Penny

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Neil lead the way with confidence, though given all the twists and turns they took Emmaline was hopelessly turned around. In places bridges had been constructed across the river of effluent, sometimes stone, sometimes simple planks, and they were obliged to cross to avoid sudden ends in the walk way or partial collapses of ancient slumping brickwork. The signs of patrol by the sewer jacks, old campfires, discarded wine bottles and impressively vulgar graffiti, grew sparser and sparser, which she supposed was proof positive that they were moving in a definite direction. Neil's lips moved wordlessly, as though recalling a past conversation or memorized directions, though given how long he had been doing it the directions were either hopelessly complex or he was repeating it over and over.

The rats were a constant, skittering away into the darkness as the halo of the torches reached them. The crawled out of the sewer, slick and drowned looking to scuttle off into cracks in the walls. The smell of them crinkled Emmaline's nose, the sharp scent of ammonia underlaid with an earthy animal musk. Slowly the sense they were under Nuln began to disconnect from her mind, and the tunnels became a place in their own right, endless and labyrinthine. Oddly, this increased her confidence, moving her further and further from the chaos and terror of the siege.

"Up ahead," Neil said, starling Emmaline after a period of silence. They came through a vaulted arch into a large circular chamber a few steps above the level of the sewer flow. Dark but clean water flowed down in three directions in shallow cascades. Water fell from a trio of lead pipes into a large central pool that fed the falls.

"What is this place?" Emmaline asked, staring around at the bizarre construction. Neil lifted his torch to give her a better view of the room.

"It is a flush," Neil said, "water falls from some of the feeder creeks and carries the sewage down to the Reik. Between the inflow and the suction of the river it keeps everything from just piling up."

"How do you know that?" Emmaline asked in puzzlement.

"I'm an Engineer remember," Neil snickered. Truth be told Emmaline had forgotten that, but she nodded her agreement.

"Is it much further?" Emmaline asked. There was a sudden an intense smell of rat. Something exploded beside Emmaline's head spraying fragments of broken bricks. Something squat with glowing eyes and chisel like teeth stood in one of the side passages, whirling a filthy sling of brownish cloth. A half dozen more charged out of the passages, hissing and brandishing rusted weapons.

"DIE MANTHINGS!" one of them hisses in a horrific mockery of Reikspiel.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Once it became clear that we weren't to be killed on the spot, the atmosphere warmed considerably. While the boats were being prepared the women and children returned from wherever it was they had vanished to. Some of them hid, other approached us, more than a few tried to touch my hair, the gold being an unusual shade among what were a darkskinned and dark haired people. One of the warriors even attempted to grab me, but Clara produced a knife in a heartbeat and persuaded him to mind his manners.

The chief's son, Garm by name, was sent with us to be our guide, though he didn't seem altogether pleased with the idea. These people had been fighting their kinfolk since Nagrip had established his domination. This is how the lasguns had come into their possession. They were horrified that their own people had abandoned their rituals to follow Nagrip's dark gospel. I was horrified also, thinking about how easy it would be to subvert simple folk all over the Imperium with nothing more sophisticated than a few crates of weapons and medicine.

"We could spend the night," I suggested to Hadrian, glancing at the sun. He shook his head firmly.

"This is the last night before the lunar tide, we cant afford to wait."

"Do we even have a plan?" I objected.

"Find Nagrip, send him to the Emperor's Judgement," he replied.

"That is more like a mission statement,' I suggested.

"Kavasa, Kavasa," he replied, alternating pronunciations. Then he grew more serious. "We cant plan till we get more information, and to do that we need to get closer."

"The Emperor Protects," I said, without much enthusiasm.

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Emmaline had grown up on Altdorf, in the dock district, where the stink of emptied chamberpots mixed with the reek of fish too long out of water. She had even prowled the tannery district as a child and suffered the horrible odor of the leather makers trade. None of these things held a candle to Nuln's sewers. A great river of filth flowed down a central canal, flanked on both side by narrow paved shoulders upon which a sewer jack or maintenance worker could proceed. She gagged slightly at the sight and was suddenly strangely glad that the baying of monsters above her was there to impel her to go on.

"Can you..." Neil began but Emmaline was already waving her hands. Abruptly the air they breathed became clear, if somewhat dry and sterile. An old alchemists trick to protect oneself from inhaling unwholesome gases.

