POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

2 months later...

Neil lounged against the pilot's chair, Lonney taking up the duties of traversing the R.I.P. while the crew was fast asleep. Even with an AI as sophisticated as the Highlander's, someone still needed to be up most of the time to keep an eye on things. Lonney couldn't exactly warn the crew of a malfunction or an impending disaster if no one was awake. Neil also had to be doubly aware, as their last stop on Langor VII had brought them face to face with the bounty hunter's guild, and Saxon had been brought back into the fold, given a major hunt that would last for some months. Neil had come to appreciate the big Xeno's presence, but he was still sort of glad the brute was gone.

Even so, that meant one of the human crew had to remain awake, and Neil had drawn the short straw this time. He felt his eyes sinking, though they halted halfway there. Back in high school on Fortus he had learned a technique that let him rest his eyes while keeping them merely lidded, and it had tricked more than one teacher into thinking he was at least paying some attention.

He let his mind wander a bit, comfortable in the heated cockpit. He had jerry-rigged the chairs to lean backwards like a recliner, and he lay snuggled on the central one, feet kicked up on the dashboard. Junebug wasn't a fan of him doing that, but she didn't openly forbid it either. He had taken the liberty and his thoughts drifted to their next job. The crew had heard a planetary governer in Gliese 876 was hiring on mercenaries for an expedition into conquered space. One of those high risk/high reward jobs in retaking old systems that had gone dark in the Imperium's past. There might even be a few neo-crusaders, if the governer knew what he was doing and played his cards right. Hopefully they played nice. Supposed to be a big payday.

While Neil thought of the coming campaign, there was a sudden, flashing red indicator above him. It was small, but he noticed it nonetheless. Neil cocked an eyebrow, understanding it was the stability alarm. Sometimes the R.I.P. could be unpredictable, but as long as Taya had refilled the coaxium in the R.I.P. drive they should be fine unless there was a void beast of some kind or some rare celestial event. Neil stretched and yawned and snuggled back down into his chair again.

The next thing he knew, Neil was yanked out of his seat from the centrifugal force, and suddenly alarms did not just idly flash, but they blared in his ears. Neil raised his hands and caught himself before his head smashed against the dashboard, and Lonney's voice came over the intercomms.

"Emergency! Emergency! R.I.P. tide unstable! 87% chance of losing the integrity of the shields, and 99.847% chance of losing the integrity of the vessel once that occurs. Maneuvering is required, first mate!"

Neil was already on it, punching in the swift algorithm for manual override and taking the wheel, flipping three levers on the right. He blinked, trying to get his thoughts together as sweat began to bead on his forehead. "Lonney, prepare the ship for an emergency R.I.P. detachment! All auxiliary power to the shields, and keep us in line until I can get us out of here!"

"As you say, first mate!" Lonney replied. Already he heard the Highlanders hatches and hydraulic systems doing their work, and the shield's power increased to 142% on the display monitor. The vessel began to shudder incessantly, an endless drumming that had his teeth clattering. He saw lights on a spectrum on the display monitor, flashing to showcase how close they were getting to an exit portal in R.I.P. space. It was far too sudden to predict, but the very next second a green light flashed and Neil banked the Highlander hard, powering down the drive and sending the Highlander flying into realspace.

Neil felt his stomach twist and a wave of intense nausea flooded into him, a sensation of his very soul being yanked overcoming him for a brief few moments. It was agonizing, but as he regained control of his faculties, he realized not only had he not soiled himself, but the ship was very much intact. The alarms were now silent, and one by one save for a few minor systems, they were shut off.

"Thank you Gideon sweet merciful lord," he breathed, and then he began to laugh. First softly, and then hard. Neil had a big appreciation for life, especially with how chaotic it often was. He ended the chortle in a giggle, before he turned back to the display. "Lonney, ship status. And where are we?"

"Power is low, but ship is stable. Unable to return to R.I.P. In need of power cells and 4 gallons of coaxium. We are currently in the Hydronikas system." The AI responded. Neil pursed his lips, stroking his chin.

"Isn't that the system where Sayeeda is from?" He asked himself. Lonney answered regardless.

"Correct."

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

Amal had always been strong and agile, and many thought those were the best qualities when being used as a thug or thief by the guild leaders in Calimport. He had never really thought of having a different life, and honestly he had never really desired one. He was good at what he did, there was good pay with loot or commission, and even the excitement of a life or death situation wasn't off-putting to him. He took what he needed and (mostly) what he wanted, and it had been enough. However, his life had changed drastically over the last half a year, and now he found himself underground watching a drow wield magic and cut down a brutish bugbear with an almost casual indifference. Life was strange that way.

