[Corone Armed Forces/TTC]The Wayward Soldier...(Closed)

[Elthas_Belthasar]

(Note: Elthas is now the leader of The Trading Company. Closed to Otto.)

Elthas suddenly knew what he had to do.

As the new leader of The Trading Company, he needed to influence a large group of people as quickly as possible. There was no better way than to join The Corone Armed Forces as an ally. Elthas knew he needed to enlist Otto Bastum's help for the project. He would go through proper channels and training processes in order to become a skilled member of the outfit. The idea hit him one Tuesday night, about the sixth hour of the evening. It was roughly fifteen minutes in, and Elthas had been working on the final transitional process from when Invetisto gave control of The Trading Company to Elthas. Going over various documents that were part of the legal process, Elthas finsihed up his work and stretched. He was tired. He had not slept a good night's sleep since he became the new leader of The Trading Company.

Elthas looked around his personal office. It was an artist's office through and through, the stylish red stained oak desk was sturdy and well structured. On his desk was a clutter of various items and personal object. Those would be organized later on. As he stretched his eyes glanced at the documentation on his table. It was complex legal transactions that had to do with the housing of Trading Company workers, and their payments. Everybody in The Trading Company was treated fairly and given a fair pay. Elthas had always fancied himself a fair minded person, and he would retain those values despite being the new leader. Once simply just an officer of The Trading Company, Elthas knew that the transition meant he would have to change some of his own views about himself. He was now a LEADER and would have to make decisions that would affect The Trading Company as a whole.

First, he needed to summon Otto Bastum. That was the first order of business. He and Otto had unfinished matters to discuss and develop upon from the last time they spoke and and worked together. Elthas hoped that Otto was still nearby in the area of Corone proper. He figured calling for Otto through more "proper channels" shouldn't be that difficult a task. Feeling the comfortable leather of his chair, he slid the heavy object back a bit. Then he stood up and walked over towards one of the many book cases. The object he was after was a simple parchment paper where he could scribble a few notes for Otto to read. It was The Trading Company matters, so the guild's emblem would be candle wax pressed on the simple envelope. Once that was done, Elthas looked about his room again. He needed to call for Otto one more time. He wanted to work alongside the Orc again. A part of Elthas missed the blacksmith Orc, and he was hoping the letter would find Otto still in the small The Trading Company township. It was a few buildings that consisted of a fully outfitted residential area, and company buildings like a forge. Elthas worked out of the forge often and made various items for The Trading Company, usually with his people's signature aesthetics.

Elthas carefully gathered his belongings. The final two items he'd grabbed was a leather trench coat, and his fancy fedora hat. The fedora hat had a light brown hide colour to it. Elthas wore a suit cut in the standard Radasanthian style. He'd long ago discarded the dress code of his people and adopted the fashions of The Humes. (Humans) He adjusted his simple black tie, and placed his arms within his trench coat. Lastly, he grabbed a pair of leather gloves, adjusting the straps so they had a comfortable feel around his wrists. Elthas knew where he would find Otto. It would likely be working the company forge as always. He fixed his hat so that it had a slight angle and was tipped so that a shadow fell across his handsome face.

Judging from the dream he'd had that evening, he knew what he had to do next. He COULD have easily made it a The Trading Company law. But, he did not want to come off as a dictator to his fellow work force, instead, he decided that the dream he'd had was part of HIS OWN destiny. He would of course follow the correct channels that Otto represented. He left his elegant house, leaving the door open. His workers were allowed to enter and leave the house at will. Elthas walked with a confident step, he was a leader after all. His leather trench coat adjusting itself with every movement he made. He knew the layout of the town by heart. He could walk it's entire length by heart with his eyes closed. At that precise moment, his eyes were opened and they stared sharply ahead. Various The Trading Company workers were outside on the streets, completing their errands of the work day. Roughly fifty people lived in the small township proper. All were connected to The Trading Company in some way.

Elthas knew that Invetisto preferred the unexplored regions of Althanas. They'd worked to develop a lot of influence in the outlands areas of Althanas. Elthas walked over towards the forge and his sharp ears picked up the sound of men and women working the anvils of the forge areas. Blacksmithing was as much a science as it was an art form. A lot of knowledge went into the skillful crafting of the forge. Elthas had grown to love and respect it all. As he made his way to the forge area, he noticed the distinct temperature change as things got hotter. The old furnace gave off tremendous heat and a lot of steam flowed upwards from the single chimney. Elthas knew that a large part of the blackmsithing process had to do with refining the ore found in the many mines of Corone into ingots. From there one could work the refined metal. Elthas took a deep breath, and then prepared to find Otto. He hoped the kind Orc was still in town...

