POOHEAD189

[Discord] Game of Thrones [Seeking an Oberyn, Jaime or Joffrey]

Sorry, you cannot advertise to roleplay off-site, even on discord.

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

The Suytnet 22's air was filtered through a standard SIPA system, which removed much of the stench from what wafted off of most humans and mutant's bodies. Sweat and the like would permeate the cabin without such measures, but because of it, for brief periods of time the clean air gives one the stark, pungent smells of various stronger things. In this case, blood.

Markus had been accosted like Jocasta was, a burly merc had hidden in the corridor storage hatch. Luckily, the serpent-like mutant had a taste for the dramatic and had announced itself when it launched at Jocasta. Like as not it was to indicate to his ally that he was attacking.

When the mutant had landed on Jocasta, the other mercenary had burst out of the door, nearly breaking its sliding mechanism, and rammed into Markus and the opposite wall of the corridor. Markus hit it hard, and found his face shoved into the wall by a big hand, the other grabbing Markus's sword arm. The two struggled for a brief moment before Markus was punched in the Kidney, and instinctively he knew his attacker's next move was to grab whatever bladed weapon or handgun he had to finish him with. Markus changed strategies, and stomped down on the merc's foot hard, giving him enough room to elbow the man in the side. Markus spun, taking a fist to the face but kicking his foot out, stamping onto the merc's chest. Both stumbled back, the merc shoved back into the hatch, and both were dazed for a moment.

In unison, they recovered themselves and realized the predicament they were in. Both reached for weapons. Markus' gun was larger than the handgun the merc had, and instead of trying to fire before him, he sidestepped, and the first lasbolt of the handblaster scorched the wall where Markus had stood not a moment before. The merc's failure to hit was the last thing he realized, because by the time he moved to continue firing, a three round burst had torn through his neck and lower jaw. Blood and flesh spattered into the hatch, and just as the merc's body began to slump, Markus turned his weapon to the mutant that loomed over Jocasta's prone form. A swift glance showed blood seeping out of the woman's arm, and the mutant's fangs were crimson.

Markus fired another burst, but the serpent-man moved with an otherworldly grace, only getting clipped by one of the rounds in the side. Markus went to fire again, having the thing dead to rights, but the gun 'clicked.' He realized he hadn't the time to reload it earlier. Rookie mistake on his part, he knew. Markus cursed, and the serpent mutant leaped at him. It's sinuous neck reared its head back to strike as it barreled toward him, but Markus growled and shot his hand out to grip its slim neck, keeping its snapping maw at bay. Instead of using it for its primary purpose, Markus instead used the bullpup as a ram, shoving it perpendicular into the torso of the mutant. Luckily, Markus was heavier than his opponent's vaguely humanoid, serpentine form. It hissed in frustration as Markus charged and all but lifted it, the mutant back-pedaling and vainly trying to wriggle free as Markus shoved it across the inner deck of the transport. Reeling, it tried clawing at the mercenary until Markus threw the thing into another hatch, this one reinforced and far larger.

The mutant writhed and tried to catch itself, but it fell headlong into the bay, and Markus immediately shut the door with a 'clang,' grabbing the lever outside of it and pulling it down to lock the mutant behind the doorway.

Immediately, a snake head snapped at the reinforced window at the top half of the bulkhead. Markus did not flinch. He simply stared at it. Hands and fangs began to scrabble at the window, but Markus merely glared.

"Releasssse me!" It cried in anger, its voice echoing within the small chamber.

"Is your bite poisonous?" Markus asked it, grim. "Answer me, or you will be dead."

It was then the mutant realized its situation. Markus had not merely locked it within a cargo hatch. Behind it was a hatch the exact same size as the one it clawed it, except it led into nothing but air. And once Markus began flying the ship, he could eject the mutant into the cold expanse of space whenever he wished. It's eyes, iris's sharp like daggers, widened in sudden fear. It hissed with a subjugated sibilance, and then nodded.

