between the factories and warehouses. Daring to steal a glance over my shoulder, I narrowly avoided taking a crossbow bolt to the face as I saw four guards burst into the street behind me. Gritting my teeth, I raced into the darkness, ready to lead them on a merry chase.

[Elthas_Belthasar]

Elthas needed fresh supplies and a way to get around that wasn't on foot. The second of those matters would likely be the more difficult of the two. He needed a horse, that was the main order of the hour. He knew that The Syndicate had a stash house he could go to, and that was the main business he had to take care of first. Elthas was given directions to the stash house by one of Lord Drake's servants. Making his way towards that location, he was also given a parcel by Lord Drake needed to acquire the horse.

Arriving at The Syndicate horse stables, Elthas saw that the area was heavily fortified and guarded. Using his natural heat-vision, Elthas spotted several guards cleverly hidden by the darkness. Elthas nodded to himself as he took note of several that were in sniping positions. I cannot afford to make a mistake here. This is not Corone. This is not home. Elthas thought to himself as he showed his documents to the stable hand. I wonder if the kid even knows who he is working for...poor guy... The Syndicate had you if you worked for them. They owned everything about you. Cleaners were a different story all together. They were like the blades of The Syndicate and used to complete special tasks, dirty jobs. That no other Syndicate members were capable of completing except the cleaners. If a cleaner was on your ass, you ran for all you were worth. That was the way of the world. Cleaners were the top of the line; cream of the crop. And Elthas was one of the best...

As he ordered the horse he showed the kid his official documents, and the kid nodded.

"We don't have much of a stock at the moment, I am 'fraid sir." The kid said to Elthas.

"Just show me what ye has." Elthas responded in kind. "I'll pick from what is available. I just need to get to Ettermire in due order."

"Understood sir." The kid was quite professional.

Elthas realized that Lord Drake kept a stiff shift around those parts. Probably most of the higher ups did. I will have to be careful around here. This is not home, and I can't make Seth look bad, or Theo. Elthas found himself thinking of the two older Syndicate leaders. He was good friends with Seth Terrentius, and only close allies with Theo. He had a dynamic relationship with Seth, but not Theo. However, he did not dislike Theo. That was the truth. Elthas thought about the two gentlemen as he picked his horse.

"That one." Elthas told the kid. She was a real beauty, a chestnut mare.

"All right, sir." The kid responded. "I will keep her ready for you when you head out to Ettermire. And sir, keep an eye out for things in the dark. The red forest is not safe anymore."

"I understand." Elthas said, nodding politely to the kid. He looked at the horse for a long moment and then prepared to take his leave after the transaction was in order. He would take off the next day to begin his hunt for that kid. Scott Matthews. Who some called a Hero...

...Elthas hated Heroes the most.

[Behemoth]

Bhakti’mat Zu’ura would have donned a cloak for that evening’s journey, but fabric would do little to hide his identity from any prying eyes along the way. Standing nearly seven feet tall, the dark-skinned man was more than slightly conspicuous. His feet clomped along the cobbles, sending echoes with every step. Muted metal armor adorned his massive frame, its design allowing him to move rather quickly despite his impressive musculature. In his meaty paws he held a tiny glass ball; any who had seen it would have been amazed that the thing wasn’t immediately pulverized in the brute’s firm grasp. But the Fallien native knew his mission and knew he couldn’t fail. Scar Matthews was just too important to let him fall into the hands of the Syndicate.

He strode purposefully toward the factory district, his route direct for he needn’t hide his intentions. He should have checked with the other generals, but time was of the essence. By the time another meeting was called Scar could be dead. Or worse, he thought with a shiver. He was familiar with how the Syndicate operated and if they thought Scar had useful information, they wouldn’t hesitate to extract it. His thick lips turned up in a grimace; the young businessman didn’t stand a chance if it came down to that. He had to get to the warehouse before something happened!

Footsteps clammered in the distance, barely audible over the whir of the steam works and cogs overhead. People chatted in small groups of two or three, floating through the streets ignorant of every other story unfolding around them. Bhakti’mat, a trained Fallien guard in his day, tuned their prattle out and focused solely on the sounds of a chase coming from a few blocks ahead. Quickening his pace, he left the merchant district and its small, narrow alleys and burst forth onto the main road that wrapped around the factories, sealing them off from the rest of the city. To his left, he saw a group of four Syndicate guards, one pausing momentarily to line up a shot with his crossbow, and to his right he spotted the fearful face of his friend; Scar Matthews.

The crossbow bolt ripped through the cool evening air, narrowly missing Scar’s face. The man turned and fled hastily, the Syndicate close on his tail. Launching his prodigious form into action, the dark-skinned warrior tore off to close the distance between him and his quarry. Scar led them all on a roundabout route back through the merchant district, hopping low walls and planters in an effort to catch his attackers unaware. It was at one of these bottlenecks that Bhakti’mat got close enough to snatch the rearguard from the group and slam him against a wall. His eyes rolled back in his head as his unconscious form slumped to the ground. One less, the Fallien man mused, tossing his enemy into the planter nearby. No sense in arousing even more suspicion.

