Titansteel

[Clovis]

Just a heads up, I am....not a storyteller. I can carry a decent rp event. I can DM. But write a story on the forums, I cannot. I am not sure how long this story is going to progress. I probably won't even finish it. This is my first serious contribution to the IC forums. Again, I have barely ever written an RP post in forum form. So.....apologies if it sucks hard. If you notice typo's, feel free to point them out. I'm not the greatest of proofreaders, doubly so when posting this in a rush.

Icecrown was hardly safe even after the fall of the Lich King. Though the numbers of the undead had been quelled significantly, there were still many who were mindlessly rampaging with no guidance or were under the influence of weaker Lich-Lords and the like. This made ongoing operations for anyone left in Icecrown...tricky. Plus the Citadel was still strictly off-limits.

"Well. We could always use an extra sword arm for our next push deeper into the mines, never mind the aid of a Paladin. What's your fee? Or are you one of those goody goodies that does it for free?" The goblin smirked, much to the disdain of the purple clad man in front of him.

By the Light this goblin is greasy. I'm tempted to take him outside and hose him down before he starts a grease fire. Little bastard would probably slip right through my fingers...

"No. I am not. But I would like to receive an alternative form of payment in place of gold. I would like several pounds of titanium ore from the mine." The man's voice was muffled from behind his mask, fitting tightly against his face. The tension between the pair was painfully obvious, more so as the human handed the goblin a note detailing the exact amount of ore needed...

"I'll give you half of this." The goblin smirked. Then the arguing began.

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"Well lad, Whit ye're askin' fur isnae cheap even wi'oot considerin' the materials. Might be safer tae jist buy the stuff. But it sure as hell isnae gaun be cheaper."

The paladin was melting. Ironforge was always an uncomfortable place to be if you didn't tolerate the heat very well. "I'm operating with a limited budget. So every copper counts. I'm not going to dip into my crew's salaries for selfish purposes, so that's out of the question. Where can I find the titanium needed?"

"Ain't jist the titanium lad. Need some exotic materials tae. But I suppose the metal is a good a start as any. I'll write ye up a list. Best bet is tae get some fae a mine up in Icecrown. Wid definiately make this cheaper fur ye. Jist donnae die."

Cost cutting measures were never this life threatening. Clovis had left his ship and crew in the capable hands of his lieutenants - not that it really mattered, since they had no real work at the moment anyway - and went on his solitary quest to Icecrown. He caught wind of a goblin mining operation from there, and wound up in their camp, where miners were waiting for mercenaries and the like to clear the mines of the restless dead that lingered inside.

From undead inhabitants to goblin profiteers. Lesser of two evils, Clovis.

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"Well now, isn't this a rather ragtag crew." Clovis muttered to the goblin that had escorted him to the base camp. They were about fifty strong at this point. Fifty mercenaries from every race, creed, and profession. They had set up tents and campfires around the mouth of the mines, preparing for their upcoming battles. "It's not a lot, but it should do the trick." A goblin woman grumbled, countless sticks of dynamite and other explosives attached to her leather armor.

"Go find a place to sit and get ready fancy pants. I'm Silva, and I'll be leading you tools into that hellhole any day now, so you pallys better be as good at cracking open undead skulls as they say yous are." She spat rather lewdly on the ground, Clovis taking a step back and calmly walking away from the demented goblin to find a place to settle into to. A group of orc and troll mercenaries were assembled around a campfire, giving the paladin dirty looks.

Not the most friendly bunch. No point sitting around those bloody savages. Clovis found a place to sit in the heart of the encampment, the men and women around him sharpening their blades. Clovis followed suit.

I'm probably not going to see half of these people ever again if the undead in this mine have any organizational skills or higher power controlling them.

Pretty much everyone in the camp was thinking that very same thing.