POOHEAD189

Gold & Glory: AU thread

"Bastard! He stole my idea!" Sketti roared, shaking his fist as the scorch mark that was once Morek. Markus wasn't extremely knowledgeable in the subtleties of dwarf culture, but he imagined a non-slayer going out in a blaze of glory in front of one who had taken the death-oath was much like a cat panting and wagging its tail. Either way, his death was what they needed to make it out so Markus wouldn't begrudge the departed dwarf. The Hammer lazily floated out of the maw of the great cavern and into the cloudy weather of the night. Rain still pelted the deck, but the maelstrom had died down to a mere tantrum of a storm.

Markus looked up and saw the silhouette of the sorceress eclipse the small glimpse of the moon, riding upon her flying steed and raising a staff. Markus felt the hairs on his skin raise, and he felt a heat radiate on him. He had the briefest moment to consider the implications before he leaped, and a pillar of light pierced his position on the ship just the next second. Wood splintered with the flash of lightning, but luckily it didn't cut through the entirety of the caravel.

Out of the gloom a spasm of dark mystic missiles streaked through the air and hit poor Holdman. As the druchii magic entered his form, he had a single second to give a look of depair before he began to wrack with something inside his body. He convulsed with such violence that when he hit the ground he bounced as he clawed his very eyes out, blood seeping out of every orifice. Brod tried to get a hold of him but Holdman's boot hit him in the chest, sending him sprawling as Holdman let out a final gurgle and died. Had the pirates been a more charitable bunch he might have hurt many more in his death throes. No doubt the sorceress had counted on humans to be less selfish than dark elves, but everyone aboard was too pragmatic or afraid to vainly help Holdman. The man began drowning in his own blood, and Markus did him the favor of severing his neck so he might not have to die from suffocation.

"Why isn't she attacking the ship?" Sketti asked after firing a pistol at the witch, who was far enough away to nimbly dodge it.

"They want our ship." Markus explained, drawing his blade, bledwydyr, out of Holdman's corpse. "Likely with some plot to dupe an imperial trading port in some scheme. I can appreciate that, but not with my bloody ship!"

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

"Looks like we'll need an extension of clearing out," Neil said as he made it to the window. Smoke began to rise into the air between the vast buildings of the city. Fortunately, their tower was relatively isolated from the main body of the city, but he saw a handful of beastmen loping across the bridge toward them, while two of the chaos mutants, one with a goats head and the other with a wolfish countenance, brayed at their brethren and waved axes.

Emmaline watched the monsters streaming forth with worry. Across the water, citizens were hacked down in the streets or shoved bleeding into the riek. Even now a sqaud of swordsmen with shields locked met a murder of beastmen at the edge of the quay, slamming against one another, steel flashing and blood spurting. It was worrying, but the small horde cresting the bridge towards them was a more immediate danger. Emmaline bit her lip and drew back, but squeaked when an ornate longbarrel slid past her nose to rest on the window sill. Neil cocked the Hochland rifle like he was born to the task. In his mouth, he sported a lit cigar.

"Where were you keeping that gun?" She asked.

"Don't worry about it," The thief responded, hovering his eye a scant inch from the scope. Like a short fuse, Neil waited a small breath before the gun cracked. A beastman with the antlered head of a deer lost half of its skull, bloody shrapnel of red gray matter splattering across the other members of its party. Calmly, in fact he was whistling, Neil began to load the musket by the muzzle end, black powder followed by a lead ball falling into place before grabbing the ramrod. He had wanted to use the gun in a more indirect fight, the weapon having far greater range than a normal handgun, thanks to a spiralling groove on the inside of the barrel. It had a complex arrangement of lenses and sights that allowed the marksmen to pick out targets that would normally be too small to be shot a with any degree of accuracy. He could probably help out the swordsman halfway across the river breadth if they didn't have more pressing problems.

"Baby, do me a favor." Neil said, hefting the gun again and aiming.

"Yeah?" She asked.

"Get the cheapest booze we got. Some of that stored shit we didn't want to touch." His words were punctuated by the discharge of the long rifle. A large ram-headed gor felt with a gaping hole in its chest. "Bring it up here, will you? As soon as they try to break the door down we'll lit 'em up."

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Neil was lost in a maelstrom of darkness. He had fallen asleep almost thinking he was on a rocking boat, as if the mattress itself was swaying upon light waves, and that feeling hadn't left him until Emmaline slid out of his arms. He felt a slight chill and stirred, trying to will himself to go back to sleep without even realizing it was his intent. The delectable smell that wafted into his nostrils was bittersweet, since he still felt entirely heavy. Should he appreciate sleep or that sweet smell? Where did it even come from?

"Rise and shine," Neil heard near the light of the glass. He murmured and redirected his position, flipping his head like a pancake and opening one eye. Even bleary, the silhouette of Emmaline popped the other eye open, and he pushed his body up and wrested the sleep from him. He felt like his head was made of wool, but his girlfriend could clear his senses like a slap in the face. Standing there and smiling in front of him, he wondered how he could get so lucky. He would gladly be in a city besieged by malevolent forces beyond comprehension if it meant seeing her every morning.

Good thing he could have one and not the other if they played it smart.

"Wow, that got me up," he laughed tiredly. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "You didn't have to cook. I coulda... could have helped." The last word was lost in a yawn as he stretched, broadening his chest as his arms went wide. Emmaline plopped down at the edge of the bed and set the tray between them, taking a bite of a crispy piece of bacon.

"I could do some things for you sometimes," she said, and they shared a smile. The two ne'er-do-wells began to eat, and gave small quips with half filled mouths and sent one another giggling more than once. When they were finished, Emmaline ended up getting her shoulders massaged by Neil's insistence. She let out a soft moan, moving her red waves out of his way.

"This for breakfast?" She wondered softly.

"That, and it's going to be a long ass day, babe." He said, his fingers dexterous and strong. He rubbed out every knot and point he could find, admittedly enjoying her enjoying herself. He also wanted to lay out what they were going to do while she felt good, so it sounded plausible. All he knew was they couldn't stay here forever. "Around noon we need to get dressed and pack everything we want to take with us. We're getting out of this city and going as far away as possible. Trust me, sewers'll stink worse than Gorbad Ironclaw's taint but we'll make it." Her face twisted in disgust at his turn of phrase, but it shifted back to a pleased smile at his massage. She was going to inquire where the sewers would lead them, but a shiver ran up her as he found the sweet spot on her back. He figured her question, regardless. The thieves had a way of talking without talking, sometimes. "We'll end up near Rohrhausen. It's a mining town. It will be abandoned, so we can hold up there the next night before heading into Riekland."

"Sounds fun," she replied, and Neil doubted even if she knew she was being facetious or not.

"The funnest. I didn't even get to the good part." He said, and he let her give a 'hmmm' firstly, before adding. "There's a noble mansion in Rohrausen that could simply not have taken everything when they ran out, which means when we get there we'll nab a few trinkets for the road. No point in getting to another poor, right?"

Pax Astra

"My place is closer," He added, the wind sending his dark hair flying behind him.

"It's a wreck!" She reminded him.

"It's got guns." He added, and that seemed to be the deciding factor. Sabatine tapped his shoulder in agreement and Tiber suddenly skirted the next bend and went south. He was loathe to have his place riddled with bullet holes, but it already needed work done. If it saved their lives it was worth it. Plus, he had a home field advantage.

To Sabatine's delight, the lights still approached them from behind even after the change of course. Tiber felt her sigh as she held him. He couldn't blame her not wanting her home destroyed. Wouldn't be fair for both of them to be out on the street. Seems their orders were to kill, this time. Another two kilometers passed beneath them before the ATV landed at the front of his workshop. The two soldiers vaulted the transport and Tiber led her inside through the massive hole in the bay gate. Papers and debris littered the ground while tools had been tossed like someone had thrown a tantrum. Forward was the area where he kept any vehicles he happened to work on, and to the right next to his office was a wide stairwell that led up into an open second floor where he kept much of his junk and undesirables. To the immediate right was his 'junker' mech, still chained up.

"Tell me that thing works." Sabatine said as Tiber hurried approached it and began to ascend the metallic giant, gripping its steel plates like he was born to it.

