[IC] Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

[Penny]

This time when Amal tried to cross the threshold the Lizards stood aside, they did not react to him warmly as one might a new member of their party, neither did they react to him coldly as one who had just badly wounded one of their champions, they just.. allowed him. T'krit stepped to the Saurus and spoke the words of a spell in his own language. Emmaline paid close attention repeating the words under her breath to fix them in her mind. Sure enough the wound began to knit and heal as though it had never been.

Abruptly the waterfall fell closed across the opening, the rushing sound of water filling the cavern. One of the Saurus moved to the back of the cavern and touched a stone. THere was a sudden grinding of rock against rock and a section of the back of the cavern slid aside, crafted so precisely that until a moment before it would have been completely invisible. The door was tall enough for the creature carrying her to traverse but it knelt so that she could fit without dismounting.

Beyond the door was another much larger cavern. This one had been cut into a series of descending terraces, like an inverse pyramid. Bundles of dried fruit hung from the wall as well as other less identifiable food stuffs. Bundles of arrows and other weapons were also stockpiled and smoke rose from a forge built into one of the walls. Perhaps most incredible was the fact that the lower three terraces were planted thick with some sort of crop, long green stalks topped with a golden gord of some sort. At the very bottom was a pool of water of such uncertain and wavering color that it seemed to shimmer with some inner magic.

"It must be some kind of outpost?" Emmaline mused to Amal stunned by the suddern transformation. Light came down from large veins of luminecent quarts in the ceiling giving the place an oddly twlight feeling. There weren't enough houses for this to be a city or even a village and no evidence of children, assuming these creatures cared for their children the same way humans did.

[POOHEAD189]

To say that Amal was getting annoyed was an understatement. He did not think of these creatures as the aristocrats of his country, but they paid him as much heed as an Emir, and would split him in half if he got in their way at all. The lizards all stopped in a circle as earlier by the pool, but after a small discussion in their strange tongue, many of the smaller beasts Emmaline began to refer to as skinks loped over to the foodstuffs, save for the leader.

Satisfied for now that they wouldn't butcher Emmaline indiscriminately, Amal followed the skinks over to the strange assortments of fruits and salted meats. He sat next to them, all having knelt to munch on the edibles without hesitation. The Saurus he had fought knelt beside him, chomping into an aged leg of meat. Amal could not tell if the thing was looking at him as it ate, or if its eyes simply gazed outwards blandly.

Meanwhile, T'krit called for what Emmaline now knew was a Kroxigor to wade into the translucent pool. The mighty humanoid seemed hesitant, but after another urging it stepped into the waters, careful as it could. Slowly it lifted its arms and grabbed Emmaline gently, and she suddenly realized it was placing her inside the pool! The magics in the water nearly blinded her magesight, and it seemed to reach up and grab her with its energies.

Once her body was dipped into the pool, there was a hush that fell over the room that Amal could almost feel in the air, and he turned to watch in amazement. Around Emmaline, bubbles began to form. Out of the twirling waters rose ten figures; skinks. Red of skin and slightly larger than the normal, with blue frills along their backs. On their body was a sleek coating as if they had hatched from eggs beneath the waters.

It was almost comical, watching Emmaline standing in the middle of the pool wide eyed in some primordial ritual that spawned strange reptilian beasts. T'krit let out a cry of triumph, and then began to shake his stick once again that caused a rumbling in the cavern stone. Emmaline squealed and got out of the pool as quickly as she could, the clothes hugging her skin as a separate tunnel entrance suddenly opened with a slow grinding of rock.

Amal found himself just next to the opening tunnel, and he flinched as it slid, sunlight pouring into the dim cave. He covered his eyes with his hand, squinting from the light. His eyes adjusted to reveal a sight he had never seen in his entire life. It was the second most beautiful thing he had ever seen, above the crown of Settra and below Emmaline's naked body. It was a city of collected ziggurats and statues of frog-like overlords. Great obelisks twice the size of the Kroxigor stood vigilant in strange patterns along the town square. It wasn't the architecture or the statues that made it beautiful to Amal, no.

The city was made of pure gold.
@Penny

[Penny]

It was widely known within the Old World that dwarves suffered from a kind of insanity bought on by the presence of gold. Though they would never admit it adepts of the Gold College suffered from an attenuated version of the same disease. As the golden city appeared before her Emmaline’s mouth fell open and there was a definite stiffening of her nipples and slickening of her thighs.

“Ummm,” she managed as she stepped though the portal and into the city of gold. They stood on a terrace that descended to broad streets and wide plaza below. It seemed to be a series of temples and, possibly habitation for priests, though there was no sign of them now. Emmaline intuited that it must once have been a vast seam of gold, drawn from the space and then reforged to create the shining city below. Though the engineering was beyond impressive, there was clearly something magical about it as she could feel the winds of magic even without opening her inner eyes.

T’krit hissed something that might have been down, or maybe submerge and the Kroxigor lowered her to the ground. The skink stepped towards her and drew an emerald from a pouch. Soft golden light seemed trapped within the gems many facets and it had almost a hypnotic effect on her.

“Tlatanak!” T’krit hissed and pressed the gem to her forehead. Understand. The syllabant hissing of the lizardmen resolved itself into speech, still hisses but intelligible as the magic flowed into her.

“Oh sure you have had that the whole time and you only use it now?” Emmaline asked stamping her foot crossly. T’krit hissed and shook his head.

“The magic will only work in sacred place priestess,” T’krit informed her. Amal was looking at her as though she had just sprouted a tail. Which might have seemed more likely than the fact that she had just begun hissing in the lizardman language. Emmaline looked back and forth from the gem to Amal and then snatched the stone from T’kritt’s talons darting it across the room to press against Amal’s head. There was another flare of golden light as the mystical spell took hold of the thief as well.

