POOHEAD189

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

"I thought we'd have more time," Emmaline whispered to Neil, and he had to agree. The three of them, the two scoundrels and the bandit captain, were hunkered down in the long gallery as bullets and shimmering projectiles flew through the timber, shattering glasses and breaking furniture. Neil grabbed her by the hair and kissed her thoroughly, before saying. "Same, babe." Before he turned to Johann.

"Hey, toss me my bag," he told the bandit. Johann unloaded a shot wildly out the window, smoke and flame erupting before he ducked back down.

"Your bag? Why?" He asked, ears ringing from the gun's loud bang.

"I got a rifle in there!" Neil called, referring to his hochland rifle. Johann blinked, looking at the bag and then back to Neil, suspicion warring with pragmatism. Neil gestured expectantly, but when none came he gave the man a tired look.

"Come on! You think I'm gonna shoot you here? Now?" He asked incredulously. "I mean, I guess that would be silly."

Emmaline poked her head out from behind Neil's shoulder. "He is silly!"

"I am," Neil admitted, but he held out his hand, a stern expression on his face. "But I want to get my girlfriend out of here, and we're Empire men, right? We might be bastards, but when beastmen attack, we work together, right?" He didn't want to admit the ratmen were anything else, and it didn't do to argue over the matter now. Johann regarded him, and then tossed him the bag after a moment's hesitation. Neil caught it, and pulled out his hochland rifle and shot. He handed the rifle to Emmaline, who held it, planting the butt on the ground as Neil loaded the gun quickly and efficiently, before she handed it back to him. A green bullet of warpstone spat through the wall between Neil and Johann, making a hole the size of a ham in the thick wooden barrier.

"Hey, thanks." Neil remarked, as if speaking to the gods themselves. He slid the barrel of his rifle into the hole, using it as a makeshift stand, before aiming down its ironsights. Grey and brown furred shapes roiled in the foliage and behind buildings, but he saw a green flash, and he turned his gun to a skaven hastily reloading a jezzaile. It looked both comical and horrifying to see a man-sized rat working a rifle almost as well as Neil, but just as it shouldered its gun again, Neil pulled the trigger of his weapon. The rifle kicked, and blood spattered on three clan rats as the Skaven marksmen fell down to the ground.

"Ok that's one down. If we keep this up, we'll kill all of them by the end of the day."

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

Markus didn't believe her.

Not at first, at least. No sane person would refuse a deal like that, he thought. All that money and the fastest ship in a noble's fleet? But when she didn't come back with a sly smile and a snappy one liner, it dawned on him she was serious. He gave a small 'hmm?' and shrugged, just to himself, and then raised his glass to get it refilled. He half expected to return to the Artemis seeing it plundered, as she knew the codes to get in after he reset them. But it didn't matter too much to him.

"Bad luck, stranger?" The waitress said when she arrived, refilling his glass. Markus gave a melancholic smirk, only glancing her way.

"Wasn't my luck." He remarked cryptically. The woman gave a small bit of chit chat, but he wasn't interested enough to find out if it was due to her interest or wanting a nice tip. He spoke to her until he finished his third round, then he paid, before making his way to the third floor, finding a lift that would take him to the Posting Agency. He hadn't been to this station before, but Bondsman offices were always around the same place in hubs like this, and since he had time to kill and a new system to plunder, might as well start early.

The lift dinged and the doors slid open, revealing the mercantile floor. A labor droid stomped past him monotonously, the hydraulics in its digitigrade legs audible like pistons as it carried a half a ton of cargo along the lane, red lights running up its side to serve as sensors so it didn't step on any unsuspecting civilian. The floor looked much the same as the God's Eye, only even more varied of toughs and petty factions and competing businesses. Whoever owned this station likely got revenue from the rent and taxes of those they let conduct business here, not nearly as ambitious or grasping as Gallanis. Markus followed the signs and turned left, searching for the agency, but walking without too much purpose. Might as well relax. Despite Jocasta walking out on him, he felt happy to have escaped the God's Eye alive.