[Otto]

Daniel Berdusk, proprietor of one of Radasanth's many cramped little pubs, scowled when he felt someone tugging at his apron. The bald-headed publican snapped his gaze down at a mousey-looking young boy, who hurriedly leased his grip on the grimy cloth and backed away.

"What is it, Thomas?" Berdusk hissed.

"They's here, master Berdusk," the lad squeaked back. "The plod."

The man sighed. "Oh, thank the Thaynes for that," he said with sincerity - possibly for the first time in his life, at least when it regarded the city authorities.

Thomas looked skeptical. This was largely ignored by Berdusk, who wiped a few trickles of ale off his fingers and onto his apron, then strode around the bar towards the entrance. The single door opened as he was halfway across, and a figure stepped in to the room. Invasive sunlight glared briefly off a brilliant red tabard and greasy black hair before something else eclipsed the door frame; a second figure, silhouetted against the vicious midday shine outside. It barely managed to squeeze his way through the pokey little opening. The door scraped gently shut behind the two new arrivals, and Berdusk spent a second blinking away flashing, purple after-images as his eyes readjusted to the comforting gloom.

"Mr Berdusk?" enquired the rear figure. "Corporal Otto, Private Keeves," he continued, gesturing to himself and the other watchman in turn. "We intercepted your runner. You're having some trouble with a patron...?"

The bartender's gaze swept across the pair, lingering a touch longer on the larger guardsman looming in the background. "Yeah," he said, after the short pause. "Yeah, the bugger's at the counter. I need him out."

"Most places employ someone else to do just that."

Berdusk looked back up at the tall, grey, be-tusked creature who had just spoken. It wore another crimson tabard - much larger than the other soldier's - over a suit of gleaming mail, and wiry black hair obscured much of its apish face. The ale-keg arms which reached down to its knees added to the gorilla-like appearance.

"Aye," Bardusk answered levelly. "And he's upstairs know. Me and the kid dragged Ron up there after this 'un laid him out."

The two watchmen peered over Berdusk's shoulder to the rear of the establishment. Black and amber eyes pierced the gloom and made out a hunched, stool-bound, bedraggled figure drooping over the counter. They also noted the brittle shine of an open bottle in its clutch, while their noses quickly registered a wisp of sinus-searing fumes roiling from the lip. The slimmer of the guardsmen ran a pale hand through his hair. The larger one wiggled his nose. They exchanged a brief glance with each other, and walked carefully on towards the bar.

Their disheveled quarry gave no indication he had noticed their approach. The small guard stepped up to his side - but at safely outside of arm's reach - as the orc did his meagre best not to loom in a threatening manner. It was an exercise in futility.

"Sir?" the orc began. "I am Corporal Bastum, and this is Private Keeves. What's your name, sir?"

The fellow twisted groggily in his seat, and for the first time, they could see his face: red, rheumy eyes, a scraggle of salt-and-pepper growth upon the cheeks and jaw, and a heavily sun-wrinkled countenance. He tried to focus on the two of them, blinked a few times, eventually gave up, and went back to nursing his bottle of rotgut. The liquid tinkled lightly inside as he took a swig, suggesting it had almost run dry. Better, Otto reckoned, to resolve this before the drinker had cause to raid the bar for more.

Keeves must have been struck by a similar thought, because the young man took a brisk step forward. He'd have gotten even further than that, too, if his partner hadn't then seized the back of his tabard. Keeves snapped his head around to glare at Otto, who was instead busy noting how the other man's grip had shifted menacingly down the neck of his bottle. Though a glassing could turn out bad enough, Keeves had two things that concerned Otto more: a sword, and a willingness to always escalate the situation. So while his expression remained stern, he let go of the fabric so that his partner might cool down some, but still enforced his earlier message with a tiny shake of the head.

"We're here to escort you off the premises," Otto calmly said. "Do you have any lodgings we can walk you to?"

The man mumbled something indistinct, and took another gulp. The sharp scent upon the air spiked for a moment, almost bringing tears to Otto's eyes as his hypersensitive nose begged for mercy. Otto pinched his broad nostrils shut until the sensation passed. Keeves shifted impatiently at his side, and he knew that he was running out of time.

"How about friends or family? Anyone we can drop you off with?"

He'd just hit a tender spot, he was sure. The drunk didn't stand up then and take a swing at them, or begin to cuss them out in a slew of slurred curses. He just tensed up, knuckles taut and white once more upon the bottleneck. As the seconds went by, he didn't even raise his arm to take another drink. A suspicion formed in Otto's mind, then.

