Penny

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

Molly nodded her head, eager as ever to be left out of such tawdry tasks as 'lifting' and 'carrying' and 'doing any real work' as Quintus liked to put it. Behind here there was a dull wumph and a fireball as a vat of sesame oil ruptured and burst into flames, raising a lazy, low intensity, fireball from the burning noodle truck.

"If you find me a car I promise to drive it in a way that no lawful authorities will be ABLE to catch it," Molly replied, the emphasis making the answer a little less reassuring than the words alone might have coveyed.

"Hey, hey!" Molly called to her ur-bot tapping the boxy unit on the LCD display as it continued to make katana poses with the surviving chopsticks.

"Spot any vehicles on the way in?" she asked. The ur-bot rotated and thrust out both it's hands with a magician's flourish to indicate the burning wreck.

"If you don't stop being such a wise ass I'll have Buzz Killington shot YOU in the leg," she threatened. The ur-bot beeped in a sulky tone and began a scan of the area.

OOC

Taking a stress to give Quintus another dice
@POOHEAD189

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

Zoya cursed Davian for a woolheaded fool as they forged their way through the crowd of noisy and smelly humanity. Twice she had to slap away pickpockets, which in itself was a problem because even a very wise goodwife shouldn’t have been quite so adept at spotting them. It took her back to her own childhood in Tanchico where she had lifted her own share of purses, and was struck by the sudden insane urge to try her luck. It had been years since she had used the skill for anything beyond befuddling the odd Aes Sedai though and the risk of failure was too high. And who knew, there might be thief takers about.

By the time the reached the tavern, an unprepossessing place named the Mast Head, she was compiling a list of Davian’s many faults. Whether he wanted to or not he had forced her to come with him, she dare not risk his connection to the Saddle Light to something as mundane as a drunken knifing, nor could she have convinced him to stay without using arguments that would have revealed too much to Maddy. The other Brown already thought she was looking at him as a potential warder which was bad enough if gossip got back to the Tower, but if word got out about her real mission entire armies might be thrown at them, and not only armies of the Shadow. There were many monarchs and rulers who would give almost anything to lay claim to the Horn for their own ends, none of which would serve the needs of the Light and the White Tower.

“Some might say it has charm,” Zoya said, skirting as close to her oaths as was possible as they stepped into the tavern. It was built of sections of old ships, the walls and floors a hodgepodge of dozens of different vessels given the wide variance in wood grains. Rushes, ubiquitous in a marshy area like this, had been scattered liberally over the floor, giving it a swampy overtone to the salt smell of the estuarine sea. The tables were surplus barrels, probably beef or fish casks which no longer could be calked to hold fluid but still provided surfaces for clay tankards and dice games of dubious repute. The sole piece of stone work was a rather impressive central chimney made of mortared river stone that opened on three of its four sides. A fire of crackling driftwood popped and snapped within, heating a large cauldron that contained stew of some kind. Several joints of meat were being turned on spits by an indifferent looking child with a pimply complexion, the drippings falling into narrow trays in the Tarien fashion to be used as grease and gravy later. The whole place smelled of ale, wood smoke, cooking meat, and old mildew.

The denizens of this place looked just as varied and scrofulous as their surroundings. Zoya thought they were probably a cut above the unwashed humanity that filled the streets, but it was a fairly shallow cut. The tongues of a half dozen nations combined into a dull roar as everyone lifted their voices a few octaves to be heard over the yells of their neighbours. They were ships captains or ships officers for the most part, with a smattering of local business men and artisans, people who were sick enough of the taste of fish to pay a little something for meat without gills. The saddest excuse for a gleeman sat beside the fireplace, vainly plucking at his battered lute and trying to engage the attention of anyone who would look at him without any real success.

Irritating as ever, Davian ignored her comment and strode to an empty barrel, taking a seat on the rough three legged stool. At least the woolhead picked one far enough away from the fire to provide some shadows and Zoya took a seat across from him. A well endowed barmaid trailed over after a few minutes, her tired walk becoming something of a strut as she got a look at the thief taker.

“What can I do for you sailor,” she asked with innocently contrived innuendo.

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

@ctrlsaltdel

What would I need to roll to locate another vehicle?