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

Markus gave a disbelieving laugh, turning to her. "Hey, we never made a deal on that. I even told you to stay behind, you helped of your own volition without-"

"It does not detract from services rendered nor does it compensate me for my own losses," She pointed out, taking another sip from her drink, as if in victory. Markus was not the kind of guy to accept that, however.

"All I see out there is the ship I flew away with, with you as a passenger, and a ship only I can handle." He added, having slid his leg and foot off the bench and down to the floor, facing her.

"Now that you mention it, I do need a pilot..." She mused audibly.

The mercenary smiled despite himself. "Is this your way of asking to partner up? No need to be coy, just ask straight up."

"You were the one being coy," She said.

"Alright, let's cut the bullshit." Markus took another huge swig of his drink and clapped the glass on the table, sliding it to his left. He placed his left elbow on the table and held out his hand. "Equal partners, we co-own the ship, I pilot it, and you can keep every trinket and expensive item on board to sell and you can keep all of that money, for services rendered in helping me hit the God's Eye. Do we have a deal, or should we solve this a different way?"

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

"My friend?" He echoed, amused. He gave a smiled that showed his teeth as he looked into his drink, taking another sip. He was going to remind her he had never been hired by Gallanis before, but he knew she was joking. An eyebrow raised when he saw her finishing her drink that quickly. He was just past halfway done. Granted, he wasn't actually trying to get hammered, at least not yet. He waited for a handful of seconds while her glass was refilled. Markus gestured his get the same treatment. Why not? As the bar waitress refilled his glass, he deflected her original question, preferring to discuss it without staff nearby. "By the way, I said I'd buy you one drink. If you want me to keep paying the tab, better make it worth my while somehow."

The waitress smiled knowingly, glancing at Jocasta, before hurrying away. Markus imagined most of their patrons were a bit rougher to both them and each other. Markus' eyes flicked to the departing woman, and then he answered her question. "Definitely. But not for awhile. By now they're probably figuring out what happened, and if they can even find our jump trail, it won't be for another day or two. And then he'll need to mobilize and head after us. Luckily, if he does find us, we'll already have the best ship."

Markus turned, placing his back against the wooden frame that shielded them from the gameroom where the holovid hung, placing his left elbow on the table, idly holding his drink. His other hand placed a toothpick in his mouth, and he watched the room. A couple laughed as their friend spilled their ale onto his lap, and a number of toughs were being escorted out while the waiters were busy removing the pieces of a broken table. The rest of the room was an amalgamation of conversation and the occasional outburst of disappointment or laughter. It was just his method, to watch his blind spots. "So, what are your plans now that you're a free woman? Still looking to be a merc?"

He idly swung his head her way, looking for all the world like a corsair by his lazy manner coupled with his scars and dangerous vibe. "I guess I got room for another on the Artemis." He remarked, nonchalantly naming the ship. Ravenwing was a fine name, but they couldn't steal it and not change the ship's title or ID markers.

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

The night did not go by without a few hiccups. Despite the newfound camraderie, they were smart enough not to let Neil and Emmaline spent much time alone together. Though Neil insisted on never leaving her side, just in case. Secondly, there was no way they weren't going to pilfer their goods, and while the chocolate and wine was enjoyed, trying to take the gold almost had Emmaline grabbed a handful and leaping out of the window, and Neil wasn't a big fan of it either. There was only a marginal amount of sleep, Neil and Emmaline taking it in turns, and once they woke up, they looked pretty poor, even if they did their best to appear jovial and ready to work.

A strange thing, how an entire horde of beastmen could be repelled by them at the tower, but a group of bandits had them getting up at the crack of dawn, taking all of their gold with a smile.

Still, there was some good news. If the bandits were a solid band, they might actually make a decent wage during their association. Plenty of refugees when a chaos incursion occurred, after all. Hopefully Ranald blessed them with a few rich ones to plunder.

"Oh, you buried him? Right decent of ya," Clause applauded Neil, the two of them and a tough named Hef having gone out back to check the perimeter, the one time Neil was to leave Emmaline alone since they promised it would be a short trip. The three had come upon the servant's grave Neil had dug the day before.