He peered down the alley, catching a brief glimpse of the dark figures racing toward the main street. Scar tumbled onto the main thoroughfare and immediately went right as soon as he had regained his footing. Judging roughly where he was in relationship to the layout of the city, Bhakti’mat turned down a side street instead of following the group. His iron-clad boots rang loudly on the paving stones where they had been much more muted on the dirt alleyways. He grunted in frustration, he needed to keep the element of surprise. Regardless, he ran through a few quick twists and turns before spying Scar sprint by the end of the alley. He had judged correctly, now he just needed to close the distance before the Syndicate blew by.

Crouching low and pushing his legs further with each step, the gargantuan man raced forward at his top speed. One, he counted as he saw the first of the guards zip past. Two, his arms pumping rhythmically at his sides to spur him onward, he closed the gap. Skidding to the end of the alley, he threw a great arm forward and out into the street. Three, he smiled as the last guard careened into his arm, falling backward as his momentum carried him on. Although Bhakti’mat’s skin was thick as a hide and his muscles were tough as iron, still the man stirred on the ground. With a swift kick to the temple, the Fallien brute silenced him. With half the pursuers off Scar’s back, he hoped he had evened the playing field enough. For now that they were in the area of the city’s many taverns, there would be little the general could do without tipping his hand at his involvement. Good luck, my friend, he wished on the wind. Fate would make its decision this night.

[Scarovese]

My route through the merchant district may have seemed perfectly random, but in fact, I had merely been trying to lead my pursuers to the Great Tavern where I had some semblance of back-up. I hoped and prayed that Germeroth and Bhakti’mat were inside, otherwise I was about to replay the tavern brawl from a few hours earlier. I scampered up the stairs on the outside, not keen on leading my enemies through the heart of the inn and causing such a great disturbance. Bar fights never ended as intended and there would be too great a chance that one of these guards could slip in close and catch me unawares. No, any faceoff needed to be on my terms.

I burst through the door that led to the second floor rooms on the western side of the inn and sprinted to my dwarven ally’s room. Pounding on his door, I jiggled the knob with no luck. The one time he locks his door, I cursed as I fumbled in my pocket for the key. I heard a crash at the end of the hall and turned to see two of my attackers slam into the open door from the outside. I gauged the distance in my mind, I wouldn’t have enough time to unlock and door, step inside, and close it again before they’d be upon me. And there were still two more to come. Pulling my hand from my pocket, I turned to face the guards and raised my fists in front of me. I hadn’t boxed since my college days, but fear and necessity are powerful motivators. I felt the adrenaline pump through my veins with renewed vigor and I flexed my jaw and exhaled.

The first guard merely chuckled menacingly and pulled a shortsword from its scabbard at his side. The second unslung his crossbow and reached for a bolt; he was the one who had nearly taken my eye in the factory district. The swordsman made a clumsy lunge that I easily dodged and I brought my fist up into his stomach as we passed each other. He doubled over and stumbled down the hall, but kept a firm grip on his sword. I ignored him as he regained his composure and instead let my momentum carry me toward the archer. As he knocked a bolt in his crossbow, I closed the distance, planting my right foot when I was close enough and taking an extra large step out with my left. Twisting my body to the side and cranking back my right arm, I saw the guard’s face tightened in fear as he raised the bow to point at me. My fingers crunched against his nose, forcing his face to the side as his finger squeezed the trigger. Pain flared through my arm as the bolt leapt forward and buried itself near my shoulder. Flashes of color crept into my vision, but the offending archer had been effectively dealt with.

As I turned to face the encroaching swordsman, blood streaming down my left side, I was relieved to see his arm pinned to the wall by three small silvery knives. Germeroth’s door stood open and the burly dwarf framed the doorway, two more knives at the ready. “Brought yer friends, I see,” he commented flippantly. “Maybe send word ahead next time? I was barely dressed!” The swordsman struggled against the knives buried deep in the wood, but he didn’t have enough leverage to tear free. He growled at me as I drew near, but Germeroth stepped forward instead. “Why can’t you be as pleasant as you friend over there?” he questioned, gesturing to the unconscious bowman. With a grin, he brought a meaty fist forward to knock the second guard out. Yanking his knives from the wall, he allowed the man’s body to slide to the floor before turning to me. “What happened?”

I recounted the story as best I could, but when I got to the section about the warehouse and the four guards chasing me, I ran to the door. Peering out and into the gloomy streets below, I wondered what fate had befallen the other two. Had they stopped when we left the vicinity of the warehouse? Had they gone back for reinforcements? The lack of knowing worried me, but I closed the outside door and shook it from my head. For the moment, we had captured two of my assailants and I could tell by the look in the dwarf’s eyes, he intended to make them talk.