Penny

Maverick Malediction

Calliope was a little irritated that she didn't know a spell that could create clothing. With a little effort she might have wrought armor out of flames, or ice, or glass, but nothing that would be functional streetwear. Instead she waited for Neil to steal clothes from the servants quarters, an act so prosaic it seemed anti-climax. If there were other servants in the building, they had very sensibly made themselves scarce. Calliope probably wouldn't have killed them for lingering.

So it was the two of them found themselves on the streets of the city, dressed in fine, if not opulent clothing and with no particular plan. The Seven Princes would follow up their attack in time, but it was doubtful they imagined their assassination would fail. Fail it had however, and that left the question of why. There seemed two options, the book, or the map they had found in the desert. While the fame of the book was widespread, it was all but impossible that word of its theft could have reached this far so quickly, given the way the had exited the magelord's collapsing castle, it was likely to be considered lost. There was no way they could know that an itinerant sorceress was in possession of the text. Unless they had some kind of prophetic magic or far seeing of course.

The map was more likely. It was a local artifact, men had been out in the desert looking for it, men whom the Seven Princes might have been watching, waiting to take possession if they were able to recover whatever artifact lay hidden out there in the desert.

"I know what we need to do," Calliope declared.

An hour later they stood outside a mud walled compound on the edge of the city. Its walls sported several tall slender tower of dark red brick, at the top of which flames burned and Calliope could make out the silhouette of watchmen with long curved bows. At intervals iron cags hung from the wall. Men sat cross legged in the cages, their skin dark brown and their faces serene despite bloody gashes on their bodies.

"Who are these people?" Neil asked.

"Besarines," Calliope told him, "Wandering scholars and monks from the east, they are persecuted here."

"Sucks to be them I guess," Neil admitted, "but why are we here?"

"Twenty years ago Sukander Besar was imprisoned here," she explained, "he is rumored to be the most learned man in the world. If we can get to him, he may be able to shed some light on our map."

At The Edge of The World

I normally found fortresses filled with handsome men to be a comfort. As I watched the prostates rush to their positions I wondered if this was going to be an exception. The rain was coming down in warm slashing sheets now. Covering the cleared ground with little muddy impacts and back splashes so that it looked like rice being bounced on a drumhead. Another tree went down, close enough that I was able to hear the animals and birds squealing in dissaproval.

"What in the stars?" I asked confused as to what could possibly be unleashing such destruction. Everything suddenly grew very quiet, no calls or animal screens. Only the steady rattling hiss of rain falling. Up on the wall I could see soldiers pointing their crossbows outwards, though they must have known the strings would be sodden to uselessness within a scant minutes.

"This is an actual question," I added for Beren's benefit. He was, afterall, supposed to be a local expert. He shook his head to silence me and peered out into the rain. Lighting lit the sky and I felt Beren tense.

"What?!" I demanded, trying to follow his eyeline.

"Something," he replied, "the rain.."

My eyes settled on where his view was focused. It looked just like any other part of the downpour until I began to realize that there was something wrong with the way it was falling, like the drops were twisted ever so slightly as though viewed through a glass. Armed with that knowledge my brain began to pick out the pattern of something vast out in the rain, no not just out in the rain, it was rain. Its shape picked out the way a pattern might appear when you scattered pebbles on a pond.

"Ware!" I shouted then snapped my fingers, sending a trail of sparks out towards the thing. They struck it and stuck, burning in mid air against no apparent object, the light casing the barest outline of something. There was a sudden hissing roar like a torrent in a canyon and then twenty feet of the eastern palisade exploded into splinters that rained down all around. A huge footprint splashed water and mud up from the encampment as the soldiers began firing their crossbows at the invisible enemy that stalked them.

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

Candy has informed me that she wont be able to continue, all debts to her are still in play but she will be an NPC.

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

@POOHEAD189

"What mortal would be an enemy of mine?" Sayeeda demanded, wings fluttering slightly in agitation and spilling a little more ichor around her bandages.

"I came for a warrior, but they were waiting for me," she muttered, face dark with anger.

"I must find the spirit before it is taken to Hel," she declared, forcing herself to her feet.

"Don't do that!" Harald shouted in alarm, though if the pain or leaking fluid inconvenienced the Valkyrie she gave no sign.

Before debate on the topic could commence, the roar of engines became evident outside. Motor cycle engines if Ǫlni was any judge of such mortal feromancy.