“Sacrilige!” T’krit grated behind her.

[POOHEAD189]

The city had nearly had Amal, who had fought Tomb Kings and Stone Guardians, fainting. Never in all of his years did he believe there was this much gold in the entire world. And now he stood among pillars of pure gold, just beyond the scope of buildings made of gold and bronze that towered like pyramids into the sky. It all shined as vibrantly as Emmaline's hair in the morning sun, and Amal knew then and there what he was going to do.

He was going to steal at least his weight in the stuff.

Of course not now. Even a mongoose does not strike without deliberation. But when they were going to leave, he was going to grab a sizeable portion so he could live like a king.

Behind him, T'Krit and Emmaline hissed and growled at one another and he turned, taking out of his amazement and schemeing to notice the exchange. Her powers never ceased to amaze him, and moments later Emmaline poked his head with the gem. It was hurried so she accidentally bumped his forehead. It didn't hurt but had him dazed for a second as the two began to hiss again, only for the language to slowly grow intelligible.

"Am I not the prophet of Sotek?" Emmaline asked, crossing her arms and looking down at the shorter skink passed her nose. The thing gave a low reverberating groan that shook its entire body, and somehow Amal knew that was it's version of showing frustration. Emmaline continued. "He is my mate and I deem he can be blessed with the old tongue."

"The Great Plan does not include him!" T'Krit cried. To the side, Lizardmen began to search through the ruins shoulder to shoulder, the red skinks sticking together and scuttling along the wide avenues and dikes that bisected the city. No doubt they looked for the ratmen or any other chaos-beast that might have begun to take refuge in the abandoned city. For Emmaline's part, she paused, and then snapped back like a whip. "Do you know all of the Great Plan?"

"Well...er, no."

"Then until you can prove to me he is not to be here, he is to be given due respect and blessings. Is that clear?"

"Yes yes. Perhaps you are right." T'Krit conceded, though still clearly annoyed. "His fight with Sar'kahn was lent by the favor of the Old Ones. He may have a part to play, yes. Very well."

The next few hours went by swiftly. Amal and Emmaline didn't get any alone time during, but they almost didn't mind. The city was safe from danger by the sweeps of the Lizardmen, and the Kroxigor had gone hard at work to move large stones and golden pillars towards the center square of the city, reshaping the patterns into a strange shape that seemed almost like a constellation Amal had heard of before. Meanwhile, Amal and Emmaline had been led within the main ziggurat that loomed over the rest of the city. Inside the golden and stone structure were many sectioned chambers in the upper levels where one might sleep or rest and feast. Some rooms were simply filled with plaques and eldritch items and what looked like ancient machinery that boggled the mind. Below, the ziggurat held one vast central chamber that housed a place of power. To Amal they looked like simply ruins, but Emmaline's sight found a gateway into infinity. A portal that could lead people across the world through an inner-dimensional gate, and one might travel beyond the borders of the world if done correctly. The magic that exuded from it could power the most potent of spells, and the sorceress knew then that if she pulled too much in it could kill her, shattering her form into a thousand pieces. But used correctly, she could wield powers that could river the mages of Ulthuan.

Night soon fell, and Emmaline (with Amal sitting behind her) sat on the 3rd floor of the Ziggurat, with her plumed hat on, which T'Krit believed was similar to his headdress, and a feast was presented before them. Freshly butchered and cooked meat amid a myriad of vegetables and fruit and clear golden cups of water had been presented to the Prophetess, with T'Krit's seat on her left and Amal's on her right. Below, the Lizardmen had decided to honor her with blood sports, with the Saurus warriors fighting until first blood beneath ruins and beside the piles of material the Kroxigor had moved.
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline lay back basking in the lambent glow of so much gold, her belly filled with good food feeling genuinely pleased with herself. The one things she might have wished for was wine, but the fermented corn mash which apparently served a similar function for Lizardmen was beyond unappealing and likely poisonous to humans. She was just about to suggest that T'krit give her and Amal some alone time so she could 'reveal the will of Sotek' to him, when the skink abruptly stood.

"It is time," he said portentously and Emmaline felt her stomach lurch with sudden trepedation.

"It is time for what?" she asked the shaman as the Skink took her by the wrist and turned towards the top of the central ziggurart. Emmaline shot a concerned look at Amal and the thief's hands shifted slightly to his daggers. The lizard did not seem on the brink of plunging a dagger into her however.

"To view the will of Sotek," the skink explained impatiently tugging on Emmaline's wrist.

"Ow! Ok I'm coming," she replied huffily and followed the skink to the very top of the pyramid. At the pinnacle was a large cupola inside which stood an massive circular stone. The only object they had seen so far that wasn't fashioned from gold. The carvings were intricate to a level almost beyond belief depicting a great serpent coiled around the world. Smaller lizard and even human figures could be made out making sacrifice and offering obeisance. Other figures seemed to be intent on desecrating the great serpent, many of them were of human form, though heavily armored in the fashion of the fearsome men of the north, others were hunched and ratlike, skaven beyond a doubt. There was writing also on the tablet.

"Can you read the sacred words prophetess?" T'krit asked, sounding eager despite his alien speech pattern. Emmaline really tried but she couldn't help it, she began to snigger and then to laugh.

"What is this madness!" T'krit demanded. The writing on the stone tablet was in neat and perfectly legible Riekspiel, strange and arcane to the lizard folk but easily legible to any burgher who had ever been schooled in his letters.

"Sorry, sorry," Emmaline said, trying to act with the dignity T'krit evidently expected she should. It helped a great deal when she remembered how old this place must be and that Riekspiel probably hadn't existed even in spoken form when this tablet had been carved.

"For the time of contention shall come upon you, for the arrival of the Prophetess shall yield the day of challenge unto ye," she recited. Well it wasn't quite modern Reikspiel but close enough.

