POOHEAD189

'Hello, I am here to find a new rp home'

Greetings, my name is Belikroz, and I am looking for a new home to try and lay out my word and worlds for others to experience and interact with. I attempt to be open-minded with any who want to build a story with me so long as certain aspects are not the only focus. (Only fighting or only love, etc.) I'm interested in playing in almost any setting as well, from fantasy to modern and futuristic, however I can not guarantee to be knowledgeable in most fandoms.

@Belikroz

welcome, good to meet you

De Trop Disgrace: Warhammer Fantasy RP

There was a shouting match between three men in the mud slick street, brinking on violence before a woman with a broom ran out and batted at them, causing them to flee and cry out 'Brunhilde!' which Kasimir presumed was her name. It was the first of a multitude of interactions, each one dirty or less than cordial. Utergard was filled to the brim, they would be lucky to find lodging at this rate. A few unscrupulous looking fellows leaning on a wooden railing watched them go by, and Kasimir gave them a look that promised death. They wisely looked away, but he kept his hand near his sword hilt. They had been staring at the horses even more than the former lady Eleanor. He hoped there were well guarded stables at least, that is if they didn't sleep with the horses. Somehow he doubted Emmaline would be keen to that idea.

"I was hoping Taalagad wasn't so crowded," Emmaline said, curling her full lips in distaste and distress.

"This is Untergard, you thick headed wench. You've never been outside of Riekland before you decided to invade Middenheim, have you?" Kasimir remarked derisively.

"Shut up!" She said, though her cheeks colored from her ignorance.

After taking directions from a local baker, they kicked their steeds in a canter, directing them toward the larger inn in Utergard; a tacky three story building that likely used to have a charm about it before its paint job had grown weathered and the sign's hinges did not creak. The hanging sign had the symbol of two greatswords, labeled 'Dueling Blades.' To Kasimir it sounded like a vendor for swords, but even before he gave his horse to the stableboy, he could see it was packed with men and women drinking and eating and laughing. He gave the stableboy an extra crown to keep their steeds safe and looked after, and he helped Emmaline off the destrier before they stepped into the admittedly warm and inviting taproom.

Kasimir had not traveled to every province of the Empire, but he felt this room had a sizeable sample of most of them, at least judging by their accents and apparel. Hochland hunters drank malts and laughed in their strange cadence while bullheaded Ostland mercenaries played cards with Ostermark bowmen. A few burly Nordlanders drank and spoke in a far table, but the room was mostly filled with the Middenland refugees trying to flee south. Unfortunately, a quick glance showed both Emmaline and the bastard there were no table to sit, and so Kasimir nodded for Emmaline to save a spot at a standing booth on the far wall near the corner.

A few minutes later, Kasimir returned with two cups of foaming ale. The barwoman had told him the last barge left on the morrow, and there were ongoing negotations on if the captain would accept any more refugees or not. He decided to tell Emmaline after he told her he was able to grab the last bedroom.

"I bought us a room." He said, handing her the second mug of ale. Despite the drab conditions of the town, he had sipped his and it was quite spectacular. He half guessed they had a dwarf that worked in the back.

The golden haired woman looked relieved, before she snapped up and raised an eyebrow. "One?"

"They only had one," he explained with a sigh. "Plus we don't have the funds for two, or I don't. Unless you want to spend some of your hard earned cash."

She was going to retort, but the ale was so good she decided to nurse it for a few more moments. "Fine, but I take the bed." She concluded, acting for all the world like she was still the lady Eleanor, just without the accent. Kasimir's smile was feral.

"Of course, I've only saved your life multiple times and caught all the food on the road, why would I deserve the bed?" His words were dripping with venom.

"You might have a point if you did not cause such painful headaches to begin with." She responded, and promptly finished her drink by tilting her head back and opening her throat, practically inhaling the brew.

"You are the painful headache!" Kasimir said, slamming his empty mug on the table. He looked as if he was going to say more, opening his mouth, but let out a growl of annoyance and turned away, hailing for another round of ale. As he did so, Emmaline unwisely decided to continue the conversation.