"Tell you what," the orc continued, his voice soft and low, "we can put you up for the night. Get you something to eat and a cot to bunk down on."

Keeves looked at him like he was mad. But the grizzled man's posture had relaxed a little. He turned to look at them once again.

"Drink?" the guards both heard him say.

"You can bring that with you," Otto replied, nodding at the rotgut. "I might be able to get you a bit of small beer as well, but I can't promise any more than that. Beer, tea, a meal, and a place to kip."

Some might think more drink to be the last thing this person needed, but Otto reckoned it would be better for all concerned to bring him down gently, rather than with a crash. The fellow considered this offer, with the serious deliberation of a truly drunk man, and cautiously began to slide off his stool. They heard him curse, and saw him begin to fold up as his knees took the weight, but managed to catch himself on the bar before Otto could reach him to offer a steadying hand. Keeves hadn't shifted an inch.

"What was your name, again?" Otto asked.

"George," he mumbled. George pushed away from the bar, and brushed past the two guards. As Otto watched George's unsteady pace, he noted something else there as well - the fellow favoured his left leg, while his right was stiff and dragged a little over the sawdust on the floor. His earlier suspicions grew bolder.

Berdusk watched the trio file out; George ambling in the lead, Otto hovering warily to the side, Keeves trailing and fuming behind. The barman looked on with an incredulous expression, until his face wrinkled angrily, and he advanced upon the apparent senior of the guards. Berdusk cut Otto off at the doorstep, waving a pair of gnarled hands in front of the orc's broad chest.

"What about Ron? The bugger near cracked his head open!"

Otto glanced at George's retreating back. The man seemed disoriented and a little cowed by the still-strong sun outside, but soon resumed his wayward stagger up the street. "If the injury is serious, send for a doctor. And if you want for George to cover the fee, you're welcome to file the appropriate suit, but I don't think you're going to have much luck. Excuse me."

He slipped past Berdusk and onto the street, where he quickly caught up to George. Keeves soon followed, still obviously disgruntled with the soft turn of events, keen to avoid Berdusk's accusatory glare. The barman watched them head off.

"Could've been worse," Thomas said placatingly from behind him.

The barman whirled around with a scowl. "You heard them - go run over to Doc Tillman and bring 'im back, right now. Get!"

Thomas fled.

[Elthas_Belthasar]

Sometime later...

Elthas was told by the blacksmith that Otto had skipped town and returned to Radasanth for the time being. Deciding to track the Orc down, Elthas used some of his contacts in the big city to their fullest capacity. By rumor, Elthas began to track down Otto's movements. He felt guilty about that, but he needed to know what every one of his associates were about. If they were a threat to The Company, the threat portion of the package needed to be dealt with. Now Elthas liked Otto a LOT. He had high respect for the Orc blacksmith and his capacity for making things, following orders, getting shit done.

Elthas waited in his room in one of the many Inns located in Radasanth herself. Elthas never used company money for his own purposes, it would raise too many questions about Elthas's own work ethics. Elthas considered the situation at hand and took a swig of the hot tea he drank. It was well saturated with Ruildian Honey. The tea itself was a sort of peppermint hybrid flavour, but that was not what mattered. Elthas was currently reading a letter. One of his contacts in Radasanth had written him back about Otto's activities. There were specific terms and terminology in the letter which meant one of two possibilities. Otto was either an outlaw...OR he was military. If he's military it could be a boon or a complete disaster to The Trading Company. Elthas sat in a plain leather chair, decorated in the modern Radasanthian style. It was a simple but well outfitted Hotel room. Elthas didn't mind paying coin to keep himself in the lap of luxury. It fitted him well, considering his early roots as a Syndicate member.

The steam swelled upward into the air from the goblet of hot tea. It felt good swirling down his throat. As he took the third swig, there was a knock on his door.

"Come." Elthas was expecting company.

Sure enough, a man named Lukas entered the room.

Elthas put his goblet down and wiped his mouth with a clean cloth. Then he turned to address Lukas. "What did you find, lad?" Elthas asked.

"Master Belthasar." Lukas greeted with a simple bow. "From what I've been able to gather about his movement's it's as you thought initially. He's military."

Damn... Elthas frowned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He looked at Lukas for a long moment. "Is he still in the city, I would very much like to seek an audience with him."

"He's in contact with a mysterious fellow named George. I got the information where his party is staying at, wasn't too difficult to get. Just a few misplaced coins here and there."

"Not company coffers, I trust?" Elthas was clean those days and he wanted to stay that way.