"Whoa," He said, honestly impressed. Most women where he came from weren't warriors and only seldom were they wielders of magic. She could do both skillfully, and while he had thought it likely considering what he knew of dark elves, it was a different thing seeing it for himself. It actually found it attractive, he realized.

The goblin in his grip whined pitifully, having none of the courage to free himself even during the scuffle. Amal had expertly danced out of the way of the charging bugbear, and even though he had thought to aid the dark elf, it seemed like she needn't the help. Luckily, nothing fouler seemed to be skulking further within either of the newer entrances to the chamber. Amal wasn't used to caves but he knew sound carried far and he heard nothing else echoing.

His main attention was on the drow, however. Even as the goblin tried vainly to pry himself out of Amal's strong grip, the thief knocked the goblin out with a single strike of the knife hilt, without even looking at the diminutive creature. He dropped the four foot creature to the ground, and tossed the knife hilt away. "Good job," He told her earnestly with a grin, approaching the dark elf female and the assorted weaponry. "So you've killed these things before?"

The thief looked past her, letting out an appreciative whistle as he let his eyes wander the arsenal. "There are weapons here from Baldur's Gate to Thay..." He marveled, grabbing the sheathed saber and, taking it by the hilt, unsheathed it to admire the craftsmanship. It was longer than a scimitar, but nimble and gently curved. "I figure we question the little one a bit more when he wakes up. Eat the rats they were going to eat, take the silver, and find a way back to some outpost or city." He thought aloud as he appraised the keen bladed weapon. He found that would do for him, and nabbing the belt with the elven daggers, he slid it around his waist and buckled it, finding a space at his hilt for the saber.

"Sound good?"

Community Reminder

Thanks for the support guys.

Also, if you happen to be reading this and you believe you've broken a rule or you have harassed someone in the past, it's best to be upfront about it. The perpetrator who I investigated these past 24 hours, when confronted with the allegations, lied to me about it. And when I had the proof and the testimony, I was inclined to be less lenient.

Community Reminder

Hey everyone, hope your day is going well.

Recently it came to my attention that a particular user has been harassing others on this roleplay forum for a number of months if not years. They would lure fellow roleplayers off the forum and onto discord to speak about roleplays, and then spam them and harass them with sexual content. Neither this person nor their victims will be named. It's been taken care of now, but I want to remind everyone that if you are being harassed in any way, shape, or form by someone on here, please let us know. That's why the site staff is here, to make this a safe and fun place to write in. Always come to us with your problems if it pertains to this site or users therein.

Thanks guys!

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

He had expected to see her movements as a spider entwining a web, but even with the stiffness in her arms, she was graceful and imperious. Granted, Amal had always been a lowly street rat and he realized any elf likely seemed noble to him, but it still had a small impression on the thief. He stood back to give her space, wanting his 'ally' to not feel skittish. Amal had backstabbed "friends" before, but only at great need. He preferred being casual, even with someone who was rightly feared by every surface dweller.

"Just some gruel and water, but nothing big. I have a feeling we'll find something, though." He remarked with an easy smile as an answer to her question. He gave her a wink, gesturing with a curt movement of his head. "Come on."

Amal moved out of her cage, spinning the keys around the ring until he deftly maneuvered one of the more narrow keys between his index and middle finger as a makeshift punch-knife. He took the front, to put her at ease. He always kept an eye behind him, however. There was likely going to be a part of him that suspected treachery from her for a long time, but that was only pragmatic.

The rock walls around them were natural, ribbed with ubiquitous wear from ancient water flows and jagged with stalagmites and stalactites at the entryways into other cavernous chambers. After a long, dank tunnel, they found one such passage, yawning before them like a toothed maw. Within they heard the pitter-patter of diminutive feet and small curses in a guttural tongue. Amal paused, holding his hand out to signal her to stop.

He turned to her and placed a finger on his lips, and with a wry smile, he bounded forward. To anyone unused to the dark, it would look as if he just disappeared, however Charynrae's keen eyes saw his skillful and silent movements over the next half a dozen meters, slipping by small pitfalls and imperfections in the floor as if they existed not at all. Amal poked his head out gingerly to view the sight of the next chamber. There was a large firepit near an exit on the far left, and two goblins knelt before it, holding small sticks with rats impaled upon them, chattering to one another as they awaited their meal to finish cooking. Another goblin strode across the room, it's long ears notched and half-cocked like a mongrel dog's. Amal's eyes followed its path, and he smiled broadly. On the right side of the room, past another passageway that led Ibrandul knew where, was a table and a back shelf with a variety of weapons and shields, piled but more or less separate in some small measure of organization.