The Pavonis Campaign - Warhammer 40000

"Three day stopping of liquor ration and assignment to the next offensive patrol," Katia said, signing the paperwork with a flourish. The soldier, a scruffy looking corporal who had been involved in a brawl which had left one civilian dead and a guardsman in the infirmary, looked relieved as he was escorted out of Katia's impromptu office. She sighed and winced as her muscles clenched, reminding her of the several pieces of shrapnel she had taken to the thigh and lower chest. The thick Commissariat great coat had taken the worst of it, but the medicae had still insisted she remain off her feet as much as possible. In truth the medicae had told her she should be in bed for a week, but that wasn't feasible. She pulled irritably at the IV in her arm to free up some space for her left hand.

"Next," she said, dismissing the corporal with a nod of her chin. The corporal braced to attention and departed, flanked by two of the survivors of Zeb's little command. They had been acting as aides for Katia while she was laid up and had already earned the nickname 'The Firing Party' for their pains. Not that Katia had needed to have anyone shot just yet. In truth the handful of offenders had been given relatively light punishments, Katia having realized that every trained man was invaluable, and that no punishment she could dream up was likely to be that much worse than being cut to pieces by ravening orks.

Her office was located in what had been a primary scholam, but had been converted to military use when the routing PDF troops had fallen back here, crashing into some guardsmen who stiffened them enough to dig in. The office had been a classroom and was still adorned with festive children's art depicting burning heretics. A particularly striking poster advertised 'Our Friend Promethum!' with a number of facts about the fluid written underneath it with childish illustrations. The Firing Party had set up cots and a card table in the coat room, and were serving as aides and runners.

"Trooper Kalth of the 122nd Catachan," Paget, her vox operator announced as a bulky muscular man with an insouciant grin was escorted in between two of her troopers.

"Charges?" Katia asked, for effect, having already reviewed the slate.

"Killed a PDF trooper who woke him for watch," Paget informed her.

"Anything to say for yourself Kalth?" Katia asked, effecting bored indifference.

"He shouldn't have touched my boots, could have been anything bout to grab me," Kalth glowered. This was a sticker subject than it appeared. Katia had been asked to take over discipline of the Imperial forces currently under siege including temporary authority over other regiments, but it made for a sticky mix of conflicting agendas. Kalth was a good soldier and if he were executed the Catachan's would be resentful. On the other hand if he were let off the PDF, the vast majority of troops would be upset. They might even try to get some kind of street justice, which would be both ill advised and unsurvivable. Worse yet it might lead to a street fight between the militia and the regulars that they could not afford.

"Two weeks KP, somewhere the PDF can see, no patrol duty," Katia declared, signing the slate.

"You can't have me peeling tubers while there are oks need killin'!" Kalth blustered. Katia put down her pen and looked up at him with cold eyes, made tired by the drugs being dripped into her system.

"Skald," she told one of the members of The Firing Party who was sitting on his cot eating something from a can. "If Trooper Kalth prefers, take him out to the playground and shoot him." She arched an eyebrow at the Catachan who met her eyes for a moment before dropping his in surrender.

"Very good. Next," she called as Skald was lead back towards the kitchens, a series of refitted restaurants around an Administratum food dispensary.

"Skald, spread some rumors among the PDF that Kalth is going to be transferred to a penal legion will you, that should keep anyone from getting their fatigues in a bunch. Skald grinned around a mouthful of reprocessed meat and he tapped his forehead in salute.

"Ma'am, the Colonel has asked to see you," Paget reported before the next offender could be brought in. Katia considered it.

"Alright, send the rest back to lockup for today, we can finish tomorrow," she decided.

"Hey Zeb!" Someone called from the anteroom and the men were suddenly a buzz with good humor at the Sargent's return.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"So we need to move fast to reach these swamplands," Clara put in, "but that will be hard to do if the way is littered with bands of natives packing las guns." As usual her analysis was tactical, direct and to the point.

"We don't know there are more las gunners," Selenica objected, "it could just be an isolated group." Lazarus made a sound that was part throat clearing, part binaric exhalation.

"Analysis of serial numbers as well Emmaline's ... surprisingly precisent cultural analysis, suggests that these weapons are likely in the hands of bands of tribesmen between here and the swamps," Lazarus admitted. I sat up, my face astonished.

"Did you just... compliment me?" I demaned in shock. In all the months I had known him, I had never heard the Mechanicus Adept express a single positive thought about me. Lazarus emitted another Binaric grunt.