"I used my own for this service, consider it a favour repaid." Lukas said. "You saved my ass that time, and I owe you a debt that can never be repaid."

"Don't worry about it. We're friends Lukas, and friends are always there for one another." Elthas had a bad, sometimes lethal habit of honouring the olde alliances. "I just need the location of where he is currently, and I will take the rest from there."

"It will be a bitch getting close to him. He's CAF." The boy said.

"Is there an entourage with him?" Elthas asked.

"All armed and deadly. Them CAF folks suffered a lot during the civil war, really edgy lately so watch your back around the lot."
Lukas said calmly, attempting to help keep the Elf's hide intact by giving him all the needed information.

"I will remember that." Elthas said. "I will seek out Otto Bastum on my own dime. You've done enough Lukas." Elthas wondered just WHAT Lukas had seen that had him so nervous. "By the way my lad. Who is the George fellow? What is currently known about him?"

"A drunkard who attempted to start a brawl. Talks gibberish. Bested a few armed folk before he was taken into the custody of the bar establishment itself. That's about when Otto and his CAF folks appeared." Lukas said.

"All right. You've done your job well." Elthas took out a small pouch and handed it to Lukas. "For your services. Lukas, skip town for a bit I don't want you placed in danger because of me." Elthas said sincerely.

"With all due respect, Radasanth is my home no matter how bad shit gets here." Luksas responded. "I appreciate the concern, but I don't think I was seen."

***

Elthas found himself staring at the mug of an ugly bar tender. The barman was busy serving drinks when Elthas arrived by himself, finely dressed in a noble's attire. He did not wear the attire of his people, but rather, the attire of Humes. All pomp and embroidery. It was a three piece suit, trimmed with a fancy gold trim. The cut itself was modern Radasanthi, with a flavor for classic Radasanthian cuts. The suit itself was not decorated with a tie, Elthas hated to wear ties. So he wore his ruffled white shirt with the top buttons open. His collar was always carefully done. Elthas took pride in looking sharp, and drew the attention of various of the male and female denizens of the bar area. Elthas looked at the bar tender for a moment, keeping a poker face.

"Word is you know where Otto Bastum is." Etlhas said suddenly.

The bartender did not skip a beat and continued to work and serve drinks, some food was served by the other members of the bar staff. "All depends on who is asking." The bartender said in response. He looked up to see Elthas in front of him. "Oh you..." The bartender frowned deeply, his mood souring. "Take your business elsewhere, I don't want no trouble."

"I have solid coin, I can pay you for the information. I just want to know WHERE HE IS." For the first time in a long time, Elthas was growing agitated, even angry.

"You have coin huh?" He shook his head. "Look, I don't want no trouble. Take your business elsewhere." The barman said.

Elthas suddenly slammed his fist against the surface of the bar. "Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be." Elthas threatened. I am taking a huge risk here. This better be worth the effort it took just to track his movements down.

Two burly men walked up towards Elthas and kept at either side of him. "Andrew, this Elf giving you trouble?"

The barman flashed an almost winning smile. "Gentlemen. Please escort this upstart outside."

They took a step closer, Elthas did not turn around but held his ground. "Put your hands on me, and I'll cut them clean off."
Elthas threatened. He NEEDED to speak to Otto. The information he held was critical to The Trading Company's survival.

"That sounds like a threat." One of the guards said, and the other drew his sword and pointed it towards Elthas.

Elthas sighed. He then moved quickly at best speed, his dagger flying to action quickly. He only drew one of his daggers, that was all that he needed to best a couple of bar guards. As promised, the blade of the dagger severed a hand off of one of the guards, and blackened blood spilled from the injury. In a continuous movement, Elthas slammed his dagger down on the blade of the other guard as the first one screamed at his missing hand. Elthas moved forward with his momentum, and pointed his blade's tip at the guards throat. The man was terrified by HOW Elthas moved and acted. Elthas was willing to call a bluff, to keep his leadership of The Trading Company a secret to anyone BUT Otto or other members of The Trading Company. Elthas stared at the guards before him. But he addressed the barman.

"Andrew was it? Will you cooperate now, or does more blood have to shed?" Elthas was furious by that point.

"Shit...!" Andrew spat out. "I'll tell you where he is. Just don't hurt anybody else, all right?"

"Before that, call your guards off and then we can talk." Elthas said, he was playing his trump card.

"You heard the Elf, fellas. Lay off him for now, me and him got business to conduct." Andrew the barman said.

The two men walked off in defeat, one of them clutching at his stumped wrist as he walk.

Elthas did not sheathe his dagger, but kept it at the ready. "Now then. Where is Otto Bastum?"