"Yessss, b-but my partner hasss the antidote! Jussssst let me live pleassse," it whined.

Markus ignored it, sprinting his aching form across the ship, passed Jocasta who looked to be lightly convulsing. Swiftly he began searching the mercenary he had killed, his hands jerking back and forth out of urgency and adrenaline from the fight. The next five seconds seemed hours, but he found a small vial on the dead man's belt, and then stumbled out of the corridor, kneeling down next to the prone woman. She shook, her body growing clammy. Markus gently cradled her head and parted her lips, before uncorking the glass vial and gingerly pouring it down her throat. She coughed, but he did his best to help it go down by massaging her throat, and once the vial was drained, he dropped the it to clatter onto the vyroplex floor and waited.

"Come on..." He breathed after a moment, and checked her pulse.

At first it was erratic, but soon it was steady, and moments later, color returned to her cheeks. Jocasta would find consciousness just as Markus was tying a bandage around the bite wound in her wrist, as blood had pooled beneath it. He cut the bandage with a bite, and finished wrapping it. He saw her eyes flutter open slightly, but instead of saying they were now even, he shook his head.

"Not bad, but a little secret from a professional: If you're going to make it in this business, dying on your first job is not strategically sound. Lucky for you, you got me here."

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

The High Lords had gathered, or those that could be summoned at such short notice. After the accused had been sent to her 'chambers,' Davian had been called to recount his entire investigation into the matter. Tedosian and Alteima, as well as Corleon seemed particularly of interest to the tale, hoping their investment had paid off. Davian had a good memory, something in dire need for a thief-taker, and once he was done, he lowered his head to grant the High Lords time to speak in the elaborately furnished chamber.

High Lord Sunamon Haellin cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, the cushions beneath not quite thick enough to retain his weighty mass. "We can see why you suspected this woman, but most of this evidence is circumstantial, and there is no solid proof! Even still, I believe I would have had similar thoughts to you, Master Thief-Taker..." He did not appear to wish for an argument, hoping Davian would be able to contradict him, at least to the thief-taker's eyes. He did his best to quell his pride enough to not ask he be called by his name rather than his profession. He merely wished for the gold and then to be gone.

"That is why I was honest with her as to who I was, your eminence." Davian said, inclining his head, his eyes sweeping over the other lords that had gathered. They all looked in different states of duress. "But when I did so, rather than being allowed to be questioned..."

"She fled, and the trollop had a meticulous plan laid out just for such an eventuality." Alteima said with a look of distaste on her pretty face, snapping her fan out and fluttering it back and forth like a humming bird's wings. It seems she had elected to let her innocent facade slip amongst this group. "She is not here for reasons above suspicion, regardless. My only question is where she has stashed what she stole?"

Davian regarded the High Lady, his hands out, hiding a smile. "I have informants coordinating her places of residence now, my lady. If she put them in any place she was seen to frequent, we will have them."

"We should have questioned her further, or put her under duress. I know that might be unbecoming, but these are pieces beyond value." High Lord Corleon argued, not even deigning to look Davian's way. If the rumors were true, he was Alteima's lover, for the simple fact they both despised her husband.

"Even if various things point to her, she does deserve a fair trial as all citizens do." Sunamon said, raising his head. It made his neck stand out like a turkey's. Davian applauded the large lord for his sense of fairness, but another part of him was unsure if this was an act or not.

Lord Tedosian snapped at him as if this were an old argument. "Might I remind you she is not a citizen? Light, she could be a spy for Mayene!"

As they began to squabble like so many quacking ducks, a small side door opened. A man wearing a red surcoat embroidered with gold trim approached and knelt before Alteima. In the doorway at the back of a chamber, a man in what looked to be commoner clothing waited, his hat off. Davian eyed him thoughtfully, then looked at lady Alteima's way when she stifled a gasp. Her big, pretty eyes, always so lovely, snapped at Davian with a dangerous gaze.

