POOHEAD189

Maverick Malediction

Neil grabbed her rump in his hands, giving her a place to rest on as they kissed and bit, their bodies moving in unison as the warm water kissed their skin.

"I can...get used to this..." Neil between breaths. He chuckled and was about to turn the tables and send them back under to continue before a huge crash erupted from the other room. Both Neil and Calliope's heads popped up and gazed at where the sudden thunderous roar had come from, and to their surprise they saw flames licking the doorway from where they had just been.

"Was that you?" Neil asked her, turning to look at the dark sorceress. She didn't answer at first, her eyes aimed at that direction, like she could see something other mortals could not. Neil snapped his fingers in front of her pretty face, and she wrinkled her nose and looked at him. He asked again.

"No, but I did keep a ward in there in case we were attacked." She said, and they both pulled themselves out of the pool, naked but warm from the waters and the flowing wind from the hot desert. Neil grabbed a towel and pulled it around his waist to cover himself, even if it was a bit sensitive after the love-fest. He winced when the coarse texture went over him, but he sucked in a breath and thought of less sexual things, though Calliope not deigning to get dressed wasn't helping. The lithe woman poked her head out into the hallway, her hair now tied in a loose, wet bun. Neil joined her.

"Was the ward supposed to explode?" He asked, wondering if they had immolated some poor servant.

"No, it was meant to make someone trying to kill us attack a place where we were not."

"Do you do that a lot?"

"When I have the energy and forethought," she explained. "Not that it's always foolproof."

Neil laughed. "Ha! Amatuers. Attacking us without even making sure we were in the room. What a bunch of dumbasses uh...whoever they were."

"Well, it was either someone who had followed us across an endless desert, or a group of magic users in the city who don't like our presence here..." She said, tapping her chin. Neil knew the question was rhetorical. There was only one sort of group in Ragba Shahir that would or could do that.

"The seven princes," they said together.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Sickly green lightning arced across the hellscape as daemons leaped into view across the battlefield. Like anti-bodies, the xenos stamped forward out of the alcoves and eldritch doorways to fight off what infestation of man and cultist it could. They came out slowly and in small numbers, but I feared if we took too long we would be overwhelmed before we could fight our way out. I could sense the men's fear, but no one would leave until I slew that bastard bahometus.

While Emmaline did her part, I raced forward, cutting down another snarling daemon, the otherworldly entity spouting out a curse in a language not meant for human ears as it dissipated into the nether, cut in twain by my blessed power sword. Shotgun shells and bolter rounds pierced through the horde that leaped at us as the lesser warp-entities had to turn and face the xenos in their assault from the flank. One piece of luck when you're the lowest in the foodchain is that most adversaries tend to overlook you. As it was, my force of troops and myself were about a quarter the strength of either the daemons or the xenos and the two liked one another as much as they enjoyed my presence.

Lucius the Thunder Warrior made good on his name, his boots tramping across the xenos steel like rolling thunder across the hills as he stamped over both xenos and cultist, even taking a glancing blow from the gauss rifle of the necronic weaponry and moving without complaint, though it sheared through the armor of his right shoulder and sent blood streaming down the opened muscle. I moved to follow him, but I felt as much as heard Emmaline collapse behind me. I turned and saw her hit the floor, and yet her hands gripped the staff as if it were her only hope of salvation.

Duty warred with my heart as I watched her, and I took one step toward her fallen form before I took a moment to think. No, the quicker I killed Bahometus, the quicker I could help Emmaline.

"Corporal Hergen! Guard her with your life! Ravjek, get four men to hold the perimeter to keep our rear secure! The rest of you, with me!"

The men moved with precision, any idleness that might infect their mines purged from them after my orders. When men had a direction, it didn't matter if it let to their dooms. It was better than no direction at all.

I wheeled forward again and ran like hell, pivoting to hug the right, away from the main engagement as I passed by the floating obelisks and pillars that hid what cultists bahometus could spare away from his main body. Bald heads and wild spikes from their rags and armor betrayed their positions. The first heretic I passed only saw a glimpse of me before I cut his head in half with a swift stroke, never slowing my stride. Lucious and Ravjek's fire took what little attention we were granted and it wasn't long until I leaped over a small, steel wall and saw the loathesome Bahometus shuddering under some weight, his acolytes surrounding him.