"Yeah, felt like if I was gonna live here, the garden could use a bit of fertilizer." Neil joked.

"He was a mouthy one, got to be honest. Started talking about legacy and his master's honor and all that. Johann got tired of it, and when he didn't tell us where the gold was, well..." He placed a finger to his head and bent his thumb in the manner of a pistol's hammer.

"That's how it goes." Neil said with a shrug. "So, what's the plan for you boys? Or us, I guess? We staying or going off to work."

"Got to ask Johann, but I think he's got something cooking."

Space Dogs: Hired Guns in a Crumbling Empire

Chapter 1: Cash for Blood

"We've got Baator Brew, Black Spire Stout, Blurrgfyre, Toniray White, Andoan White, Moogan Tea—with or without alco—"

"I'll take... Taranis Tall and a Black Spire Stout." The merc said. Even without his armor, Markus knew they could tell he was a hunter.

The east-wing barman placed two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle, a tattooed woman wearing a black crop top and shining leather pants appearing from the back to help the merc with his order. The sound of billards balls clacking and glasses being placed on rusted plasteel tables was almost comforting to Markus. The room was fraught with the smell of freshly cooked food mixed with alcohol, and a chemical tang to the air, like as not from having just cleaned up something less than savory. The holodisplays placed above the bar and across the room where the billiards and card tables were being held showed the previous day's Mechball matches, with text from local system news sources sliding across the bottom. Men laughed and jeered, swearing and swapping insults and slurs of the strangest sort from across the old empire. Many were freighter captains, old luggers that spent their lives moving from place to place. Others were local scoundrels or heels, and some like as not wanted to experience some night life off-planet.

The cantina, called Dagda's Cauldron, was huge. It was three stories, and about forty thousand square feet of public space. It took up almost the entirety of the central floor of Kario Space Station, and everyone passing through, from gangers to smugglers stopped by for a drink or to swap stories. At the center of the Cauldron was an inner atrium-turned-arena, able to be viewed from all three stories, where mutants or hard men down on their luck could fight to the death and win prizes or take a sample of the winning bets. Even at the edges of the cantina, their cries of victory or defeat cut through almost any noise.

Markus squeezed passed a number of rowdy locals, halting as a waitress sauntered past him and expertly ducking under a thrown bottle. Voices were raised, and he stepped past the walk between the tables just before the bouncers rushed to halt the altercation. At the next table, a cabal of bounty hunters spoke in hushed tones and drank their beers, some still wearing bits of their armor. One of them still had his helmet on. Across the way, a band of mutants played a multitude of instruments on stage, a younger man with eyes completely polished black singing in the mic.

They had been lucky, Markus and Jo. The two had escaped without much injury, and found space to make a jump before pursuit could be initiated. He had given a rare laugh when he realized the Huntman's capabilities. It was the size of a freighter but handled like a starship fighter, and its sensors were immaculate. Jocasta also gushed over the showers working, and Markus had to agree that was a perk. Jo had checked the kitchens and found there was a little food, and after eating she had found a bed and fell asleep for what seemed like half a day, while Markus checked the integrity of the ship's systems and kept an eye on the slipspace stream. Then he showed her how to monitor the ship and what to press to get on the comms, once she had woken up fully, and it was his turn to conk out. Ten hours later, Markus found a place to exit their the stream, and found they had arrived in the Tuthanin System, with three habitable planets, two biologically habitable and another under a biodome.

They had hardly talked since their quick exit, but now it was time to actually clear the air, make plans, and decide their association. But not before Markus made good on his promise.

He slid a Taranis Tall to her, which she caught expertly. She had procured a small, tall table for them across the floor, half a dozen meters to a Holodisplay and equidistant to any other party, save the occasional staff member rushing by. Markus took his seat across from her, his hair newly washed from a couple of hours ago, but still relatively unkempt as he had to pilot almost immediately after, and what brushes there had been had smelled...used. He sported 'freighter fatigues,' more commonly known as smuggler trousers, essentially faded out, drab cargo pants one could wear to anything and hide any number of weapons or equipment in. His belt hung loosely at his waist, and he wore a black shirt that hugged his torso, with a 'Dead Men don't run very fast' stamped at its center, with the logo of an old, famous bounty hunter named Davik Sunder, who coined the quote back in the 24th century. Hanging loosely around his neck were two, faded dog tags. He felt sore, but it was a good sore. Rewarding, in a sense.