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

Ijin: Humans probably find this morally questionable.

Molly: Cha-CHING!!!!

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

Sounds good to me. IC post incoming.

@rush99999

A Chartered Course: Medieval Trading League RP

Inez signaled her understanding and unslung her repeater, her eyes and fingers moving over it with autonomic familiarity. The native laborers clicked at each other in their own tongue as they set the heavy crates that they carried across their backs down by the side of the trail and took a moment to rest. It occurred to Inez that she hadn’t asked what was in the cargo before they left the encampment. Her eyes drifted to the heavy wooden boxes, ungainly burdens for the ants to carry, not that the natives seemed to mind. They were standard 1x2 meter crates that might have contained anything from machinery to pharmaceuticals. There was no holographic crest on them. Inez frowned. Ordinarily any goods they were moving would carry the Solar Winds seal, or at least the seal of whomever they had been purchased from. There were League laws against certain kind of trade with undeveloped societies: modern weapons, certain types of addictive drugs, ships and starfaring tech and the like, though this didn’t stop unscrupulous traders from moving things, Inez herself had been on her share of what she was pretty sure were gun buys, but it was unusual. A-POW policed these statutes with their usual indifference but the real beat cop was simple economics. Few undeveloped societies could afford armored vehicles, much less the logistic trains that fed them, and what was true for tanks was true in spades for spacecraft. League traders were not above supplying guns or drugs, or both to destabilize a situation though, if it served their long term interests. Were these crates part of some kind of ploy, was Captain Maynard running goods off the books.

“Far side looks clear,” Bad called back and Inez guiltily looked up from her thus far unrewarding inspection of the crates. She gave him the a thumbs up and made a ‘move it along’ gesture to the locals. With much clicking and clattering the crates were lifted onto backs, and secured with the third set of limbs. Without hesitation the natives began to splash down into the muddy water of the stream, hauling the cargo across like ancient coolies. Inez watched them struggle across the river, zipping up her bodysuit only when the last native was halfway across. Part of her delay was a tactical judgement to provide a rearguard, partially a reluctance to go back into the water so soon after fighting the kraken, and partially, she had to admit, it was the hangover. Whatever the reason she was perfectly positioned to spot the natives bursting from the treeline on the opposite bank. There must have been twenty of them, all were painted with some kind of ochre paint and carried weapons. The weapon of choice seemed to be a pair of short axes, though some held trade firearms, paired pistols or single shot rifles. They surged down the bank onto Bad and the porters in a chitonous mass. Without conscious thought Inez found herself prone, her rifle laid across the top of a boulder. The holographic sight picture filled with one of the attacking natives as he leaped into the air, twin axe raised high. It’s chest exploded in spray of greenish gore and it clattered to the river bank like a broken toy. She swung her sights onto another and punched it through the chest a heat beat after it decapitated one of the porters. The scene disintegrated into a tangle of alien bodies in which it was impossible to tell friend from foe. Inez fired again, whinging one of the attackers as it attempted to stab Bad from behind.

“Bad!” she shouted, cursing as one of the porters obstructed her next shot. Black powder weapons went of with great gouts of smoke and a shot, quite by luck, whinged of a rock three feet from Inez.

“Bad get out of there!”

@POOHEAD189

Heroes of The Guard: A Warhammer 40K RP

Sel opened her mouth to suggest that keeping an eye on the men was Sergeant Crispin's job but she closed it before speaking. Clearly such protestations were not going to save her from people feeling the need to involve her in decisions. She wondered how this state of affairs had come to pass when three months ago she had been happily piloting a sentinel with nothing more to worry about than the odd enemy pot shot.

"Yes Sir," she responded instead as she followed Kayden through the massive doors into a vast reception chamber. Two giant sets of stairs swept down from a marble clad mezzanine above, polished wood covered with expensive looking hand made carpet. In the center of the room stood a twenty foot statue of a handsome man in some form of archaic military uniform. Before the statue stood the Baroness, arrayed in a dress of red silk that clung to a figure that only Imperial Science could have rendered, a great white fur stole over her shoulders despite the fact that within the house the temperature was warm enough to make Sel sweat in her winter battledress.

