POOHEAD189

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I gave a look of unapologetic smugness, grin and all when I regarded Emmaline and her suggestion. It had merit, and it was a good loophole. My chest swelled and I looked at Clara, gesturing with my head, as if informing her to sweep the perimeter. She knew the cue and saluted before she walked out, and I pointed imperiously as Lazarus.

"Inform the men above to outfit themselves accordingly and make planetfall within twelve hours. I want all hands. Get them outfitted and on the Thorium Gama platform in the west wing. Confessor Lebowitz, see to it the area is cordoned off. My men and I are at the disposal of the blessed Ecclesiarchy. I have some experience with situations akin to this one. Grant me an audience with the cardinal as well if his mind is troubled. In sixteen hours the blast zone will be cleared and the area will be set to order."

Lebowitz seemed flummoxed at the sudden turn, but I made a note to ignore it and instead lean closer to Emmaline, her hand cradling my cheek as our noses touched. Elektra looked at the confessor, and he knew it was his cue to leave, face red and eyes darting back and forth, trying to remember my directions. I had faith he had it well in hand.

---

Half of the Caledonia's crew was on the ground in 10 hours, Emmaline and I awaiting their arrival at the landing zone. Dozens and dozens of feral worlders stepped out, tribal tattoos displayed on their oversized arms and deep set eyes gazing at the wondrous architecture about them. Each had an autogun or a lasrifle, with heavy stocks, some layered in steel. Feral worlders had a tendancy to use ranged weapons as clubs due to their nature. I was more concerned about their manner amongst the crowd than with any potential enemies. Most of them wore blue smocks, but many had varying layers of clothing from across the breadth of the imperium, likely traded on an outpost or in some underhive.

"If only their arms and uniforms matched." Emmaline sighed.

"They might stand out a bit, but nobility hire less reputable men at the lightest convenience." I said. I wasn't necessarily trying to convince myself, but I did thank the Emperor the ministorum had more pressing issues than the manner of my 'house' security. "As effective as it would be, we don't require the Mordian Iron Guard."

Urien approached, his barbaric visage producing a broad smile. "Havna 'ad action in years, 'Adrian. We're readeh."

"Good to have you." I said, giving him the customary greeting. Our hands gripped and we pressed our chests to one another in a form of half-hug. "Once we clear the area, you'll likely get bored again. Just make sure your men keep their hands to themselves and travel in groups. If we need you, you'll know it soon enough."

"Noon of 'us 'ave ever been tae a world like this'n. Are aul the buildings saw big?" He asked, looking past me.

"Bigger."

"An' how're ye teh doin? Are ye...?" He made an odd gesture with his fingers, and both Emmaline and I sighed. It was an open secret that the men of the Caledonia were curious about our relationship. Mostly because of the ceremonial dances and parties we had, they all felt like we were one big family and our business was also theirs. Whilst Emmaline and I were warming up to one another again, their intervention wouldn't help and this was no time to get into it.

"Let's just get down to the floor. Get them in a line and follow me. Lazarus is waiting at the bottom floor. We'll be walking for around half an hour. Try not to shoot anyone."

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

"Yes, my lord, we are quite exhausted. Très épuisé, as you might say in your home country." I added, wishing to lay on some small bit of Brettonian to follow the advice of good Aldo. Fernald gave me a pleased look, smiling at the very first instance of my Brettonian phrase. Camilla hid her knowing smile, though I could see it in her pretty eyes. I looked from my companion to the lord, always trying to find some small edge. "Might I ask if there is fresh clothes we might utilize on the morrow? I would rather be well dressed if I am to entertain one of your stature at breakfast time. Camilla here is a fine dancer and she would look radiant in one of your doubtlessly well-tailored dresses."

"Of course, sir Priest. We have fine coats and attire you may freely take. The signorita as well" Fernald said, and Kian hid his grin with a humble bow. It wouldn't do to stay at a lord's household without taking a few valuables, and he would rather have permission so there wasn't the annoyance of the chase for later. Fernald waved for another servant to approach, this one a bit older than Gaston but undeniably Tilean with his dark features and olive skin. "Escort my two guests to their room, Renard."

