All this talk of Commissars makes me want to create a 40k RP...
I think the 40k crew has pretty much every permutation of that universe covered.
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STATUS: Achmed the Snake 7 mos ago
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It's kind of insane to me that people ever met without dating apps. It is just so inefficient.
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One, polyamory is notoriously difficult to administer
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Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.
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I think the 40k crew has pretty much every permutation of that universe covered.
I also heard that it was Anti-fa on the grassy knoll. Of course the main stream media isn't reporting on that.
The tomb smelled of dust and the acrid chemicals of embalming, if there had ever been a hint of rotting flesh it had long since fled the desiccated corpses of the no longer human guardians. They creaked oddly as they advanced, ancient leather and sinew stretching as it was flexed for the first time in uncounted generations.
"They cannot be destroyed with weapons," Amira cautioned as Mak'um, to everyone's surprise, scuttled forward and snatched up the scroll, narrowly avoiding a decapitating strike from the closest of the creatures. Rhaak and Mak'um exchanged uncertain looks.
"Back into the passageway she commanded, gesturing to the spider web clogged doorway. Mak'um bolted with the energy of terror crashing through the cobwebs into the darkened passageway beyond. Almost immediately he stumbled and clattered across the ground on some unseen obstruction as Amira strode quickly after him.
Once through the archway the light of the torch revealed a long hallway with colorful if faded paintings etched into the wall, festooned with a strange script of letters and glyphs. The floor was in disrepair showing the wear of ages. The thief had evidently tripped on one of the cracks in the sandstone and was even now pulling himself to his feet and tearing frantically at the spiderwebs which practically coccooned his slender body.
"Wait," Amira commanded as Rhaak backed into the room followed by the slowly advancing tomb guardians.
"Lift me," she directed.
"Master?" the pit fighter asked in confusion, keeping his back to her and his weapon to the creatures now only fifteen paces away.
"I cannot reach the key stone, lift me up." Awkwardly Rhaak tossed his sword to Mak'um, a dubious gesture, and made a stirup of his hands. Amira stepped into into it the slave straightening effortlessly to bring her to the level of the stone archway. With deliberate care she placed two fingers on the key stone. Sand began to fall first in a trickle and then in an increasing torrent. The stones groaned and buckled as the key stone began to fail.
"Put me down, and I suggest you move quickly," she commented, the groaning of the stone arch grew more pronounced and dust rained from the ceiling. Without hurrying she strode down the hall as behind her a titanic crash sounded as thousands of pounds of stone gave way and tumbled into the hallway whipping a billowing cloud of dust around her. No grain of it settled on her as she strode out of the dust storm.
"By Allah," Ma'kum whined, making a sign to ward of evil.
"A witch!"
@POOHEAD189
"They cannot be destroyed with weapons," Amira cautioned as Mak'um, to everyone's surprise, scuttled forward and snatched up the scroll, narrowly avoiding a decapitating strike from the closest of the creatures. Rhaak and Mak'um exchanged uncertain looks.
"Back into the passageway she commanded, gesturing to the spider web clogged doorway. Mak'um bolted with the energy of terror crashing through the cobwebs into the darkened passageway beyond. Almost immediately he stumbled and clattered across the ground on some unseen obstruction as Amira strode quickly after him.
Once through the archway the light of the torch revealed a long hallway with colorful if faded paintings etched into the wall, festooned with a strange script of letters and glyphs. The floor was in disrepair showing the wear of ages. The thief had evidently tripped on one of the cracks in the sandstone and was even now pulling himself to his feet and tearing frantically at the spiderwebs which practically coccooned his slender body.
"Wait," Amira commanded as Rhaak backed into the room followed by the slowly advancing tomb guardians.
"Lift me," she directed.
"Master?" the pit fighter asked in confusion, keeping his back to her and his weapon to the creatures now only fifteen paces away.
"I cannot reach the key stone, lift me up." Awkwardly Rhaak tossed his sword to Mak'um, a dubious gesture, and made a stirup of his hands. Amira stepped into into it the slave straightening effortlessly to bring her to the level of the stone archway. With deliberate care she placed two fingers on the key stone. Sand began to fall first in a trickle and then in an increasing torrent. The stones groaned and buckled as the key stone began to fail.
"Put me down, and I suggest you move quickly," she commented, the groaning of the stone arch grew more pronounced and dust rained from the ceiling. Without hurrying she strode down the hall as behind her a titanic crash sounded as thousands of pounds of stone gave way and tumbled into the hallway whipping a billowing cloud of dust around her. No grain of it settled on her as she strode out of the dust storm.