"And among your enemies also shall rise one who, upon the appointed hour shall open the way into the Golden City of the Serpent and contend for it with ye," the sinking feeling began to accelerate as she read.

"And neither ye nor ye companions may live whilst the enemy walk amongst the City of Sotek, ye though ye may try for all the days of your life you may not flee ere the contest is resolved..." panic began to well up inside Emmaline and her speech increased in speed.

"And yay by the reading of this prophecy shall the contest long ordained in the stars be opened." As she said the final word there was a sound like a distant earthquake and the door that lead back to the spawning pool slammed shut. Cries of dismay echoed from the Lizardmen though none of them tried to rush back towards the distant now solid rock face. Then a second rumbling came, this one from deep beneath the earth. Dust shook from the ancient golden structures and the vibration made Emmaline's guts contract. Suddenly the wall on the far side of the cavern burst open and a vast cone of spinning steel chewed its way in, throwing rocks and dirt in all direction before it paused on the precipice of a terrace, toppled and plunged downwards. It was like a great Steam Tank though many times the size of the one Emmaline had seen. Weird green crystals festoned it and brass pipework lined its rear section. It seemed that migthy chains had been wound around great wheels to drive the thing through the earth. The remarkable feat of engineering hit the ground at the base of the terrace and bent with a terrible creaking of metal and shower of greenish sparks. An instant later there was a flash of green light and a dull thump and smoke and flame began to pour from the body of the thing. Hatches flew open and skaven poured out of the thing like... well like rats abandoning a sinking ship.

[POOHEAD189]

The structure of the ziggurat rocked, nearly sending Emmaline over had Amal not caught her. T'Krit held on but a few of the other skinks were knocked off to hit the next level, relatively safely considering it was only a floor down due to the architecture shape of the building. Amal and Emmaline watched as rats poured out of the machine, all of the vermin covered in filth and puss and screeching to one another. In the dancing light of the torches, they seemed like a demonic tide of fur and grease that would roll over and devour anything in their path.

Outnumbered at least five to one, the Lizardmen didn't flinch or hesitate. Sor'Khan raised his axe and pointed at the horde of screaming skaven, roaring to his kid as they formed up. The Saurus and the red skinks rallied to him swiftly; the latter now equipped with impressive bronze maces they wielded with two hands. The rest of the skinks swarmed around the Kroxigor, who himself picked up one of the large slabs of bronze he had carried earlier and now held it like a club and bellowed, its roar echoing across the deserted walls of the temple city.

Sor'Khan charged forth, meeting the rat-tide head first, leaping like a raptor into the clanrats. His first swing cut down a skaven effortlessly, his tail whipping to send another flying. The other Saurus and red skinks swung with deft precision that Amal knew bested even the Sultan's finest troops. But the ratment nibbled, bit, and stabbed with their crude scimitars and spears, washing into the Lizardmen like a virus.

A thread of the ratmen's line turned and began to make their way toward the ziggurat, reaching the bottom and climbing over themselves trying to make it up. Amal was concerned for that, but it seemed T'Krit was focused solely on the battle of his people. "Ackt'a vol en te Ackt'a! He incanted, lightning now dancing upon the edge of his staff. To Amal, the lightning looked like it leaped away from the staff to rain upon the skaven, burning flesh and fur and felling twenty of the monsters.

As the ratmen began to climb upwards, Amal casually placed his foot on the slab they used to feast and with a will he shoved it down to the lower level, crushing four rats with an audiblt `squish.` A spear was thrown their way, flying right at Emmaline. On instinct Amal caught it a mere moment before it pierced her stomach. "You need to be more careful," He said in Arabyan. He turned the spear and tossed it at one of the rats, stabbing into it. Amal sighed.

"Only fifteen left," He said, though he had a grin on his face as he did the last thing the rats and Emmaline expected. He leaped into the mass of vermin below them, hacking and stabbing.
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline goggled in shock as Amal leaped into the skaven, she froze in indecision, caught between a desire to follow and another more reasonable desire to run screaming for whatever hidey hole she could find. Well stop screaming before hiding she supposed. Instead her eyes were drawn to the hole the hellish Skaven engine had bored into the sacred city. More of the filthy rats were already pouring out of it, including one nearly the size of the kroxigor, its muscles and sinew like the anchor cables of a vast warship.

Not certain what else to do Emmaline began to chant a spell. Almost immediately she realised her mistake Charmon howled around her at hurricane force, drawn by the vast deposits of gold around her. A beam of golden light the thickness of a wine barrel lanced from her hands, streaking instantly across the city and ripping a furrow through the ground and up over the rate ogre. Its surviving arms and legs dropped to either side as its torso and head were incinerated, half the reinforcements suffered the same fate before a rat with a strange multibarrled musket took aim at her. She dove aside a moment before a dozen glowing green projectiles scythed through the space she had just been in, decapitating a skink archer and blowing divots the size of dinner plate into the golden steps of the pyramid. The beam from her hands scythed about wildly managing to avoid killing any lizardmen by sheer luck.

"No no no!" Emmaline yelped as it ripped over the ceiling dropping a stalagtite that must have weighed several tons down onto the Skaven's already destroyed warmachine. Green flame belched outwards in a sooty black green explosion which melted the flesh from some of the nearby ratmen. Suddenly she saw something rise out of the golden well in the center of the city. It spun with light and dark like a thunderstorm in a bottle, a sphere about the size of a human head. One of the skaven, all dressed in black whom she hadn't noticed before broke and ran for the strange sphere, paws outstretched.

