POOHEAD189

De Trop Disgrace: Warhammer Fantasy RP

"Where is she?" He asked, patience wearing thin. His hand behind his back, as if clutching an unseen dagger. The other rested on his sword for the benefit of the visual, but it was his eyes that looked sharp enough to kill. The shadows of the cellar helped with the menace, which was ironic, considering it was not Kasimir's idea to meet here. Himmel Loher looked nervous, likely wondering if Kasimir would dare try any harmful act against him. Kasimir himself did not know, either.

When he had first learned Eleanor was missing, around two hours after he had risen and learned she had never returned to her room after supper last night, he was relieved. Happy, even. He hadn't imagined he would be free of her without a concerted effort on his part, but Ulric had answered his prayers overnight. Even as he realized he did need to make some sort of investigation to serve his father, he decided he was not going to be quick about it. Perhaps enjoy the morning, and he did so by sparring in the yard, taking on a few of the off-duty guardsmen. They bet on the matches and joked, trading coins and jeers.

Afterwards he toured the halls, sharing a moment with a pretty maid. When she spoke, he flinched when he heard a Brettonian accent. Apparently she was from Parravon and had fled a poor marriage to seek opportunity in the more egalitarian Empire, and when she left to return to her duties, he sighed, pushing it out of his mind. But despite his best efforts, something brewed in the pit of his stomach. She was a coward, he thought, and had likely fled as soon as possible. But without talking to him about what he would do? They were not fond of one another, but after saving each other's lives more than once, he had thought they had formed a rapport. After spending days together in close proximity, and destroying a bloody chaos cult, it felt wrong.

After lunch, when his father had yet to call him and Eleanor, or Emmaline, to his presence, he decided to begin looking. He checked the ballroom, and the courtyards, and then began to ask around the more wealthy taverns close to the palace. And as looked, a thought occurred to him. Perhaps she had not fled, but some cultist had taken her? He changed tactics, and returned to the palace, seeking an old friend he had known as a child. One of the cooks, called Einhardt, that had been famous for knowing every dirty secret in Middenheim. But after speaking to a few maids, he learned Einhardt had retired, and so he made a bargain. Leave a note where men used to leave them for the chef, in the crook of a murder hole near the south wing, and see if someone came to collect. It seemed Ulric was the god of luck as well as wolves. Before an hour was up, a servant had passed through the hall and the note was gone. Kasimir followed, and before long he had found his way to the new master of secrets, Schafer.

Kasimir did not endear himself to the new 'chef' well. The man was ugly in speech as well as looks. He spoke to him quickly, and when the chef was not content to speak at the current moment, blustering Kasimir leaves before he called the guard, Kasimir had pulled him down to the cellar to remind him that a bastard still had some sway in the palace. A few harsh questions and a threat or two later, and the man was ready to relent.

"The lady...she was..." Schafer stammered, looking around in trepidation. He found his voice again. By the smell of him, Kasimir guessed he was not like old Einhardt. He was just a spy man, not a real cook. There was only sweat there, not burnt chicken or broth in the air. "She met someone, late last night. Lord...Lord Lucien. I don't know what was said but..."

Kasimir let him know that his hand did not clutch mere air. He pulled his dagger out, face neutral.

"She was taken! A bag placed over her head! I know nothing else! I was...I was planning to sell the information later but have it and leave me be!"

"Leave me be 'my lord'" Kasimir reminded him. He still did not really belong to the title, as of yet. But he was feeling unsympathetic at the moment.

"My lord," Schafer conceded.

De Trop Disgrace: Warhammer Fantasy RP

When Kas wakes up to find her gone

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

Markus squeeze off two shots, the barrel of the plasma gun igniting like a miniature sun as two 'rounds' of coruscating light flies past the honor guard and splashed against the back wall, singing it and forming a small crater. He cursed as similar bolts were traded back, Jocasta's hair nearly igniting from a close-call. The next moment, Markus nearly had it in a bad way. After a shot, he was grazed in the shoulder pad, disintegrating the fabric and light flexi-mail. Had it been any closer, it would have burned through Markus's shoulder like a knife through butter. He fell back and sighed, deigning to check his fuel level. 45% left in the clip, the reader said.

"Alert. Alert. Facility Lockdown. Alert. Alert. Facility Lockdown," the monotonous voice reiterated.

"Any ideas?" Jocasta called, firing three shots back, mostly to not sit idle. The honor guard just needed to wait, and the two mercs could practically feel reinforcements riding up their ass. Markus looked back at the clip, and then at Jocasta. She glanced at him, and blanched when she saw him unload the gun. A question about to form on her full lips.