I pulled out my autogun with a quick-draw honed from a dozen years of fire practice and sent round after round into his shield of lackeys.

Gold & Glory: AU thread

The water hitting the pavement in a rush of diminutive waterfalls splattered loudly behind them as they entered the strange, roofed quay under the rock. To their right was the docks and ships floating in sloshing water, and to their left was the cavern and waves that stretched into the darkness. Markus had only heard a few tales of the Drucchi, but from everything he had heard and seen, he was intimidated by the prospect of what might be lurking under these controlled waters. He had no way to ascertain on if they kept their sea drakes in the same cavern as they did their moored ships.

There were only muted lights within the cavernous dockyard, the elves needing only a paltry amount of illumination to work by and the lightning that flashes every few moments sent the silhouettes fleeing to reveal real shapes of statues and carvings in the stone. Markus followed a mere step behind the elves, all three moving with purpose as Emmaline and Morek tramped behind them.

"Were either of you ever here before?" Markus asked the two Ulthuanites, who glanced his way.

"No, we never had the privilege." One said sardonically. In the gloom, Markus guessed it was Indrin. "We were captured on a raid in the north and were transported to a Black Ark. It was our luck the Ark had an overabundance of slaves and we were transfered to come here and work the mines. I suppose either way, we found our paths here."

The captain's eyes caught a stairway a hundred paces to the front on the right wall, leading into the stone where he couldn't determine. To its left, a few slaves worked the docks by pulling aloft mooring lines and carrying crates to designated areas. If he dared to hazard a guess, there were two drucchi present overseeing the distribution of what little they had to work on during the storm.

"Then we don't know where any of these exits lead. Great."

The Hammer's prow loomed taller than the sloops of the drucchi, and the only other non-elven ship looked to be a strange seafaring vessel with three square sails and a box-like shape. Markus couldn't fathom how that thing might move in the water, but it wasn't his ship. As they approached The Hammer, the ships gangway was still out which was a blessing. A poor, pathetic slave with no fat on his miserable body was walking down from it onto the dock. The lacerations on the man's skin looked to be where they had drained out the fat, Markus thought morbidly. Likely that hadn't happened but it was hard to look at.

He took the lead ahead of the elves, stepping up and making it onto the deck, followed by the others. The familiarity hit him, and he began to feel confident again. Even if they didn't escape, being on his own ship was a boost of morale.

"What if the crew isn't on board?" Emmaline whispered.

"Then I'll kill every dark elf in this place." Markus said in a curse, and as unlikely as that was, at that moment he meant every word.

𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢 | A Gothic Fantasy Dungeon Delving RP in an Soulsborne Style World

Maybe...

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

Thargas Anvilmar

---

Thargas was not unused to politics. He was a senator for his homeland and had served in the seat for as long as a human lifetime, and yet he felt a bit out of place here. Had his King been present, there might have been some manner of acquaintance or camraderie, but as it were Thargas knew none of them and had only expected to come and reinforce the humans with their expeditionary force before Khaz Modan could mobilize properly. It seemed the war was starting sooner than expected!

He took hearty sips of the mead and listened intently as the varying leaders greeted and spoke with one another. Geradin did the same, though he held his head high and watched with an authority only a dwarf of the cloth could muster, holding his staff with the grandness of a statue wrought in the elder days of the titans. Thargas couldn't hold himself with granduer. He was just a warrior and a politician, and different people would tell you differently on which came first to him.

"While the Gilneans are taking their time, I'll take the floor and provide ye with a bit of information on our involvement in this conflict o' yorn." Commander Anvilmar remarked, stepping forward at their center to grab the gathered attention of the crowd. He was shorter than all of those present, but his bulk wasn't something to be ignored. He could arm wrestle the best of the orcs and still come out looking for more. Once Thargas saw eyes on him, he began...

"Ye have the support of me people, and the good citizens of Gnomeragan-" He conceded, extending a hand to the present Gnomes in acknowledgement. "And of our King. The Bronzebeards have always been staunch supporters of the Alliance, no matter the circumstances and no matter the foe. Our involvement here will be no different. In the coming weeks and months, ye can bet we'll bring more than our token force we've shown here today."