"You, thief-taker!" She called. "What did you say the woman's name was?"

Davian blinked, but spoke without hesitation. "Sakura, only, my lady. I did not know if that was a surname or not. Likely a lie."

She shook her head, but then waved Davian away as if he were a fly and spoke to the other high lords present. "I believe she is incapable of lying." Alteima responded ominously. "And I say we must kill her, and do it quietly."

"Kill her?" Tedosian asked. "Why?"

Even Corleon looked surprised enough to question her, but he held his tongue. She fanned herself with more force as she spoke. "I have received word that there are reports of an Aes Sedai within the region, one who's name is Sakura." Davian saw the High Lord's look aghast, and Davian did not blame them. If he had truly walked in on an Aes Sedai in the bath, he felt lucky she did not fling him into the street with the swiftness of a loosed arrow. "Even if this rumor is false, we cannot take the chance."

"But if she is Aes Sedai, then she is innocent...?" Lord Sunamon remarked, but Tedosian cut him off.

"She did not directly say that she did not steal the items. You are not learned in such things. She spoke in a way that left us to make our own doubts. And if this is true, my dear wife is right. We must kill her, and quietly."

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

It all happened so fast, even my mind could only focus on so much.

I heard Emmaline's voice ring out and felt the power of her psychic gift burst forth. The cackle from Clara's submachine riddled the air. I was infected with tunnel vision, my eyes focused entirely on Vorn. The traitor had turned just in time to meet my wild charge. So quickly had this all transpired that I hadn't even the frame of mind to unsheathe my power sword.

Vorn recovered like a rearing snake, taking my first punch and rolling with it, letting the weight of the blow drive him into a counter strike. I shoved it aside before it took purchase, and the two of us struck, pivoted and kicked when applicable. Vorn attacked with furious strength, a wild look in his eyes with a barely suppressed snarl. His fists hammered into my arm as I blocked, and I fell to sweep his legs out from under him. He leaped, seeing the move a fraction too soon for it land. I rolled away from his falling knee, rising too quickly for him to take advantage. I dodged a blow and locked his arm, pressing a palm into his shoulder as my other hand pulled his arm out to the breaking point, but he spun and leaped, letting his body realign as he attempted to throw me to the ground with a drop kick. It struck my breastplate, but I altered my stance and held my ground, letting the carapace armor absorb the blow.

He went for a knife, yanking it out and stabbing at me with the alien surety of a scorpion's stinger, stabbing downwards. Unfortunately for him, I caught the knife on my armor's bracer and headbutted him in the face. He nearly fell headlong to the floor, but instead he just lost his knife from my wrenching it away, the blade clattering to the ground. To his credit, he did not seem too perturbed, instead he strode forward again, fists up, ready for more. He fought desperately and was growing tired, but still, he fought well. Almost too well. I had no doubt in my mind he was far older than I was, and thanks to either rejuvenant technology or accursed blessings by his masters, he was as youthful and hale as I was.

But I had caught him at a moment of weakness, and I was better armored, and most importantly, I had righteous conviction.

Finally, he feinted, and then lunged for the power sword at my belt. Only seconds ago had I realized I had it, so blinded by my mission. My mind worked quickly, and as his hand closed around the hilt of the weapon, I let him pull it out by a few marginal inches. I grabbed his arm with my left hand and struck him in the face with my right, my fist hitting his nose so hard I felt the cartilage shatter. The words 'die!' fumbled on his lips as he staggered, letting go of the hilt. I pulled it out for him, and with a swift stroke, the blade cleaved through his torso like a scythe through wheat.

It was then, even before he even realized he was dead, before his body began to crumble in two, did I let myself view my surroundings. My blood ran cold when I saw the chaos marine towering over Emmaline, her power nearly spent and armed with naught by her staff. Even if I were an adeptus astartes, I would not reach her in time, and so I gambled. As Vorn began to fall to pieces, I spun, gripping my power sword and swinging it in a terrible arc before I let it go. The blade, thrumming in the air, flew end over end across half a dozen meters before the blade sliced through ceramite armor as if it were paper. The sword burst forth from the chaos space marine's chest like a lance of lightning, and quivered there as the traitor astartes paused in its mad laughter.