"By Allah," Ma'kum whined, making a sign to ward of evil.
"A witch!"
@POOHEAD189
Obama is plotting a second civil war? This Squawker thing is a font of new information.
https://squawker.org/politics/is-obama-plotting-a-second-world-war-ex-aide-says-yes-obama-still-thinks-hes-the-president/
Also I really need to get a sexy commissar uniform...
https://squawker.org/politics/is-obama-plotting-a-second-world-war-ex-aide-says-yes-obama-still-thinks-hes-the-president/
Also I really need to get a sexy commissar uniform...
Junebug stood beside Neil leaning on her staff. She was keyed up, way too keyed up, and her skin prickled with adrenaline. After years of action her body was struggling to separate the stimuli of games from the stimuli of war. It made her queasy and made her palms itch for a weapon. Sweat glistened on her body despite several attempts to wipe it away with the cloak of feathers she had been given, the material was just not adsorbent enough to do the job.
"Haven't a clue but I don't like the smell of it," she commented glancing around at the locals. Their faces seemed to be mixed between confusion and fear, not a particularly good sign for a celebration. The Shaman were gesticulating at each other now, more agressive now that the traditional forms of greeting had been expended.
"...honor of our...not you..." angry semi intelligent voices sounded in Junebug's ear. Her face blanked to the neutral expression she wore when she was confused before she realised that Taya, still seated by the Wetumpkah had activated her implant and was transmitting the conversation to her.
"I like, really don't like where..." Junebug began as she tried to parse the archaic language but before she could finish the thought Wetumkah shot to his feet and struck one of the other shaman across the face with a full armed blow. The servant girl, apparently taking a moment away from mooning over Neil, screamed as another of the shaman drew a dagger of some sort of black volanic glass from his robes and lunged at Wetumpkah.
"Break! Taya get clear!" Junebug shouted, trusting her military grade radio to squash the girls more ornate but less powerful civilian model. The teir of the Zigguarat was descending into a chaos of flying crockery and flailing fists. Cries of horror and outrage gripped the crowd as half the men rushed towards the base of the pyramid and the other half tried to flee into the low structures of the village. Whether by luck or bad timing a score of warriors trotted from the treeline in full ceremonial war gear. The doubtless had intended to take part in the games but seeing their Shaman under attack rushed towards the villagers, flinging spears and screaming guttural war cries. Junebug hardly had time to pivot and duck behind her shield, covering Neil as well before the flight of missiles plunged down one slamming into her shield with a musical thunk.
"Go go go!" Junebug yelled, tossing aside her staff and plucking the spear from the shield. Both of their weapons were on the top tier with Taya and the stars alone knew whether the girl would think to grab them. Even as she spoke a disorganized group of native warriors with bone swords and rock clubs rushed from the huts to crash into the interlopers. This was going to get really messy.
@POOHEAD189
"Haven't a clue but I don't like the smell of it," she commented glancing around at the locals. Their faces seemed to be mixed between confusion and fear, not a particularly good sign for a celebration. The Shaman were gesticulating at each other now, more agressive now that the traditional forms of greeting had been expended.
"...honor of our...not you..." angry semi intelligent voices sounded in Junebug's ear. Her face blanked to the neutral expression she wore when she was confused before she realised that Taya, still seated by the Wetumpkah had activated her implant and was transmitting the conversation to her.
"I like, really don't like where..." Junebug began as she tried to parse the archaic language but before she could finish the thought Wetumkah shot to his feet and struck one of the other shaman across the face with a full armed blow. The servant girl, apparently taking a moment away from mooning over Neil, screamed as another of the shaman drew a dagger of some sort of black volanic glass from his robes and lunged at Wetumpkah.
"Break! Taya get clear!" Junebug shouted, trusting her military grade radio to squash the girls more ornate but less powerful civilian model. The teir of the Zigguarat was descending into a chaos of flying crockery and flailing fists. Cries of horror and outrage gripped the crowd as half the men rushed towards the base of the pyramid and the other half tried to flee into the low structures of the village. Whether by luck or bad timing a score of warriors trotted from the treeline in full ceremonial war gear. The doubtless had intended to take part in the games but seeing their Shaman under attack rushed towards the villagers, flinging spears and screaming guttural war cries. Junebug hardly had time to pivot and duck behind her shield, covering Neil as well before the flight of missiles plunged down one slamming into her shield with a musical thunk.
"Go go go!" Junebug yelled, tossing aside her staff and plucking the spear from the shield. Both of their weapons were on the top tier with Taya and the stars alone knew whether the girl would think to grab them. Even as she spoke a disorganized group of native warriors with bone swords and rock clubs rushed from the huts to crash into the interlopers. This was going to get really messy.