[POOHEAD189]

This wasn't Amal's first time in a dangerous situation, but he had to admit the ratmen swarmed like locusts. It took all of his skill to keep their gnashing teeth and bladed weapons from cutting off anything vital, though he was nicked and gashed a dozen times over. Twice he had to relocate and leap over carefully lain stone blocks and bronze outcroppings to stem the tide as more and more skaven ascended to his level and went after him. He slit a pursuing ratman's throat, making that his seventh kill. He felt pretty good about his tally so far, wondering if Emmaline was watching.

There was a flash that had even the vermin that chased him distracted, and he couldn't help but glance upwards as well to see Emmaline summon a power that would have given Settra pause, scything a beam of energy through multitudes of the spewing horde that still tried to claw its way out of the ground below. It boiled a ratman-like giant alive and burned through scores of the clanrats.

Well, perhaps he wasn't that impressive. But he'd saved her life many times before, right? Only fair that she paid it all back now in one great sweep. Good timing too, as the lizardmen began to reform, a few of the skinks and a Saurus warrior having been overwhelmed and hacked to death not moments before. In the square, as Amal was eviscerating a still distracted Skaven, an orb of light and darkness lifted up with an eerie slowness.

Monk rats covered in mucus and bandages were now among the throng, screeching like banshees and loping into the lines of the lizardmen, hacking with rotted clubs and vomiting on them. To their credit the Lizardmen handled it quite well, as the vomit seemed to eat through the stone beneath them and the Lizardmen seemed only somewhat effected by the strange vileness that erupted from their throats.

Behind them, a darkly clad ratman with horns curled around a grey skull-cap rushed forward, letting the minions distract and shield his movements as he tried to make his way towards the sphere. Amal turned to look back at Emmaline and saw the fear in her eyes, and came to the conclusion that it would be a bad thing were he to obtain it. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Amal gave her a fierce grin that spoke volumes.

"Amal!" She cried, but he had already leaped off the ziggurat's lower level, landing atop the sweeping tide of fur and scuttling. To her amazement, he never touched the ground. Expertly he leaped from skaven to skaven, running over the advancing skaven like they were rocks amid a flowing river. Furious seconds passed until he reached the edge, and with one great, savage leap the Arabyan flew off the vermin army and tackled the Skaven shaman just before he reached the orb, wrestling with the strange creature and trying to pry its eldritch staff out of its hands.
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline's heart leaped into her throat as Amal tackled the skaven sorcerer. She was reasonably certain that had it not been so fixated on the orb it could have obliterated him without difficulty. The thief and the ratwizard tumbled struck at one another. Even from this distance Emmaline saw a chisel shaped fang fly lose in a spray of blood and saliva as Amal slugged the thing in the jaw with a vicous right hook. It screeched and yowled at such a volume that its plight began to attract attention from its minions even over the roar of battle.

A sudden pain flared through Emmaline as her wrists were wrenched backwards and a blade, razor sharp for all its jagged ugliness was pressed against her throat. Paws gripped her wrists behning her back, the contact oily and repulsive. She could smell the musk of the rat behind her and closed her eyes.

"You tell them to surrender man thing yes-yes!" the rat chittered. Emmaline opened her mouth and began to speak. Instead of a demand to surrender however she wove a spell. By the time the rat realized what was going on his paws and forearms were encased in gold and a few seconds after that his entire body shone in golden effigy. Unfortunately the pose of this new piece of statuary kept Emmaline locked and immobile, its golden hands surrounding her wrists and holding its golden knife to her throat.

"Uhhh... didn't really think this through..." she whimpered.

[POOHEAD189]

"Em!" He cried, his attention momentarily diverted as he pinned the skaven-mage. The thing saw its opportunity and bit into his arm, drawing blood and making him cry out in pain. The skaven would regret that, as his eyes fell fully on the thing and the vermin quelled beneath his gaze. It was less than a second before Amal had it on its feet and his dagger pressed to its throat much like Emmaline's attacker, only his dagger was not immobilized.

"Wait wait you fools!" The skaven cried to its comrades streaming towards them. Uneasily they stopped, tails twitching in irritation. As the battle raged on, Amal pressed the dagger more firmly against it. "Give me a good reason why I should not cut your throat and bleed you on the ground." He asked it in Reikspiel, nearly as broken and uneasy on his tongue as it was with the Skaven's own grasp of the language.

"Hold, stupid man-thing!" It said, wriggling in agitation. "Please listen! The orb controls the city. If I do not handle it soon, everything could blow sky high! Unpredictable! Big big explosion cablooey!"

Behind them the orb grew more volatile, the lightning within it growing brighter and larger. Amal glanced back at it, and his eyes went to Emmaline. He wasn't going to let anything happen to her or the Lizards if he could help it. Forming a quick idea, he clicked his tongue twice. Out of his sack poked the carpet curiously. Amal's grip on the Skaven relaxed for a moment, letting the thing breathe out in relief.

That was before Amal picked up the fat rat in his hands and lifted him over his head.

"You wish to handle this thing!?" He cried to the rat now squirming in terror.

"Kill kill the man-thing! Hurry hurry!" It screeched, but he was too late. Amal placed his foot on the wall of the well and tossed the skaven below just under the orb, its screams echoing as it fell an uncomfortably long time. lizard and Rats clawed and mauled one another, oblivious to what was occuring. The Skaven who had halted looked to one another, confused. Amal grimly picked up the Sorcerer's staff in both hands, and wound up. An instant before the staff struck the orb, the rats realized their doom.

FWACK

The Orb wobbled, trying to stay aloft as cracks began to appear on its outer shell. The light seeping out of it in increasing frequency. Amal had not stuck around to watch, having hopped on the carpet to speed over the battle that looked to be dying down. The Skaven seemed too preoccupied with filling the square, but the Lizardmen had suddenly begun to ignore them. They knelt before the Orb as it began to glow like the sun, bowing their heads. Amal didn't know if they were suicidal or if they knew something the Skaven didn't. He zipped over to Emmaline and grabbed the immobilized arm of the would-be assassin, cautiously moving the arms away from her neck. He held out his hand for her to take.