I had followed the blade's arc, and seconds after the sword had sliced through the armor, I gripped the hilt. However, astartes were not killed so easily. With speed beyond what I thought he was still capable of, he spun and struck me with his elbow. The blow was powerful enough to send me and the sword flying back, skidding across the ground. Luckily the blow had hit me square in my breastplate, and merely cracked a piece of the armor.

Still, the traitor marine was heavily damaged from that. Its breath ragged and its left hand pressing to the gaping wound. I got to my feet, blade up and eyes set.

"You will not stop me! Lord Tzeentch has plans you cannot comprehend!" The astartes said, its voice reverberating from the augmented voice box integrated into its eldritch helm.

"It is my plan that you die here and now. Make peace with your bitch gods," I said, my voice steeled as I moved to hold my power sword two handed, its blade pointed straight up in an archaic duelist grip. Suddenly, bullets sprayed at the traitor marine, ricocheting off its armor and drawing its attention. Clara let out a battlecry, and I charged in.

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

Neil had not expected it to work, but drink did make him have even less inhibitions than normal, and he was glad he charged through. When his buzzed mind was trying to check his files on what churlish meant, Jocasta kissed him thoroughly, Neil was so surprised and off balance she was able to shove him back into the pool table, the two landing atop it, legs dangling off the side.

You know, for all of the complications that had arisen from being caught by Jocasta, he was starting to think it was all worth it. He got to fight in a mech again, he nearly chocked laughing multiple times, got to be on holo-vids across an enormous collection of space stations, and now he found himself eating pizza, drinking good drinks, and finally making out with one of the most fun, attractive girls he had ever known. Yeah, it sucked but it's paying off.

One of the billiard balls shot out from under Neil's back, clacking against another. He grunted but was a bit too preoccupied with the extremely hot woman atop him.

"Whoa," he marveled.

"I am a generou-" She started, but Neil grabbed the fringes of her jacket and pulled her to him, kissing her back. Their lips pressed and within seconds, tongues met. He felt her hand in his hair and for his part, he grabbed her backside with his right to help her onto the felt table as his left curled around her back. He tastes alcohol, but she had a nice taste to her he couldn't quite make out (and he chuckled at the pun). They lay there, not undressing but not pulling away either.

Neil decided to play with her belt, yanking on it a bit to make her backside shake. As he did so, his fingers brushed something familiar. He blinked, pulling a small gun off her and looking past her hair to confirm. Wait, that was his gun from his apartment! He had thought he lost it! He was going to complain!

She slid a hand down his neck and placed it on his chest, before sliding around his body to hold him tighter, her mouth opening wider to kiss him more hungrily.

...He could complain later maybe...

As he placed the gun down and further entangled himself with her, on the holo-tube, a sportscaster's voice rose, saying "The victory of Neil Edwards tonight was spectacular, and the previous showmanship of his women companion awed the audiences! It appears these two were ready to rock space itself tonight!"

The Sunday Group - Seeds and Harvests

Alcander descended the stairs, looking for all the world like an unkempt reprobate, his vibes somewhere between aragorn and a particularly wary homeless man. He eyed the colorful explosions around him with the same apathetic disinterest he gave most things that did not pertain to an active investigation. The detective had heard most of Jocasta's spiel without betraying any sort of thought, merely walking up behind the two and eyeing the body as he incorporated the new information into his mind.

After a few moments of thought, he placed a hand on his chin and stepped past Eleanor and Jocasta, to eye the cadaver. He looked at the women, then lifted the corpse's left arm up.

"Careful with him, I've still got some work on this guy!"