"And you think you're some knight out of legend, rescuing fair damsels and chivalrously defending the realm?" She said, placing her hands together coquettishly and batting her eyelashes in a facetious display, before making a show of gagging. "You're a scoundrel like me, just less amicable." Kasimir turned on her, eyes blazing. Most men would have stepped back for fear of their life, but Emmaline was well aware if he wanted to hurt her, he would have done so long ago. This was yet another skirmish in a continuous war. The rakish bastard held his hands up, his fingers curling like claws as he tried to think how far he should go to insult her, before he gave the angry remark:

"If Ulric is truly just, then why did he give you tits like those?" He asked. "Every day it's more lip, if they weren't so full and red you would be in the ground!"

A waiter placed two mugs of ale between them, too busy to even eavesdrop on the conversation.

"You think it's easy for me? With those eyes and those hands gripping me when you swoop in for a rescue? And those shoulders I cling to when we ride? I hate you, I can't even focus on thieving!" They both grabbed their drinks with a synchronized movement and took a long drink, before placing their mugs down.

"You lose focus?" He chuckled incredulously. "Every time you turn around I have that ass in my face, I can't even fucking sleep!" He stepped forward, placing a finger on her collarbone like a gentle prod. "I can barely look you in the eyes, they're so blue. Why do you have to be so bleeding insufferable?"

Roguish Anomaly: A Warhammer 40K RP

"See? Ya see?" Neil asked, pointing to Tilda before tapping his head. "I know how to pick 'em, she's super smart."

The men put Skit in the groundcar in short order, strapping him down in the back as Orm and Zaile squished themselves in with the ratling to keep him steady. Neil hopped in the driver's seat, which left Tilda to take the front passenger's side. Neil cranked the vehicle, and its engine roared to life, the light snapping on to illuminate the seemingly endless tunnel before them. "Everyone strapped in? Remember, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, and don't unbuckle yourself until the vehicle comes to a complete stop. The tires cannot be used as flotation devices, my administratum litigate bade me make that clear before every excursion, you understand."

Bullets and lasbolts began to ping off the walls and bathe the shadows in red flashes as shouting arbites began to fill the chamber behind them, fanning out in an encirclement formation. Orm yelped and Zail looked somewhat perturbed, while Skit moaned in fear. Neil merely put his tinted glasses on, something that seemed ill advised for driving in the dark, but he had good headlights and it looked cool. Tilda glanced at him with an incredulous look, likely asking herself what she had gotten into. Neil just grinned at her, before smacking his head as if he forgot to buy a certain kind of cheese at the market.

"Oh, that's right! You can always trust the judges to keep you on your toes, I almost did not remember..."

A lasbolt pinged off the back of the vehicle, singeing the steel. The crewmen began to cry for Neil to move, but instead he punched the glove compartment, and a small device rolled into his waiting palm. Anyone with any military or paramilitary experience knew it was a detonator, and Tilda promptly held her fingers to her ears as Neil primed it with a flick of his fingers, before pressing the crimson button at the top. There was a concussive force and a sudden gout of flame, and a noise as loud as an autogun gunshot inches away from their ears.

Whoever had entered the room was immediately paste, and the walls began to crumble as Neil put the vehicle in gear and sped off into the darkness, laughing like he had just pulled a funny prank.

An hour later...

Neil had left the vehicle in the service tunnels, the group having climbed a utility ladder fifty feet up, feeding into a passageway that led into the underside of the hanger. Tilda glanced back down at the vehicle, before it beeped twice and the lights flashed. The others were hauling the ratling down the grating, but Neil had the keys in his hands. He saw her eyeing him, and he winked. "It's a rental, they'll come pick it up."