"Are you going to stand there and look beautiful alone, or will you join me on this magic carpet?" He asked her easily.

In the background, lightning the size of tree trunks began to discharge across the town square, originating from the orb. It cut through the Skaven like so much chaff, missing the prostrated Lizardmen by mere inches in some cases, bouncing from ratmant to ratman in a furious assault. As precise as it was, the lightning struck and sundered stone, causing buildings to collapse in its wake. Little did Amal know(though Emmaline could rightly guess) that the light had won within the orb. Amal striking with the staff had caused it to oppose the stave's darkness, increasing the light and fulfilling its purpose.
@Penny

[Penny]

Emmaline leaped onto the carpet as it soared free of the fray. Bolts of jagged energy were tearing from the shattered orb, blasting apart rock and stone in showers of flaming debris. Chunks of the cavernous roof above began to fall like great daggers plunging into the city below and flattening buildings, lizardmen and skaven alike. If Sotek had won the battle it certainly didn't seem like any of his worshipers were going to be alive to savor it. Well as the High Priestess of Asapth until told otherwise, Emmaline certainly intended to outlive the combatants below.

"There!" Emmaline yelled pointing at the tunnel through which the Skaven had come. A score or so of the creatures stood hesitantly in the mouth of the tunnel not brave enough to race to the aid of their betters but to scared to flee. Emmaline summoned up another scything bolt of golden light leaving a dozen smoking sets of skaven feet as the carpet raced through the opening and into the tunnel beyond. The interior of the tunnel was twisted by the bite of the boring machine. The tunnel narrowed rapidly as the infernal engine had obviously had no way to dispose of the spoil but had ground it down so that it settled into a smaller space. Behind them came a collosal boom and flash of light that almost seemed to make the walls of solid rock transparent. A great cloud of dust raced down the tunnel behind them like the wake of a bursting dam but with a final burst of speed the carpet outdistanced it before slowing to a coast and then settling to the tunnel floor.

Emmaline looked back the way they had come, her expression as stricken as though she had just been told that Midsummer Eve had been canceled.

"All that gold," she bemoaned wringing her hands together mournfully.

"Don't worry so much," Amal managed sounding a little glum himself, "It isn't a total loss." With a flourish he pulled a golden dagger with a large emerald in its hilt from his bag.

"That is hardly the point!" Emmaline objected before producing a pair of gem studded torcs from her own garments.

[POOHEAD189]

The tunnel still had some faint light which gave them just enough to see by. Amal wasn't certain if it was from the lightning back where they had come from or a light source up ahead. All he was certain of was that Emmaline had managed to outsteal him, producing two torcs before his eyes. He shook his head. "You amazing northern woman." He marveled and kissed her so thoroughly she dropped the torcs onto the ground, her leg popping behind her.

They couldn't stay where they were though, and unless they wanted to go back into a cave-in or worse, angry Skaven, they needed to move forward. Amal picked up the torcs and placed them in the back with the dagger and the now rolled up carpet. They really needed to find a way to get more mileage on it, Amal thought.

"Follow me and keep your head low," Amal whispered to his companion, and she produced a very soft light in her hands just in case things went completely dark. Amal nodded and turned, leading the way into the darkness. He had the short sword and dagger in hand, moving almost like a desert sidewinder as he crept along the cramped, newly made passageway. Crushed rock mixed with dust and jagged stones that had stayed upright from the imperfect design of the skaven contraption's drill.

"Where do you think this leads?" Emmaline whispered after close to an hour of skulking. What Amal found strange was that the tunnel had led into a more natural cavern that moved (if he had to guess) southward. It was larger than the tunnel and it smelled of rat, but so far no skaven as of yet. Not even a squeak or a whimper. Like as not what army was here had all gone straight for the Lizardman Temple City. Lot of good that did them.

"Hopefully some place where I can steal from someone more pompous and civilized." He said, indicating her to follow him after a quick look around. There were some smaller holes leading upwards and downwards, but Amal sensed following the main 'road' would work best. Soon he even felt a small flow of air on his face, and it sped his heart to hope there was an exit. "Do you smell that?" He asked her. He answered before she could. "Humid air..."

A faint screech was heard in the distance behind them. The sorceress jumped but Amal clamped her mouth shut with his hand before she could scream, letting her calm down for a moment. "It seems some rats have picked up our trail." The thief said, his voice filled with such calm deathliness and trepidation that it would have made anyone's skin crawl had they not been used to him. The cries and chitters of the rats did not seem to be made of any large number, which still did not bode well for them. It could be a 6 to 1 fight and they could be wielding the strange green weaponry they had seen in the city.

Minutes sped by and the cavern curved upwards as the two fled, growing smaller and smaller until Amal felt very frightened that it would be too minescule for either to fit through. But it was just large enough to squeeze out of one at a time. Amal motioned for Emmaline to go, the moonlight above them serving as a beacon of hope. The screeches were terrible close now and one could even hear their claws scraping along the cavern floor.

"You first." She said.

"Do you trust me?" He asked her, holding his hand out. It was a strange question, coming from a thief who had done many deplorable things before her eyes. But oddly enough, he had a trustworthiness beyond any man in her life previously, and she took his hand. He smiled, and helped her climb up. Her arms reached out, the rocky hole hugging her hips. Amal pressed against her feet, her body popping up out of the hole and she flopped on the ground.

She found she was on a grassy hill among a copse of jungle trees, overlooking a port town that wafted with smoke beside the sea. Smaller frigates and caravels bobbed within the harbor, and it surprised her so much she almost forgot Amal below. A bag filled with their provisions was tossed through the opening, nearly smacking her in the face. Scrambling to the hole, she reached down to help him up. Her hand extended into the darkness, and was grabbed by a tiny clawed hand.

