Penny

Maverick Malediction

"That man was Radek," Sukander Besar said, gazing at the corpse with sad dark eyes, "He will be missed by his mother."

"And few others I suspect," Calliope replied callously, "though if you would like I can raise his corpse and send him home." The mystic gave a sad and world weary sigh but did not rise to the bait. He shambled to the edge of the cell to better regard them, thin almost skeletal, hand gripping the bars.

"Poor Radek has died so that you may speak to me," he said, "I encourage you to speak before his brethren compel you to kill them also."

Calliope produced the strange map and thrust it through the bars at the man. Sukander took it and examined it without speaking.

"Do you know what it is?" Calliope asked, "The Seven Princes seemed willing enough to kill me for it." Sukander sighed again. Calliope had the impression the mystic found much to sigh about.

"They are even more cavalier about death than you I fear, though for lesser reason," he replied, turning the paper slightly to gaze at its strange markings.

"These are the runes of Ak-Set," Sukander said, "A great kingdom that flourished on these sands thousands of years ago."

"And what do they say," Calliope asked eagerly. Sukander smiled wanly.

"There are none living who can read the runes of Ak-Set," he replied, then held up his hands to forestall objections.

"Fortunately, or unfortunately, there are devices which can read them, seeing crystals of great power," he explained.

"One may be found in the house of Maza-dan Sheref, one of the Princes so eager to take your life," Sukander went on. Calliope nodded in understanding.

"And what is your price for this information, shall I free you from prison?" she asked. Sukander bowed his head.

"Do as you think best, but remember, it is but my body which is imprisoned, not my mind. I fear for you it is the other way around." Calliope pondered his words for long seconds, struck by their unexpected weight. Then she reached out and touched the bars. The metal seemed to darken, then flake, and within moments collapsed into rusted powder.

"Go then Sukander Besar, and your gods go with you," Calliope told him, then turned and walked back the way the dead Radek had brought them.

Pax Astra

Sabatine cooked a simple meal of stir fried vegetables with some diced meat from a recent hunt and a pungent tamrind sauce she had been saving for a special occasion. Given that she might be dead in the next hours or days it seemed the perfect time. She opened a couple of bottles of cold cider, enjoying the bite of the booze with the spicy food.

"Think they will come tonight?" Tiber asked as they sat on the porch and watched the end of the road.

"Nah, by the time the survivors clean their trousers out, and get up the balls to tell the big boss it was a bust, it will be after dawn."

"Probably after noon by the time he finishes raging and decides what to do about it."

"What do you think he will do about it?" Sabatine asked. Tiber made a face and struck the top off another bottle of cider.

"I bet he heads over here with every swinging dick he can round up," he replied. Sabatine sighed and looked out over the farm she had spent the last few years patiently building from her land grant.

"Yeah... that is what I figure too."

______

It was nearly dusk by the time the thugs finally arrived, rolling down the road in the back of large flatbed trucks. They dismounted as soon as they reached the boundary markers and shook out into a respectable skirmish line. They made no attempt at stealth, opening fire with shotguns and rifles when they hit the fruit trees and disturbed the wind chimes Sabatine used to keep the birds away. Sabatine winced each time they fired, high powered weapons maiming and killing trees she had planted on the first days of her retirement. When they reached the house without opposition, they threw crude incendiary bombs, petrochemicals in water jugs with fuses of soaked fabric, through the windows. The house, being a colonial hab model was largely fire resistant, but the mob raised great cheers as fire blossomed within. It was only then that Sabatine acted, bringing the engines online and lifting the assault boat out of the grove of wild trees in which it had been concealed, its roaring down draft blowing a storm of leaves in all directions. The pair had been watching the 'assault force', if such a term could be applied, on the excellent sensors of the assault boat. Now the lifted over the panicking thugs. They opened fire as the vessel swept over them fanning the flames into high intensity. Despite being less than fifty feet away the number of hits they heard through the hull was embarrassingly few.