He dropped the keys, the instrument falling the fifty feet to bounce onto the front chair cushion. He motioned for Tilda to follow, and they arrived at one last service ladder, just a dozen feet in height. To Neil's credit, he ascended first to check the coast was clear, as a captain should, and helped each member out of the small portal in the rockcrete. Skit was strapped to Zail's back, the ratling gagged so he wouldn't moan. Tilda was last, and Neil took her hand and helped her onto the landing. She moved well in the slim dress, he decided. She was fascinating to him, and not just because he had a thing for blondes that could shoot well.

"Where to?" She asked him softly. The landing port was fairly rudimentary, as it was made for orbital ships with sub-light engines, generally without warp capability of their own. There were numerous small, general purpose, surface-to-orbit cargo shuttles like the arvus-lighters sitting next to larger merchant-class yachts meant for meandering through a system at comfortable speeds for extended vacations or parties, just beside more civilian mercantile crafts for enterprising unions with vested interests in the starport above the planet. There were a few mechanical servitors whirring across the rockcrete in the distance, and a strobing yellow light above the rafters along the walls ensconcing the large sequestered area. Neil lifted his hand and pointed past a Heraldus-class shuttle to an even larger landing craft. It was twice as large, actually, but sleek, with twin engines. Tilda gave a small, disbelieving gasp at the bulk of the sloop. Hell of a planet-side shuttle. It looked like it could hold at least two hundred people, maybe more.

"I-I thought..." She stammered, and then admitted: "I'm actually impressed."

Neil didn't like to wink too often because it was something you needed to do when cool moments occurred, and cool moments didn't happen too often. If they did, then they wouldn't be as cool, and the ratio would be off. But since it was her first day, he gave her another wink. "Thanks, she's my baby. We call her the Rogue."

"It's not much," Orm said sheepishly. "It took awhile to rig the warp-drive to it. But Neil and Lazarus are good mechanics."

Hello Everyone!

Obviously very new here, just getting settled in.
I am big into fantasy, magical types of RP's. I generally stay away from fan fic types unless it's just an idea to pull from to make my own world and ideas.

I have about 30 years of RP experience. Yes I'm an old lady so I'd prefer to keep my RP's with people that are in the higher age group. I am up for mostly 1x1 rp's I find some people have a hard time staying active as i have a busy life sometimes. However I'm hoping to expand my RP friend circle.
Feel free to reach out to me, DM's are open. I am looking forward to finding some new RP partners. Looking forward to digging in!

@Mixins

welcome!

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

The two ascended out of the depression, Beren giving Jocasta his hand twice and Jo having to call upon her magics once to keep him from sliding down the steep decline, but the ziggurat loomed over them even when they stepped out of the precipice and onto more solid ground. There always seemed to be something going on with them, it was as if the Evergod himself had cursed their adventures. But ever the optimist, Beren tried to rationalize that perhaps this would have occurred regardless, and maybe they were here to make sure it did not get out of control. It was a quaint thought, though he had been through enough trials in his life even before he had met Jo to know insane circumstances could be behind any corner.

Trudging across the landscape, they followed the sinking sun, keeping close just in case something tried to suck or yank one of them down a concealed hole in the earth. The sky was red like blood, and the wind coiled around them fervently, as if it had a mind of its own. Beren was happy for the heat, he had always been a man who liked hotter weather. But not usually dry heat, and the longer they climbed over collapsed dunes and cracked earth, the more uneasy he became. He decided talking and sharing the last of their water could distract from the near hopeless trek to find a settlement. The moon was a distant figure behind the gleam of red in the sky.

"Where do you think we are?" He asked her, passing the water flask. Jocasta finishing tying up her hair in a pony tail and took a long, well deserved drink.

"Well, hard to say considering it was magic that brought us here. We could be in the Southlands, we could be in the Moltepny Stretch. I know the languages, or at least more than what's probably healthy for someone my age, but I haven't traveled to any of these locations before. How about you?" She handed the flask back. Beren took another sip from the skin and then slid it back in his belt, running a hand through his dark mane of hair. His chin and upper lip was starting to get dark from a lack of shaving, though it was not quite true facial hair yet. Unlike his dwarven found family, he did not grow facial hair quickly or thickly.

