POOHEAD189

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

Beren regarded the man solemnly, the smallest bit of rain sprinkling on his clothing and skin. The water was frigid, scattering the light frost that clung to Beren's jacket and cloak, clinging to his thick head of dark hair. The dwarves similarly stood there for a brief moment, sharing in Beren's melancholic sense of respect for the lost elder. It was a cultural sense for dwarves to treat older dwarves with respect, and it somewhat extended to other peoples as well. Beren wasn't sure if it was his dwarvish upbringing or his sense of empathy that had him take a moment in pause, but either way, Jocasta stepped forward as the wind picked up again. Beren almost felt he heard a wail of anguish in the wind, but his thoughts were muddled and pushed aside when Jocasta cleared her throat.

"Master Morelocke, might we come in? It's erm, dreadfully cold out here." She temporized, trying not to sound too rude stating the obvious. Even the dwarves seemed ready to come in out the wind, though they hid it well with typical stoicism. Beren glanced behind him, but even with his sharp eyes all he saw was the road fading into greyness, and what might be the obscured shapes of distant mountains miles into the wilderness.

"Hrm? Yes, yes," Martinus Morelocke said, slowly coming back to reality. His arm shook as he pushed the door further ajar, glazed eyes gazing at them past overly bushy brows. He sounded exceedingly weak and quiet in comparison to the weather just beyond his doorstep. "I have forgotten my manners, forgive me. Yes, come in."

The decrepit master Morelocke took a few long moments to step back, and Otar strode in first, followed by Buri, Muragrim, Gurin, Radsvir, and Varin, and Beren stepped aside for Jocasta to enter. She cocked an eyebrow at the dwarves, as they had almost run into her like a rolling boulder. Beren gave a helpless smile. "They go by age," He said, shrugging. She began to nod in understanding, then her eyes whipped back to Beren, sharp as arrows.

"Oh and you think I'm that much older than you?" She asked, and though it was clear she was having a bit of fun with Beren due to the barely suppressed smile and the cheek in her words, he could tell the wrong answer would still give her an excuse to get him into a bit of trouble.

"No!" He said quickly, his face screwing up incredulously. "I'm just trying to be, ya know, chivalrous. What?"

"This is why I get the hat," She said as if it was the most obvious thing in the word, ruffling Beren's thick head of moistened and cold hair. He batted her hand away, and she laughed as she walked in.

"Yeah yeah, I'm onto you witchy woman." Beren retorted playfully, following her and closing the door for the old master, who did not seem to understand Beren's motives first and stood there a long moment, unwilling or unable to let go of the door until he abruptly turned, mumbling something incoherent to himself. Beren closed the door gently, and locked it. Inside wasn't very warm, but compared to the road it was lovely. Down the corridor, a light glowed and wavered against the hallway wall, showing the way to the great chamber of the manor, where a great fire was lit. The paint on the walls looked old, much of the pillars and corners were partially peeled, bare from misuse and years of wear.

Ahead of him, Martinus continued to mumble. At times Beren thought he heard the name 'Marelda,' but he couldn't be sure, and he decided it was none of his business. He carefully passed the elder before making it to the room. The dwarves sat on the floor, a bit too short for the old, cushioned chairs. Jocasta had found a seat on what was once a nice couch, warming her hands by the fire. Beren sat beside her, clearing his throat.

"So," the elder asked as he stepped into the room. "Why have you come so far out here? It's been....it's been...the roads have not been with talk or movement since last year, I think."

esarus thar no'darador | a warcraft-based roleplay

I'll make a human mage, I believe.

esarus thar no'darador | a warcraft-based roleplay

WOOO

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

"Have you done this before!?" Neil called back at her, but all she did in response was lift an arm out of hiding and wave him off.

Well, if he had been in the crowd she would have gotten his attention too, so she did her job. He turned and set his eyes on the mech to his front. Neil cleared his throat, checking the integrity of the gears. Before him was a decidedly simple, haul operator's console, with six levers, a load indicator display, which also listed his power level. To the left of the display and levers were five knobs and a large red button. These had been added to improve its combat capacity. It gave him extra control of his limbs, allowing them to move vertically and not just horizontally, and granted him use of the mounted weapon, as well as various applications in the utensil movements of the fingers.