"Contact," Tiber announounced from the gunners station as he settled his targeting reticule and fired. The air screamed as the particle beam ripped it apart, the lance of blue green energy pulsing out in a continuous flow. It struck the first parked truck two hundred meters behind the frantically firing thugs. The greenish cargo hauler transformed into a miniature mushroom cloud of fire and smoke that rained debris for a hundred meters in all directions. Tiber drew the beam along the line of trucks, each one adding to the conflagration as starship grade weapons atomized their light civilian frames. Tires and debris bounced out of the fratricidal explosions as the gunship swept over, the sensors neatly compensating for the thick pall of smoke that surrounded them. With a three second burst of the beamer Tiber destroyed every vehicle the assault force had brought with them.

"All tangos down," Tiber said in tones of grim satisfaction.

The loss of irreplacable vehicles to a remote rim community was immeasurable, but more importantly it stranded every thug that Gorm could summon 16.23 clicks from town. Sabatine grinned viciously as she turned the gunship north towards the township. It was time for Gorm to see how he liked losing everything he had worked for.

At The Edge of The World

I was thoroughly sick of the jungle. It seemed the last time I had slept in a bed was lost from my mind and no matter what I did I was perpetually damp. I sat through my watch disconsolately, passing the time by randomly setting mosquitos on fire when they darted too close to me. It was more magical effort than I usually could be bothered putting forth, but apparently recent events had bought on another attack of the I-really-should-practices.

At first I thought the glimmer was simply the reflection of one of my little pyrotechnic displays, perhaps on a particularly shiny or wet leaf but as I peered closer I realised this was not the case. I leaned over and shook Beren, it was close enough to the time to change watch that even if it was a false alarm it wouldn't matter. Characteristically he didn't stir. I shook harder and he snorted but didn't wake. Rolling my eyes I stood up and kicked him hard in the ribs. Beren's eyes snapped upon and I knelt down as though I had been gently shaking him awake.

"Ow.... what.. what is it?" he asked as he registered my presence.

"I see something out there... or I think I do," I whispered, pointing in the direction of the glimmer.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I looked critically into the mirror at the latest gown. This wone was scarlet with inlays of black and gold. Its generous neckline might have been indecent save for roughs of fabric a shade or two paler than my skintone. It pinched tight around the waist and the curve of my hips was highlighted with braided golden cords in successive rows. It fell into a bussel the was slightly narrower than my hips, giving me the look of a tulip bulb from the waist down. One shoulder was left bare while the other rose into an ornately starched steeple that nearly reached my chin before joining a hood which cowled my face. The top of my hair protruded through the cowl like a horseman's top-knot, bound up in a cage of gold wire that added several inches to my height.

"Very well," I approved as the courteous staff appraised me. This was as close as could be had to current Gudrun style, or Gudrun style a year and a half ago when we last touched on that pleasant world. It would add to my credibility that I bought something similar to what I was used too and the overall effect wasn't unpleasant.

"I'll take this as well, you may charge it all to my husbands account," I declared imperiously. The clerk rung his hands together for a moment.

"Madam the total is consider..." I slapped him hard across the face.

"Do as you are told sirrah!" I snapped. A noblewoman from Gudrun would never allow a servant to question her finances afterall. The functionary bobbed his head and smiled subserviently, as though I had done him a great kindness. I felt like a bully, but that what was expected.

"Do you wish to change madam or..." the clothier persisted. I avoided glancing at my hand, judging by the mans face my fingers might be covered with cosmetic powder. The question was answered a moment later when a servant appeared and sponged my fingers with a cool cloth that smelt faintly of rosewater. I pretended it was beneath my notice.

"No, I shall wear this to my next appointment," I said with a frosty smile that only my mind could make conciliatory. Without further comment I climbed down from the modeling diaz and headed down through the front of the opulent store, heading for where my palanquin should have been waiting, instead I found Hadrian and a priest whom I didn't recognize waiting for me.