"He won't mind." Al replied, looking for any marks. He sniffed the arm, and save for the detergent solution and the antiseptic that was standard operating procedure, he felt he detected a hint of asphalt. It was to be expected. He placed the arm down and rummaged his fingers through the dead man's hair, pulling out a small strand of hair and examining it thoughtfully.

He smelled the copse of strands, smelling a of hint of garlic or decay from it.

"Find anything, Lassie?" Jocasta asked, adding a tut tut tut click of her tongue like she was beckoning a dog, slapping her hip.

"Phosphine in his hair," Alcander said, before turning to Eleanor.

"Would Hercule Poirot like to tell us where that comes from?"

"I prefer detective Callahan, but I'm surprised you've read any Agatha Christie." The investigator remarked, a hint of a smile on his face. "I just thought you watched Bridgerton all day. Gotta catch up so you can catch part 2, right?" He replied.

"Pardon me, we don't wall watch Lost, Surface-level seinen anime and reruns of police procedurals," She quipped, crossing her arms across her chest and smirking.

"You got me pegged," Alcander shot back, but Eleanor raised an eyebrow to draw their attentions to the matter at hand. Alcander cleared his throat, holding up the strand of hair. "This means your ink guy was in the industrial sector before he found himself dead in that alleyway. Either that or he intimately met someone who had. Lucky for us he didn't shower."

"He was kind of offensive in that regard," Jocasta affirmed, pinching her nose for emphasis.

Hider

I have received permission by overlord Penny to write for Jocasta in this post.

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

She was a meticulous one, he had to give her credit.

Davian had nearly fallen for the false lead of the palanquin, and in fact had passed her position on the street before realizing he had been temporarily duped, drawing his 'requisitioned' horse up short. The beast was a well-trained one, and he felt a sinking in his stomach when he realized he had not caught the name of the man he had taken it from. Guilt aside, he had retraced his steps and had left the beast with a contingent of Defenders, the local authorities accepting his explanation with the flash of his seal. Davian had decided to make this spot of the city his web, and had found a comfortable seat atop a tanner, reviewing all of the inns and bath houses on the rolled up map he had procured. Luckily he had a few contacts in a handful of local establishments in the craftsmen's quarter, mostly to be safe. He had no dreamed the thief would be a lovely woman in a handsome dress, but he was nothing if not thorough in his hunts.

Across the street, the local butchery called The Sharpened Knife was congested with locals and foreigners alike, the smell of cooked meat from the apartment windows to the south causing his stomach to complain. He found he looked away from the map from time to time at the men and women walking out with paper-wrapped flanks and prime cuts, causing his mouth to water. He had only reviewed half of the inns once he spotted his quarry, causing him to do a double-take when he realized the woman called Sakura walked out with a sizeable portion.

From there, the thief-taker followed, albeit as far off as he could manage, but she did not seem to be in a hurry.

At first, he did not take her because he wanted to find the right moment, but afterwards, he found he was impressed. She walked with careful purpose, and a confidence that seemed suited to royalty. Even the women from his home country had an arrogance that outstripped their high station, but this Sakura walked with perfect poise and with no false bravado. After two stops, he realized she was throwing him off her trail, and it would have worked had he not spotted her by chance. Silently, he applauded her. He found he felt it was a shame to toss her behind bars, but business was business, and even a woman as stately and attractive as her was not above the law. Or his pay.

Checking the map, he realized she was walking in a relatively short area of the city, and more like as not she would tire or grow weary of this game soon. He broke off from his pursuit, and decided to check in with one of his contacts.

---

Inesa plucked a plump piece of bread from a used dish, curling her lip and tossing the item out the open window and into the alleyway. The scullery maid shoved the dish under, scrubbing it with lye and dunking it into the clean water. She wore a typical chin-high collar and ankle-high hems, ensconced in a worn apron spattered with suds and stains. A fair woman with an imperious chin, she had always believed her life was worth more than working a job so her worthless husband could paint and deal with the merchants that frequented the craftsmen's quarters, but burn her it would break his heart if she quite. She dunked another dish in the water, and had she not known any better, she swore she had heard her name whispered.