I stood up brusquely, and Camilla joined me, straightening her belt for a brief moment as we followed the servant out of the great hall and into the colorful corridor of the De La Rochefoucauld. As we walked, I felt a small, irking feeling in the back of my mind. I felt as if we were being watched somehow, and if my eyes were not deceived, a door closed as we passed by, but looking at Camilla, she looked none too concerned. Her dark eyes glittered as they passed over the paintings and busts of Brettonian knights and lords of legend and wars long past. One painting showcased a battle of Fredemund de Aquitaine slaying a greenskin warboss at the cusp of the dreaded woods of Athel Loren.

"Ar deez bettles famoos?" Camilla asked in Reikspeil. Somehow, her accent in my native tongue made her all the more attractive.

"I believe that is the unification of Brettonia itself." I said, mostly certain of the accuracy of my assessment. "I don't know the painter, however. It's not Robourte Voltaire, the coloring is all wrong."

"We are here, signor and signoritta" Renard said, having turned the corner and unlocking the door at the end of the hallway. He opened it and stepped aside. Within was a lovely chamber, with a small dining area beside a cupboard and kitchen area, and two steps up led to a bed with a layered canopy above it. To the right was a small area with a couch and a fireplace. "Call if you need anything."

"Thank you, Renard. But my companion and I are quite tired. Do make sure we have our privacy, sleep is quite important for us as we have a long day ahead." I told him, taking Camilla's hand and all but yanking her into the room. She stifled a laugh and closed the door. I pulled her toward me and as she pressed, I dipped her down as if we were dancing.

"I thought you were exhausted," Camilla remarked.

"Epuisé d'attendre," I said, my eyebrows wiggling.

esarus thar no'darador | a warcraft rp

Lok'tar warriors!

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

"Aldo Vincenzo!" The coachman called, raising a hand in greeting and giving a smile. I had assumed the guards would have to fact check with their commander or give questioning, but their grim faces brightened when they saw it was indeed him.

"Aldo! Good to see you," they said in stilted Tilean. The two halberdiers approached and took Aldo's hand in turns, shaking it heartily. One turned and cried out in Brettonian to the gateman, and the iron gate swung open slowly, grinding against its hinges as it moved. The first guard pointed his chin at myself and Camilla. "Who are they? Friends?"

"Travelers on the road. The woods are perilous tonight. I said they might find shelter here. I'll talk to the Conte, don't worry."

"Well, if you're sure." He said, then a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "Tomorrow we'll talk about the money you owe me."

"Ack! Still remember the game. Fine, fine. We'll talk," Aldo laughed in good humor, and once the men stepped aside, he kicked his horses into a trot with a small whip of the reins, and they hauled us and the carriage up a small incline, past the low wall and the towering tilean cypress trees that ringed the estate. Inside, the grounds were well tended, with small gardens of Brettonian flowers of roses, daisies, primose, the lot. A statue of a Grail Knight stood vigil on the right side of the path, just before the cobbled entryway into the main estate.

Aldo let us off just under an archway, and a servant in a well tailored suit appeared, greeting him and offering to take the horses to the stables. Aldo complied, and the three of us were allowed entry into the doorway, only to be greeted by a young man, perhaps a few years older than I, with a full brown mustache and slim stripe of a beard below, almost making his facial hair in the manner of a three pointed star. He wore an old fashioned knightly tunic that almost reached his knees, with thin trousers in the manner of brettonia.

"Aldo! It does me good to see you!" He said, his eyes sweeping over Camilla and myself for a moment in curiosity.

"Lord Fernand, glad to see you again. I hope you don't mind me and my friend imposing. We just need a place to stay for a night or two. I would not normally ask this of you, but the road is... there are horrors this night." Aldo explained, grimacing at his thoughts reaching back to earlier. I did not blame him. I thought I was going to die as well, a scant few hours ago.

Fernand was taken aback, looking hard at Aldo for a moment, concern on his face. "Horrors?" He asked, incredulously. There was a fire behind his hushed question. Swiftly he bade us forward to the great hall. "Come come, let us get you and your friends a drink and set you by the fire. Then we can discuss this, my friend. And do tell us all."