Twelve hundred veterans was nothing to scoff at, but it was certainly not the mobilized military of Khaz Modan. "But know that me king grieves for his brother, and while the dwarves are ever with the men of Lordaeron, some of our people feel that this war must be a war of gain rather than just passion and shared loyalties. Some want to protect our King, even from himself. And so after the war is won, and ye've rebuilt, we'll become trade partners again. We will have much business to discuss, and new roads both above and below ground if ye catch me meaning. If we are to fix this world, then we who have suffered from the Old Horde much as you who are suffering now will need to know we're in it for one another, not just when one of us is down. It took decades to free me homeland from the orcs and dragons, and some of me people felt abandoned during that time. Some felt that the men who ask now for help, delayed in their help earlier. Now, I know that's bullshit, and me king knows that's bullshit, and most dwarves worth their beard knows that's bullshit... however, some might need a bit of hard evidence by the time this is over, in trade and treaties."

Thargas managed a smile, because he knew just how ridiculous it was to even mention such a thing. But it needed to be let out to breathe and to be on the minds of the men and even elves present, because if it wasn't, then some dwarves might worry they would forget. And a dwarf that feels slighted is a dangerous and dogged foe.

"Thank ye for hearing me. Me forces and meself is at your service. Let's slay the zombies in their holes!"

Ill Met in Ostland

"That would seem the most prudent action..." Marius agreed, gazing around. The walls were made with heavy cuts of timber and well connected, but the lack of activity was concerning. Of course, he didn't know if he should expect to see anyone here, but it did send a chill up his spine to see a small piece of civilization now devoid of life after the encounter with the beastmen.

Marius dismounted from his new steed, keeping a hand on the hilt of his sidesword just in case but trying to keep his visage serene.

He approached one of the service doors near the silo and knocked with no small measure of trepidation. He winced when he heard the noise the knocking made. It sounded unnecessarily loud in the deep silence of the silo. He waited a few moments but heard no answer in reply. Well, so much for that plan. Still, they needed to get inside in order to check the shipment. The fact that there were guards here showed that nothing had ransacked the place. Perhaps it was just the roads that had led the shipments to stop operating.

"Excuse me..." A voice began, but was cut off abruptly as Marius heard an added kislevite curse. Marius turned and saw a man, having apparently come out from the back of one of the houses, sporting a brown goatee and a foppish hat holding his hands up disarmingly, Natasha's spearpoint at his throat. Marius saw the fear in his eyes and he couldn't blame him. If he had a blade to his own throat, he might have made less than masculine sounds.

"Who are you?" Marius asked, indicating for Natasha to lower her weapon. She did so after a moment of thought. The man swallowed and rubbed his neck, attempting to regain what composure he could.

"Wilbrecht Coureham. I'm one of the sub-supervisors for this location. Are you an agent of Grunwalk and Sons? We've been waiting for word from wolfenburg but have heard nothing in a fortnight. You have to be, yes?"

"We were hired to make certain the gunpowder was safe to be transported back." The merchant said, holding the reins of his horse to calm his steed.

"Oh, erm... yes, of course." He said, sounding like he just remembered something unpleasant. He glanced at the guards, who looked their way under their visored helms. Marius thought this was a strange encounter, but he wasn't going to strike any alarms and sic Natasha on someone without seeing things for himself. He decided to say as much.

"May we inspect the blackpowder?" Marius asked.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Galt laughed, and it was full of mirth. He might not be familiar with courtly intrigues but switching an arrow or having identical fletchings to make him look good sounded very much like a tactic he would try in the back alleys, or at least along the same vein. He lifted his glass in a cheers and shrugged, still smiling. "Well, if that's how it works I'm game." He said. Of course, he still wanted to learn all he could about archery, but this was a good shortcut while he attempted to figure it out. The description of her calling him a hero also kept his mood high, despite her news that she wouldn't be present at the lessons.

"Very well, I'm sure we'll get along famously." Galt said, trying to convince himself as much as Silke. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a poor experience. Maybe their initial meeting at the banquet wasn't a catalogue of how he was with everyone. Silke encouraged it and so Galt would do so, though he wouldn't hold his breath on whether her brother would do it out of charity or not. Perhaps if all else failed, he could learn how to use a crossbow. Apparently they had more punch and needed less training than a traditional bow.

As he thought of his misgivings, Silke continued and gave him a warning of her brother as if his thoughts had manifested through her lips. Galt sighed, smiling. "It takes a lot for me to really get angry at someone, especially if they don't harm anyone physically. I'll keep my mouth shut and my intentions of flirtation to myself. I appreciate the warning though, honestly." Galt relayed, and he scratched his fine chin, wondering aloud. "I suppose these next few weeks will be busy for me. What are your plans while I'm off gallivanting in the woods? Not that we won't have any more of these economics lessons."

A thought popped into Galt's head, and he remembered an offer he was going to extend Silke's way. He leaned in, placing his cup down and speaking softly, as if they were sharing some sort of conspiracy. "By the way, I wanted to extend a similar courtesy to you. If you want that is... In my previous line of work, a good knife means the difference between life or death, and your guards can't be everywhere at once. What I'm suggesting is: I teach you the proper etiquette of knife fighting, in case you need to defend yourself one day and a bow isn't at the ready. I promise it's likely prudent for someone in your high status. A knife is the oldest tool known to man and it's uses..." Galt produced a dagger, as if he plucked it out of thin air, and twirled it betwixt his fingers for emphasis. "-are endless."

He leaned back and took his glass in his hand again, taking a casual sip as he sheathed the blade. He doubted she would take the offer, but he wanted to extend it. Galt was used to a 'take what you can, give nothing back' mentality, but Silke was doing so much for him. It felt wrong to not at least give her a few lessons in an art he both knew and would be relevant in his new lifestyle. "Your choice, of course. I just feel like it would be beneficial for you. It's saved my life more than once."

Ill Met in Ostland

Marius felt like his head was made of lead. The adrenaline having long since faded away to just paranoid fear, he didn't know exactly how he should feel but it wasn't the exhilaration he had been told he might. Oh, at the time during the fight he did feel an excitement. An edge that one might delve into were they so inclined, but it didn't justify the sheer sobriety and hangover of anxiety that preceded and followed the experience.

"Yes," He breathed in a nervous sigh. "It was my first."

At least he no longer felt like he needed to lose his lunch. Initially after they had fled the movement of the horse and the sheer brutality of the experience had made him feel queasy, but now he wanted nothing more than to go back home and sleep for eighteen years, and he realized again that he had no home to go back to save some inn at Wolfenburg.

"I am alive. Whether I am ok is a deeper question, but I can settle for the former for now. Are you?"

"Da. Small skirmish compared to vhat I haf escaped before." She said, though clearly she had the frame of mind not to make so little of the encounter. "Yhou do gud. Many die furst coombat. If yhou beyeter dooler than horseman, perheps you eh...f... formedbal?"

"Formidable." Marius asked.

"Da, is what I meant to sey." She said, hooking her carbine over her shoulder and taking the reins of Konya. Once they had established that Marius could ride Dagbhert without crashing him through a copse of trees. "Now leet us go. Beatmahn stubborn like boor. Maybe dey still follow."

"They might have been the bloody things that destroyed the silo." Marius thought aloud and kicked his mount into a trot alongside Natasha and her mount.

Ill Met in Ostland

"No birds?" Marius asked dubiously, looking up at the overcast sky and squinting as he gazed around. The land was sparser here in a sense, though the forest was thick on all sides, the riverway left them in a relatively open space. "Perhaps there are just less birds near the mountains?"

He asked in a fashion that was more hopeful than sound in logic. She did not look his way, gripping the haft of her lance more tightly. Marius suddenly felt Dagbhert stepp with agitation, and he felt a quickening pace in his pulse. Somehow even he knew there was something wrong with where they were, and it for once it wasn't a dissatisfied customer.