"I suppose you want to keep working like this rather than being paid for something real?"

She nearly shoved the bucket over in fright, spinning around to see that louche Davian standing there, somehow having made it into the back of the kitchens. "Do not sneak up on me, and where have you been? It's been a month since-"

"Have you been watching the customers?" He asked, and narrowed his eyes. "Do not lie to me."

"O-Of course, I have!" She stammered, speaking as loud as she dared. "Why?"

"There is a woman I am looking for. I will tell you her description, and if you tell me what I wish to know, you will be well rewarded..."

---

Davian had sat in the common room, a wide brimmed hat hiding his eyes and a pipe in his mouth. The smoke wafting lazily before his dark eyes. An illainer tossed a pair of dice across his table, grinning like a snake as he discovered the creator smiling on him with the roll. A borderlander cursed, and a Saldean shook his head in disappointment. Davian's eyes gathered the table in a single moment, straying very little from the shapely woman that had come through the lobby. Silent as a half-man, Davian slid out of his chair and stepped into the lobby. He glanced to the left, and caught the eye of a young boy, ruddy cheeked and laughing at the jokes of a traveling tinker who regaled a table with no doubt fake tales of Shara. The boy clapped and nearly fell out of his chair from a well-turned phrase before he saw Davian's keen eyed look, and he subtly nodded, before scampering out of the Four Coins.

Inesa walked out of the corridor, plates in her hands. Her lips mouthed 'four' and eyed the left, before stepping away to complete her tasks. Davian paid the fee to enter the bathing area, before sliding into the fourth doorway.

A minute passed as Zoya lay in the bath, silence surrounding her. There was no noise of any footsteps, and it would be hard to tell Davian's movements even if he wore the Tairen clogs. As she ran a dainty hand of water over her arm, a familiar voice spoke from behind her.

"I checked your dress. Nice knife." One did not have to look to know Davian examined the blade with a professional air. "You're good, but the game is up. In minutes, twelve Defenders will have surrounded the place. You have a choice. If you want to go in with a bit of dignity, I suggest you finish bathing, get dressed, and come with me. Otherwise, the other men might be less accommodating."

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

The electromagnetic systems hummed, but other than a brimming background noise, the car had become eerily silent in stark contrast to the gunfire and concussive blasts outside on the street not a half a minute before. Markus and Jocasta could hear the men breathing audibly, and the target coughed, placing a hand to his forehead. Both the mercs in disguise watched behind their visors, weapons on their laps. The white sharks had yet to notice they did not carry the standard-issue submachine gun the paramility group was known for, but they likely counted that as a blessing.

"Rough day?" Jocasta asked them. Markus could feel her sardonic smile.

"Bastards came out of nowhere," the left shark said, his grating voice carried by a modular device that was picked up on the comms of all suits they collectively wore. Markus tightened his grip on his weapon, ever so lightly. "No warning. But we hit 'em back. I got two of them, myself before the colonel told us to move forward. Guess he thought the brunt of them had come at us on the road, but splintering off our convoy just made us easier targets for the scavengers that waited."

"Well don't worry, boys. You're safe and sound now." She remarked.

"Oh, a lady? When did we start recruiting women? That's a sexy voice." The right one said. Clearly he was not entirely professional in his thoughts on that front, but Jo took it in stride considering what was about to happen.

"I sing on occasion," Jocasta confessed. "A big hit, actually."

"She's alright." Markus said with a shrug. He was interested in something else, and spoke to the one on the left. "Which two did you kill? What'd they look like?" Markus asked with a smidge of curiosity. As they spoke, the right hand shark gave a flask of water to the target, a curious gesture for men assigned to guard a political prisoner, but he was not entirely focused on them.

"Tall one in red, eye scar, and a woman with blue hair and a screeching laugh." He responded. "I was glad to shut her up."

