POOHEAD189

The Pavonis Campaign - Warhammer 40000

"By the golden throne..." Zeb said in horror as they spun off the path and barreled into a mob of the green xenos. The grill of the ATV hit a bulky ork, sending it to the mud. The vehicle bucked like a horse and landed on a smaller ork, shoving it to the ground. Hagman had the wherewithal to keep the foot on the gas, but it only lurched forward a few meters, crashing into another xenos.

"Full auto! Go for the head!"

Zeb's cry set them into action. Katia dodged a flailing choppa and sliced through the thick arm of the ork with her sword. It's limb hit the floor of the ATV with the weight of a heavy branch. The ork howled, but his cries were silenced by Zeb shoving his lasgun in its face and firing five shots through its eye and into its tiny brain. He did not let up, firing into the crazed crowd as Grimdal and even Rikkard open fired. If they were shooting into a mass of men, it would have been like scything through wheat. Orks were unfortunately made of sterner stuff, and most of them were more injured than dead. A huge bullet ripped through the front windshield, and a choppa cut four inches into the door in a crude attempt to cut Zeb in half. Behind them, one ork grabbed the bumper and ripped it off with strength beyond any man.

Over the mob of Orks, more ATV's rolled in. But they kept to the dyke as they were told, firing into the Orks with their lasguns as the roudy xenos attempted to elbow past one another to get them. One ATV, the third one in the vanguard, burst into flame and careened forward, before swerving into a mass of orks much like Katia and Zeb's, only it exploded on impact. The orks around it had been so busy fighting one another, they were engulfed in flames before they even realized it. Zeb only saw the spectacle for a moment, just before a bullet punched into his side. He gave a wordless cry, the sergeant's vision going white as he hit the dash of the ATV. He was vaguely aware of Katia firing into the ork mass as they bore down on them, and a voice saying. "Take him! We can't all live."

"What?" Zeb croaked, shaking. He felt cold, and yet there was hot wet on his stomach. He gritted his teeth and tried to rise, but he found he had little strength in his arms. The thrumming in his head drowned out all of the sounds of battle, and he looked up to see Katia standing over him, screaming in his face. Her voice eventually penetrated into his mind.

"-UP! THAT'S AN ORDER!" She said, and amazingly, he feebly reached out to take her hand. She took it, and lifted him up with impressive strength for one so slim. She must have been muscled like a greyhound. He felt the numbness of his body give way to pain, and every breath was agony. But it was a blessing by the God Emperor, for it woke him up.

Katia covered him in her cloak, and just as his hearing came back, there was an intense sound that broke his ears again. White hot flame erupted from very close, and before he knew it he was dragged forward, stumbling with his feet and a multitude of hands on him to keep him steady. Looking back and forth, he saw blearily saw Hagman and Rikkard. When he looked at the sweating specialist, he saw the looted stompah rise from the dyke, raising a hand that spun a buzzsaw the size of a man's torso. It looked as if it had seen them, but there was a terrible arc in the sky and a whistling. Zeb slowly realized it was a missile, and the explosive struck the ork mech directly, shattering half of its body and sending the rest tumbling into the mud.

Lasbolts flashed overhead and Orks fell dead at their feet. Zeb coughed from the smoke.

"Kat, give me a gun." He said hoarsely, stubbornly.

"Shut up, Zeb." She told him, and it was good hadn't listen. He lost consciousness mere moments later, fading into darkness as the battle raged.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

It had been a joke.

He had meant it as such, certainly. Galt was forthright (for a thief), but he wasn't so forward when it came to something as serious as matrimony. He felt Silke would wave it off and get her impeccable mind to calculating some sort of scheme that would get her out of her predicament, and yet... and yet she looked at him meaningfully. She looked at him in a way a woman had never looked at him before. In the way that drew him in, and he realized at that moment he wanted her to gaze upon him like that for the rest of his life.

The thought struck him like a hammer pounding an anvil. He didn't think one could read his mind by his small flushing. Like as not Silke would think he was embarrassed by her staring, or they were simply sharing another one of their lingering looks they so often gave one another but never spoke of. Weeks ago he had convinced himself he had been the only one interested, that it wasn't mutual. If she fancied him at all, she fancied him for being new, and perhaps his exciting rise to station piqued her interest, but nothing more surely. Now, however, he realized he had been an idiot.