Suddenly a skaven's head poked out, its nose twitching as it looked at her. It opened its mouth, but rather than making a sound, blood seeped out and it slumped back down into the hole. Scrambling and yips followed until at last Amal's hands burst through the small opening, grabbing the sides and yanking his cut and dirtied body out with a will. Another skaven attempted to ascend, but at that moment the sun peeped over the horizon and quelled its bravado, sending it back into the darkness below.

"Another vacation sounds good." Amal groaned.
@Penny

[Penny]

The two adventurers stumbled down the low grassy hills towards the settlement, nestled on the dividing line between lush emerald jungle and cerulean blue sea, the steep pitched roofs and smoking chimnies of the port seemed at once alien and out of place and the only reminder of something recognizable as civilization. Long moles reached out into the ocean constructed laboriously of stone which had been hacked from the nearby hills over the years, slowly replacing what must have initially been wooden versions created from the greenish jungle timber. A palisade wall with a stone foundation ringed the place with towers to twice or three times the height of the parapet at regular intervals. Beyond the walls were fields of crops that stretched from the town to where the base of the hills made the terrain too rocky, but beyond the occasional tool shed there were no permanent structures beyond the wall. Emmaline had to imagine this was because the settlers knew they weren't safe if they ventured out beyond their fortifications. Having just left the company of Lizardmen via a Skaven tunnel Emmaline could appreciate the feeling.

The gates of the port stood open although watchful men in the towers and on the walls kept an eye on them as they approached. The pair made quite a sight, scratched and filthy with dirt and blood and dressed in the tattered remains of sailors clothing. Never the less no comment was made as they entered the dirt streets beyond the walls. As expected from the number of ships in harbor the streets were crowded with sailors and traders from a dozen different nations. Bluff Imperials cried the virtues of barrels of ale from Middenheim, Tilean silversmiths hawked buttons of polished steel, Estalian bravos swaggered and drank on the verendahs of wine shops. There were even a few hooked nose Araybians peddling brasswares and candied dates. Sailors from every nation rolled drunkenly from taverns to brothels, good naturedly for the most part, though occasional drunken altercations were taking place. These impromptu displays of fisticuffs tended to attract gamblers more interested in betting on the outcome than joining in however.

"Hey blondie, I got a gold florin for you if you are looking for a good time!" a slightly more prosperous looking sailor, perhaps a ships officer, called, staggering drunkenly towards Emmaline. Amal smoothly interposed himself and shoved the fellow away, though not before Emmaline caught a wiff of the sour wine on his breath. The Aryabian shoved the fellow away sending him staggering into one of the brothels none the worse for wear.

"I suppose we will need to sell one of our prizes for money," Emmaline mused looking around for a goldsmith or pawn shop that might do. Amal laughed and produced a leather purse he had lifted from the sailor.

"Whatever for?" he asked before taking a gold florin from the pouch and handing it to Emmaline.

[POOHEAD189]

The town was very much a second home to Amal, at least in certain aspects. He had grown up in a port city, and though there was a massive reduction in dry heat and inland sand dunes, it had the same feeling as Al-Hiekk. The sense in the air that there was a potential for violence, but most people quelled their barbaric tendencies to make some coin and survive the harsh nature of the lands further inland.

Amal flicked the gold florin expertly and caught it as they walked. Above the street were rafters where colorful plumed birds squawked and screamed. Some imitated the speech patterns of the men below, spouting out daily calls like "Get your fish here!" As the two walked, they first discussed what they wished to eat. Amal settled for a nice potato with all the trimmings, and he was surprised there was bacon available on the continent that, he should have guessed, was Lustria.

Striding around the corner of the market, the docks were around 100 meters away. A small man with a monocle, wearing a handsome suit nearly bumped into Amal, who lithely leapt out of the fellow's way. He shook his curly haired head as if Amal have given an affront by even being near him.

"I say dear fellow, excuse me. It's no good being rude. I say yes, I wouldn't be having such troubles had my retainers not been eaten by those savage beasts of the jungle! Dear goodness me, this last is primitive beyond measure. Hm yes mm, n-now excuse me I must make my way to the Destrier." He declared.

"Destrier?" Amal mouthed.

"Yes, I do say. The ship that will take me out of this Sigmar-forsaken place!"

"Where is the Destrier going?" Emmaline pipped in.

"Nordland, though it will make a stop at Marienburg I do believe." He said, seemingly confused on why he had stopped to speak to them. It seemed Asaph's compulsion enchantments still held strong on Emmaline. That or, this old fellow was a very talkative chap. "It leaves on the morrow if you care to join. Yes yes, goodbye!" He waddled away, and after a moment of silence the two laughed. "Well, it seems our luck is turning around." The Arabyan said.

"Now for us to get some new clothes," The blonde woman added, pulling at the threads of her garment with a distaste. "And then after that a room."

Amal perked up immediately.
@Penny

[Penny]

Clothing it turned out, was cheap. Most everything in Port Reaver, as the place was charmingly named, was cheap. Goods for sale here were rarely purchased legitimately and were sold, often as not for a handful of coin and a few barrels of rum. Although there were bribes to be paid overhead on goods acquired at sword point was low and the fact that a proportion of the crew was not likely to survive acquiring those goods, wages were also manageable. So it was that an hour later stepped out of a tailor, if such a term could be applied, in an entirely new wardrobe for the price of a few pieces of silver. The supplies on hand didn't really run to dresses so she had instead a long shirt of white silk that hung down to her thighs giving the same effect. SHe wore trousers in long gray and black stripes tucked into Tilean boots with broad silver buckles. She wore a sash of red silk around her waist to belt the shirt in place that gave her a rakish and piratical look. The tailor had also been kind enough to scrub the dirt and blood off her, a service he had been so caviler about that Emmaline wondered just how wild a town Port Reaver could be after dark.