Markus chuckled, which sounded very much like a reasonable response from a comrade. In truth, he was pleased in another fashion. The shark had taken out Lorkan and Moxie. Markus had never liked either. In fact, it put him in a good mood. He glanced at Jocasta, and to the woman's credit, she noticed the slight shifting of his head. Markus replied: "You guys got medi-gel on you?"

"Yeah, why?"

Markus raised his weapon and hit both men in the chest with two shots of concussive rounds. The sound was deafening in such close quarters, and the white sharks slumped over in their chairs, limp. The target, Gallanis' son, went wide eyed. He tried to back away from the two figures, but he was against the wall. Markus watched as he began to wail and beg, but before he could try to calm the man, Jocasta hit him across the face with the butt of her rifle. He went limp as well, just as the curvature of the planet was visible through the window behind him.

"I didn't think you were the merciful type." Jocasta said.

"I'm not, but he did me a solid." Markus replied. "Now when we get to the top, you need to find us whatever starship they were going to put this guy in. And I'll fly us to The God's Eye."

A minute later, the door opened with a small whisper. Jocasta boldly strode forward, Markus hauling the unconscious target, draped across his shoulder. The merc was lean rather than broad, but he had a sizeable portion of muscle, though he still felt a bit laden from the weight of the target atop the relatively heavy armor. Not to mention his gun and supplies. "Remind me again why you knocked him out?" Markus asked with a small grunt.

"Because I did not know if he was a good actor or not. We can't have him compromise us." She explained.

"Then you carry him." He shot back.

"Relaaaax," She said. "In two hours we'll be five hundred thousand dablunz richer."

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

Bloody women! Just when you thought you knew all of their tricks, they make you feel like a wool-headed fool!

Davian was more used to women fighting their own battles, not letting a contingent of men do it for them! He tried reaching for the seal of the High Lords he had on his person, but a dandy with a cudgel swung at him, calling him a 'Fade's Goat' which was an uncreative way to compare one to a trolloc. Davian paid it no heed, he was far prettier than that. As hands reached in to grab at him, he did the only thing he could. The thief-taker grabbed the sour horsewater, gulped it greedily, and then spewed it on all the faces of those men that surrounded him. A few drops even splattered on their screaming wives egging them on. The wine stung the eyes and the poor quality caused them to hack, cough, and gag. Davian nearly did as well, but he was prepared for the horsewater, and leaped atop the counter of the establishment as the other men tried collecting themselves, racing across the wooden frame above the group and leaping toward the open door. Light burst forth as he made it outside, and he swiftly looked around, squinting to accommodate his eyes.

He believed he saw the glimmer of a dress racing down a back alley, and with a swift roll off the porch, he reached under the boards and retrieved his weapons. A few of the men had come outside in pursuit, but one look at the wicked sword and mace had the ruffians think twice. Davian scowled at them. "Light forsake you for fools!"

The thief-taker sprinted toward the direction he believed she had fled, trusting in his longer legs. Feet shoving off the ground, he leaped over a fallen pair of barrels and found himself on another street. The clatter of wheels drew his attention, and he gawked when he saw the accursed woman closing the curtains of the wagon. He nearly called out, but decided it was best not to. He couldn't let his frustrations get the better of him.

At least now he knew she was guilty of something.

A peddlar drew an oxen down the street beside him and a few children danced in the street, twirling small pieces of satin fastened to sticks in some strange game. Out of another alley walked an older man with a mare, the horse clopping lazily as it was led along by its bridle. Davian finally did take out the seal, a long tablet of bronze with the symbol of Alteima and Tedosion etched onto it. He jogged over to the elderly fellow and thrust it into his face.

"Apologies sir, but I must take your horse." Davian declared.