"I didn't go to an academy, but I do know a few bits of aradian. I liked reading the old stories so I wanted to learn, and a bit of Anu'sarian, but I probably shouldn't-"

"Say those outloud, yeah." Jocasta agreed, wiping the sweat from her brow. They were coming closer to some rocky outcroppings, and it was only when Beren looked up at the buttes did he really stare past them into the sky. The sun was finally touching the horizon, and he peered across the broken landscape with his fine eyesight, before blinking.

"Jo?" He asked. She gave a 'hmmm?' and looked at him, and Beren thrust his chin forward. She turned to look, and after a few moments searching, she blinked as well. Beren spoke for her, knowing she saw what he did. The horizon was not red. "Did you...ever notice the clouds were colored like blood?" He asked, his voice wavering.

"That...can't be right." She breathed, reaching into her pack and fishing for something, only to groan when she couldn't find the right tome, clasping it closed again. "What could make the clouds-" her question halted when she gasped, and drew closer to Beren in fear. He looked at her clinging, and pointed emphatically. "The moon!"

Beren felt something in his chest sieze, but he kept himself together and looked around until he glanced to the west, and nearly jumped back. He felt a cold fear run up his spine. It had grown closer somehow, past the rocks, and through he knew it was not possible, no matter how hard he closed or rubbed his eyes, it did not go away. They walked over to the rocks and put the large stones between them and the celestial body, but Beren peered around the corner again, and was met with the same eerie sight.

As he looked at the moon, the moon looked back.

"What the hell is happening?" Jocasta asked incredulously. "It's not an illusion, I would have been able to tell with the flows. It's like...a portent." The last words were like a bell's chime in her mind, and as crows cawed overhead, she began to search through her pack again, thumbing through books until she pulled out a leather bound volume locked in a silver-steel padlock. She whispered a few words, and it popped open. "I might be able to find something in here, or at least glean a bit of what could cause the blood clouds."

"And what could give the moon a face?" Beren asked as another crow cawed. There was a flutter of wings, and as Jocasta fished through her book of lore, Beren looked up to see three, eight, two dozen crows fly overhead. They were followed by hundreds more. The caws became malicious cries and screeches, as tens of thousands of black feathered crows flooded the sky overhead in a wave of torturous sounds that pierced the ears. Beren was poking Jo to look up, but she had already closed her book and watched in rapt fascination as the avian creatures flooded the sky.

One dropped down before them, tilting its head and squawking. Jocasta held her book out to use as a bludgeoning device, just in case, but Beren and her froze when they looked into the crows eyes. It hopped to the left, and cawed at the empty rock wall beside them, for it could not see. Its eyes were milky white. The two adventurers shared a look, and then decided not to speak as it hopped away, flapping its wings and crying out before fleeing into the air once again. The pair did not move for an hour, until the crows had exhausted their numbers in their great migration, and darkness had descended upon the sky.

They walked for another two hours, walking under a watchful moon. The eyes and mouth of the celestial object never moved, they were simply there, carved or magicked or planted there by something with the power to shape reality itself. But they needed the moon, for as they walked, they noticed the blood clouds had vanished, but they had taken the stars with them. There was not a cloud in the night sky, and yet no stars were present. They had vanished as surely as the crows and the clouds, and now only the moon remained to grant them the light that led them to the walled settlement of Dikmar.