"You know," she mused, "I've done more magic in the past couple of days than I have in the last month." Neil snickered and gave her a lascivious grin.

"I'll say," he agreed lustily. Emmaline snickered in spite of the situation.

"Well now, as then, I am in your hands," she teased. Neil bowed and set off down the brick walkway. Emmaline followed. She knew the sewers opened up at various points along the river, but figured they were within the city walls. If Neil really did know a way out, it was a dangerous weakness to the city. Still, if the could just get beyond the walls, there was a good chance they would get away clean, the beastmen far to focused on the battle above to trouble with a sewer. The only thing down here was shit and stink.

__________

Scritscrit watched the interlopers as they moved through the tunnels. At first he had thought it was the hated sewer jacks, a perennial threat with their crossbows and axes, but he saw that was not the case. A tall looking manling and one of their breeders. She was meatier than some of her kind, though nothing like a true skaven female. He snuffled the air softly, catching a hint of something coming off thee pair. Could it be? He had smelled such things before in the doom forges of the Skyre and on the Grey Seerers. It smelled like... warpstone. If these interlopers had warp stone... it might be enough for Scriscrit to rise far. He padded after them on silent feet. Watching. Waiting.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I strongly suspected that we were going to need to insitute some kind of communal classes before our next mission, though I could appreciate it wasn't time to bring it up. The boatmen jabbered in their cant. Though agitated, they weren't immediately going for weapons, which I took to be a good sign. The language was derived from a form of proto gothic that tugged at the edge of my conciousness.

"Arg ye stande vay thak provfae?" one of them called, fingering his weapon.

"Do we stand with the prophet," Hadrian translated. Judging by the way the locals shifted when they said it, alot hung on our answer. I ran the angles quickly in my mind. There have been many times in my inglorious career in His service my back ground as a con artist has come in handy. These people had no tradition of prophets, which meant the concept was off world. Stand with suggested the drawing of lines and picking of sides. That meant they balance of probabilities meant they weren't with the off worlder.

"No," I suggested, hoping that Hadrian had been translating literally.

"Onae!" Hadrian called. The phenoms began to coalecse in my mind as I got more of a sample size. The boatmen exchanged glances, clearly afraid, though of exactly what I wasn't sure.

"Climb... we take you safe," one of the boatmen called.

"There is no way we are getting Lucius on one of those boats," I sighed.

The village was located down one of the many murky streams. Great walls of almost impenetrable mangrove rose on both sides. At times the canopy reached completely across the water, blocking out the sun like a tunnel. After an hour or so the channel opened to reveal a small island, ramparted by carefully manicured mangroves. A handful of boats were pulled up against a muddy bank. Long strings of eel like fish hung from ropes above a smoking trench. Unwashed children threw handfuls of what looked like seaweed into the trench, feeding smouldering fires within. Beyond the shore stood a cluster of huts of woven seaweed, bedecked with shells and dried flowers. Grim faced men squatted in the dirt before the huts, some had las guns, others had spears of metal or bone. Thye all stood as the boats came into view, eyes widdening as Lucius stomped through the water behing the boat, up to his neck in the brackish water but unworried. By the time we reached the village all the children were out of sight and all the men were waiting for us, weapons brandished. A grisled looking man with ritual scars on his face led them, clearly the chief.

"I hope you are ready to negotiate," I whispered to Hadrian.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Conspiramid

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

The valley fell slowly, slumping as though exhausted. Even so, the water it gathered was little more than a trickle, so thick with mineral salt that it glistened like spilled promethium as it glugged its way towards the southern swamps. The burials grew thicker as we approached the southern terminus, studding the rocky swale like stubble. They seemed to me almost impossibly thick, given what little I knew about the population density of the area. Perhaps the introduction of las guns had resulted in a sharp uptick in death, or perhaps the coffins were simply sturdier than they appeared. I wondered if the depth one was interned into the valley correlated somehow with status, those of low status being buried close to where they had died, with those of higher status being carried further into the blighted expanse. Perhaps the locals believed the spirits of the dead had to traverse the length of the valley to reach the next world and their chiefs got a head start.

The valley exited between gray stone peaks, greenish vegetation beginning with shocking abruptness once we cleared the rainshadow. The land fell off quickly beyond, and we were treated to a view of a hundred miles or so, though it was hazy with humidity coming up off the swamps. The Swamps was a bit of a misnomer I realized. It was closer to a system of mangroves, low muddy earth shot through with deeper channels that ran out towards the great inland sea that collected the rain water and snow melt of half a continent. I could smell it, the reek of decaying organic matter, stagnant salty water, and sulfur. It didn’t promise to be a pleasant jaunt.