"My horse?" He asked, incredulously. He glanced at the brown mare, the beast regarding him as if it too understood. "This is my wife's. She will kick me into the bay if I don't bring it back to her. I canno-"

"The High Lords will see to it she gets it back," Davian said, mounting the horse with such swiftness the man barely knew the beast was being spurred away before he cried out in dismay, waving his hands and chasing after Davian. The thief-taker paid him no heed, racing after the cart that had already turned the corner out of sight. When he found the 'lady Sakura,' nothing would bring him greater joy than turning her in.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I laughed. It was a robust laugh, albeit hard and grating to my ears.

"What is it, scum? You think we stowed away? A liaison to a quaint agri-world on the fringes?" I inquired in seemingly good humor, but my grin was cruel.

"This is-" Emmaline began, but I backhanded her across the face. I was not gentle. I cringe now thinking of it, but as I sit here thinking of the moment, I am certain it saved her life. The Eldar was not convinced by mere words, no matter how clever. It needed a performance, and though I like to think of myself as more... congenial than many of my contemporaries, I am still an Inquisitor. I can steel myself for brutal acts and carry them out if need be. Even to the woman I cared for, if it meant saving her life. The stike also had the added benefit of jumbling her thoughts, disrupting whatever probing the dark eldar was no doubt attempting.

"Silence," I said with all of the authority of a warlord, my words dripping with venom as I loomed over her. "You've spoken enough, foolish girl." Emmaline lowered herself with widened eyes, no doubt from shock but also for the act she intrinsically knew I was no doubt performing. After she seemed sufficiently cowed, I turned to the Eldar, who's eyes were fixed on me. I had met the eyes of a Dark Eldar before, and I was well trained in the area of quelling psykers from Master Kronus. It lent credibility to my lack of fear. Additionally, I had read Emmaline's facial expressions whenever she had utilized the power, her face contorting with concentration or ecstasy through varying minute nuances in her usage of it. I could tell the Elder was attempting to read my mind even now, but I allowed the rage of having to stoop low enough to strike Emmaline to fill my mind, as well as the anger I felt for being so close to such unholy denizens as traitors and xenos.

"Do not forget your position, alien. We only suffer your disgusting presence because of Great Tzeentch's insistence. It is the only reason I do not have these men eradicate you. You may think of us as mere apes, but on this ship, you would do well not to forget your place." My eyes flicked to the left, seeing the spacer, Heretogius, who was still beglamored begin to attend to Emmaline. With the casual grace of a commissar fulfilling their duty, I unholstered my gun, placed it to his temple, and pulled the trigger. A sudden discharge of blood and bone spewed out of the opposite side of his skull, and he fell limp to the floor.

"There," I said sardonically, and turned my pistol on the contingent of men watching with confusion. "If you find yourself bored, xenos, you may clean up the flooring while we do real business for the true Gods of this universe." With a closed mouth smirk, I held my aim for a long moment before continuing. "Now Lieutenant, shall you come with us as commanded or will you stand there until I turn your contingent into a squadron. There are plenty more followers of the dark gods to recruit."

"Very well," Naftor Sybdol said, now standing at attention. I had noticed the Eldar was still standing there, rigid and ready, but not moving toward its weapon. With a sniff of derision, it spun with the grace of a fish in water and began stalking away. I watched it leave, not letting the walls of my mind come down for a single second. The officer asked me: "But first, may I know whom I serve, my lord?"

Satisfied, I holstered my pistol once more, so used to the motion I did not even glance at the gun-sheathe. The men still watched, at attention. "You did not believe your master was the only inquisitor who had received the calling, did you, Lieutenant Sybdol? Now move to the elevator, lest I lose patience. As for the rest of you, carry on your duties. Your commanding officer shall return shortly, or you will meet the Changer of Ways far quicker than expected."

The men hustled away in formation as we turned back to the lobby that contained the ship's main lift. Mercifully no one else passed, and as Lieutenant Sybdol keyed in the codes, I gave Emmaline an apologetic glance. The baroque chamber opened up, the pneumatic lift ready to ascend. Clara followed close behind, her submachine held casually in both hands.