Amal had gone to speak to the captain of the Destrier having finished buying his own clothing well before she had exhausted her options and was due back at any minute. Emmaline had found an inn, there were several in the area and purchased a room for the night and then returned to meet Amal. She passed the time browsing the various shops and chandleries, amazed at the variety of goods available in such a remote settlement. There were even a few swords in one pawn shop that claimed to be of Elven manufacture, though Emmaline was reasonably sure they were fakes. There were many pistols, hand guns and even what looked to be a Dwarven flame cannon, though how anyone here could manufacture fuel remained a mystery to her. Books and purported arcana was less impressive, though Emmaline saw several places that claimed to sell such things, they were inevitably forgeries or simple baubles meant to con the gullible, something she was familiar with from having hawked no few faux love potions and fake astrologies in her time in Altdorf. It seemed that any serious arcane works would have to wait until Marienburg. Well that was fine, in order to buy much more than their passage on the Destrier and their room and board they would have had to have sold the artefacts they had liberated from the City of Sotek and Emmaline was sure they would fetch a much better price in Marienburg.

"There you are," Amal called and Emmaline turned to him with a smile and a flourish to show off her new clothes.

[POOHEAD189]

It was a strange but fruitful visit with the captain, which he felt he dressed appropriately for. It hadn't taken Amal to find a good outfit, and it was somewhat similiar to Emmaline's though with a different feel to it. Ever the bandit, Amal had not seen to wear any sort of bright colors now they were back in some form of civilization. His belt was now made of leather, and he donned a dark coat that sat atop a white linen shirt. His pants were slightly baggier than Emmaline's and more bland in color, though a crimson bandana was tied around his head to keep his thick, dark hair out of his eyes. The final item, a wide brimmed hunter's hat fit snugly atop his head.

The Captain was an Imperial, known as Captain Walhem. His eyes and hair were nearly as bright as Emmaline's though there was flecks of grey from age and travel. He didn't judge Amal by his manner or accent, and after some conversation confessed that he was friends with Captain Diego by a flippant comment on a certain sailing story he had been delighted to tell the thied. Amal told him of the ship's fate and the Captain's passing, and though it brought a stormcloud over the man's features, he thanked Amal and told him as far as he was concerned he and his companion would be welcome on his ship free of charge.

This had brought a skip in Amal's step, leaping onto the docks and striding passed the fish sellers and cargomen hauling frieght off newly docked ship. A few roads further into the city and he passed by the marketplace where a weaponsmith was selling his wares. Amal reached into the bag and looked at the pistol he had taken off of the Empire man back on the El Cargador. Perhaps purchasing some powder would be of some use as well.

Minutes passed and he had a pawned infantry officer's saber at his belt, with 20 pistol balls and powder neatly tucked into a newly bought leather pouch that fit snug on his new belt.

He found a mirror at the edge of the street and strutted up to it, looking himself up and down. He looked very much the same, but somehow far different as well. No longer was he the street rat of Al-Hiekk, but Amal the adventurer! Who did some thieving on the side, granted. It was then he spotted Emmaline, and made his way over to her, calling to her.

He saw her give a flourish, and he watched and tried to do the same in response. He hadn't the flair she had, but he was a quick study and didn't embarrass himself. They smiled to one another, and Amal gave a wink. "By the way, we're getting a free trip on the Destrier."

Emmaline blinked. "How did you manage that?"

He placed his hand on the small of her back and shrugged. "I have my ways. So, do we have a room or are we to sleep on the grass again? If it's the latter, I think I will go steal a blanket. We're running out of that fool's money."
@Penny

[Penny]

+Events of Tavern at the End of the World+

Emmaline awoke as golden light crept in through the window. She stirred lazily for a moment, reaching over to feel Amal's warm form beside her. With a sudden shock she sat bolt upright and the motion caused Amal to roll out of bed grabbing for his pants in the same motion his hand came up with his sword.

"Scheisse, it's already dawn," Emmaline cursed. Amal looked at her in concern for a moment before realization dawned in his eyes and he lurched upright pulling on his trousers and gathering up their few possessions with his other hand.

"By Allah, they ship will be leaving!" They pulled on their clothes as hastily as they could and ran for the door, Emmaline still buttoning her shirt as they rushed down the stairs. The taproom was nearly empty save for the bartender who started awake as they thumped down to the ground floor. A few men lay passed out at tables and booths, but all were to heavily drunken to do more than snort and snuffle.

"I trust my establishment," the bartender began but shut up as Emmaline hurled a handful of small coins at him as she fled out the door following Amal, they burst on to the sleepy street and raced downhill towards the sea. Sure enough the Destrier which had been slated to sail at down was in the process of setting her sails to carry her out with the morning tide. Amal shouldered his way past a long shoreman as they pounded passed the stevedores who were just beginning the task of loading cargo onto another large brig ignoring their startled shouts, jibes, and in the case of Emmaline who still hadn't managed to fully button her shirt, marriage proposals.

By the time they reached the edge of the dock there was already six feet of clearence between the bulwark of the ship and the dock. Amal made a flying leap and caught a hold of the bulwark with one hand. Emmaline was far less sanguine about her chances but leaped also, golden hair flying like a banner as she sailed across the gulf towards the ship. Amal caught her hand a fraction of a second before she planted her face into the hull and fell into the harbor and a minute later they were hauled onto the deck by grinning sailors, apparently very amused at the last moment arrival.

"I'm sorry friend," the Captain said with a jovial look at the pair of them, "I waited as long as I could!"