Long years thieving for Calimport pashas had taught him peripheral vision was often the most important in detection, and so he waited. Amal waited until the lone goblin passed him, and the moment he knew the small, cruel thing could not spot him, he fell upon the thing with one jump. Amal was swift and brutal, holding its mouth closed as he twisted his strong arms sharply, snapping the thing's neck like the swift kill of a pouncing tiger. It fell limp in his hands, leaving only a small groan the other goblins were too busy speaking to hear, or rather acknowledge. Amal slowly placed the goblin on the floor, and then took a small, notched dagger off its belt.

He twirled the weapon in his hand and even flipped it over his head into his other hand, showing off a bit. The small show did not last long, however. He stalked across the floor, and the two goblins did not even know what hit them. With a strong kick, he sent one flying into the firepit to burn alive. It screamed in pain and shock, letting out miserable shrieks as it tried vainly to climb out. The other goblin was too slow to turn, as Amal placed the knife against the thin neck of the goblin before it could grab at the small spear it had on the floor next to its dropped meal.

"Where are we?" Amal demanded, and the goblin snarled at him. Amal grabbed the back of its head and grabbed its spindly hair, shoving it down to knock into the stone floor. He brought it back up and pressed the dagger harder. "Speak! And in a way I can understand, or shall I give you to my friend here?"

It seemed to understand, as it's eyes widened in horror as Charynrae came into view. Even goblins seemed to be intimidated by the sight of drow. "P-Please don't hurts me! I am just here to serve the great masters!"

"I won't ask again. Where are we?"

"Zhengyi's lair! Castle Peri-luss!" It barked. It wasn't until it stammered out the words "V-Vaasa" that Amal had any inkling of meaning from its words. Whoever or wherever they were, apparently they were very far north.

Among the piles of weaponry and shields, Charynrae and Amal would find a number of weapons. In a corner lay an obsidian mace of blacksteel, flanged wickedly. A few longswords and long daggers of middling quality lay together, though one longsword seemed castle-forged of fine quality with a mirror polish. On the table were small, bearded hand axes, usable to throw or keep as one-handed weapons. Across the table's expanse lay a larger battle axe with a spiked back embedded into the wood. A kite shield behind it had the emblem of waterdeep emblazoned upon it, with a steel center and a gilded trim. At the edge of the table was a staff evidently made of darkwood, slightly taller than Amal. A sailor's buckler and a cutlass kept the staff from rolling off. Against the wall, a brass-colored round shield of what looked to be dwarvish work leaned, and beside it stood a leaf-headed spear with wing tips, easily 9 feet in height. Twin daggers of what appeared to be elven make were crossed and sheathed in a black belt, both the belt and dagger hilts were stylized with the symbol of the unicorn. A light crossbow with thirty bolts in a pack beside it sat atop the shelf, and in a leatherbound sheath was a sailor's saber with a kraken upon its hilt. Finally, there was a seemingly iron-made one-handed warhammer with the head wrought in the shape of a red dragon laying atop an iron shield with a similar design, save the shield's emblem was the open maw of the wyrm.

A small, scattered collection of copper and silver coins and a rolled up piece of parchment lay upon the table, scattered and seemingly thought of as useless. After some fishing, they might find two burlap sacks with accompanying straps.

Before Amal decided what to do with the pitiful goblin, a movement from the largest exit drew his eyes. He heard a growl like that of a wolf's, and at the entryway stood a hairy, angry bugbear. Its fingers were long and powerful, and its nails were sharp. He had only seen one once before in his life, the biggest goblinoids usually far north of Calimshan. Broad shoulder, it stood as tall above Amal as the man did to Charynrae. It's yellow eyes went bloodshot as it realized just what was happening, and it grabbed at a wicked, spiked mace at his side.

"Experiments!" It roared, and Amal felt like it was calling both he and the drow that. Either way, the bugbear was ready to charge either Amal or Charynrae.

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

Name: Amal Habbib Dhulkafir

Race: Human (Calishite)

Sex: Male

Age: 27

Physical Description: Amal is the quintessential daring thief, with an easy smile and mysterious dark features. His thick tousled hair is black as midnight and his well formed, muscled body is the color of succulent caramel. His arms are long and powerful, and his callused hands are as dexterous as they are strong. The thief has broad shoulders and a slim, defined waist, with fit legs to better leap from. Amal is not without flaws, scars running along his torso and arms from long years of procuring illicit goods, and his back sometimes aches from an old falling injury. He has a difficult time hiding the greed or humor from his smile, and though he is a good actor, one can't look at him without getting the impression he is up to some mischief or even brigandry.