"Have to say, I half expected you on stage by the time I got back." Markus said.

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Neil had been ready to leap on Johann and try to wring his blunderbuss out of his hands, but luckily Emmaline had managed to wriggle her way out of the situation. The fact that she was gorgeous and naked likely helped her, though Neil was definitely not alright with these guys oggling her.

"First thing's first, Johnson." Neil said.

"Johann." He corrected, displeased. Neil closed his eyes and waved it off as if it were a minor thing.

"Right, Johann. What did I say? We're two enterprising thieves, looking to make some more coin. You boys look like you could use some help, maybe. If not, then we'll be on our way, or you can shoot us, of course." He opened his arms disarmingly, rolling his eyes as if that was the dumbest move one could ever pull. "But I don't think you want to waste shot or rust a knife on two people who can help you out. So if we tell you our story, are you interested because you're here to recruit us, or you just want some entertainment before you spit on Shallya's mercy?"

The gaggle of bandits looked at Neil with a mixture of confusion, amusement, and incredulity. Clause was just then getting up, having slapped his groin long enough to make him groan with every step. Emmaline made her way over to Neil, but she didn't hide behind him or take his hand, as much as both would have liked that. They needed to look more enterprising than two victims with nothing to bargain. Johann pursed his lips, holding the silence for a long few moments before speaking.

"We don't really need more crew... but if you're telling the truth and you two made it out of Nuln, then we might can use your skills." He raised his blunderbuss once more, however, and shook it in their direction for emphasis. "And we might be thieves like you, but we're Gods-fearing ones. That thing you got seemed awfully ruinous to me."

"Just kill 'em and be done with it!" Clause said, taking out a knife in one, swift motion.

"Shut up, Clause!" Johann roared. "I'm talking to our friends here! Anyway, you give us a good reason why you have something like that, and you tell us what it is, and maybe I'll think about you two joining up. Otherwise, I'll bury you both in the garden out back, and take your chocolates and gold for ourselves."

"We're not taking it anyway?" Another man pipped in, a short man with a square jaw and an ill look to him. "It's right there!"

"Oh, they won't join us without divvying it up, anyway." Johann said with an open mouthed grin, a brass tooth shining in the dying firelight. "Now talk, and maybe we'll listen."

Hello! I'm here!!! UwU

@Kaylajone3 welcome!

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

"A few reasons, I think." He admitted, trying to collect his thoughts after the chaos on the ship, and usage of the one power. Even during a moment of calm, he could recall it as if it were still happening. It was a strange thing, combat. When it happens, you don't think about it. But afterwards, it was all one could think about. But it was certainly not his first time bloodying men, even innocent ones, and he forced it away with a will. He brought his mind back to a week prior, in the chamber with the High Lords. Back to his decision.

"You weren't there, but when I met with them in the Stone..." He cleared his throat. "The High Lords. They were discussing you, before they caught word you were likely an Aes Sedai." Davian said, looking up at her, and then raising his head. "They decided then and there to execute you. That's not what I do, if I can help it. I catch those that deserve it, and it was clear to me they weren't killing you for stealing, they were killing you for what you were. I don't like Aes Sedai, particularly. Or trust them. Maybe one." He gave a tight lipped smile. "But you're no Darkfriends."

He rolled his head to loosen his shoulders, and placed a strong hand on his trapezius, massaging it firmly. "And, since we're both being honest, even then I wasn't going to help. But I heard a story teller in the tavern speak of a prophecy, concerning something about the Eye of the World, and the Lost One. Great Serpent and Sightburner. I'd only heard of the Eye of the World before, but it made me think more of you in that cell, and I realized I had put you there. So I went and helped before I convinced myself not to. Was probably the drink."