"I merely stated that your analysis was correct," he grudgingly hedged.

"We can punch through rustics with fancy rifles surely," Selenica asked, "we have a space marine for Throne's sake."

"As we get closer to the swamps, the tribesmen will be more densely packed, and they will converge on us," Clara objected. I glanced back towards the vehicle where Lucius Raj was leaning against one of the tracks. He never actually slept so far as I could tell, he merely seemed drowsy and distant. Texts I had read suggested this was some sort of a precursor form of the way Astartes could rest a portion of their brain at a time. I doubted there was anyone in the Imperium who understood it, other than perhaps the Apocetheria of the Astartes themelves, and they were famously close lipped.

"I don't know that we can depend on Lucius," I admitted, the words drawing all eyes. I started into the fire, watching the damp wood crackle and pop.

"His rage is growing faster than anticipated, a few days of combat and he might go unrecoverabley berserk," I explained. I needed time to work on his mental architecture, but that wasn't something I could do in a few hours in the backwoods. Selenica glanced nervously towards Lucius, suddenly aware that we had a Carandon by the tail.

"So where does that leave us?" Clara asked, "We can't move fast and we can't move slow."

"There might be a way," I interjected, feeling my chest tighten at what I was about to suggest. "When the Archaeor's surveyed this area they noted a valley about ... well a little bit west of here."

"Apparently it is a funerary site, and runs for a hundred or so kilometers. It is taboo to go there except for burials, and those tend to be during the dry season," I explained, dredging my mind for the information culled from tedious reports.

"If we take the valley, we might be able to move far enough south in time to avoid the ill-omened nights, perhaps we could stash the vehicles and move stealthily once we reach the end near the swamps?"

Pax Astra

The thugs were panicking. They had grown used to throwing their weight around with the cowed populace in town. Worse yet they had allowed that to convince them that they were tough. That they were fighters. They were going to learn different tonight, or the survivors would at any rate. For a moment the fear of looking like cowards drove them forward. A bullet shattered to fragments a few centimeters from Sabtatine’s hand and she twisted to find one of the attackers aiming at her through a window, his pistol blazing wildly. He ducked back behind the wall as she made him. Sabatine fired a three round burst into the thin corrugated iron, the projectiles cutting the metal like tin foil and dropping the gunman behind it to the ground in a screaming heap. Sabatine clicked to semi automatic and fired twice more at ground level, blasting little star shaped holes in the wall. The screaming stopped.

The rout was on now. The survivors were fleeing in terror. One leaped into the cab of the truck and gunned the engine. The exterior of the glass crazed a moment before the interior exploded red, Tiber having no difficulty simply waiting for the hapless henchmen to climb into his sight picture. Sabatine lifted herself into a shooters crouch and aimed at a fleeing thug. She fired once and missed high, fired again and went wide, then clicked to full automatic and emptied the remainder of the magazine in a long sweeping burst. Bright flashes of blood burst from the fleeing tough’s lower back and he dropped in a heap howling in pain. Sabatine aimed a finishing shot but the weapon was already empty. She fumbled for a fresh magazine as the man tried to crawl away, his legs hanging limply from a shattered spine. Two more cracks rent the night and the side of the enemy’s head burst like a dropped melon, dropping him bonelessly to the dirt path. The echoes faded away to silence. After a few moments the sound of nightlife, briefly startled by the gunfire, returned.

“Clear behind,” Sabatine reported mechanically.

“Clear up front,” Tiber responded with a similar rote reflex.

Sabatine listened for long moments, sucking in lungfuls of air tainted with blood, shit, and the sour-sharp smell of burnt chemical propellant and cordite. It reminded her of LZs she had flown into after the ground pounders blew down trees to make a hole for the birds to come in and take off wounded. She didn’t doubt one or two of them had gotten away, she was also similarly certain it would be a long time before they stopped running. Gradually she became aware of a pain in her right hand.

“Ow,” she complained and flicked away the hot cartridge that had landed on the back of her hand, something she hadn’t noticed in the chaos of the fight, but had been hot enough to raise a red wheal on her wrist.

“Fucking cartridges,” she muttered, vaguely embarrassed for no reason she could articulate.

“You ok?” Tiber asked, Sabatine nodded and stood up, finally managing to get the fresh magazine home and charge the weapon.