"Should we turn back?" The merchant asked, but even as he spoke the brush behind them exploded in movement as mutants with the heads and feet and fur of beasts appeared. Their eyes were white and wide, with lolling tongues and frothing, fanged mouths. Marius almost vomited from the sight of their twisted forms, swallowing his disgust to gird himself. Even as he and Natasha spun their steeds around, another dozen beastmen appeared across the river. With antlered heads and wicked axes in their hands, they charged out of the treeline with roars and undulating cries to their false gods.

"We should have turned back!" The merchant screamed, fear gripping him even as Natasha spurred her mount toward the closer warband, crying out like an amazon out of legend and holding her lance out as she bore down on them. Marius did not quite know what to do. He was a better fighter on foot but he didn't want to be caught without his horse in case he was overwhelmed.

When it doubt? Charge. That had been the advice a Reiksgard had once told him when Marius had asked him how the man had survived so many years of combat. Bravado and the bulk of your horse would never fail you. So the merchant paid heed to it and drew his ribaldo, the sharpened sword gleaming as he set Dagbhert into a gallop just to the flank left of the screaming Natasha. Her black braid flowed in the wind as she rushed headlong into the throng.

Her warhose leaped to surprise the first spear wielder, reaching the goat-headed beastman and crushing it under its great weight before the thing could bring its short pole arm to bear. Natasha's lance skewered another elk-headed beast, pinioning its tall neck and ripping the spear point out to enhance the wound, blood spurting. Even as she spun her lance to strike a glancing blow against another, Konya kicked out with its rear legs and sent a smaller beastman flying.

"Sigmar!" Marius cried out desperately, hoping beyond hope the lord of men watched over him. Had Natasha not been so ferocious, they might have easily cut the legs off of Dagbhert, but as it were most of their attention was on her except for a smaller beast with the head of a dog-creature, its little sword and wooden shield pitifully small compared to Marius's new stallion. It dropped the shield it carried and ran, but it was trampled by the dark haired horse, Marius managing to stab the shoulder blade of another distracted mutant in the process. It bleated madly and swung its mace wildly, but Marius stabbed a second time and pierced its chest, ending its life before it could strike him with a true hit.

Ill Met in Ostland

Her confidence rubbed off on Marius and he returned the smile. The horse was a stallion, ungelded. Perhaps it was arrogance on his part, but he felt the beast needed a proper name. Something he could boast about at parties. "I'll call him Dagbhert," Marius decided suddenly, brushing the horse's mane with approval.

"Daegburt? Vhy?" She asked with an incredulous look. No doubt it did sound funny to a foreigner. It was strange how dissimilar imperials and kislevites were in language when they lived as neighbors. Then again, even the provinces had somewhat different dialects and naming conventions. He supposed it made some sense.

"It means bright day." Marius said, taking one of the sugar cubes he had been given and letting the beast eat it leisurely. It's tongue felt odd and its teeth were hard and snapping, but it did not wound him despite his nervousness.

"Boot iz derk color." Natasha pointed out.

"It's meant to be ironic." He explained, and she shrugged. They had already gotten what supplies they needed, though Marius was feeling a tad peckish. They had jerky, nuts, and dried fruits to last them almost a week, and water with it. Natasha handed Marius his stash of the goods so he could strap it to Dabhert and secure his own stock.

"So when do we go?" The merchant asked dubiously, changing the topic to something less savory. He was clearly feeling more than an inkling of trepidation on the journey. If he had known he was going to rough it in the woods, he might have brought a dueling buckler or a soldier's shield for the trip. Defense was key, not offense. Particularly when going into areas where one might be overwhelmed. His mind was filled with scenarious of rampaging, goat headed beastmen pulling him off his new horse and hacking him to pieces.

"You said ve leef immediately, da? Szo ve go now." She remarked as if it were set in stone. Marius grunted in reply, realizing if he spoke he might have a crack in his voice. Taking a deep breath, he placed his foot in the stirrup and hiked his other leg over atop the saddle. The horse, Dagbhert, sidestepped and let out a drolling whinny, but Marius gathered it under control after a few moments with the reins. The horsemaster watched them curiously, wiping his hands on his cloth. He likely did not quite know what to make of the pair.

"Well, I can't argue with your logic. The sooner the better." He told her, and then mumbled under his breath. "_{If I die I die}..."