A poor excuse, but he wanted to lighten the mood. He chuckled, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Might have made a mistake, seeing as I would likely be dining on a fine roast with some good music, maybe some drink, about now. A heavy purse in my lap. Lady Alteima owing me a favor, besides. But the wheel weaves as it wills, and here we are."

Land was in sight now, but it was still a slim line in the distance. One could squint and lose it in the vast blue of the sea.

Cogs in the Wheel: WoT RP

Davian threw himself against the door to help the chair, its frame already creaking. Luckily the shipwright had granted boat thick doors, but it wouldn't last forever. Davian was not a weak man, but he was leaner of frame than the burly sailors, and the only thing saving the chair and he was the fact only so many of them could pummel the door at once.

"These light blinded fools are going to try and kill us, I think." Davian remarked, more to himself than to the Aes Sedai. Zoya took another swill of her drink, and placed the skin back in her knapsack. She seemed deep in thought, and the dull sound of waves crashing against the ship was like a mirror to the men thrusting against the door.

"The wheel weaves as the wheel wills," She said imperiously, trying to remain calm. Davian was about to ask if she had gone crazy, but it dawned on him she was doing her best to remain calm as well. He was not ready for her second remark, though she muttered it under her breath. "I just wish the wheel had granted me a more diplomatic companion." Her tone grated on him, feeling underappreciated as the wood of the door bounced against his head from every shove and punch.

"Why are the pretty women always the most stuck-up!?" He remarked, and later he would marvel that he dare say that about an Aes Sedai of all people, and even Zoya seemed shocked. But at the moment he was out of patience and options. "Get your things, we're getting off this ship."

"Getting off?" She echoed incredulously, but when she saw his face, she knew he was about to pull something. She hastily grabbed her bag and tossed it over her shoulder, using one hand to tie her hair behind her to keep it out of her eyes. Davian saw her give a nod, as if she were a queen acquiescing to a request, and he let go of the door, hastily grabbing his things and strapping on his sword belt, before unsheathing his blade. The next two blows from outside snapped the chair, and after another strike, and a call for their blood, Davian suddenly opened the door for them.

Three sailors toppled in, their rage overcome by confusion for a moment. Davian kicked them in the head like he was striking a rabid dog, breaking noses and cheek bones, and like a whirl his sword was out, poking the handful of men that had just then decided to rush in. His sidesword drew blood with every cut and thrust, but he did his best not to kill anyone, or cause serious injury. Davian's swordwork was like watching a dancer and a surgeon all at once, precise and graceful. Before a handful of heartbeats were up, the men fell back, bloody and wounded, and Davian pulled Zoya forward by the hand, stepping over the fallen bodies into the corridor. Men scrambled away, and others lay moaning.

His blood up, the thief-taker hurried them to the stairs, where another sailor was coming down, likely to check on the noise. He was bigger than the rest, but before he could speak, he was blown out of the doorway by an unseen force. Davian only spared a glance at Zoya, before stepping out into the sun. The deck was relatively deserted, save three men maintaining the rigging, and Gil's burnt corpse. Where the captain was, Davian did not know. Likely below decks deciding what to do with them, not yet realizing they had already broken out.

"The longboats!" Davian told her, rushing to the aft and finding two of them, oars inside and held up by a myriad of ropes, causing them to swing lazily as the waves bucked beneath them. Davian cut two lines with three passes of his sword, and one of the longboats toppled into the sea, the ubiquitously placed ropes loudly zipping past and slapping into one another until they fell into the ocean with a small slap.

"Can you do what you did when we leaped out of the keep into the stables?" He asked her, and when she nodded he picked her up in his arms and leaped. It was clear she was entirely surprised at him doing so, but he found them slowing after a dozen feet, landing roughly into the longboat, his rump sore from the fall, but otherwise none the worse for wear. He glanced up, and found no immediate pursuit, but they would come to the side soon and likely throw or shoot whatever they had at them. He grabbed the oars and slunk them into the water, shoving against the aft of the ship so they drifted, before he began paddling.