“Who has the time to dig this many flower beds?” she jested feebly.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

We retired to a nearby hilltop for the night. The locals kept to themselves, nervous and upset at what they had seen. I couldn’t blame them, though I suspected it would be worse in the morning. There was no practical way for us to bury so many bodies even if we had the desire. Havernos had no native avians, but there was a flying lizard that filled the evolutionary niche which ravens or buzzards did on other worlds. Judging by the yipping of the sea foxes, other scavengers had already found the unexpected bounty.

The hilltop had been fortified at some point in the past, though you probably needed to have Lazarus’ enhancement to identify the gently sloping terrain as the remains of a ditch and berm. Given the lack of fresh water I thought the place was a likely have served as a seasonal cattle pen as a fortress, but despite my occasional use of the cover I’m not really a Magos Achaeologs.

Lucius had returned after an hour or so, armor slick to his elbows in gore and his eyes wild. This had not gone over well with the locals, despite our somewhat unconvincing explanation that he was a gene engineered life ward with slaught glands. They constantly shot him nervous glances and muttered amongst themselves, for which I could hardly blame them. There was an aura of violence around him and it took me a good half an hour of gentle psychic effort to calm him, and even then it was a thin sheet of ice across a deep and powerful river. It was as though my months of work with him were coming unraveled after only a few hours of combat. That didn’t bode well for our ability to use him in the field on a protracted basis, though I gained some insight into how to improve on my previous work with him, enough at least to keep him from going berserk.

“Thoughts?” Hadrian asked as we sat around the campfire. Even at these tropical latitudes it was cold at night, the salty breeze enervating if you went above the shelter of the ancient earth walls. I was pleased to have my cover as a big shot aristocrat, which obviously excused me from having to take a turn at watch.

“Our agent is dead boss,” Selenica said bluntly, “The Emperor give her peace but that is an end of it.”

“The las guns are a troubling factor,” Lazarus rumbled, his concern for technology in the hands of savages obvious. I wondered how difficult it would be to track them back to their source. It seemed such ornate versions should be easy to follow, though the Emperor knew that there were many forge worlds, and even if, as seemed likely, Lazarus could narrow it down, there would be millions of functionaries who might be responsible for an illicit trade.

“What do you think Emm?” Hadrian asked, causing me to start having not been prepared to offer an opinion.

“The psychic work was powerful but crude, and done locally,” I explained.

“These were swamp tribesmen from the southern reaches of Lake Ska, Kator Talon’s and Son’s of the Fen, they are a long way further north than they should be. This is Blood Fox territory, or was. Whatever this is, the epicenter is going to be in the southern swamps.”

There was stunned silence around the fire. I put my hands on my hips.

“What, you were all thinking I was just a pretty face? I researched, what were the rest of you doing on the voyage out?” I demanded sounding somewhat petulant even to my own ears.

Gold & Glory: AU thread

"Can't you do something about that?" Markus yelled at Emmaline as another blast of arcane energy slashed down, blasting a smoking hole in the decking. Emmaline ducked under the spray of splinters with a squwak. Now they were clear of the of the tunnel the storm winds filled the sails to billowing. The Hammer took the bone in her teeth, picking up speed as the she made her way across the dark harbour.

"Magic you idiot!" Markus roared in exasperation. Emmaline put her hands on her hips.

"Oh really, use magic?" she snarked, then ducked under a blast of arcane energy that shattered ten feet of bulwark to splinters. It was one thing to work a few minor spells, but to go up against a sorceress who might very well remember a time before Sigmar strode the land.

"Well we have to do something!" Markus roared.

"Captain!" Sketti shouted, pointing a finger at the entrance to the harbor. A great chain was raising slowly from the water, dripping black droplets down in an ebon rain. Emmaline watched in horror as their escape was slowly but surely closed off.

"Guns!" Emmaline shouted, "ready a broadside!" She didn't have time to explain the plan to Markus, so she simply ran down the companion way to the gun deck. Markus' bellow sent most of the crew running down after her, barefeet slapping the deck as they came. The crew seized the ropes and hauled, running the guns out in a series of rattling booms. Emmaline climbed on to the first cannon, wrapping her arms and legs around it.

"Uhh... Ma'am..." Calder, an old salt from Hochland, asked.

"Not that we don't appreciate the view," he continued, making a gesture to her rump as she clung to the gun. "But we will need to aim"

"Don't worry about that that, just fire when I say! Markus, hard a... left!" she shouted. Emmaline began chanting and fortunately Markus must have heard because the Hammer began to slew to port. The quatering wind became following, straining the canvas and piling on speed.