The gates had been closed, but the sentries along the walls carried torches and patrolled circuitously, calling to one another in their native tongue. Jocasta and Beren were a bowshot away, but they had not yet been spotted. Before Beren could announce themselves, Jocasta placed a hand on her muscled arm and asked him to let her handle it. He kept his mouth shut, having learned to respect her intelligence whenever she was confident in what needed to be done. She gave a soft call in a tongue he did not understand. It sounded similar to Aradian, but it was not the same. A bellowing cry echoed from the walls, followed by another. Jocasta spoke back, only to get shot back with another long diatribe from the town. Beren could not understand, though he really tried. The cadence was different, and there seemed to be only a few loan words, most of them just beyond the cusp of his understanding. It was actually somewhat frustrating. Generally people thought of Beren as intelligent when they got to know him, but Jocasta was one of the few people who not only had grown to know him, but seemed to have much more unique knowledge than Beren, who felt like a charlatan in comparison. Next to her, he really did feel like the muscle bound himbo people accused him of behind his back.

It was only a brief thought for the moment, however, and after a few more traded words, the gates opened.

"How did you get them to let us in?" He asked her.

She grinned, looking back up at him. "I'll tell you later after a bath. Oh, and the town's called Dikmar. I don't even think they know what it means." Jocasta giggled.

At Beren's questioning look, she winked: "It's Snake Cock in Pharonic."

Heroes of The Guard: A Warhammer 40K RP

I took her meaning immediately. I could only imagine was sort of tongue lashing I might get back at base, and so I took the piece of blank paper, cleared my throat, and opened it, staring at the blank whiteness as if it was a document I was pressed to read. "Ah, of course. Well, duty calls, as I always say." I turned to the gentry and gave them a tip of my hat, before granting the lady governor a sweeping bow, and finishing off my farewell ritual with a wink to the Arsenault. I was a fool to encourage her, but I had never been someone to eschew flirtation, and she was rather fetching in that dress. "Regrettably I must take my leave, but I shall return in two nights as you have so graciously granted me the invitation."

After a few more farewells, Sel and I exited the hall and left the corridor, only to bump into two sentries who looked put-off by the appearance of the Corporal before seeing I was accompanying her. They likely did not know me by reputation, even my exploits could not have spread so quickly, but they had greeted the Governess and the accompanying body, with my in their entourage, when I had first approached hours before.

"At ease, gentleman" Sel told them cooly, and they shifted uncomfortably as they parted before us, letting the two of us step into the waiting vehicle parked by the curb. Corporal Sel opened the door for me to enter, and I slid in, before she closed it and then hopped into her seat. Within minutes, we were speeding out of the palace grounds and onto the congested streets of Balor; congested of course, because of the tightly knit buildings that loomed overhead like unwanted teachers at the academy, not that the streets were overly crowded. The city sported strange florescent lights that dotted the buildings, replacing a single story of windows to give a trail of lights, though many groundcars, military vehicles, and street lamps were lit, cutting through the monotony of it.

"I apologize for not being there to help set the platoon up. I wish I had, but I couldn't get away from the Governess." I explained, though I was not certain just as to why I was giving the Corporal one. Of course, the other half of me knew exactly why. Because I was the bloody damned lieutenant and it was my throne damned job.

"We know where to go sir, there was no mishaps. No need to explain," She said, and though any soldier might have fed their superior officer the same bullshit, I found I believed her. She turned left up a slimmer street, likely to cut through the traffic. I turned the heat up a bit more, longing for being able to stay in my warm quarters tonight. The planet was cold as deep space, but at least it was an easy posting. I would head back, conduct the sentry screen along the coordinates I had pre-laid upon the map, and then retire for the evening. I yawned, and gave a sigh as I sat back, the lights like a distant rhythm of stars.

There was a loud pop, and our vehicle suddenly careened to the left, its back end whipping to the right, colliding with a parked aircar with the force of a thunderhammer. My eyes jolted open, and instinctively I reached for my bolt pistol as we hit the curb and landed on the sidewalk. A couple that had been enjoying an evening walk screamed and ran off, but as Sel cursed under her breath and checked the gauge of the vehicle, I saw the man and woman fall to the ground from well placed lasbolts.

"Sir, are you alright?" Sel asked, but she saw my look and knew what I was going to say before I even had the chance to.

"Get down, we're under fire!"