"Ah Lieutenant," she called out in a honeyed voice, "how wonderful of you to join us." Sel managed not to grin. Typical of a nob to frame it that way, drag a whole platoon all the way out here and then frame it as a social call.

"A pleasure my lady," Kayden replied, taking her outstretched hand and kissing it in a very fancy fashion. The baroness giggled in a surprisingly girlish fashion. Other matters might demand his attention indeed Sel thought to herself. Nor was the Baroness without her own escort. Two... soldiers Sel supposed, stood beside her. Both were male and extremely handsome and wore elaborate mustaches, one of them looked enough like a male version of the Baroness to be a cousin or even a half brother. Compared to the dull battle stained gear of the guardsmen their gear was fantastical. Both wore fatigues but these were of fine tailored silk and were bright with the house colors and so stiff with gilt that they would probably stand up on their own. Over this gaudy ensemble they wore polished silver breastplates that were chased with elaborate gold engravings. Rather than lasguns they wore side arms and carried long pikes from which fluttered silken streamers. Their eyes swept the guardsmen with utter contempt. Sel suppressed as sigh. If this lot were representative of the rest of the Lady Arsenault's guards, any suggestion of training them was out the window. Sel just hoped they would stay out of the way of the real soldiers.

"Ah this is your dashing aide de camp! We saw you on the holo you know, after those beasts attacked you," the Baroness gushed, surprisingly recognising Sel. Her eyes cut back and forth between Kayden and Sel and it didn't take a pskyer to know that she was wondering what the relationship between them was.

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

Maddy picked up her tea cup and took a sip, a gesture which looked completely natural to the uninitiated. To a practitioner of Daes Daemar however it screamed disapproval. The Aes Sedai set the cup down and looked at the thief taker levely.

“Surely the hospitality of my house is not so displeasing,” she suggested with an arched eyebrow that threatened to make it a personal insult. Zoya, more familiar with Davian, shook her head and Maddy smoothly transformed the gesture into a shrug.

“Well if you want to get knifed by a drunken fisherman I suppose that is your own look out,” Maddy admitted, then picked up a small silver bell and rang it. A servant entered and bent to receive whispered instructions. The servant left and then returned a few moments later with a pair of leather pouches, he set them before his mistress and then withdrew. Maddy pushed one purse towards Davian, the pouch tipping slightly to fall open and reveal a mix of coins from several of the Southern Kingdoms.

“Try the Loaves and Fishes, or the Capstan, they are frequented by ship owners and are somewhat less likely to poison you,” Maddy suggested.

“It is likely to be fish for supper I’m afraid,” she continued, her voice tinged with distaste. Zoya remembered Maddy’s distaste for fish and wondered what possessed her to come to a place like this, a place she had obviously occupied for several years. Some sisters, especially Browns, spent their entire lives in the Tower, others left after winning their shawl never to return, most walked a middle way coming and going but always with the Tower as the center of their wanderings.

“Sometimes they have goat or pork, though you will pay silver for gristle and hooves,” she warned.

“Your enthusiasm for the local establishments is noted,” Davian replied dryly as he scooped up his purse.

“I shall join you,” Zoya said, earning herself an arched eyebrow from Maddy. Zoya shrugged, she dare not leave Davian, her only connection to the Saddle Light and the Horn, to wander alone in a town that was lousy with cut throats and whitecloaks besides.

Heroes of The Guard: A Warhammer 40K RP

"... if I though it would do any good I would report you for dumb insolence!" Seargent Crispin thundered in Sel's face, veins in his temple throbbing. Not for the first time, Sel wondered if she had a particular talent for invoking that particular response in people. Crispin stomped around his 'office' which judging by the smell of mothballs, had been a vestry before the regiment had moved in. There was a desk in the corner, constructed of a sheet of plasteel held up by piled wooden shipping palettes, its surface covered with paperwork.

"You are corrosive to discipline, you are an embarrassment to this unit and the uniform, if you cross me in public again, by the throne I swear you will regret it. I don't care if 'the lieutenant' likes you," Crispin raved, investing the word 'lieutenant' as much mincing inuendo as his limited acting skill permitted. "NCOs run this regiment, and if you must mock the rest of us by wearing stipes you for damn sure wont do so in front of the troopers!" Sel scrutinized the wall behind him, wondering if the mortar had been replaced recently on the basis of a slight discoloration she observed. Crispin snarled in inarticulate fury and took a step forward, his ruddy face looming close to hers.