We descended along a dirt track worn in the side of the mountain by generations of funeral processions. In places stones had been piled to provide crude steps, but such conveniences were few. The lower we got, the thicker the air became and the worse the smell got. By the time we reached the first gnarled mangrove trees with their thick swollen leaves, the air was a miasmic fume, thick and damp upon the skin. My calves ached terribly from the long descent. I tried to keep in shape, more to keep the amasec off my hips than for the Emperor’s glory it was true, but I wasn’t exactly used to long hikes over rough terrain. Hadrian and Lazarus showed no signs of discomfort and Clara looked like she was positively enjoying it. Selenica alone looked pained, and I took some comfort in the companionship of misery. I was about to ask what we should do next when Clara, who had been taking point with her auto gun, made a quick sharp gesture. I didn’t know what it meant, but Hadrian grabbed me and dragged me off what remained of the path, Lucius and the others following suit. We sheltered behind a vast thicket of thorny vines, its twisted knots shot through with brilliant purple flowers. For a long minute I heard nothing, then a rhythmic thumping. As we crouched I reached out and touched Lucius’ mind, calming the murderous impulses which were building there. The thumping grew louder and a dozen men and women passed us by. They were dressed in sturdy leathers, their eyes downcast. At the front of the group a young man carried one of the log coffins before him like a standard. Two other men flanked him, striking the earth with heavy staves of gnarled wood to keep the timing of their march. They all wore hoods that had been smeared red with what must have been some equivalent of ochre, not a dye, but a smeared muddy pigment caked and uneven. Feathers and bits of pearlescent material I judged to be some kind of shell festooned their clothing, clacking softly as they walked. Several of them had slung las guns, jarringly out of place with the primitive barbarity of their garb. They looked neither left nor right, simply trudging on up the path we had just descended, completely intent on their task. After ten minutes or so Clara gave a terse: “Clear.” and we emerged onto the path.

“Funeral procession,” Selenica observed. “Think there is any chance they will run across those dead mutants?” Hadrian shook his head.

“As desolate as the valley is, those mutants are probably in the cook pots of their fellows by now. If they bother cooking them at all. I assume they normally subsist on the marrow of interred bones,” he opined. My stomach turned at the idea of something eating the rotten marrow inside months old bones.

“What was with the red hoods?” Clara asked. She was in the process of taping an auspex unit to the side of her rifle, the better to find targets when the sight lines were so short.

“It is a marker,” I explained. There was an expectant silence broken by Clara who had finally finished with her tape.

“A marker of what Emm?” she prompted.

“Plague,” I told them quietly, the forest of coffins at the end of the valley suddenly making considerably more sense.

“Red hoods mean plague.”

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

The echoes of the shoot lasted a disconcertingly long time, rippling down the valley in decreasing amplitude. I whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the machine spirit of the Helix 2. That much I felt I could still do without feeling like too much of a fraud. I was impressed by my luck with the weapon so far, esspecially considering at the end of a long afternoon practicing with rifles, Clara's response had been to sigh and remind me I could always club someone with it. The big gun hissed on its suspensor field which I took for an acknowledgement. The mutant I had shot looked more or less human, if you didn't count the extra eyes on his arms neck and legs. I didn't doubt there had been additional eyes on his chest, but those had been burned to jelly by the discharge of my weapon.

"Ve mast move," I declared in my aristocratic accent, but instead of action there was a general murmer of discontent from the local guide. I turned and snapped my fingers.

"Ve are vasting daylight," I glowered, but the locals were crossing arms over chests, a few even fingering weapons. Clara had picked up on the tension and had rather nonchalantly turned so that her carbine covered our hirelings. Well Hadrian's hirelings I suppose, given that their contract was with an ersatz big game hunter who was in inquisitional custody.

"We did..." one of the porters blurted, then paused and knuckled his forehead when he saw the blaze of anger in my eyes.

"That is, yer ladyship, we signed on to hunt Carnadons, not trespass on some feral burial ground, not to fight mutants, nor tangle with no ferals what had las guns," he continued, his voice gaining conviction as he ran on and he received murmurs of approval and agreement from he fellows.

"How dare you," I snapped continuing to simulate area, "are the men of Havenos so bereft of testicles zat they are afraid of primitives and subhumans?" I made a broad sweeping gesture to encompass the valley.

"Old zuperstitions?" I scoffed. It was a masterful performance, exactly what an aristocratic huntress would do and maybe if they hadn't seen the bloody hands it might even have worked. That wasn't my purpose however. I had to make a decision because they thought I was the leader, but it was up to Hadrian as to how we played it.

Let them go. His thought came softly but clearly. We had practiced speaking mentally during out time at his estate. He was getting much better, though initially I had used much to complicated mental metaphors that left him scratching his head or laughing out loud.

"Very vell, if you are not men, you may stay and guard ze ve-hicles," I sneered, "those of us with spines will explore for a few days, zen we shall return."

I turned my back on them and Clara, Selenica and Lazarus began unloading gear from the half tracks. That would have had to be done anyway, unless we wanted to knock the wall down in order to bring the vehicles through. It would have been faster, but it would certainly mean fighting every mutant in the valley. I toed the one I had shot, his mouth lolling open to reveal black teeth filed to points. The must have been outcasts, cursed by custom or greatest need to live in this horrid place. I walked a little ways a way and made a show of scanning with a pocket auspex glass I kept in a pocket.

"Do you think they will actually stay with the vehicles?" I asked as he came close. He inclined his head and I followed his gaze. I noticed Lazarus seemed to be spending a little more time near the engine manifolds than necessary.

"He is convincing the machine spirits to run for a few minutes and then deactivate. I'll wager this lot will try to bolt the second we are out of sight," he said.

"Do you think our enemy might have an agent among them?" I asked, voicing a thought I had been mulling over for a while. We were well out of vox range of the settlement, but it was possible one or more of our local allies was a spy, either for our enemy or just freelance. There would certainly be spies back in the settlement who would be happy to get a story of what the big game hunters were up to for the price of a free drink, possibly warning the enemy that we were coming.

"They wouldn't be much of an enemy if they didn't," Hadrian said sounding very sexy and inquisitorial to my ear.

"Two days to the end of the valley, maybe one more to the dark of the moon," I mused, "we will be cutting this kind of fine."

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

@rush99999

How can he put January in his debt?

Gold & Glory: AU thread

Two Weeks Later

"This is crazy, its un'atural 'ain 'it?" Carlos demanded. He was a big man, a former Marienburg stevedore who still had the odd clipped accent of the lower class of the great merchant entrepot. Emmaline, sitting on a nearby rock, was inclined to agree. The Hammer lay at anchor in the shallow bay with most of her crew ashore. They had escaped the clutches of the dark elves, several sails had been spotted in pursuit, but the violent storm had provided cover. Markus had turned them south and held the heading, confounding the elves reasonable assumption that they would run for Ulthan or the Old World. Instead he had brought them here, to this shallow bay with its sparsely wooded hinterland. It was, she was told and isthmus, though she was only vaguely aware of what that was. Markus, Sketti and the two elves had talked incessantly for days, discussing the lead that Van Robert's had on them and the impossibility of making it up before the trade winds changed or some such nautical nonsense.

The solution was, apparently, simple. If they couldn't beat Van Roberts around the continent, then they would have to go over it. Under Sketti's direction the crew were engaged in clear cutting the sparsely wooded plain infront of them. Trees were felled, shorn of branches, and then laid a few feet apart to form rollers. A rough corridor was forming, that would mark the voyage of the hammer across seven miles of plain to the head waters of a river which would take her to the eastern sea. It seemed an impossible task, but Sketti assured them it was possible and as it was the only practical method of beating Van Roberts, it was necessary. Markus was yelling at the crew as they fastened great hawsers of anchor cable around the largest surviving trees. Other crew members were busy unloading guns, ballast and supplies, transferring them to sleds that could be hauled more easily. Anything that could lighten the ship was being hauled by hand to reduce the chances of her breaking her back or becoming hopelessly mired far from the ocean. For her own part Emmaline was standing before one of their former cannons, creatively convinced to take the form of a cauldron for her current purpose. A reeking brew of seaweed bubbled in it, heated by a constant fire fueled by the branches shorn from trees. Every ten minutes or so she skimmed a gallon or so of grease off the top into water barrels donated for the purpose. Crew men took the grease and spread it on the first score of rollers with mops, making them glisten in the morning sun.