"How's your aim?" Markus asked her, glancing back to meet her eyes.

She raised an eyebrow, confused. "I'd love to humor you, but I don't think this is the time to compare." She quipped. More flashes of light arced past them, a wave of intense heat brushing them from every shot. Markus casually tossed the clip in the air like he was holding a baseball. "These are mostly made of hydrogen." He reasoned.

His words dawned on her after a moment, and a smile bloomed on her face. "You know, I was wrong. You're not as stupid as I thought." She teased.

Her light-hearted nature was infection, even to the cool merc. "Jury's still out on you." He replied with a smirk.

"I like to remain a mystery." She finished, and jerked her head toward their opposition, indicating she was ready. He gave a curt nod, dropped his plasma rifle, and pulled his newly returned sword two inches out of its scabbard in preparation. He mouthed 'one, two, three' and spun, sliding the cartridge down the short corridor toward the guardsmen's position. Jocasta leaned out and fired twice, the second plasma bolt hitting the cartridge dead on just as it hit the lip of the door. There was a flash as flames erupted in a short explosion, men screaming. Just as it ignited, Markus sprinted out of cover, his sword out of his scabbard in one fluid motion. There was a ring of metal and grunts of disbelief, followed by and wet, cutting noises. In three seconds, Jocasta looked back to see Markus resheathing his blade.

She gathered herself and hustled over, wiping sweat from her brow. She stepped carefully over a dismembered arm and a man with a large stab wound in his chest before reaching Markus. "Not bad," she said, but her next words died on her lips when she saw the starship docked before them. On a small curve of the front engine, the word' RAVENWING' was painted. "Whoa... now that's a pretty ship."

"We can admire her when we're in." Markus reminded her, pulling her arm forward and hustling into the opening bay door of the Huntsman class freighter.

Hi there fellow roleplaying people

@BunniesOfDoom Welcome! Lovely to meet you

KonQuest: a Mortal Kombat-inspired Martial Arts Fantasy RP

Damn, this looks cool

De Trop Disgrace: Warhammer Fantasy RP

The following hour was a whirl of activity. Men rushed the stage, actors snarling as if they were wolves set upon by hounds, and Kasimir stood between Eleanor, or Emmaline, and the crowd with his sword at the ready. Ulric knew he had a lot of questions, not to mention a mountain of pent-up frustration at the woman, but her gambit had worked, and he at least knew she wasn't a Chaos Worshiper, which was more than he could say about an uncomfortable amount of people after the debacle. Had he been alone, he might have been more traumatized by the eldritch and untold things he had witnessed within that pocket realm, but he was too busy to think and too alert to be distracted.

The Knights of the White Wolf soon quarantined the entire theater, and even what small handful of Sigmarite priests there were had been called forward to help cleanse the place of any taint. Boris Todbringer had been at the back of the crowd, but had been escorted out by his most trusted guard, though not without complaint. You'd hardly find a more staunch foe of the dark gods than him. After his bastard and the Countess of Aberville had been escorted out, they had been sent to their rooms until asked for questioning, only to be stopped halfway back by the Witch Hunter, the questioning evidently starting at that moment.

Emmaline had grabbed Kasimir's hand as they were escorted to a small, guard chamber, and mouthed she would do the talking once they were there. He gave a subtle wink and turned back, whatever guard watching would likely think it was a correspondence of fondness rather than pragmatism. Once they reached the room, Emmaline had taken out a small fan, and whipped it back and forth to fan herself as she recounted a basterdized tale of what had occurred in her faux brettonian. Now that he knew she was a fake, he could hear some subtle mistakes here or there in her speech, but overall he was impressed how flawless she was in speaking it. By her account, they had not been transported to a daemon realm, but had instead been attacked by cultists who had hidden themselves in large clay pots of trees, set for stage design. Apparently one of them had been a dabbler of foul magics, and had performed some ritual that had let the paintings along the backdrop come to life. When questioned how the count and her protector had come through the imaginary yet animated work of art, she explained she simply did not know, and that it must have been some ruinous trick the sorcerer had played. A priest of Ulric and a Sigmarite priest both then stood before them, incanting to find if there was any taint upon the two of them. Kasimir saw Emmaline's eyes filled with fear, and he knew that part she did not need to act.

"They have no corruption upon them, though their humours are troubled." The Sigmarite said, lifting his hand from Kasimir's brow and opening his eyes.

"It's been quite a day, your holiness." Kasimir responded diplomatically. "Before this, we had been attacked twice. Hopefully, the White Wolves will see to it that this vile activity is expunged."

