Penny

Hey, hey you! Come read me please!

Welcome evie! It sounds like you will fit right in!

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"You cannot come vin!" a high pitched reedy voice shrieked through the door. Camilla sighed wearily, she pulled her cloak tight about her shoulders. The Learned Doctor Konrad Von Michenkomph's quarters were behind a heavy oak door in the guest wing of the manor house.

"We just want to talk to you about the attacks," Camilla said patiently. Cydric and the dwarves stood behind her, expressions hardening with impatience.

"Vat do I know about botany, I am a phyzic! A phyzic I tell you, not a gardener, take your questions else where!" Von Michenkomph piped in what sounded like near hysteria. Camilla reached for her lock picks but before she could fumble with the tools Cydric's boot smashed into the jamb just above the latch. The door burst open with a metallic sprannnng as the lock gave way. Von Michenkomph became screaming, though in all truth it was difficult to tell where his scolding ended and his screaming began. Camilla entered his chambers, and was assailed with the pungent smells of herbs and medicine. Jars of unguents, leeches, and other tools of the physicians trade were stacked neatly beside dusty tomes on anatomy, humors and whatever other topics doctors stared at till they acquired that squinty look they all seemed to have. A large reading desk dominated the room with a hanging lantern on a chain above it. Von Michenkomph himself was a slight man in late middle age, bent and gray with a pair of spectacles on a birdlike nose. He was wearing a night shirt and cap and furiously stuffing what looked to be a piece of wood into his night shirt.

"I told you not to come in here!" he spat, backing away from the four mercenaries.

"We just have a few questions," Camilla reiterated.

"A few more now," Gunir growled, nodding towards the piece of wood sticking out of the the doctors nightshirt.

"Why don't you put the kindling down and we can talk about this like reasonable people," Camilla suggested. The doctor nodded sagely, glanced at Cydric and then turned and jumped out the window. Camilla put her hand to her head.

"Mia dia, this fucking town..."

Maverick Malediction

Calliope lay back on the bed and felt the warmth of her own body reflected by the thick animal pelts.



“In my defense I did take you to a rather exclusive ball, even if… you know… I subsequently destroyed ballroom, castle, and guests alike and then hurled us an unknown distance through time and space,” she conceded.

“To be completely fair it was me who hurled us an unknown distance through time and space on account of you being unconscious and bleeding out of your eyeballs,” Neil corrected. Calliope considered this.



“Well I suppose I hadn’t factored in the fucking idiot part,” she said with a soft chuckle.

“I do owe you Neil, you saved my life, thank you,” the moment of sincerity was interrupted by a knock at the door and Viga bustled in with a pot of thick greasy looking soup and some coarse brown bread.

“You want wine, it extra,” she snapped, much of her good mood appearing to have evaporated. Calliope flicked a coin, apparently from no where and the innkeeper managed to snatch it, bite it, and tuck it into her apron without dropping her load of food.



“There are men downstairs, guards for you, so you no try funny busy ness,” Viga warned as she set the stew and bread down and then produced a bottle of wine and a couple of dirty looking glasses.

“Given I can hardly stand my funny busy ness acumen is severely limited,” Calliope replied a touch snarkily. The inflection obviously went over Viga’s head and she bustled out of the room. Calliope rolled onto her side, the most physical activity she had been able to manage, and shoved a hunk of bread into the soup before biting into it. Her mouth twisted with distaste, her normal diet ran towards rare meat and the thick flower broth was not to her liking. Conscious of the spellburn she forced herself to eat.



“Any idea what kind of trials they might try tomorrow?” Neil asked, obviously still concerned by her fairly pitiful state.

“No clue,” she admitted around a mouthful of bread, “hopefully its more of a pinky swear type thing though.” Neil narrowed his eyes.

“And why is that?” he asked in a level tone. Calliope blinked innocently.

“Let she who has never animated a corpse cast the first stone,” she replied.

Warhammer - Tilea - A Dogs of War RP

Yesssssssss

What's your stance on Halflings?

@BangoSkank

Like most people I... look down on them (snare drum)

Warhammer - Tilea - A Dogs of War RP

Black Company but Warhammer? I'm in.

@Vox

Precicesly!

Warhammer - Tilea - A Dogs of War RP

WORK IN PROGRESS!

Tilea - Dogs of War

Tilea:

Tilea is a rich land, its propserity matched only by the ruthlessness and greed of its Merchant Princes and rapatious nobility. An almost constant state of war exists in which power politics, strong arm mercantile dealings, and the paying off of petty fueds, fuels an entire industry of mercenary sell swords. Standing armies are unknown in Tilea, anything beyond the occasional peasant levy and swollen city guards, being too much of a risk to the status quo to be tolerated. Wars are fought by professional soldiers who live from contract to contract, often switching sides several times during the course of a conflict. Enemies today may be friends tomorrow and vice versa in a constant mosaic of shifting alliances. While grudges exist between mercenary units (and individual soldiers) the prevailing mood is one of professional pragmatisim.