"Alright!" Markus called, "We are ready. Begin!"

Out on the Hammer the Capstan's began to turn. Slowly the hawsers raised out of the water, pulling taught. Everyone had paused in their labors to watch. Emmaline could here the distant thrum of a shanty.

"Roll and go! Roll and go!"

With infinite slowness the ship approached the shore. Crewmen, neck deep in water held the first few rollers in place, the prow forcing them under the water and down to the gravel bottom. The Hammer juddered and came to a halt.

"Pump me boys, pump her dry!"

With shuddering groans the ship continued to move, slowly sliding up onto the beach, the making tide following her along as far as she could go.

"Down to hell and up to the sky!"

The ship slid up and out of the water completely, seeming to pick up a little speed as solid ground and greased rollers got under neath her.

"Bend your backs and break your bones!"

Lesser cables were run to other trees, hauling side ways to keep the great vessel straight. This had to be repeated every fifty feet or so, but so far between Markus and Sketti they were keeping it going. Emmaline had imagined they would use the sails for motive force but Markus had explained this was impossible, the balance was too delicate to allow for such unpredictable things as wind.

"We're just a thousand miles from home!"

With the slow majesty of the avalanche the ship began to move across the plain. It was less than a walking pace, and men grabbed rollers which had been passed over and hauled them to the front of the line to be reused.

"I will be buggered," Emmaline breathed. This might just be crazy enough to work.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"We are entering the burial ground," I declared, touching the stone wall with the palm of my hand. The ... fortification was all I could think call it was recent and roughly mortared with local clay. That wasn't a good sign, clearly the introduction of las guns, and for all I knew, other tech, had already altered the local balance of power. Communal labor of this sort bespoke a significant change in the behavior's of the tribes. Had some local warlord risen high enough to command slaves to do this? At least it provided some shade, but as I pondered the likelihood of being crushed to death by rockfall, I decided this was of dubious advantage. At least my cover provided me with an air cooled body glove which saved me from the indignity of sweating like the others. I haven't always been able to choose high class covers, but I always try.

"Lucius, do you think you can get through without brining the whole wall down?" I asked.

"I will not be crushed," Lucius replied, which wasn't as close to yes as I might have hoped.

"The problem is simple engineering," Lazarus declared loftily, "I shall instruct Lucius Raj in which stones to remove." I was skeptical about this idea too. Lazarus and Raj had very different ideas about precision but Hadrian didn't object and I stood aside.

"Do you sense anything beyond?" Hadrian asked quietly as the Skitarii and the Thunder warrior went to work. I eyed the wall for a moment and then let my mind float outward. Almost immediately I brushed something. Crows screamed and took flight from the nearby hillocks, cawing and circling away to the north. I could taste death in my mouth, feel the wind peeling the flesh away from my bones.

"Are you ok?" Hadrian asked, his eyes alight with endearing concern.

"The valley is a bad place Hadrian," I told him quietly, "I'm not sure what is wrong with it, but there is something bad about it."

It took Lucius and Lazarus about half a standard hour to make a hole. The wall didn't collapse, though it did give something of a lurch as the last stone was removed and it settled slightly into its new consideration. I hoped through gingerly despite Lazarus' superior declaration that the wall was actually more solid now he had made his adjustments. The other side of the wall was markedly different. The valley grew increasingly rocky and bare. Ancient geological erosion had created projecting cliffs that stuck out from the valley wall at irregular intervals, like great granite teeth. On the smaller mounds I could see what looked like stella of some kind, though I knew from the archeor's reports that they were actually hollow logs that contained the ossified bones of the dead. Funerary rites varied across Havenos of course, but there was a marked preference for a lengthy decomposition followed by fetishizing of bones before eventually collecting them in logs, which were carved and painted according to their religious tradition. Only when the bones had been picked clean by predators and then ritually cleaned where they brought to the valley for final disposal. At first glance I could see a score of logs, some new, some ancient, clustered around slight rises in the ground like wooded hills whose trees had no leaves.

"This place looks haunted as frak," Clara declared, putting into words what we were all feeling, albeit slightly more crudely than some of us.

"Boss," Selenica said drawing our attention back to the way we had came. The back side of the wall was covered with bloody hand prints. Hundreds or thousands of them. Judging by size an shape there were at least a score of individuals represented and probably many more.

"If we are going to go this way," I muttered, "we need to move fast, and not just because of the moons."