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I watched, my face unmoved but my sensibilities assailed by the vast ringing and the chorus of men and women beneath us. It was a humbling experience to watch an entire planet rise in celebration for the infallible divinity of the God Emperor. Two million souls were in sight, and they looked as plentiful and malleable as grains of sand on the streets below. I wondered how many were native to this world, and how many were simply lucky to have arrived on time to watch the coronation amongst the masses. I almost forgot our reason for being here for a merciful few moments, appreciating the grandeur of this Imperium of Man of which I had dedicated my life to safeguarding. I wondered if Kronus had seen something similar to this in his lifetime. I wish he was still here to ask.

Cardinal Ratsini stood upon a resplendent dias, held by four cardinal-servitors, loyal and devoted to the death, with augmented limbs that would keep the cardinal perfectly steady as they walked and he stood still, his eyes closed in humble contemplation even as men and women screamed at him from a mere dozen meters away. Thirteen grand deacons strode before him, heads held high, so that the Emperor may look through them to see the sinful waiting for absolution. Cleansing the ground before them so the Cardinal may receive his station without stain on his soul.

Slowly, artfully, the dias was turned, and pressed against the immense altar before the Elder of the Ecclesiarch. The two faithful faced one another, and the Cardinal Ratsini knelt before the Elder, bowing his head as a chorus of sonorous hymnals rose. Men and women in robes chanting, raising their hands to the sky as if trying to catch the attention of the God-Emperor. As the regiments of the military procession wheeled around to present their arms and the security lined every building, spotters and men with longlas's perched at every vantage point, the ritual was going off without a hitch. Even Abbadon the Despoiler would think twice about storming this planet, with its huge orbital batteries and fleets patrolling above. Even one of my order could not infiltrate so far and halt this, surely. Perhaps after the ceremony we would have a chance to meet this new Cardinal and ascertain if he knew any information on the matter. It would take several days to find an audience, even with our 'noble' status, but it was an idea.

The chorus fell, and the Elder slowly, painfully stood from his chair. He was emaciated, but unburdened by guilt. He spoke a word, too soft and too far for I to hear, but Cardinal Ratsini responded, and the newly anointed man stood to take his oath.

It was at that moment, the cardinal-servitors exploded with the force of two hundred tons of TNT. The blast was sudden and instantly blinding. I threw my hands over my face as shrapnel and immense waves of concussive force ripped through the ranks of soldiers and civilians. The inferno of all four servitors plumed upward, smoke and flames rising high as if in mockery of the choir and worshipers but a moment before. I felt Emmaline clutch my coat, and I held her tight as I blinked, my vision return to see the flames and destruction unfold before me. Where the Cardinal had once been, there was nothing left but scorched pavement. The altar was half ruined, its front walkway sundered by the immense force. The Elder's form was prone and unmoving, a dozen feet from where he had been standing a moment previously. Men and women screamed in fear and disbelief as pandemonium erupted, the waves of believers roiling below, men and women falling under their fellow pilgrims as the crowd surged, trampling tens of thousands as chaos ensued.

esarus thar no'darador | a warcraft rp

Maybe, if I have time!

Swords and Silver: The Southern Contracts

Torm and his men thundered down the hill with all the force of an avalanche. Even with sixty thousand zealots, a contingent of three score knights on barded destiers would trample through hundreds of men, anyone dumb enough to get in their way. Luckily for both the knights and the priest-queen's army, only small streams of the flood of men had crossed their path, most all too eager to make it for the walls rather than checking their flank. Perhaps in some small measure this would help the beleagured defenders. Once they safeguarded the dwarves, Torm would turn his men around and try and help as best they could.

Sir Draufkrieg felt his stomach clench, and Lycurgus raise his hooves, and then the turbulence of crashing into the body of a full grown man. His steed ran down three men before Torm's sword clove through the collarbone of a flagellant, splitting him open like a melon. He felt the tremor in his arm when his two handed sword struck the ribcage, but his strength and momentum sent his sword free of the body and ready for the next swing within the span of a second.

His men followed in wedge formation, so as to better penetrate through the swarm of men. He hacked the head off a second man, and he felt a small cut on his leg from a lucky zealot, but he did not tarry. All remaining zealots Torm left behind were run down seconds later. The men crashed against their horses like water on rock, dozens of zealots losing their lives every moment, screaming to their false gods. There was an occasional spearman in the horde, but even if they had the frame of mind to use it, they would need to have good aim to penetrade the steel armor the knights were clad in.

