POOHEAD189

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

Amal would have found it humorous that a woman less than a full head shorter than him commanded so much fear and obedience, even if it was a goblin on the receiving end. Only he had to admit she played the part well, or rather, she simply was that way, and he understood why the goblin felt the way it did. He wasn't afraid of her, but had he not allied himself with her and was similarly restrained, he would be intimidated. It piqued his interest, actually. Mostly because she was so unlike all the women he had known.

He stroked his fine chin when she inquired if he had anything further to add. "Is Fel'dregar this Zhengyi?" He pointedly asked the goblin.

It shook its head, ears flapping like leather. "No, Zhengyi isss who the master tries to use. Someone master did call master..." It croaked, and when further prodded, the goblin had nothing further to add save for his whines. Amal guessed the creature really did not know more, and he wasn't surprised it was told nothing concrete about any of the operations or goals of those above. The two satisfied, Amal hesitated a moment, and then snickered, before striking the goblin in the head again as he did last time. The little thing barked in pain, but it was dazed, and he tossed it to the floor.

If Charynrae gave him a questioning gaze, he would give her a grin. "He'll either keep quiet, or he'll have to admit he helped us escape." He explained, before Amal added slyly: "Best to leave him to the mercy of his wonderful master."

Amal swiftly grabbed the map, and tossed one of the satchels to Charynrae to take with them. An easy throw for one of the agile elves. Afterwards, he gave her the handsign that marked he was ready, more for practice than to prove anything to her. The cutthroat drew both of his elven daggers, flipping one easily.

"Shall I follow your lead, and then we switch when we reach the sun? Or do you still not trust me?" He said playfully. Of course she did not fully trust him. Even for someone non-drow, they had just met. However, he felt it was obvious it was in his own best interest to not betray her, even if he would have an easy way to strike her from behind. While he was good in the dark, her eyes were still better than his and he did feel she should take point.

"If we make it out of here alive, I'll buy you a drink..." He shrugged, adding as an after thought: "If the city lets us in, and if you drink that sort of thing, and if we don't freeze to death..."

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

"I'll remember the warning," He said to her, choosing to not view it for a thinly veiled threat. He let her give her name, and said it aloud for emphasis. "Charynrae... nice name." He said breathlessly, letting it roll off the tongue. "I'll call you your full name, unless we decide to stick around a bit together. Once I call you Char, you'll know you've made it."

He decided to stop messing with her, his smile disappearing as he concentrated on her swift teachings. He mirrored her movements as best he could, repeating them multiple times in repetition. Drow hand signs were exceedingly hard. He wondered why she thought the names were difficult when she was going to show him something as advanced as this. Luckily, he was dexterous with his hands. He had to be in his profession, and he caught on quickly, only fumbling once or twice.

Once they got through nearly ten phrases or words, Amal stretched his fingers by entwining them together and thrusting his hands out. "I think I got the gist, thank you. I would tell you the thieves cant, but it might be more useful in the city rather than for underground stealth." He remarked. As he did so, the goblin stirred. Amal winked at Charynrae, and then grabbed the goblin by the nape of the neck. The little creature groaned pitifully, and when its big eyes opened it was face to face with the drow woman.

It screeched in fright, and Amal whispered in its long ear, quietly menacing. "Answer our questions or she will feed you to a thousand thousand spiders." He promised darkly, smiling wickedly behind the goblin so only Charynrae could see. "How do we get out of here? How many of you are there? How do we get back to civilization?"

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

If she had been a human he would have patted her back, but he had the distinct feeling touching her at all, even in a friendly manner, would end up with him being stabbed. And to be fair, he was sometimes friendly and open so he could potentially kill a mark later without them suspecting. But here, he wasn't planning anything nefarious of the sort. He ate the rat nearly as quickly as her, pulling the little bones out and tossing them onto the cavern floor with nonchalance.

"Hmmm, I guess you would continue talking in case you were not within eyesight of one another?" He said somewhat obviously, though he hadn't the appreciation of how being silent meant staying alive in the millions of caverns in the underdark. Even if moving silently was a major part of his own trade. He planted his elbow on the table, chin resting on his hand as he watched her move back and forth. Her robes were almost mesmerizing, and her hips moved nicely, he thought absently.

However she broke his thought process with her next question, and the thief laughed when she asked him his name, mostly for his own lack of thought on the matter. "You are right, we should know one another a bit better. I am Amal, former thief and bandit under Pasha Buldaro of Calimport." He unsheathed one of the elven knives, running a finger over the keen blade idly. "Now I am a current thief and bandit for myself, or whoever wishes to pay me the most."