It was pretty shit in Neil's estimation. The 189 was a far better war machine from within and without, and that was not even accounting the size and power difference. His opponent's APC was a foot taller in height, sleek white with gold filigree and a red emblem straight center on its chest. Within, a man about ten years Neil's senior sneered at him, clearly amused at his first match being against a no-name in a machine that was about eighty years too old to be in operation. Despite Jocasta's showmanship, Neil couldn't blame him. He would feel the same in that dude's shoes.

Apparently his mascot had already performed before Neil and Jo had even arrived, as the headlights from above suddenly erupted in brightness, all lights staged around the stadium zooming in on the arena. Neil saw the word 'Varkin' splayed on the left limb of his opponent. A telltale ringing banged against their senses just after the lights honed in, reverberating across the battlescape. Neil shoved his pinky into his ear, surprised.

"Begin!"

The voice came from all around, Varkin so used to the sound Neil blinked and he was already six meters closer. Neil pulled the L4 lever and grabbed the operating controls, setting his clunker's legs into motion. 'Hunk' staggered forward, every two steps a jumbled mess from the bow-legged lack of design. Neil's head bobbed up and down, and while he knew how silly his situation was, it was at that moment he truly realized it. Neil started to laugh, and he seemed to find it funnier as time went on. It rang in Jocasta's comm piece, sounding for all the world like someone just told him the most hilarious joke.

Even moving at likely half his APC's normal speed, the two APC's stepped almost 3 meters every footfall, and five seconds after the battle had begun, Varkin was close enough to see Neil's dimple past two plates of plexiglass. His opponent lifted its right limb, a twin autocannon mounted atop it, replacing a hand for firepower. The barrels erupted in fire as bullets punched into Hunk's armor. Funnily enough, due to the up and down motion, the aim was off, and no two bullets hit the same space on the APC to better pierce the armor. Neil closed the distance, arm up before his cockpit, eschewing vision for protection on the plexiglass in front of him. The massive limb craned before him, the bullets bouncing off the steel telling him the gun was still firing. Above, he saw the lightest bit of movement past his field of vision, and just as he thought, Varkin sent his melee hand crashing downwards to batter Hunk's arm aside to better cut a swathe through the plexiglass and end Neil's life.

Neil stepped forward, his bow-leg sending his mech leaning to the right, exposing the largest piece of armor on his APC to tank the melee blow, just as his arm battered the gun aside. The force of ten thousand pounds crashed into Neil, but the gun went wide, spraying bullets across the arena, bouncing around the glass in endless ricochets. Neil moved Hunk's free arm, accompanied by a mounted flamer, over the fallen limb of his opponent and shoved it forward with all power, fist crunching into the plexiglass of Varkin. It didn't end the fight, or even end the integrity of the glass, but cracks ripped across it. Neil saw Varkin's eyes bugged out, and with the flip of a switch and the press of a button, promethium roared out of the limb and cascaded across the mech, finding any crevasse as if it had a mind.

Varkin's screams were barely audible from Neil's end, but when he removed his arm, his face twisted in disgust as he saw the man's clothing and half his limbs aflame. His mech shuddered as his hands slapped the controls, and all Neil had to do was block whatever haphazard blows went his way, and push Varkin over. It teetered on the 'heels' of its feet and hit its back onto the ground with an audible crack. Neil watched as he desperately tried to bat the flames out, and he decided he couldn't watch this. He raised Hunk's fist high into the air, before letting it fall atop the cockpit of Varkin. Instead of crushing him, however, Neil gave just the pressure needed to break the glass.

Swiftly, Neil opened his cockpit and stripped his shirt off, hopping out of Hunk nimbly and climbing up the fallen body of Varkin to get to its pilot, slapping the flames out of the screaming man with his shirt. It was another minute before paramedics could arrive and the flames could truly be doused, and he would likely lose an arm and a leg, but bio-modifications were common and while Neil felt a touch bad, he knew the victor was clear.

As the pilot was carried away, Neil draped his shirt over his shoulder as the crowd roared, voices so loud he doubted even the vacuum of space could quell them. Neil waved, giving bows. He blew a few kisses randomly, and then turned around, cupping his hands for Jocasta.

"YO! IT'S SAFE NOW! COME ENJOY THIS WITH ME!"

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.