"We can't even see!" Calder protested, Emmaline's body blocking what limited view there was through the gun port. Emmaline ignored him, watching the dark elf chain as it rose from the water, following the line to where it met the stone in a great black iron ring. Arcane words spilled from her lips and hostile spells lashed down from above, but due to the turn, the bulk of the ship was now between Emmaline and the elven sorceress. The pegasus screamed in anger as the witch dove towards the ship.

"Fire!" Emmaline shouted and heard the snap of the flintlock a moment before the gun went off with a collosal crash of exploding powder. Emmaline clung on to the barrel as it rocketed backwards until it snugged up against the ropes, the sudden jolt sending her flying back into the surprised crew and bearing them to the ground.

"Back to...right!" she shouted but Markus had already seen what had happened. With a little arcane encouragement the ball flew true. Shattering the masonry that secured the ring in a spray of black stone. The chain dropped into the harbor like a decapitated snake. There was a cheer from the crew still on deck as they scented freedom.

Emmaline staggered up onto the deck in time to that the sorceress and her pegasus had swooped down, hovering a score of feet above the harbor entrance. Dark energy was gathering around her, coalecing into a spear of dark energy. It was impossible to be sure what the spell was, but she knew it couldn't be good.

"Have any other ideas?" Markus demanded.

"Just one," Emmaline responded. She waited another few moments while the fell strike gathered, and then threw her hands up. The chain exploded upwards from the water like a serpent. The pegasus realized it's peril a half second before a ton of steel hit it from below, the end of it glowing gold with the spell Emmaline's cannonball had carried had been burned into the link. The creature screamed as its legs and rib cage were pulped by the blow, it screamed it's death scream and fell from the sky. The sorceress leaped free, her dark spell fogotten as she lifted away from her dying steed on wings of darkness. Emmaline swatted at her with the chain but the ancient elf brushed it away with ease. The Hammer was racing between the tower now, a storm of bolts stabbing into the hull. A moment later they were free, bursting out into the open sea.

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Emmaline and Neil hurried across the bridge. All around them the sounds of fighting could be heard. The crash of handguns, the ring of steel, and the brays and screams of men and beasts. She didn't know if the city was falling, she was no general, but the fact that there were beastmen in the streets meant they had gotten past the wall somehow. That had to be a bad sign. If Nuln fell would the whole Empire follow?

"Steady," Neil said, squeezing her wrist and bringing her back out a vision of beastmen swarming all over the Empire. They continued over the bridge, passing the bodies of a few luckless defenders struck down by the black fletched arrows. Emmaline momentarily wondered what they used for fletching, did beastmen have dye?

"Clear the street!" someone shouted, and a score of halberdiers tromped out of the smoke. They were dirty and battered, several bearing obvious wounds. The officer in charge was little older than Emmaline. He was blonde and might have been handsome if the didn't look so grim.

"Clear the street! Cl...M'lady," he staggered obviously shocked to see a woman in such surroundings. How he thought she might be a noble with all of her worldly possessions on her back she had no idea. What he made of Neil she had no idea.

"Halt!" he barked out and the soldiers clattered to a halt, turning outwards in a half circle of bristling spear points.

"We can escort you to saftey..." the officer began.

"What is happening?" Emmaline demanded, trying to watch in all directions at once. The soldier regarded the pair of them with puzzlment.

"The beasts collapsed a section of the wall, with a tunnel we think," the officer said, "we have been fighting to keep them contained, but M'lady we need to get you to saftey."

"I don't want to keep you bold fellows from your duty," Emmaline temporized, not wanting to saddle their escape with an escort. A beastial roar interuppted the conversation as a great beast burst from the smoke. It was eight feet tall and wrapped in slaps of muscle. Two great horns protruded from its head and a great metal ring was pinned through its bovine nose. It held an axe in its hands that was a broad as Emmaline's chest. It saw the men and let out a roar that sprayed spittle into the air before rearing back and charging.

"Form! Form!" the officer shouted, thrusting Emmaline behind him as his men squared up to form a line. The beast crashed into the spear points of the halberds, snapping several and roaring with pain. It grabbed on of the men with its hand and lifted him high. Another of the halbiders brought his weapon down on the things wrist with a wet chunk and a popping of tendons. The beast dropped the man as its fingers opened, dropping him to the ground.

"Forward!" the officer shouted, and the halbiders pushed forward, driving the beast backwards.

"Let's go!" Emmaline cried, dashing up the shallow steps and into the street Neil had indicated.