Scum and Villainy [Firefly/Cowboy Bebop/Star Wars Inspired, Forged in the Dark]

Other people looking at this interest check: As of this post I'm still open to another player or two, so feel free to let me know if you're interested.

@ctrlsaltdel

I guess I can check my schedule...

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

Amal was buzzed, but not quite drunk. He felt a pleasant, warm feeling as Charynrae spoke to him in her special manner. A part of him was glad he had been plucked out of the moonsea and dropped here in the frigid north. Yes, the last few weeks had been a tenth hell, but he had not had to run from Calishite pursuers any longer, and he had met a pretty companion, exotic and intelligent. He had never been one for courtesans, and all relationships in his past had never lasted long, from both his dangerous career and his flightiness. But somehow, this felt different, and he realized that tidbit even before he realized she was flirting back at him.

Ibrandul's Cloak! The thief thought. He had expected her to push him away. She had always kept herself closed off, even from him. Granted, this was not the normal coquetry he was used to. But he had to admit he kind of liked her haughty evaluation of him moreso than the usual coy game. The fact he passed made him feel far more accomplished than if she simply attempted to butter him up. What's more, she kept complimenting him, and he felt a thrill with each new word. He had wondered if her claiming he would fit in the Underdark an insult or not, but it became clear she meant it as a compliment, in her way.

When she called him pretty enough for a human, he grinned widely. "I also do tricks..." He remarked wryly. The idea of capturing a bookworm, something he had never heard of until now, was cordoned off into the back of his mind for later. For now, he was occupied with more important matters.

He curled his left hand and placed it under her chin gingerly. "You're more honest than any surface woman I know, and more valuable a companion too."

Perhaps it was the heat of the moment before the plunge, but he had not expected himself to say that last part, yet he felt he meant every word. His hand slid behind her neck to cradle it, gently playing with her silvery white hair as her red eyes drew him in. He kissed her, slowly at first, but with each new breathe, his lips parted wider and his tongue found hers.

Wealth and Warpstorms

Alcander followed the eccentric woman through the halls, wondering more than once if she was taking the long way to mess with him. They had used a lot of side arches and entrances that seemed tertiary, though granted, they were still larger than any doorway or even roadway on Caledon. He was yet again amazed at how large and ornate everything was, gazing at the baroque walls of gilded steel with the imperial heraldry of skulls and eagles, as well as the vast chasms filled with the infinite steel veins of the ship. Finally they descended a small stairway, framed by another a dozen meters away, and before them was what Alcander assumed was the cogitator.

All of the spacious and sweeping architecture gave him a bit of nostalgia. He had done the right thing in leaving the life, but despite the dangers and the cruelty, he had truly lived some wondrous moments in his time, chasing mutants through the wastes of Raokos, to apprehending rebel aristocrats in the upper hives, and even catching a rare glimpse of the enigmatic eldar on a space hulk. For a brief moment, he wondered that if he should prove himself, he could sign himself on as a freelancer for the Lady Camilla, but he threw the thought away immediately. He was done with all of this, despite the allure.

"Here we are!" Jocasta exclaimed, fanning her hands out towards the cogitator. Alcander looked the massive contraption up and down. The display was easily five meters wide, green text splayed across the screen, framed by what could have been the pipes of some archaic organ, but no doubt part of its sophisticated make. Jocasta approached the device, logging on with her access codes. "So, is this for business or pleasure?"

"Hoo did ye coom inte th' ledies service?" Alcander asked her curiously, producing the Servo-Skull and handing it to her. She reached into a small alcove of the base of the machine and pulled out various wires, her hips shimmying playfully as she did so.

"Sorry, you don't have enough points to unlock by tragic backstory. But don't be offended, we just met twenty minutes ago." Jocasta popped back out with a neural transmitter that had a very uncomfortable looking spike at the center of its skull dome. She hooked it up to the servo-skull, the appendage shooting in with a visceral smacking sound. "Luckily, I know all about you. Don't look at me like that, who do you think helped our future Queen find your little brass self?"