The dagger was sharp as obsidian, which suited him. He sheathed the weapon again, and hopped up off the chair. "And I think I am ready to learn a handsign or two after you tell me your name." He declared, running a hand through his thick dark hair before he reached her. The firepit made the room quite cozy, and it made Amal feel a bit more amicable. He was used to the unrelenting heat of the sun in the far south, after all.

Amal glanced at the goblin, but thankfully it was still out cold. He'd wake him once their lessons were over, the cutthroat decided. Then after that, he would probably have to kill the little guy. Nothing personal, but it was just how the world worked.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil stared at her for a second. Not because she was naked, or not only because of that, but he was also concerned. If one was sleeping while R.I.P. tides were uneven, and particularly if they were entering or exiting the lanes, it was a common occurence to cause dreams, particularly vivid nightmares. There was something about the phenomenon that effected the brain and triggered such things, particularly when one was offguard and asleep. He wasn't going to ask her if his theory was right, but it was clear he could make an educated guess as to what happened. "Lonney, take the wheel." He said absently, before getting up.

"Hey Captain, it's all good. We had a bit of trouble but we're safe now," He temporized. Junebug's eyes were set forward, almost as if she was still dreaming, or at least thinking about something far away. "Babe? Why don't you get some clothes on before Taya wakes up? You know how I jealous I get." It was a joke, but he did think her heartbeat needed to slow down a notch or two. "Get a shower too, you're kinda sweating-"

"Just give me the report, Neil." She said, finally looking at him. He scratched his head, glancing back at the display monitor.

"Ok, at around 300 hours standard terran time, there was an anomaly in the R.I.P. tides and we all almost died. Bad news is we need more power and coaxium to get back into R.I.P. space and make our payday. Good news is, we're not dead thanks to my piloting skills, and we're also not in the middle of deep space. We actually ended up in a known system. One you know better than most, probably." He ended the explanation with a shrug, thinking it was good luck they stopped here. Sayeeda might have a contact or two that would help them get the supplies they needed without denting their funds too much.

"What do you mean?" She asked curiously, eyes narrowing.

"We ended up in Hydronikas, and judging from the sensors here-" He walked to the cockpit chair and pointed at a smaller display where data was still beading across the screen as Lonney continued to scan their surroundings. "We're just a few hundred thousand miles away from your home planet. We can dock there and get the shit we need and then head out after a small holiday. If you got family there you can introduce me."

He looked back at her, and her face was unreadable for a brief moment. "Babe?"

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

It did not register with Amal at the moment that he and other humans were the usual slaves for drow. So he merely shrugged and nodded thoughtfully. Still, to take out something so large and ferocious with little to no fear was impressive. As he donned his weapons and grabbed one of the satchels, he idly wished he had a reflective surface to see how he looked. He imagined his mane of dark hair was somewhat disheveled from the number of days he was a prisoner.

He grabbed the two sticks, the crisp rats smelling fairly delectable to his tastes. He had eaten rat plenty before as a child, and it was almost nostalgic smelling the cooked meat once again, after at least fifteen years. But before he could bite into one, he saw the dark elf collecting something off the wall. She approached him and explained herself, presenting him with the blue moss. He was looking forward to the rodents, but he didn't want to offend her, and it was interesting learning about her particular expertise of the underdark.

"Thanks," He said, and gingerly took a bit of the moss to eat. Once it was in his fingers, he didn't hesitate, dropping the handful into his mouth. He blinked, surprised at how sweet it tasted, though that quickly gave way to bitterness, with a pungent, strong taste of raw vegetables throughout his chewing. He swallowed and cleared his throat. Not as good as cooked rat, but it was surprising how much he did not mind living off that, at least if the need arose. "Not bad. Here-"

He presented her with one of the sticks with a rat on it. "I'm not sure how much dark elves appreciate meat, but I heard your surface cousins aren't a fan, which likely means you might appreciate it. After all your tastes are far more refined." It was true he was playing to her prejudices, but honestly he had no surface elf loyalty and this drow was the most help he had ever gotten of one of the fey folk. Plus, while one might survive off moss, meat was still filling and he wanted her to be at tip top shape.

"And yeah, that's smart. I did not know you had handsigns, but I'm ready to learn once we eat a bit." He said. Couldn't be much harder than a thieves cant.

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?"

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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.