"No, but it can fall." He told her without elaborating, unhooking the chains and climbing into the cockpit to grab a small device. Once in hand, he climbed down and hopped the last eight feet, and ushered Sabatine up the stairs to what was essentially a storage basement, open with a rail one could stand beside and see most of the lower floor below. It was the only place with any elevation. Sabatine hopped over a few boxes to peer out of the lone window at the top, and light flashed on her face as the light trucks pulled into the last drag before they were on them.

"Here," Tiber said, and when Sabatine turned she almost didn't catch the Vetas Arma. An old, very outdated military slug thrower. It possessed a simple fire selector allowing the user to fire single shots, three round bursts, or fully automatic streams, with a fifteen round magazine. It had less finesse than the plasma guns and was less useful against high powered armor, but it could take a hell of a beating and it had impressive stopping power. He tossed her four magazines and loaded his own Vetas Arma.

"Know how to shoot this thing?" He asked her, slinging the weapon over his shoulder and vaulting another crate before he made it to the edge of the second floor, just at the north wall beside the railing. He opened up a small compartment, where a red button lay.

"Where the hell did you get these?" She asked.

"Souvenir from the campaign on Agripinaa," He said, referring to one of the more famous and recent rebellions in the empire. A rogue state had risen up in the system, breaking off and reforging itself into a 'supposed' republic. Tiber and his team had been sent in on spec ops. "Just tell me when they've made it to the flowers out front." He told her.

He didn't have a lot of time to explain his hand hovered over a remote detonator.

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

Ǫlni The Forgemaster

---

'They' must have been waiting for her? Ǫlni was unsure of who would attack a Valkyrie, particularly in this day and age. Perhaps a demon, though such beasts wouldn't use bullets. He felt dread rise in his stomach when he theorized it was the Jotuns, who would enjoy nothing more than the bash the brains out of any servant of Odin. But they were not known for their firearms either. A mortal could do it, but how would they be able to see Valkyrie Cykali, much less use weaponry that could harm her?

"Keep the lass company," Ǫlni said flippantly to Harald, who seemed at a loss for words. The dwarf was too busy gazing at the slug that had pierced her body, the scrap now between two tongs. He hustled away and went into his forge so he may better utilize his metallurgical skill by letting it out. He would cleanse the bullet, and then see if he could recognize or deduce what type of projectile and metal this was.

Roll

I roll a 10

@Penny

Welcome to the Entrance to yours truly ;>

@277Kazuhiro welcome to the site! Let me know if you have any questions

At The Edge of The World

The guide ushered the two into the stone structure at the center, the rain beginning the thicken and a light breeze whipped by them. The legionnaires ignored the rain, and only gave cursory glances to Beren, though a few eyed Emmaline with some interest.

For his part, Beren felt right at home here. Despite the fact he lived quite a loose life out at the very edge of civilization, he was used to ordered drill and mighty earthworks by the dwarves. This was just a younger race playing at what the ancients had already perfected, though they did it with the tenacity of men and the skill of many years of practice. He had a small urge to volunteer to help, but he knew if he asked he would by flat out refused or they would induct him into their ranks and he hadn't the time.

"This is but the first of many," the guide said proudly, noticing Beren studying the battlements and fortifications erected. "Soon we'll make a wall along the Black Delta, once the emperor buys out the confederation. We will upturn the fores-"

Beren almost burst out laughing, but he kept himself from interrupting the haughty guide as the man continued to present their future campaigns, eager to tell someone not of the army. Emmaline looked at him curiously, and he blinked, impressed she had noticed his change in demeanor. He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "I'll tell you later."

Before he pulled away, she grabbed his jerkin and kissed his cheek. "You look good just out of the rain." She whispered. His face flushed, but before he could be awkward, both they and the monologuing guide were interrupted by a huge crash, and a shake of the trees beyond the palisade wall. As soon, the protostates turned or looked up from their tasks, and the only sound that followed was the pouring rain.

"What was that?" Emmaline asked, placing her hand on her hips and wanting to appear as if she had the authority to demand an answer. As far as Beren was concerned, she was noble born and it was only natural.

"I don't know," Beren and the guide said as one. Idly, Beren wondered if they had named the fort Serpentus because of a local beast. He dearly hoped a Bagrada serpent was not near.

They caught sight of one of the hundreds of trees in the distance going down, pulled by something immensely strong.