He decided to play along, guiding out his chestnut steed as she began a pleasant fiction of him attempting to get out of learning his lessons. He smiled somewhat ruefully, trying to grapple with his thoughts and thinking of nothing else but just how clever she was. He even laughed at the joke, though her comment on how attractive he was set his heart racing. By the time she finished, he had stopped his horse, and it was entirely noticeable to Silke. He took a moment to gather himself, though he did not even know that was what he was doing. It was almost like he was watching someone else in his own body. He wrapped the reins of his steed around his arm so his hands were free, and he approached her.

Galt took her hands in his, his calluses against her soft skin, and only then was he aware of what he was doing. And he committed, though he felt as if he was only moments from shaking.

"If I became your husband, you could teach me everything you wished to and more, whenever you wished. We would...eat dinner together and laugh together, and there would be nothing that we could not accomplish. I..." He ran his thumbs over her slim hands, his dark eyes lifting up to bore into hers. He was already drowning in her eyes. He had never felt his flight response more than this moment, and somehow he also wanted to never leave this place.

"Let's make that announcement. Let's let the people gossip and complain and fret." He ended that last word in a short breathy chuckle, as if he couldn't wait to hear what ridiculous things people had to say. "Ever since I became a lord, all the money and food and luxury has not been what's run through my thoughts. It's been you." Galt fell to a knee on the grass. They had always done that in the tales, and somehow it felt right. Gods, what was he saying? It was a miracle he could breathe. "And if you would have me, Silke, I would be honored to be your husband."

The Pavonis Campaign - Warhammer 40000

Night had fallen, and aside from the piggish squeals and guttural warcries over a hundred meters away, most of the fighting had been reduced to flashes in the dark like lightning, as well as more distant rumblings from artillery and large looted tank shots. Katia had cordoned the force off into squadrons and set each of them a ground car. As it was, Zeb was with her, along with Colonel Hagman, Grimdal, and Specialist Rikkard. Their team would spearhead the group into the enemy line from behind in a clear form of leadership, which was a risky gamble but if it paid off, it would be invaluable for morale. Rikkard needed to be with them. If anyone could get the vox working, he could.

The night air was cool, a nice release from the heat of the day. Zeb's burn marks enjoyed the air kissing his skin, though going into Du-Retour was only going to be a temporary reprieve for the tired band. Like as not most men in there were as exhausted as they were, or would at least claim to be so. He shoved the thoughts of rest aside, or he might fall asleep on the spot. He came back to his senses, and evidently he looked particularly brooding because the men cast glances his way as if they felt he had the balls to rush whatever gap they could find without backup. Zeb stifled a groan, still not understanding the stories that coalesced about he and Katia. The Commissar maybe, he could see her inspiring loyalty and doing insane feats of heroism. But he was just a grunt that was lucky enough to still be alive.

A lithe form approached from behind them, Grimdal holding up his lasgun warily before an artillery flash revealed it to be Katia. The woman was equal parts attractive yet intimidating, but in the shadows there was a lupin fierceness to her sharp features. Zeb had gotten used to her, mostly. Emperor only knows what universe a lowly sergeant was comrades and even friends with a commissar, but it had happened.

"Get ready to move." Katia told them, hefting her bolt pistol and placing a strong hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. "Hagman, you're driving. Rikkard, stay low and get that vox working. How close do you need to be to catch their frequency?"

"Hard to say ma'am," He said, worry evident in his voice. "Maybe half a click to be sure, but a kilometer could work if I can get some feedback."

"The further away the better," Zeb said, though he felt his words were entirely obvious. "I think we should go in dark, Kat. There's enough light by shot to see a few meters ahead and the dykes are straight forward. The only thing we would have to worry about is running into Ork armor and I doubt they would be just sitting there in the way. They're unpredictable but Orks are usually moving, and they aren't as stupid as you'd think. They wouldn't leave machinery lying there in range of gun batteries."

The others looked at him strangely, and he glanced around, wondering what the deal was. He had been the only man here to fight Orks before back on Lorn IV. Then his mind rewound his words and he realized he had called her 'Kat.' For Katia's part, she decided to save him by not acknowledging it in the first place. "Sound advice, sergeant. Anyone else? Good. Now let's move or we'll be dead by sun up."

Pax Astra

Tiber caught the bottle and took a swig in one, fluid motion. The beer tasted malty, he thought. Just his style. He rubbed the back of his forearm against his mouth and cleared his throat. "Good stuff."

"Got plenty," she said, placing a hand on the table and taking her own sampling of the brew. They shared a second of silence, acknowledgement in their eyes. Two soldiers having to get back at it. She was attacked, he lost his place, but they were both tired needed to enjoy a cold one for a quick second. They were exhausted, as much as they didn't want to admit it. But Tiber wasn't ready to hit it just yet, and he doubted Sabby did either.

"Hey so, got any flood lights?"

"Yeah, why?"

"How about, since this is your place, I go out and check the guns to make sure they don't need any extra parts, and you can grab us some dinner real quick. I'd rather switch places, but I doubt you'd want me rifling through your cupboards-."

She snorted before he even finished, grinning and waving his concerns off. There were still some areas of the empire with antiquated ideas of gender and their roles in society, and the barbarians certainly thought that way. Obviously Tiber wanted her to know he didn't share those ideas. Apparently she knew immediately, and saw his suggestion was just pragmatism. If they didn't get some grub in them, they might collapse, and it was her house. "Sure, skipper. Let me know if you need anything. Might be able to scrounge some stuff up around here."

They bumped their bottles together in a 'clink' and went off to their respective tasks. Tiber stepped outside, and even as his eyes got accustomed to the dark, the flood lights went up and illuminated the assault ship. He opened the back and rummaged through his crates, fishing out the multi-tool, a combination of a torque wrench, arc probe, and fusion cutter. The other three tools he needed were, unfortunately, not together. The power calibrator and the tuning stylus he found in about ten minutes, but the macrosander couldn't be found. Not too bad, he probably didn't need it immediately, anyway.

Tiber slid under the body of the carrier, finding the main gun barrel and opening the bottom hatch. "Alright, what do we got here? Standard high-energy particle-beam. Sounds about right." He started to work, removing three wires of the circuitry to reach the power cells and inner workings. "Two twenty terawatts, looks like. Not bad. Uh, rotator needs some more oil. Power pack is half capacity..."

It took about twenty minutes, and he was happy to see the weapon was still operational, though not up to standard. He wouldn't sell it to anyone but an enthusiast, but even if it wasn't like new, it would fire. It could probably rip through two inches of steel plating if need be, and maybe more under focused fire. If he had to guess there was around sixty laser bolts in capacity, around 40% of its usual number of shots. He coughed out dried dust that drifted out of the opening he'd made, and rolled out from under the gunboat after sealing it up again.

"How's it look?" Sabatine asked, standing in the doorway. Tiber closed one eye to better focus on her with the lights beaming in the face.

"I'll tell you inside. But it could be worse." He assured her. "Got another beer?"

Pax Astra

The trip was quick. Only once did Tiber had a small suspicion they might plummet out of the sky, but turbulence not withstanding, the assault craft flew like a charm. Tiber loved their miniature vacation, but seeing the expanse of the beach was a welcome sight. They passed scant shrubs and light copses of trees that grew into farmland and rolling hills, with cottages and roads and cattle from all across the galaxy. Sabatine started to talk about places she recognized, like the Kendal's place and their shooting range they kept out back, and she complained about how their Horox, a reptilian bovine creature, always loped up to her when she came by to visit.

Tiber landed them at the front of his shop, the repulsor lift soothing as it powered down. It was no Onocentauri mecha, but this craft was definitely military grade. Ran well, armored, and could survive more than a few years in the wilderness. "I know you didn't call dibs on this thing, but I definitely want to take it on a few joyrides at some poin-"

"Tiber..." She said, placing a hand on his arm. He looked from the controls and out to where she was pointing. His steel gate had been cut through with what had to be advanced power tools, and it hung open, likely open from the inside, haphazardly agape. Tiber groaned, punching the button that opened the cockpit and vaulting out of it. Sabatine had to turn the vehicle off as the Legionnaire rushed into his workshop and cursed.

It hadn't been the epitome of clean, earlier. But the place was a mess. His spare parts had mostly been stripped bare, his droids had been either taken or broken, tossed to the floor in pieces, and his office had been broken into. The door's handle was gone, punched out by what looked like a gunshot. Tiber sprinted into the office and found his secret monitor, placing in the code and opening his vault. He was relieved to see his weaponry was still there, and some spare cash. But otherwise, almost everything else had been taken.

Even his booze.

"My Magnis! My shop! FUCK!" Sabatine would hear him cry as she strode in behind him. He walked out of his office and kicked a fallen wrench to clatter across the stained floor. He placed a hand over his face. He had a full, black goatee now after their three day sojourn. In his other hand was his Dobalta. "Some of these parts cost thousands of sesterce."

When he removed his hand, he didn't look distraught. He looked coldly pissed off. He tossed her the bleach. "Guess they didn't take everything."

At The Edge of The World

Beren whipped the rope until it wrapped tightly around his thick arm, eyeing the newcomer warily but not with any hostility. The man wore red and gold colors, accentuated with a cloak of burgundy. Emmaline fixed her wide brimmed hat, as if being presentable to this man was the first order of business.

"When we must," Beren answered him, and stepped in front of Emmaline just in case. "You're not a native. Who are you?"

The shapely woman poked her head out past Beren's shoulder, whispering to him conspiratorially. "He's a Basilean. A protostate it looks like. You know, a legionary."

"She's well informed." The legionary stated, keeping his crossbow down. He looked relieved at their evident traveler's garb and attitude. He stepped to the side and indicated they follow. "I am afraid I have to ask you both to come with me. I'm sure you're going to Darkwater. This is too far out of the way for you to be hunters, even though your lady here looks dressed for it."

They saw little reason to argue or fight on it, and Emmaline looked overjoyed at the prospect of a bed and a roof a few days before they reached their destination. Beren had to admit it sounded nice, and so they followed him into the trees. Apparently it wasn't far, as they used this river for their water source. Thew man introduced himself as protostate legionary Drachus.

"And what are you doing all this way down in the dark continent?" Emmaline asked him as they rounded the bend. The road led past a jumble of stones and moss covered cypress trees, and before them was a large palisade wall of spiked logs. Before it was a well-dug gulley, spanning the breadth of the wall. A wooden bridge stretched over the short expanse. For a temporary dwelling, it looked efficiently made.

"Why, colonization of course. The Emperor wishes to take hold of the riches here and regain what the old praelian empire has lost."

A droplet hit Beren's bicep, and another plopped atop Emmaline's hand, and within seconds a light rain had begun to fall on them. Beren closed his eyes and raised his head to appreciate the coolness on his skin, but the rain became heavier, and Drachus called for the gate to open. Emmaline huddled under Beren's shoulder like it was a miniature cliff face to keep dry. He felt obligated to help her with that, keeping what rain he could off of her as the gate slowly opened for the three of them.

Pax Astra

It had taken some real doing, but it looked like their scheme was starting to bear fruit. Tiber had fixed the grasshopper to a point, but only just enough to get it moving again to haul the assault craft another few feet before black smoke erupted from the engine and sent a beacon hundreds of feet high in the clear sky above the sea. The assault vehicle wasn't fully out of the water, but it was exposed enough to be workable.

"Now the only way off the atol is to fix this thing," Tiber said, wiping the sweat off his brow. He looked at Sabatine. "You didn't plan this, did you?"

"You have a mind for deviousness, Legionnaire." She said by way of answer. "It'll get you into trouble some day."

For two days and nights, they worked. Firstly they pulled out a tarp and made a makeshift shelter, digging a small perimeter around their camp and making lines for their tent location. Removing all of the tools out of the crates was easy enough, but sifting through them to find what was needed was harder. Sabatine had her work cut out for her, swimming from the shore to Tiber's perch atop the light vehicle to bring what supplies he had needed. The sun was terribly hot, but they had brought a sizeable amount of water and they took frequent breaks in the cool lagoon, near the shore of course. On the third day, Tiber hopped into the cockpit and strapped himself in.

He flipped the breaker switches and adjusted the angling jets, thanking Jupiter the manual controls for maneuvering hadn't been shot. Sabatine stood on the shoreline in her fatigues, watching under the shade of the tree canopy and sipping a bottle of gin. Tiber saw the lights on the power meter flicker on, and his breath caught. "Come on, baby..." He breathed, readjusting the power to the throttle and praying it would work. He pressed the control to the ignition, and he suddenly heard a warbling rumble as the thrusters came to life under the water. He needed the vehicle out of the water now, or the sea would come rushing in at its bare circuits. The vehicle lurched, but it didn't fly up. Fuck, he searched around the cockpit and checked ship integrity, before his eyes passed by the auto-filter. He punched it, and he heard water gurgling as the ship coughed out what sea and sand it had inhaled the last decades it had been under the lagoon, giving the thrusters what it needed to practically leap out of the water. The ship shot out, and Sabatine flinched as if to dive away, as it looked like it would careen for her. But Tiber caught the vehicle caught it with the angling jets, and as gently as he could, he lowered it onto the beach.

Air siphoned out as the assault ship's cockpit opened, and Tiber laid a hand on the outside.

"Hey soldier, heard you had some thugs to kill. Guess I could give you a ride." He offered nonchalantly.

Pax Astra

Pax Astra

Tiber crawled back atop the grasshopper with her, breathing in deeply and coughing out droplets of water. The two soldiers lay there on the deck, panting. Sabatine tossed Tiber a towel, and rather than dry himself, he wrapped it around his bleeding forearm.

"I'm great with animals," Tiber told her confidently. He coughed again. "That snake was just an asshole."

Sabatine smiled despite herself, and the two shared a short laugh. She pulled herself to her feet and made her way over to the cockpit, hopping over the back of the seat to land on her ass and rev the vehicle up. "So you never told me, are the cables secure?"

"Nah, I just felt like picking a fight. I need to go back down there." He told her, his tone indicating the cables were indeed secured. She pushed the throttle lightly. The craft moved forward gently, before slowing to a halt. It tipped a fraction of a degree, and Tiber looked over the side. He cursed, the sediment and blood had yet to fully clear. He supposed it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

"More power!" He called to her over the engine.

Tales of Azeroth: Flames of Chaos

Thargas Anvilmar

---

Commander Anvilmar had not anticipated the proceedings would be so tumultuous. And yet, fortune seemed to favor them and their cause. He and Geradin exchanged looks, not entirely skeptical, but evident surprise on their bearded faces. Geradin was the first to regain his wits, giving an inclination of his grey-haired head to those assembled. Coming home to their King with promises of Alterac and its mountain passes was not what they had asked for, but the longer they thought of it, the more they felt it was a great gift indeed. One could only imagine what untold riches lay underneath the rock, and the tolls, even at low prices, would give staggering wealth to the depleted kingdom of Khaz Modan.

"That is a Kingly gift," Geradin said. "I think the Light that our friends have not forgotten our devotion."

The Dwarves would help in the war regardless, their word as strong as iron and their ties to the alliance, everlasting. However, this would boost morale and silence the senators that had begun to grumble at Magni's decision to mobilize so soon. Anvilmar spoke up, having made up his man. "Then Alterac it be! We will wait for confirmation from yer kings, but let it be known that we accept these terms with more heart than ye could know. Thank ye."

The wizards exchanged looks and spoke of spying on the enemy, which he could appreciate, and the Ashbringer spoke to a few other members of the council, but it seemed politics as usual. That is, until a great wolfish thing had entered the council, and had even deigned to knock beforehand. To Thargas Anvilmar, it looked much like a gnoll he and his lads often skirmished with along the northern and southern borders of Khaz Modan. He almost reached for his weapon, but when no one else jumped to defense, he thought about it. It was larger than your typical gnoll and more lupin in visage, and it spoke words like a man, not an oafish yelping thing. He realized it had to be a Wolfen. He had never seen one before, but word of them had reached him in a few tales.

Genn Graymane! So the cursed king was here. The Dwarves held no enmity of him or his realm, and if everyone else was ready to bury the pickaxe as it were, he saw no reason not to join in.

"We of Khaz Modan welcome ye to this council, King Greymane. It's good to have more lads join us." He wondered if they would have to reiterate all that had been said so far to the hairy royal or if they could proceed. He supposed he had already gotten most of what he wanted from the gathering, save the plan for the movement of troops. He spoke once more, addressing all assembled now. "Me boys will need some food soon. We have some rations left from the trail, but if ye want me lads to be at fighting shape, their bellies will need more than the coneys they can catch. Other than that, we're ready to kill some restless dead for ye."