It grated him to give the credit to someone else, but he supposed if he was going to tell his father the whole truth of it at some point. Then he glanced at Emmaline, who seemed relieved. He wondered then if he was going to tell the Graf about her deception? He was not sure. By all rights he should, but perhaps tomorrow.

"I will speak with you both, further. But that suffices for now." The Witch Hunter said, looking down and them past his nose. Kasimir felt those eyes could see through anything, and though Emmaline had lied throughout all of it, he still hoped it was true. Maybe he could catch or kill any cultist or daemon that was left and leave Kasimir and Emmaline alone. When both the charlatan Countess and the bastard nodded their acquiescence, they were allowed to return to their connected rooms.

Kasimir opened the door for Emmaline, bowing to her as if he were a gentleman courtier vying for her favor. She walked passed him, and he closed the door to let the men discuss this entire situation further. A servant hurried by, and Kasimir halted him with a finger. "We require dinner, good sir. The lady is famished."

"Et du vin, er...drink!" Emmaline chimed in with a sweet smile.

"Y-Yes my lady, my lord." The sweating servant replied, bowing before hustling away to first complete whatever task he was trying to get done on this hectic night.

De Trop Disgrace: Warhammer Fantasy RP

The thought of being in this place for any real length of time was enough to get Kasimir to wish for nothing less than to be gone from there forever. But if the Graf and innocents were in danger, he knew it was paramount they left immediately. He nearly gagged, and would cut the bees apart if he hadn't the most urgent desire to stay as far from them as possible.

"How do you propose we do that?" He asked her, though he was not being snippy. It was an earnest question coming from someone who was tired out of his mind. The flowers elicited eerie cries that sounded like women in the throes of passion, and it unnerved Kasimir to no end. Emmaline searched around frantically, but just at that moment, the eerie looking Hart bounded out of the treeline, its head tilted and its human eyes staring at them intently.

"That thing..." Emmaline breathed, pointing at it. "There's something..."

It stepped closer, its knife-like feet puncturing the ground with wet smacks, until it halted and lifted its head to give off a cry of pain and pleasure, its throat providing a chopping to the long bray. Its body began to contort, legs bending and back snapping. Its head suddenly jerked backward like an ape had broken it with a powerful tug, and within moments its flesh coalesced into something Kasimir had only ever heard of in stories.

A Daemonette.

Its body was tall and slim, and red so dark it almost looked indigo in color. In one hand it held a whip, and in the other there was nothing, for it had a claw that seemed sharp enough to snap bronze in two. On its left, it had the chiseled pec of a human male, and on its right was a large, rounded breast with a chain attached to it. Its large legs framed twin genitalia that even now roiled as if they had lives of their own.

"The lord of pleasures welcomes you to this small pocket of his reality," It said, its voice a sibilant whisper despite its volume carrying to both of their ears. Emmaline would recognize it as the voice in her head.

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

"You good?" Markus asked, kneeling down to hold his hand out. Jocasta grabbed it, and he pulled her to her feet.

"As ever," She said, whipping her hair out of her face. The movement lurched her body just enough to send her stumbling again, but she had enough frame of mind to catch herself on a crate. It sent a small shiver up the wall, and something familiar precariously perched above them fell. Markus caught his sword with one hand, the steel and stainless aluminum of the hilt making a satisfying 'chk' sound. Jocasta squared her feet, and gestured as if it was all planned. "Deliberate, Watson."

"Never doubted you," Markus remarked, shouldering the strap of the weapon, keeping the sword in easy reach to unsheathe. In the corner, the clerk cowered. Markus wanted to leave him alone, but he was in a room full of guns, and the merc didn't want to get shot in the back. He licked his lips, then spat the chemical taste out of his mouth, the water cascading only now slowing in its torrent. "Come out! We're not here for you, but I can't trust you over there...Now!"

The man in a white uniform, now matted from the water, shakily got to his feet with his hands raised, stepping out from behind a few care package crates that had been refurbished for storage. The man looked scared to death, and Markus had to admit he nearly cried aloud when Jocasta shot the man without warning. Only when he saw the dart in his neck did he realize it was a nonlethal dart, likely with some kind of tranquilizer.

"I guess that was needed." Markus remarked with a shrug as Jo hurried over to the other side of the room. Markus looked questioningly at her, before he yelled 'come on!' and pulled out a guardsman's flak uniform. The merc grinned, he hadn't dreamed they could get out without having to shoot their way out, but if they pulled this off...