@POOHEAD189
These so called 'Doctors' are the biggest dealers of drugs in the nation! What with their opioids and their benzos and who knows what else in their so called 'prescriptions'. Don't even get me started on their so called 'antibiotics' who is against biology I ask you? Charlatans playing god in my opinion.
Never go to a doctor again is my advice, it really is the only way to be sure. Stay out of emergency rooms too, dens of inequity the lot of them.
"Touch nothing," Amira commanded as she moved to each of the three entrances to the room. The way they had come had been cleared by their passage and the other two archways, each guarded by the statues of fantastical beasts were choked with cobwebs woven by small silvery spiders. Proof enough that they had lain undisturbed since before the time of the prophet.
"There are powerful curses on this place," she mused, more to herself than to her companions.
"Who... who are you?" Ma'kum blurted, his voice rising to end on a squeak of terror. Amira turned to him from the last of the doorways, her eyes glinting in the flickering torch light.
"We are travelers," she said simply and then seeing the dissatisfaction in the thief eyes elaborated, "This is Rhaak and I... some call me Amira, although I do not expect you will have need of my name."
"Yes... yes mistress," the thief stammered.
Amira awoke from her trance, she never really slept as such, to the feeling of something monstrous moving beyond the sight of men. She didn't need Rhaak's shouted 'Master!' to bring her to her feet. In the center of the room stood Ma'Kum, a look of abject terror on his face and the papyrus in his trembling fingers. A grinding boom and a great cloud of dust gouted from the entrance passageway like a tidal wave, completely blacking out the torch.
The dust surged for a moment as Amira raised her palm and then rushed together to form a perfect sphere a foot wide suspended in the air.
"Fool!" she snapped at the thief her voice unusually animated.
"We are sealed in now," she declared as rubble from the collapsing tunnel tricked into the chamber. In the distance there was a clank of metal against metal that began low and rhythmic. Sealed in, but perhaps not alone.
@POOHEAD189
"There are powerful curses on this place," she mused, more to herself than to her companions.
"Who... who are you?" Ma'kum blurted, his voice rising to end on a squeak of terror. Amira turned to him from the last of the doorways, her eyes glinting in the flickering torch light.
"We are travelers," she said simply and then seeing the dissatisfaction in the thief eyes elaborated, "This is Rhaak and I... some call me Amira, although I do not expect you will have need of my name."
"Yes... yes mistress," the thief stammered.
Amira awoke from her trance, she never really slept as such, to the feeling of something monstrous moving beyond the sight of men. She didn't need Rhaak's shouted 'Master!' to bring her to her feet. In the center of the room stood Ma'Kum, a look of abject terror on his face and the papyrus in his trembling fingers. A grinding boom and a great cloud of dust gouted from the entrance passageway like a tidal wave, completely blacking out the torch.
The dust surged for a moment as Amira raised her palm and then rushed together to form a perfect sphere a foot wide suspended in the air.
"Fool!" she snapped at the thief her voice unusually animated.
"We are sealed in now," she declared as rubble from the collapsing tunnel tricked into the chamber. In the distance there was a clank of metal against metal that began low and rhythmic. Sealed in, but perhaps not alone.
@POOHEAD189
Dashing the last few meters to the ball Junebug aimed a kick towards the basket. Before she could land it one of the enemy players smashed into her from the side sending her sprawling across the cobblestones. The world stuttered for a moment but she rolled to her feet in time to see the opponent racing down the field towards the basket. One of her team mates leaped onto the man's back bearing him down in a flurry of swinging fist and lashing feet. Pushing herself up she retrieved her staff in time to see another of her team kick the ball towards her in a long arc.
The song of the locals began to swell as the ball bounced before her. She swung her shield at it like a bat hammering it down field towards the basket. Howling with anger or excitement a massive man rushed at her. She thrust her staff like a spear into the fellows stomach setting her whole body against the weight. Even from a few feet away she heard the air rush from his lungs as the point took him beneath the sternum and he twisted sideways vomiting messily.
At the other end of the field a ruck had formed around the ball, which evidently had not gone in where locals clubed and kicked at each other in frantic excitement. Cursing under her breath Junebug saw Neil leap into the fray. Rushing down the field she drew her shield up in front of her intending to smash into the ruck, but quite suddenly the ball shot from the fracas and into the basket like a pit shooting from a namas fruit. They crowed roared and a bass gong sounded somewhere up on the zigguurat. As though someone had flicked a light switch the brawl ceased. The gong sounded again louder and more insistent. Junebug slowed to a cautious walk, uncertain if this was part of the game or if something had gone wrong.