"Net my future queen." Alcander reminded her, leaning over the segmented steel wiring and using what knowledge he had retained post-retirement to see if he could find the right synaptics. Logitec text filled the screen, but despite the enormous power and capabilities of this cog, he had checked servo-skulls for feeds before. Jocasta pulled back and crossed her arms, watching the screen as the green light splayed across both of their faces, interrupted by the occasional darkness when the display switched screens. Finally, Alcander found what he was looking for, and a minimized square pulled up on the screen, showcasing the scene of the crime. As the feed continued, Alcander and Jo's faces went from inquisitive to stunned. Alcander and Jo turned to one another.

"We have to get to the bridge, now." They said in unison.

Fortune & Glory: Grimdark Pulp RP

"So we both unleashed an ancient evil..." Beren concluded, lifting Jo's leg as a tendril of the mist swept by. The warrior monk decided to just pick her up and set her near the center of the small chamber.

"So what do we do?" Jocasta asked him, finally snapping out of her reverie and seeing the room was swiftly growing an unclean and unnatural aura. She shivered, her magical senses more attuned to such things than Beren. Down the hall, there was a crack like lightning, and ill green light flashed against the stone walls as something stirred.

"I don't know!" Beren laughed incredulously, just appreciating how crazy every situation they got themselves in was.

"What do you mean!? This is your expertise! I excavate, you dungeon dive! You lived with dwarves underground, right?" She asked, and bonked his head multiple times with her fist as if she was knocking on a door. To Jo's surprise, it actually seemed to put an idea in her companion's head. He abruptly turned around and leaped over a stream of mist, skidding on the sandy floor before the opposite wall. Jocasta followed, keeping close to Beren's back as a low, inhuman moan escaped from down the corridor. Beren knocked his knuckles against the wall, listening intently and watching the imperfections on the sandstone as he did so. He was no dwarf, who's very anatomy helped them find flaws in stone, but he had learned enough.

He tapped again, and the darkly handsome warrior smiled. "Keep clear," he warned her, and Jocasta slipped to the side, not wanting to back up too much. Beren closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath. His hands spun in a circuitous motion, performing an intricate set of hand movements that seemed almost a strange version of spellcasting, taking fifteen full seconds of the odd ritual, ending with his left hand palm out, his right hand curled into a fist and pulled back.

"Beren?" Jocasta asked, but he couldn't hear her, his concentration absolute. After another heartbeat, he struck the stone wall. Jocasta gave a yelp as she felt the wind from the blow. Immediately the wall fell apart, or at least a sizeable portion of it, tearing through the stone like a sword slicing through parchment. Jocasta clapped as Beren drew in another breath, and they felt a small gust of heat and a bit of sunlight on their feet. Beren and Jocasta leaped into the next room. It was a long mausoleum with a dozen stone coffins on the left and right, and at the end was a wooden doorway barely kept together. Along the coffins were carvings of different figures of strength and elegance, each with brass and silver torques adorned on their necks.

"You'll have to tell me how you did that." Jocasta said, glancing back at the shattered stone and giving a whistle.

"I have this wonderful meal plan."

"I've noticed," she said, pinching his left pec. "but like..."

"You can plumb the depths of me later, for now we should get scarce unless we want to make friends with whatever is waking up." He declared, and as if on cue, their banter was interrupted as another flash of eldritch light erupted behind them. It hissed like a huge serpent, and the stone coffins before them began to rumble, though whether by some magic or something within them was fighting to get out, they did not wait to find out. The two adventurers sprinted down the corridor, running for all they were worth. Suddenly a large stone tile dropped before them, and to anyone who had not been constantly delving into dungeons the past two months, it would have been fatal. There looked to be no bottom in sight. But Beren leaped like a gazelle and Jocasta jumped with practiced precision, hitting the ground in a roll. Both recovered simultaneously, and they shoulder rushed into the ancient wooden door, breaking it into kindling. They reached the light of the desert sun and the heat of this strange new land.