The Seige of Spomanti:

For the better part of a year the costal plain around Olesi and the lush farmlands around the River Riati have been the site of a vicious proxy struggle between the Principalites of Remas and Luccini. The traditional Luccini rivalry between the Lucan and Luccinian lines has come to one of its perodic boils and Allesandra Luccina fled Luccini ahead of her rival Silvio Lucan's assassins. The Principality of Remas was happy to take her in and happy to take up her cause against Silvio in exchange for some very modest territorial concessions, which really, are theirs by right anyway...

After months of fighting the situation has settled down into a stalemate with the Luccini in possession of Spomanti and Olesi and Remas in control of the rest of the northern costal plain. Things have been looking good for Luccini until the arrival of a Reman trading fleet allowed them to nearly double their role of mercenaries, and provided them with the ships to take Olesi by sea and sweep south and east, cutting off supply and putting Spomanti under seige. With supplies dwindling and the defences failing its getting high time for the defenders to make a decision, afterall famous last stands really don't pay the bills...



Who Are The Players?
The players in this role play will take the parts of members of a mercenary company under seige at Spomanti. They are senior people, effectively officers under contract to Luccini. Although you will be expected to write your character, you will also be expected to write other members of the company, describing the actions of other members of the company, mostly regular troops under your control.

Players are basically loyal to the company. They might not like each other, they might violently disagree with each other, but they are at the end of the day members of a family.

Who Are The Players Not?
The Captain -In order to eliminate unnecessary power differentials the Captain of the Company will be NPCd.

Wizards - Although the company has a wizard, they are also an NPC.



Experimental Concepts

Contracts and Choices:
Although the RP will begin with the company being engaged by the City of Luccini this situation will probably (although not certainly) end fairly soon. Numerous contracts will be available to you as you go forward.

Costs:
Company resources in coin and manpower will be loosely tracked. This will effect the kind of contracts you are offered, you will be able to recruit and train as you go.

Dramatic Flow (Experimental):
In order to create a flow of good and bad luck we will use a system of Boons and Dooms. A boon is something good that happens to your character or the company. You find boats to get across a swollen river, you discover a weakspot in the walls of a town you are besiging, you have a friend among the populace who will help you, are all example boons. Example dooms are things like you suffer a serious wound, a large number of men are injured or killed, the enemy got there first and burned the bridge. For each Boon you use you will be obligated to endure a doom. Each doom you endure will entile you to a boon.

Spreading the Luck - Rather than a full blow boon or doom, you may split a boon or a doom into three smaller incidents.

SPACE IS VERY LIMITED! The writing lift on this is heavier than normal and I need to keep it small to manage.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"I'll bet that you do," I snickered, rubbing my sore shoulder. I stepped back and allowed him to reload the gun, feeding fresh shells into the breach, with a series of clicks.

"I'm pretty creative," Hadrian assured me, lifting the gun to his shoulder and racking the slide to chamber a fresh round. I moved around to his side as he lifted the weapon and grinned, sighting down the barrel at the target. He had already told me how it was done, I saw him breath in, then breathe out, then still his breathing. I leanded close and blew softly into his ear. Hadrian flinched and the gun boomed, pellets from the shot sparking off the bulkhead and the ceiling. The target registered no hits. I put my hand over my mouth in mock surprise.

"Does this mean I win?" I asked innocently?

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

Lysabel considered it. She was impatient to be on with the task but she couldn't ignore the risk. Could she really put herself and Markus in
such danger for what was only a theory? It was emotion she decided and thus not to be trusted.

"Very well, I'd be foolish to engage a local guide and then ignore his advice," she conceeded.

"I think we can make up some time, there are ways to keep the horses fresh," she told him. The weaves she knew could keep the horses moving but there were risks, and she couldn't use it on herself. Well it was her theory, it was just that she would be the one to suffer for it. Markus seemed relieved that she didn't intend to push the issue.

"As you say Aes Sedai," he responded and led the way east.

Two or three leauges east the road turned into one of the tithe forests. In Jaramide forests were rare and timber was precious. The solution was that all woodlands were owned by the crown, with various rights and priviliges extended to the locals who lived close by. Gathering dead timber for firewood was a common right and the result was that the forests tended to lack the thick underbrush one found further south where timber was more plentiful. There was a marked chill as the canopy above all but blotted out the sun. Lysabel wished she had a heavier cloak to hand, but it was a simple Aes Sedai trick to convince her body to ignore anything as crude as simple temperature. As they moved further along the road they came up upon a wagon by the side of the trail, a wheel showing signs of a broken spindle. Markus arched an eyebrow at her. She nodded reluctantly and they slowed their horses down. A paunchy man in a leather jerkin turned from the wheel with obvious relief.