De Trop Disgrace: Warhammer Fantasy RP

Kasimir yanked the sword out of her hands. "My 'prestigious talent' has already saved your lying rump more than once." He reminded her, and though one might construe the words implied he had now decided to withhold his aid, he knew he wouldn't do that. She got on his last nerves, but that did not mean he wanted her dead. Plus, they would need to work together regardless. Before she could speak further, Kasimir grabbed her hand and lead her into the bushes. Kasimir crashed through the thickers like an imperial steamtank, the small cuts on his cheeks and arms ignored for prudence's sake. He took another step, and felt a hot stab of pain. Kasimir cursed, leaping out of the bushes to the left, and as Eleanor followed, they realized they were no longer in a woodland. Instead, Kasimir felt as if they were in the steaming jungles of Lustria, or the mysterious Southlands. The trees looked real enough, and the air was thick with moisture, but there were various statues of beasts larger and small, as well as some stills of dangerous natives.

"Shallya's tits!" Eleanor squealed as what had originally looked to be the statue of a hunting cat suddenly burst to life, turning and leaping at Kasimir in one fluid motion. The swordsman moved quickly, his still-flaming sword impaling the heavy beast even as it tackled him. The sword burst out of its back, and it gave a death growl, but not before its claws had raked against his arms and chest, ruining his jerkin and drawing beads of blood that began to trickle.

Eleanor hurried over to the closest statue, something that looked like a small rodent. She felt it, breathed a 'yes!' and began to perform an incantation. Kasimir felt the hairs on his arm and neck stand up, and within moments her hands glowed. The statues melted as if they were made of butter and had been under the scrutiny of the sun for hours.

"And you're a sorceress!?" Kasimir asked, bewildered.

"Not a very good one," She admitted with a guilty smile. "Though for some reason my powers are stronger here. I was planning on learning from the court mage after a drink or two with him, but I guess that ship has sailed now."

Without warning, the vines came alive, striking at Kasimir like serpents. To his credit, he cut through four of them with swift cuts from his sword before a dozen more wrapped around his limbs. The man struggled, but instead of asking for her, he glared at the woman. "Is there anyone in Middenheim you haven't tried to seduce!?" He cried, accusatory.

"Yes!" She said, fists balling up. "You!"

Before he could retort, he was dragged away to one of the trees. Luckily for him, he had kept a grip on his sword and, spinning it betwixt his fingers, cut two of the vines grasping his sword hand. His arm fell free, and he sliced through the rest within two seconds, dropping to the jungle floor. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and pointed at the blonde. "When we get out of here, I'm yelling at you some more!"

"Looking forward to it!" She snapped back.

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

"Right-o, Watson, what in blazes shall we do now?" Jocasta asked, mostly to pass the time. The two mercs had a rough idea of where they were going, having procured schematics from a terminal minutes before. Jocasta led the way, Markus watching their flank, checking over his shoulder every few moments. Luckily, there were cameras only at certain intervals, the administration deeming the utility areas less worrisome than the public sectors.

"My sword," Markus reminded her.

"Capital idea!" She said. "Glad I thought of it!"

Jocasta and Markus passed by a four way split in the winding maze, before Jocasta skirted to a stop, and gave a low 'beep beep beep' as she backed up. Markus raised an eyebrow and stepped out of her way, before she turned down a pristine hallway. There were various doors, but one stood out. It was made of reinforced steel, able to withstand small-yield explosions and armor piercing rounds from small-arms fire. Next to it was another terminal, only this one far more advanced. Jocasta cracked her knuckles, bit her tongue, and began typing away. The screen went from a basic query of identification to multiple windows within moments.

"So, what are you doing now?" Markus asked her, crossing his arms and peering in.

"Why are you so interested in every little hack I'm doing?" She asked, amused.

"Because it's slick as hell." He admitted, reaching up to stroke the stubble on his chin.

"Yeah, it is pretty sexy. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two sometime," She teased, the windows on the display dropping back to the original screen, where the query was now a different one, asking them to merely scan their IDs. "Not that you'd need help in that department." She winked.

Markus smirked. "For the record, neither do you." He admitted as the reinforced door slid open. Before the two could say more, six pairs of eyes fell on them from within the armory, and there was no mistaking it was the armory. Guns, ammunition, armor, portable devices ranging from personal shields to infantry beacons were stacked or hanging along the walls. And checking the inventory was a clerk, a datapad in his hand and a confused look on his face. Beside him, as well as across the room, past a pile of crates, were two faceless, helmed guards, much like the ones Jo and Markus had seen when they had been escorted to their cells.

"Hey, who are you?" The closest guard asked, hefting his plasma rifle. "You don't have authorization in here!"

Jocasta whispered under her breath. "This is less sexy..."