[POOHEAD189]

Amal was hauled up as the Captain laughed, who himself held Emmaline's hand to help her be hoisted up. The thief might not have been able to pull off that sort of maneuver had he not had sufficient food or rest the night before. He had been 'running on fumes' as the Dwarfs say, though he had no idea of the origin of the saying. Soaked on certain sections of their clothes, Amal removed his coat and placed it on Emmaline to keep her wet chest out of the view of the other sailors.

"It was our fault. I'm simply glad my companion woke up on time." He said slyly and kissed her cheek. Amal shifted and got to his feet, removing his hat and blinking at the sun, trying to see the weather. A habit since the shipwreck, but at the moment there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

"I'm glad you had such quick feet!" Captain Walhem chuckled, and he ushered them to follow him. The ship looked similar in proportion to the El Cargador, but with a decidedly different style. The build was thicker and there was more steel along the ship's frame, but the majority of it was very much laminated wood, built for speed. On deck, most of the men were busy at work, hauling ropes and mopping the floors under the morning sun. The heat had already begun to fall upon them.

Amal had never seen so many northerners in one place. Luckily they were all too busy at their work to notice his ethnicity or Emmaline's sex, if problems regarding either were ever to come up. He truly hoped not. He'd have to explain to the Captain why he slit someone's throat and tossed them overboard. Perhaps if he did it at the dead of night...

"Two floors below, three doors on the left you'll find your quarters. Here's the key. Lunch will be served in a few hours, and I suspect, Manaan willing, we'll be in Marienburg in ten days or less." The Captain explained, boasting at the end there. He saw Amal and Emmaline's looks of astonishment, and the man grabbed at his girthy suspenders, grinning. "Aye, got into a trade deal with the stunted folk of Karak Azul. We're using a motor to keep this ship going, though sails are still up. It mostly just keeps us flowing even against the wind. Weather won't be a problem for this ship unless we capsize."

The two looked at one another with concern. "Well, that is good to fear- I mean hear!" Emmaline declared.
@Penny

[Penny]

"So the steam compresses until it lifts the piston which works the arm?" Emmaline asked leaning forward to observe the metal workings of the engine. The engine-room was well below the waterline in a section which might once have been part of a powder magazine. The steam engine itself was the size of a small wagon, though a lot of that was a large wooden barrel that stored water. According to Makem, a balding mustached engineer from Nuln, fresh water worked best and kept salt from building up in the pipes which drove the propeller. Although he had initially been nervous to allow Emmaline near the machine, her persistent interest and her ability to transmute salt water into the pure element had eventually won him over.

"I have to admit that some of it is a bit too complicated for me," Makem admitted, wiping the sweat and cold dust from his face with a filthy handkerchief.

"The Dwarves have arts of engineering that we know nothing off," the man went on, sounding equal parts sour and impressed. He punctuated the remark but patting the chugging machine happily.

"I can keep it running, and make minor repairs, but if anything goes too far wrong we just shut her down and rely on the sails and Mannan's good will." Neither the engineer nor his two offsiders seemed to mind Emmaline's daily visits over the past week to see the engine and all three men seemed to find plenty of time to show her around. Emmaline nodded and straightened brushing coal dust from her cheeks.

"So that's what the gauges do? Measure the pressure in the chambers?" she asked. Makem nodded and opened his mouth but before he could speak a shout came from deck.

"Sail ho!"

[POOHEAD189]

The ship creaked under the midday sun as sailors went about their daily routine. Crates filled with spices and liquor were needing hauled off the foredeck to below, the crew having neglected to move some of the shipment boxes after having gotten drunk the night before. This had the side effect of most sailors being unable to pass the time leisurely. Fortunately, it still left just enough of them to play Liar's Dice.

Amal and the rest of them shook their cups, the two carved bones within clinking and clacking together against the cup before they were slammed down on the table in the foreroom of the ship, just below the deck. The thief had not caught all of their names as of yet, but at the table sat the Arabyan with an Ostermarker, Reiklander, a Kislevite, and a Tilean. It had the potential for a great joke, had Amal been more worldly.

At the center of the table was a pile of coins, messily stacked to the point none of the players really knew who's bet was what. It didn't truly matter, they all played for keeps. The Kislevite, a man known as Dimitri opened his cup and grinned, spreading his mustache even wider if that were possible. The Ostermarker next to him had a similiar mustache, though he had a long thin beard preened out of his chin. Northerners were a strange folk.

"three twos." The Tilean said haughtily to Amal, and the Arabyan shook his head. Behind him, the torch flares brightly, and Amal thought for a moment. "Four fives."

"Liar!"

"Show me!"

The Tilean and Arabyan lifted their cups, and Amal raised his hands in triumph. The Tilean was suddenly slugged across the face by the Kislevite for lying himself, and the rest of the men followed suit with their guesses. None of them were as accurate as Amal's premonition, which gave him the win. The men grumbled loudly and punched him in the shoulder, but they were fine sports of it. Little did they realize Amal had positioned himself before the torch perfectly. He had seen their dice rolls off the reflections of their eyes.

"Sail ho!" A cried rose up from above just as Amal scooped up his winnings. He could not wait to show Emmaline his score. Added gold meant added fun in more than one way. The other men huffed and the Tilean laughed, rubbing his jaw as they went up the stairs to answer the call. Curious as always, Amal slid every coin into his purse before he followed suit. A bawdy song in his head, he felt like these lads were good to hang around with. As he made it to the stairway leading up, he wanted to throw a few jokes at their expense, but found the silence topside deafening.

The clouds ran across the sun's light, eclipsing the ship to match the general mood and confusion of the Destrier's crew. In the distance there was a strange shape. Indigo in color, with double Lateen sails and the terrible head of a sea drake carved on its bow. As it approached, the wind caused it to shift lightly, and Amal's keen eyes made out something behind it. Another ship? He didn't quite understand, even as the Captain told his quartermaster to get the men to their stations.
@Penny