Beyond them, from the vantage of the horse, Torm could see the dwarves being set alight. Their hands bound by steel manacles and their burly forms set up against logs, pitch grasping at their proud beards. Torm cried in dismay when the first of the fires went up, and he called for his knights to hurry, though in his heart he knew it was too late. The dwarves stood stoicly, grimacing and giving out great roars of protest rather than squeals of pain, as a man might do. Perhaps they could save a few. Dwarves were known to be hardy against fire. Better to combat dragons with, Torm had heard. But they still had a stretch to go, and he knew he would see more dead dwarves than living when they got there.

Pirates - Ye Be Warned

Galt had only been on a ship once in his life, prior to this trip. He was a small boy at the time, barely remembering it other than flashes of his cabin and a friendly interaction with other children on the ship. Now, with rain and wind slapping him in the face harder than Bonnie ever did, he sort of wished he had stayed off and kept the fond memories.

The red haired captain had told him where to be with a mysterious air, something Galt now recognized as mischief in her eyes. He was sure his disguise was alright, but he supposed if she believed he was an able bodied sailor, he would be a boon up here...maybe? Galt didn't know. All he knew was it was miserable, and ever creak from below or wave that send the Weather Witch flailing, he felt his teeth and ass cheeks clenching. It wasn't the heights that got to him, he had been atop many a building. But most buildings didn't sway like a sword being waved in the air.

"Oi! Newfish!" He heard below him. Galt squinted and look downward, clinging to the wooden mast for all his life. If he survived today, he would praise the sea goddess for her mercy. He saw a man wearing a bandana in the envious position of being just seven feet off the ground, clutching the ropes like a spider on some of the square-shape rigging. "Pull the lanyard! Do it or we're scuttled!"

"What!?" Galt cried, holding his hand to his ear. His hair matted across his face, rain running down every pore of his skin. The wind howled, the ship lurching to the left and he felt the air flee his lungs from fear. Truth be told, he heard the man, but he did not know what the bloody hell a lanyard was. Unfortunately, if he didn't do whatever this seadog said, it might lead to his death.

"The lanyard!" He cried, and when Galt still shook his head, the pirate pointed indignantly. Lighting flashed, showcasing a kraken tattoo on the man's thick arm. Galt followed his finger, eyes whipping to the point of origin and finding a rope he fancied was thicker than the others. The thief decided it was the best guess, and with an energy borne of fear, Galt swung like a southern ape and reached the rope, yanking on it furtively. "Other way!" He heard the man cry desperately, and Galt redirected his stance, pressing his feet against the mast and yanking for all his worth.

A belaying pin popped, and a small fraction of the sail tumbled downwards. The heavy bar struck through the rope Galt held in his hands, and instead of letting go, his fear had him holding on for dear life, and he was suddenly sent hurtling downwards, his feet losing purchase against the mast. Galt screamed, but his dignity was kept as the storm was a bit too loud for it to be heard. Galt was flung across the breadth of the ship, and he suddenly found himself very aware of the endless ocean beneath his feet, a dark wave slamming into the bow sending sea spray up his trousers. If the rope was cut or broken, he would have plopped into the briney deep and no one would even know he had died, much less mourn him. Luckily the rope was thick, and after a few, horrifying moments, he swung back, his feet hitting the rail, which finally gave him the shock he needed to let go of the rope. The thief hit the slippery deck and rolled across the floor.

As luck would have it, his head hadn't been banged up, and no bones were broken, though his skin was likely bruised to hell. He planted a hand on the slick wooden paneling and lifted his eyes skyward, to see the captain standing over him, holding the ship's wheel and keeping her aloft.

Return Announcement!

Welcome back to the guild, @TengenUzui96.

@POOHEAD189 I actually saw some modern copies of that exact LOTR part while I was shopping earlier. Was thinking of grabbing one but decided I already had enough books in my cart lol

@Kuro

Haha, responsible decision

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>
Hah! Thank you, this thing made my morning. x) Thanks, everyone!

@TengenUzui96

No worries!

Return Announcement!

Glad to have you back!