"Stations!" A scarred centurion cried, placing his feathered helm atop his head and roaring for his men to move. Spears and shields were dolled out and hastily grabbed, as yet another tree was destroyed beyond the wall.

This one was far closer.

Pax Astra

"Pardon my friend, the life of a hermit has made her unused to proper roman socializing," Tiber said, though it was probably lost on everyone there except Sabatine that his voice oozed sarcasm. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but let him speak regardless. Tiber wasn't a speech writer, more accustomed to spartan speech than oratory. He retrieved a golden drachma and flipped it by a quick motion of the thumb, sending it spinning back into the palm of the same hand.

"We come here as clients, seeking our patrons aid." He emphasized it by the next flick of his thumb sending the coin spinning to land at the foot of the 'throne' before Gorm.

"What is this?" Gorm asked dangerously, huffing at the small coin as if it were an insult, which was half correct, though the ketcharch was obviously curious at the pectacle.

"Our tribute," Tiber remarked, as if it was the most obvious answer in the galaxy. "You see, my friend and I were on vacation for a bit. After she was attacked from men of yours who doubtless were acting of their own accord, she needed a breather, and being a fellow soldier I decided to help her and we headed to the beach. But when I got back, I found my shop ransacked by brigands."

He shook his head, lifting his arms vaguely as he gestured. "I couldn't imagine how such barbarism could happen under your watch, good Ketcharch. But I know you must have been so busy celebrating your birthday, your men likely took to drink and weren't their best." He placed a hand on his chest. "I hold no grudges. All I ask, is that the men who assailed my residence, granted to me by service to the Empress-"

Sabatine's mouth went small, trying not to laugh at the thought of 'servicing the empress'. Tiber would get her for that, but with a great force of will he kept his face straight. "-are brought to justice, and my friend and I can sleep peacefully at night."

It was a small bit of theater, but Tiber was doing his best to keep from going to war with Gorm, while also keeping the man and his lackeys from walking all over him. He was giving the warlord an out, one that Tiber sincerely hoped he take.

But a darker side of him was waiting for him not to. It was Mars, patiently waiting for the blood to flow.

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

Ǫlni The Forgemaster

---

"No hospitals," Ǫlni said, brooking no argument from Harald. He picked himself up, going to grab a small cot, an old blanket from the closet and a pillow, along with a glass of water. As he brought the bundle back, he heard Harald ask:

"Is this really a Valkyrie?"

"Aye, boy. Even in the old days, you midgardians did not get to see them often. Only the bravest of warriors, picked by Odin for Valhalla."

"Is Odin and his warriors...are they still...?"

"Oh they show up to those worthy, still, lad. Maybe you'll see it one day. Now help me put her up on the cot." He said, and the two lifted her up as slowly and gently as they could. Once she was set up and wrapped up, Ǫlni patted her cheek. "Oi, what happened? Who did this to ye?"
@Penny

Dark Streets - Urban Shadows

Ǫlni The Forgemaster

---

Ǫlni grumbled, kneeling down beside the Valkyrie. His fingers were thick, but they were dexterous. He began to peel the armor off, speaking of the make as he did so, as if it were second nature.

"The Choosers of the Slain are the handmaidens of Odin. Their armor is of the finest quality. Dwarf make, actually. Though I never made any myself. This was something my grandfather worked on..." He undid her glimmering golden pauldrons, sharp edged and wide, in the likeness of great wings. "The plates aid her in gliding, and the cuirass is ten thousand thousand links of gilded steel. She wears no coif, as ye can see. But her helm, shaped like an eagle, you see? It can survive any blow save a strike from Thor's hammer himself. Here lad, grab the lower bits-"

"What?" Harald asked, too focused on staunching the blood to be bewildered, but still confused.

"Oh, right." It was just easier for him to pull the cuirass off with two men, but he raised her arms and yanked the plate gauntlets off all the same, pulling off the cuirass as Harald helped lift her body. Soon she had on naught but a linen top and a simple skirt. "How is she, lad? Ye don't want to be failing now. Odin is vengeful you see..."

"I'm helping though!" He breathed.

"Yes, but he's a fickle god. Where do ye think Loki gets it from?"
@Penny