"A little help friends, it will just take a moment to get this fixed," he wheedled. Markus' eyes flicked to the wheel and back to the man and then he drove the shoulder of his horse into Lysabel's. Her horse whickered in irritation.

"Go!" Markus shouted as something whistled through the space she had occupied a moment before. It wasn't till a second arrow burried itself in a tree on the far side of the road that the copper clattered. Lysabel spurred her horse forward, crouching low to present a smaller target. The horse screamed and staggered as an arrow hit it in the rump but she kept it upright and moving. Two men with long polearms stepped from behind trees and lifted the pikes to block her flight. Weaves of earth ripped out from her and rock exploded upwards around them, sending them staggering back and clearing the way. Her heart pounded in her chest as she raced past, another arrow arcing over her shoulder as she drove the horse onward.
@POOHEAD189

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

“How much time would we save if we went through the True Blight?” Lysabel asked as the road east, passing wagons laden with cotton that was destined for the weavers and lace shops for which Barsine was famous. She was not wearing her ring and she bore no sign of her affiliation with the Tower but still people made way for them, fine clothes and fine horses all the pass they needed.

“Maybe it would save us three days, might cost us the rest of our lives,” Markus responded. Lysabel chafed with impatience she couldn’t quite define. She had a sense that this was important, somehow more than just a few trollocs out to raid, but she had no idea why. Such leaps of intuition, without logical back up, would have earned her hard looks from her Sisters but Lysabel was of the opinion that if you trained your mind to be logical, your intuition was likely logic that you hadn’t yet been able to articulate. The dark of the moon, the time the trolloc writing had given for the attack, was still over two weeks away. A week to reach their goal, perhaps three days on horseback to cover what trollocs had managed on foot. Alot depended on whether they would be able to find the gate. She had asked for pigeons to be sent to the border fortresses to warn them to be on their guard, but that was the equivalent of telling a watch dog to be alert. Her fingers drummed her saddle pommel as she thought about it.

“We need to locate the gate within the next seven days,” she told him, “I don’t believe this is a single band of trollocs, and even if it is I want to know what is worth moving in such strength and such secrecy.”

The Pavonis Campaign - Warhammer 40000

It would not have been strictly accurate to call Du-Retour a siege. The word ‘siege’ implied levels of organization that were sadly lacking on both sides. The hamlet was one of the large tithe centers the administratum used in order to gather crops before lifting it out via large hydrogen filled airships for transhipment to the star ports. It was perhaps three kilometers onto the alluvial plain that drained the mountains, situated on a slight rise where subterranean bedrock made farming impractical. The buildings of the town were low, perhaps three stories at the center of town and lower as they spread to the out towards the outskirts. Imperial forces had reached the town first and were dug in at a series of sandbagged redoubts at the major road entrances. Improvised barricades of farm machinery and hasty earthworks provided a rough perimeter, with outlying buildings converted into makeshift strongpoints and block houses. The orks were already here in force, some thousands perhaps though it was hard to tell. The area infront of the town was a sodden mush of crushed grain crops and mud. Some enterprising officer had obviously flooded the towns irrigation dykes to slow the green skin attack. Judging by the sprays of mud and surging mud covered orks that was proving somewhat effective. Four orkish dreadnaughts of the so called ‘killa-kan’ design were trying to forge their way through the muck. One was obviously sunk to the knee joint and going nowhere, despite the large ork atop it furiously whipping at the gretchen slaves working to dig it free. Las fire cracked out and a pair of heavy bolter emplacements hosed the thickest concentration of orks with their rattling fusilade. Frustrated by their slow advance, the orks were attempting to flank the town, more in the way water will flow around a rock than in any tactical sense. One of their war buggies growled through the crop fields only to erupt in flame a moment before the report of a lemn russ main gun announced the shot.

“What a mess,” Zeb muttered, handing the amplivisor to Katia. She lifted it to her eyes and scanned the scene.

“Looks like they are holding…” Katia trailed off as a whistling sound began to build and build. The orks began firing wilding into the sky a moment before a pair of thunderbolts ripped overhead, spilling munitions in drizzle that looked surprisingly graceful, right up until the promethum bombs went off and ten acres of ork infested farm land went up in a roiling hell of red black flames.



“For now maybe, but they must have two thousand civilians in there,” he explained pointing eastward to a burning swathe of farms and woodland.

“Looks like they tried to use the hydrogen lifters to get them out,” he finished glumly. Katia could only imagine the halocaust when ork gunners had ripped the blimp out of the sky. Their little convoy was nestled in a shallow valley behind the first line of foot hills. They were out of sight for now, with the orks focused on the town, but they couldn’t wait here forever. Either they had to give up on Du-retour and make for the coast, or they had to find a way in. That meant skirting the south side of the town and avoiding the flooded fields, or else making a charge across one of the causeways formed by the dykes.



“Well sergeant, I think if we are going to make our way in, we had better wait till dark, and we better make damn sure we can raise someone on the vox so our own side dosent blow us to frak on the way in."