"Do. You. Under. Stand!" he demanded, thrusting a finger into her sternum to emphasize each word.

"What does dumb insolence mean?" she asked innocently, constitutionally unable to help herself. Crispin's eyes bulged and he opened his mouth to launch into a fresh tirade when there was a peremptory knock at the door before it swung open. Sergeant Greer stood in the doorway running his fingers over the rugose skin of his burned scalp.

"There you are Corporal Seldon, we were supposed to meet ten minutes ago, Emperor's teeth woman let's get moving before we miss it entirely! Now throne damn it!" he snapped, his weasle like voice cracking like a whip. Crispin's eyes blazed as he glared at Greer, but the Engineer was his company's first sergeant and so outranked Crispin by at least two grades.

"Move woman!" Greer yelled, and Sel turned on her heel and hurried out the door, the engineer swinging it closed behind her.

"I suppose I owe you one," Sel asked as they walked briskly out of ear shot. Greer snickered.

"Naw, busting that idiot's chops is its own reward, besides, I'm here to pay a debt, not create one," he replied.

"Smoke?" he asked, then pulled a pack of lho-sticks from his pocket. He pulled one and then passed the packet with it's one remaining lho stick to Sel. She pulled the last lho stick free, her eyes flicking down to the rolls of Imperial credit notes stuffed into the packet. She tucked it into her own pocket then accepted the igniter flame Greer offered.

"It went off well then?" she asked. Greer nodded enthusiastically. Their first transaction, surplus navy issue food stuffs had come down with the second wave of shuttles. How Greer and his people had moved it so fast, she had no idea. She supposed they had probably liased with the locals about logistics, and that was as good a way as any to meet potential buyers.

"Better'n well Selly, this scheme of yours will make us all rich, if we don't get fragged first of course," he chuckled. "Speaking of which I hear you are headed out into the bush?"

"Hardly," Sel snorted, "we are going to babysit some rich local nib."

"Not that I'm complaining of course," she laughed. Greer grinned, apparently genuinely pleased at her good fortune. Despite their somewhat rocky introduction, she found she liked the engineer. Of course he probably though a nobles estate would be a good place for her to find a few small valuable items for him to fence, which was a distinct possibility now that she had a chance to think about it.

“Yeah well if you score anything good, just remember who your friends with incriminating evidence are,” Greer grinned and slapped her on the shoulder. Sel barked a laugh as the engineer turned and headed back to his own duties leaving her infront of the converted cloister that was serving as their chimera bay.

______________________

Lights blazed at the bottom of the valley as the chimeras snorted over the ridgeline. It was close to local dusk, though given the rather anemic sun and the light of a half dozen moons the difference was one of degrees. A frigid wind blew a continual squall of icy dust around them that made it hard to see if you turned the heating on in the big troop transports, but rendered it bloody freezing if you didn’t. Sel pulled her head back inside the vehicle and wiped at the ice that had accumulated on the goggles that protected her eyes.

“Are we there yet?” Kayden asked, his face not quite smiling but his eyes bright with amusement despite being tucked deeply into his own great coat. Sel gestured with her head and pulled her goggles back on. Kayden did the same and opened the auxiliary hatch meant for the vehicle commander. The metal was so cold that it would have taken skin off if not for the white officers gloves he wore. Outside the view down into the valley was spectacular. A great sparkling dome of milky white energy blazed at the end of the rift. The great void shield sparked blue where the iron rich snow blew across it. The wild alpine forests that ran down the shoulders of the valley became manicured beyond the shimmering shield, like a winter hunting park with picturesques streams and artificially created waterfalls. The manor house, or manor complex was more distant still situated on a small rise. It must have been massive but distance made it look toylike. The immediate environs seemed to be elaborate gardens though even though the shimmer of the void shields made it hard to tell, even with an amplivisor.

“I really hope they aren’t expecting us to defend this place,” Sel called to Kayden through cupped hands.

“It would be a job for half the regiment, much less one platoon,” she added.

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

@meri Thank you, and I love the drawing! So much character!