Story: Enter Anthony Olin
“You have some trepidation about returning to Kalimdor, I hear, hmm?” there was a faint tapping of claw on bone. Caeryn Peyton was not fond of Anthony Olin and his proclivity toward condescension, “It is only scheduled for a short visit … for the time being. Unless you do something rash and stupid and we have to keep you there longer. Now,” he said, “you wouldn’t do anything stupid would you?”
“I am Forsaken, Mr. Olin,” she replied, “Rash and stupid actions are not in our repertoire.”
Olin smiled at Caeryn, displaying a full mouth of blackened teeth, “That is what I love to hear, my dear girl. Now! On to the particulars: You will return to your former associates in Ratchet - I do hope you give them some forewarning - as a civilian. What they choose to do with you at which point is their prerogative. You will continue as a civilian there, performing the duties you set out to do for us before.”
Caeryn tilted her head to one side, her voice carrying a tinge of frustration, “And you expect the results to be changed in what manner from before?”
He leaned forward, breathing in Peyton’s face, “War is on the horizon, my dear girl, and I cannot wait for the gossip.”
“So I am relegated to glorified entertainment journalist now: Celebrity Reporter?” she said, clearly annoyed.
“Much more dignified than that, dear girl. You won’t be published in some disgusting rag for anyone to read, your reports will come to me, my advisors, and to whomever else they deem worthy,” his face was carrying a grin from ear to ear, “It is very exciting, really.”
Peyton stood up from her chair quickly, “Why don’t you attend that ridiculous tavern yourself? I am needed here.”
Turning quickly on her heel, her right arm naturally swung behind her for balance. Anthony Olin’s hand darted out quickly, snatching the delaying hand in his.
“One squeeze and one twist, you think, Miss Peyton? Shall I? Do I break this deft and dominant hand of yours? And then what happens next, hmm? Do we want to wager?” His voice continuing to carry the grin, “Or will you consider my offer?”
Caeryn returned to her seat, defeated, “Yes.”
Anthony Olin’s scribe presented her with a large document, reading her the terms and conditions. She marked it with a large black X.