Attire: Amal typically wears tan pantaloons and an open vest, and he rarely wears shoes. In colder climates, he will don something more robust, swathing himself in dark cloth and wearing shoes with curled points at their ends. He tends to only wear a mail shirt if he ever dons armor, and that is rare.

Abilities:

• Ambidexterous: He is as good with his left as he is with his right.
• Acrobat: Amal is notably skilled in climbing, rolling, jumping, and various other physical feats.
• Strong: Many years of climbing has given him a fit, strong body.
• Arcane knowledge: He cannot cast spells, but he's dealt with magic enough to know some symbols and small bits of lore.
• Traps: He can spot traps and make rudimentary ones of his own, if need be.
• Rakish: He's fairly good looking for a thief that probably needs a good bath.
• Blades: He's very skilled with a good knife, and he has some experience wielding a scimitar.

Languages: Calishite, Common

Spells: None

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

It occured to Amal the drow was not too surprised to see someone other than a goblin, and he noticed her pointed ears poking out of her thick white hair. He would not be too surprised if she could hear his heart beating. At least she was able to understand him. He knelt down to speak on her level, eyeing her through the bars of the cage, the torch in his hand basking his dusky skin in a warm glow. He saw her own form was ebony, almost purple in some ways, save for her sharp silvery eyes and her shock of white hair tied into a messy bun.

"Sorry, I did not mean to offend you," He remarked, though he could not suppress a mischievous twinkle in his eye. She was truly unlike anyone he had ever seen before. He had only met a few elves in his life, and none were of the accursed subrace that lived miles underground. Perhaps she felt more at home here than if they were to escape outside, but he would cross that bridge with her after he had escaped.

"You're right, I am here to strike a deal." He acknowledged slyly. He would assume her question meant she was interested. He was a consummate liar, but he decided he would start with some honesty. "I don't know where we are. Last I remember I was on a galley in the moonsea, hoping to get as far away from Mulmaster as I could, and then I wake up here, wherever this is. I would bet you experienced something similar, yes?" It was a rhetorical question, he would find out her situation soon. "If I free you, I say we find our way to the surface and kill or sneak past anything in our path, and then find out exactly where we are. If you wish to part ways then, so be it. But I like living, and I would think you don't wish to meet your god so soon. I won't stab you, you won't stab me, and everyone wins. Deal?"

He had to curb the urge to make a quip about her looking quite fetching with her arms raised in that position, not only because it might offend her but he found flirting with a drow was a bit too risky, even for someone like him. Instead he waited patiently, and if she said yes, he would fish through the keys and unlock the door to her cage. Then he would unlock her shackle, biting his tongue as he searched and eventually found the right key. Once the shackles clicked free, he would take a step back and cross his strong arms, casually waiting to see if she would leap up and try and rip his throat out or not.

The colourful threads in a troubadour's vest

Ali awoke in the most unlikely place to his senses. Last he remembered, he was half buried in the snow and bleeding from multiple wounds. He still recalled the jaws of the wold and the claws raking his skin. And the woman, as well. Had there been a woman? Or had that been a sort of angel or valkyrie? His breathing quickening a step, showcasing he was now awake, if only slightly. He opened his eyes slightly, and he noticed the woman sitting next to him, sewing and humming softly to herself.

He almost fell back asleep, it was so soothing. But after another minute, he decided he needed to speak. Ali wasn't new to little white lies, but somehow he felt very deceitful lying there, not letting her know he was awake enough to hear her. He wondered how he got there, and if she was the one who placed the bandages on him, but that could wait, he decided.

"That's a nice voice," he said, his words almost a croak from his dried throat. He did not know how long he had been out, but it couldn't have been too long. Still, his last sip of water must have been at the pub. His forehead was pounding, and when he tried to move he felt a sharp pain from his wounds. Ali grimaced, groaning deeply. It all felt so surreal and yet still somewhat dream-like all at once. "I guess I have you to thank for s-..." He sighed, catching his breath. "Saving my life."

He opened his eyes wider so he could give her the respect of looking into her eyes. The memories of seeing her face in the snow came flooding back, and his thoughts on how pretty she was came back as well. He tried not to think about it, though it was quite difficult. He gave her a tired smile. "Thank you. I don't deserve that."

Shake off my rust with me, pleasure to meet you all~

Welcome back!

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP