(no subject)
Who: Teja & Charles
What: introductory meeting.
Where: Mordhaus, Mordland
When: Later at night.
Teja had gotten used to the strangeness of multiple realities clashing and crashing against each other, creating parallel dimension fluxes, and taking and giving in equal amounts. He'd been used to it since he was a toddler, since it was the world he'd always known. His parents had met at a multiversal hub at the end of the universe, and once his father's reality had been destroyed - the band being the impetus for its destruction no less - the two of them had retreated to his mother's world, and then finally to a reality that was fairly mundane.
He'd been dragged out of that mundane world when he was no more than two years old, and dragged into another multiversal hub-world where Dethklok had just gotten exceedingly rich and famous, and had their large castle, Mordhaus. He'd grown up there, under the supervision of not one, but four different Charles Offdensens, and every time one disappeared, it wasn't long before another took his place, and was briefed on what was going on. It got harder as he aged, explaining who he was, and why, although Mordhaus was standing, and Dethklok had been there for 30 years, they hadn't yet become world leaders, or destroyed reality. The reason was that none of the band members stayed around for more than five years at a time, and it was rare that all five showed up at the same time. It definitely made for difficulties in recording, but since each Charles was exceptional at his job, each year, the business stayed afloat.
Teja walked through the large corridor to the main office of the CFO, with a letter which, in brief, explained himself, and the company around them. It was the fourth edition of this letter, a letter he hated to rewrite. Although the fact remained that fundamentally, all Charles' were the same, they all started out with no knowledge of him, and were often wary of the truth. That he was the son of Toki Wartooth, and was somehow older than any reality's iteration of said rhythm guitarist. Yet he rose up in the ranks of Klokateer, and had become the chief of security, not on name alone, but by hard work, strength in leadership, and skill.
He knocked on the door, and entered. The way that the man walked was militaristic, yet graceful, in a way that showed that he'd had years of experience in dealing with this exact scenario, and was not fazed by it. "Before you have any questions, Mr. Offdensen, sir," Teja said, his low, rough voice indicating just the slightest hint of a Scandinavian accent beyond years of speech training, giving him a somewhat polished trans-continental timbre, "Please, read this."
The letter read,
Dear Mr. Offdensen,
Take any samples you need, at any time. You will see that my DNA is half Mr. Wartooth's. I have documents to prove that he is my legitimate father, and I was born in wedlock, so I'm not a bastard son looking to cash in. I simply wish for two things; my job, and living arrangements to which I have become accustomed.
You will find me extremely proficient in the fields of combat and business. I was tutored from the time I was a child to put my combative nature to good use, and I went to university for business in the field of music. I graduated above average for my class, though you will find me lacking in my ability to spell, so don't put me on proofreading detail. I spent ten years as a Gear, as the chief of security. I am also adept in doing odd jobs around the 'haus. I am capable of speaking to your boys as a peer and as an underling. I will address them as 'sir', just as I address you, Mr. Offdensen. I am well versed in all of their files and history - and possible futures - so I am well aware of their abilities and downfalls. I will serve them to the best of my ability. I can be your advocate to them, and theirs to you. I understand that you don't let anything come between you and your boys, and that is not ever going to be my intention. But should you need the go-between, I am there.
I work at least 50 hour weeks - ten hour days, five days a week, with odd jobs in my weekend, if you need my assistance. My weekends are spent sparring and forging my own weapons, and the occasional movie or party, should I be invited to one. The latter rarely happens, I'm a bit of a homebody, I'll admit. The last Charles insisted on a bi-monthly week of off-time for me, and I'll admit, I rarely took that time off. I always find some little thing that needs to be done.
As for my arrangements, All I ask for is a bedroom with its own bathroom, access to a forge, and a private room off the library to store my own literature, and you'll find my list of necessities very short and concise. I don't mind living off of a Gear's salary, it's what I've been allowed for most of my life. All I ask in way of extra is a stipend for sweets. I think better when I have a bag of dum-dums at my disposal.
I understand that what I know by way of my living in Mordhaus is strictly confidential. I have no friends outside of Mordhaus, and even then, my knowledge is closely guarded. I will not speak to the press, or to outsiders of anything I know or see. I will sign any paperwork you need me to in that regard.
And if you'll allow me the honor, I would very much enjoy a sparring match with you at some point. I rarely have anyone to fight that can consistently kick my ass, sir.
Sincerely,
Teja Magnus Stefan Wartooth
What: introductory meeting.
Where: Mordhaus, Mordland
When: Later at night.
Teja had gotten used to the strangeness of multiple realities clashing and crashing against each other, creating parallel dimension fluxes, and taking and giving in equal amounts. He'd been used to it since he was a toddler, since it was the world he'd always known. His parents had met at a multiversal hub at the end of the universe, and once his father's reality had been destroyed - the band being the impetus for its destruction no less - the two of them had retreated to his mother's world, and then finally to a reality that was fairly mundane.
He'd been dragged out of that mundane world when he was no more than two years old, and dragged into another multiversal hub-world where Dethklok had just gotten exceedingly rich and famous, and had their large castle, Mordhaus. He'd grown up there, under the supervision of not one, but four different Charles Offdensens, and every time one disappeared, it wasn't long before another took his place, and was briefed on what was going on. It got harder as he aged, explaining who he was, and why, although Mordhaus was standing, and Dethklok had been there for 30 years, they hadn't yet become world leaders, or destroyed reality. The reason was that none of the band members stayed around for more than five years at a time, and it was rare that all five showed up at the same time. It definitely made for difficulties in recording, but since each Charles was exceptional at his job, each year, the business stayed afloat.
Teja walked through the large corridor to the main office of the CFO, with a letter which, in brief, explained himself, and the company around them. It was the fourth edition of this letter, a letter he hated to rewrite. Although the fact remained that fundamentally, all Charles' were the same, they all started out with no knowledge of him, and were often wary of the truth. That he was the son of Toki Wartooth, and was somehow older than any reality's iteration of said rhythm guitarist. Yet he rose up in the ranks of Klokateer, and had become the chief of security, not on name alone, but by hard work, strength in leadership, and skill.
He knocked on the door, and entered. The way that the man walked was militaristic, yet graceful, in a way that showed that he'd had years of experience in dealing with this exact scenario, and was not fazed by it. "Before you have any questions, Mr. Offdensen, sir," Teja said, his low, rough voice indicating just the slightest hint of a Scandinavian accent beyond years of speech training, giving him a somewhat polished trans-continental timbre, "Please, read this."
The letter read,
Dear Mr. Offdensen,
Take any samples you need, at any time. You will see that my DNA is half Mr. Wartooth's. I have documents to prove that he is my legitimate father, and I was born in wedlock, so I'm not a bastard son looking to cash in. I simply wish for two things; my job, and living arrangements to which I have become accustomed.
You will find me extremely proficient in the fields of combat and business. I was tutored from the time I was a child to put my combative nature to good use, and I went to university for business in the field of music. I graduated above average for my class, though you will find me lacking in my ability to spell, so don't put me on proofreading detail. I spent ten years as a Gear, as the chief of security. I am also adept in doing odd jobs around the 'haus. I am capable of speaking to your boys as a peer and as an underling. I will address them as 'sir', just as I address you, Mr. Offdensen. I am well versed in all of their files and history - and possible futures - so I am well aware of their abilities and downfalls. I will serve them to the best of my ability. I can be your advocate to them, and theirs to you. I understand that you don't let anything come between you and your boys, and that is not ever going to be my intention. But should you need the go-between, I am there.
I work at least 50 hour weeks - ten hour days, five days a week, with odd jobs in my weekend, if you need my assistance. My weekends are spent sparring and forging my own weapons, and the occasional movie or party, should I be invited to one. The latter rarely happens, I'm a bit of a homebody, I'll admit. The last Charles insisted on a bi-monthly week of off-time for me, and I'll admit, I rarely took that time off. I always find some little thing that needs to be done.
As for my arrangements, All I ask for is a bedroom with its own bathroom, access to a forge, and a private room off the library to store my own literature, and you'll find my list of necessities very short and concise. I don't mind living off of a Gear's salary, it's what I've been allowed for most of my life. All I ask in way of extra is a stipend for sweets. I think better when I have a bag of dum-dums at my disposal.
I understand that what I know by way of my living in Mordhaus is strictly confidential. I have no friends outside of Mordhaus, and even then, my knowledge is closely guarded. I will not speak to the press, or to outsiders of anything I know or see. I will sign any paperwork you need me to in that regard.
And if you'll allow me the honor, I would very much enjoy a sparring match with you at some point. I rarely have anyone to fight that can consistently kick my ass, sir.
Sincerely,
Teja Magnus Stefan Wartooth