"Husband," I greeted in a cool tone.

Pirates - Ye Be Warned

The merchant vessel had no choice but to strike or be boarded. The captain wisely choose the latter option, keeping on enough sail to carry him out of range of the shore battery which continued to boom out shots to drive the Weather Witch away from the crippled warship. To do otherwise might be seen as not cooperating and while merchant captains might care about the fate of their cargos the crews on whom they depended to defend them were less inclined to risk life and limb for the sake of their paltry wages. It was a quarter of an hour before Jess and her crew of boarders clambered over the bulwarks, lashing the two ships together as they continued out to sea. As Krycek had predicted the sky to the south was growing darker and the sea was rising, before the watch was out Jess wanted to have sails set and be out and away with plenty of sea room. She could feel the slap of the waves through the keel as she dropped down onto the deck. A nervous looking merchant captain stood on the deck in a fine coat, wringing his expensive felt hat in his hands, the crewmen sprawled about in drunken disorder, having taken the opportunity to break into the liquor rations before the pirates came aboard. Jessica grinned, she could appreciated stout fellows who could take the initiative.

"Listen up you lubbers!" she boomed, using her impressive chest to project her voice.

"Do as we say and you wont be harmed, make trouble, and by Yande's Drowned Pricks I'll feed everyone of you to the sharks!" it was no idle threat, but it didn't seem anyone in this bunch was inclined to be a hero.

"Strip her to the deckheads boys!" she called to her crew, "and put these drunks to work helping." She turned back to the crew.

"Any of you lads fancy a bit more excitement than hauling silk for rich arseholes, sign aboard with me, I'm Red Jess and my lads are princes at every tavern from here to Beton Bay because they sail with me!"

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

We slipped out the North Gate a little after noon, mingling with a group of farmers and tradesmen who had been trapped in the city by the unpleasantness. Hard faced mercenaries scrutinized the crowd but the simple expedient of scattering a few copper pieces in the street was enough to provoke a scramble that diverted their attention. Though I chafed at the slow pace but we didn’t dare risk horses, they would have marked us out as people of note. As it was I wore a cowled cloak to conceal myself and I had instructed Kian to hunch, though he remembered to do this only intermittently.

We struck north toward Pavona, taking the Great Road. Astia was out of the question as we already knew the port was closed and I thought Luccini too obvious a destination seeing Du Ponce and his shadowy mistress knew that we had saved the life of the Ambasador, Maximo Panyo, and were likely to guess we might seek shelter there. The thought of the woman, of whom I retained only the vaguest of recollections after my fuge state, chilled me and made me suddenly and irrational glad the sun was high overhead. I kept myself covered having found myself unusually sensitive to the sun, though the sensation was fading.

We kept to ourselves as we followed the great road up the modest hills. Kian’s Tilean was good enough that people took him for a native, or perhaps an Estilian who had been here a long time. I tried not to speak, hoping my cloak would render me sexless and unremarkable. Twice mounted mercenaries raced up behind us and the group cowered off the side of the road. Both times they passed us without comment, probably carrying orders to the forts north of the city.

Our numbers dwindled as the afternoon wore on. Peasants and artisans took the smaller trails that led to their hamlets and villages. We briefly discussed hiding out in some such place, but decided strangers would be too much cause for gossip. I felt growing unease as the sky darkened, becoming unreasonably nervous about being on the road after nightfall. Perhaps it was this worry that caused me to bump into a young merchant when he stumbled to avoid horse droppings he had nearly missed in the fading light. He turned to snarl some curse at me and got a good look under my hood.

“Sigoritta,” he gasped, making an elaborate bow. He didn’t know me of course, but I could tell that the fact I was concealing my gender wasn’t lost on my traveling companions. Some, a pair of dust stained masons, merely looked concerned, but a hooked nosed miller and a merchant cast speculative looks down the road. The young merchant who had spotted me seemed oblivious to the tension he had created.

“It is growing dark friends,” he proclaimed, “it is about time to make camp and I for one would welcome the company. Lacking a convincing reason to object we turned off the road into a small grove of olives to make camp.

_______

“So tell us Signorita what brings a woman like you out of the city?” the young merchant, who turned out to be named Adriamo asked as we sat around the small fire we had built with scavenged timber. I had by now removed my hood, it no longer being useful to try to conceal my face.

“I am relocating to Caratzo,” I lied, giving him the name of one of the medium sized towns to the north and west.

“Ah and what will you be doing there?” he pressed. He was jovial and friendly but he clearly wasn’t going to leave off pestering me.

“I will work,” I said with a touch of dejection in my voice. Predictably he didn’t pick up on it.

“And what is your trade Signorita?” he asked.

“Sono una prostituta” I replied. He opened his mouth and then closed it with a clop, casting an eye sideways at Kian and drawing the logical conclusion that he was my pimp. It had the desired result as Adriamo colored and didn’t renew his questioning.

_________

I awoke to the sense that Kian was moving. The fire had by now died to smoldering embers that cast virtually no light but the moon was nearly full and bathed everything in it’s silver glow. I sat up to find Kian frozen with his head cocked. I heard the sound that had disturbed him immediately, distant hoof beats. He made a wait here gesture which I completely ignored, following him to the edge of the road. For long minutes we waited in the dark, the distant sounds of hooves on the stone roadway growing louder. An owl hooted close overhead and I nearly jumped out of my skin. There was a fog coming up, clinging to the wooded hilltops like a crown. It seemed to flow down the road in a slow motion river that seemed sentient and sinister. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but there seemed little point in mentioning it. I could taste bile in my mouth and feel my heart beating in time to the relentless drum of hooves.

After a subjective eternity something stirred in the mist and four riders appeared on thin unhealthy looking horses. Far from reassuring me, my dread increased at the sight of them. They were cloaked and hooded and as they closed I saw an odd glow in the eye sockets of their steeds. I noticed that though the horses seemed poor, their tack and gear was very fine. The wind shifted abruptly and I was assailed by an unpleasant smell, like meat that had turned but been concealed with harsh and astringent spices. I was sure that the strange riders could hear my heartbeat so loudly did it strive to burst out of my ches.

“My lords!”

I just about soiled myself at the sound of the voice. A man stumbled onto the road waving both his hands to attract attention.

“Do you seek a man and a young woman? For the right price I can take you to them!” It was the miller, evidently woken by the hoofbeats. I never did learn his name because the riders wheeled in eerie unison and rode him down. It was almost dainty, save for the snapping of bones and the shattering of the miller’s skull. Only once all four horses had passed did the last rider break from the formation, lowering a rod of ivory and brass to stab through the miller’s heart. Incredibly the mangled body was still drawing breath until the tip of the rod crushed the rib cage. The temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees in a heartbeat. Icicles hung from the leaves of nearby trees like tiny glittering needles in the moonlight. A pale ethereal glow seemed to pour out of the wound, uncoiling into a transparent facsimile of the dead man. It was distended and deformed where hooves had crushed it in life and a great millstone hung around the figure’s neck. It looked mournfully down at the body from which it had emerged then turned its pale silvery eyes on our hiding spot, seeming to smile through its horribly crushed jaw.

I screamed. It wasn’t my finest hour, but I challenge you to keep it together when you have just seen a man trampled to death and then raised into unnatural servitude before your very eyes. Kian told me later it was very loud, though all I really remember were the birds bursting from the cover of the trees and taking flight in a storm of feathers. The riders turned on us with the precision of a drill team. Their faces were covered with eyeless masks that seemed to be woven from silver and gold thread. The faintest hint of witchfire seemed to glow within. I was very certain I didn’t want to see what the masks concealed.

“Run!” I shouted, forcing my icy limbs into uneasy action as I turned and fled into the woods.

Penny's Pencils

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Penny's Pencils