@POOHEAD189
The song of the locals began to swell as the ball bounced before her. She swung her shield at it like a bat hammering it down field towards the basket. Howling with anger or excitement a massive man rushed at her. She thrust her staff like a spear into the fellows stomach setting her whole body against the weight. Even from a few feet away she heard the air rush from his lungs as the point took him beneath the sternum and he twisted sideways vomiting messily.
At the other end of the field a ruck had formed around the ball, which evidently had not gone in where locals clubed and kicked at each other in frantic excitement. Cursing under her breath Junebug saw Neil leap into the fray. Rushing down the field she drew her shield up in front of her intending to smash into the ruck, but quite suddenly the ball shot from the fracas and into the basket like a pit shooting from a namas fruit. They crowed roared and a bass gong sounded somewhere up on the zigguurat. As though someone had flicked a light switch the brawl ceased. The gong sounded again louder and more insistent. Junebug slowed to a cautious walk, uncertain if this was part of the game or if something had gone wrong.
@POOHEAD189
"Glad to hear it," Junebug called over the clatter of colliding players, ducking a swipe of a stick and sliding away from a tackle with an evasive twist of her lean body.
In a physical confrontation, be it sport, fighting, or a combination of the two as Radifiri seemed to be, the most important factors were physical size and strength. Junebug like a lot of female mercs had realized early on that she was at a disadvantage in both categories against the majority of opponents she was likely to face. There wasn't a native on the field that didn't have her by at least fifty pounds and the kind of strength that harsh primitive living imbued was no joke. The trick to surviving with such a disadvantage was to learn to fight dirty and never pass up an opportunity to put the boot in. The ball arced towards her but rather than focusing on it she leapt at her opponent, swinging the bottom edge of the shield at his face like a sword blade. It clattered from his shield with a force that rattled her teeth but rather than drawing back she surged closer driving a knee into her opponents crotch. With an inarticulate grunt he doubled over and she bought her other knee up into the point of his chin sending him sprawling to the floor.
In the academy all officer candidates had been required to play team sports as part of the curriculum. The process was a tried and tested method of making the cadets think as part of a team. Junebug like most cadets destined for the armored and played Kipsi. The game was played in micro-gravity with a small but heavy ball about the size of a grapefruit. The micro-gravity didn't allow true weightlessness but combined with very very smooth pitches made it difficult to bleed of momentum. You could pick up speed by running and bleed it off by dragging your feet, but it was many times more efficient to control your momentum of collection of poles which moved randomly across the pitch. Junebug had found that crashing into members of the opposing team to be doubly effective as any player who touched the side walls of the Kipsi chamber fell into a regular gravity zone and had to run back to the entry point for his team. Unfortunately while Kipsi was excellent preparation for controlling an air-cushioned vehicle, it was of limited utility here.
With a flick of her... staff? club? she directed the ball towards another member of what she hoped was her team, raising her shield to deflect the frenzied blow of an on rushing brute with a matted beard and teeth stained red with some sort of vegetable matter. She allowed the blow to turn her and twisted around the onrushing native, driving her elbow hard into his kidney as he stumbled past. Stars this was murderous a half dozen of the natives already showed bloodied noses or pressure cuts. It seemed to be poor form to hit a player while he was down, so she made an effort to make such blows appear accidental. The crowd was roaring as one of their team members kicked the ball at the basket, the hasty shot bouncing from the rim to the hoots and jeers of the opposition.
"Going to be kind of hard to run plays when we can't speak the language!" she called to Neil as they raced back towards their own baskets.
@POOHEAD189
In a physical confrontation, be it sport, fighting, or a combination of the two as Radifiri seemed to be, the most important factors were physical size and strength. Junebug like a lot of female mercs had realized early on that she was at a disadvantage in both categories against the majority of opponents she was likely to face. There wasn't a native on the field that didn't have her by at least fifty pounds and the kind of strength that harsh primitive living imbued was no joke. The trick to surviving with such a disadvantage was to learn to fight dirty and never pass up an opportunity to put the boot in. The ball arced towards her but rather than focusing on it she leapt at her opponent, swinging the bottom edge of the shield at his face like a sword blade. It clattered from his shield with a force that rattled her teeth but rather than drawing back she surged closer driving a knee into her opponents crotch. With an inarticulate grunt he doubled over and she bought her other knee up into the point of his chin sending him sprawling to the floor.
In the academy all officer candidates had been required to play team sports as part of the curriculum. The process was a tried and tested method of making the cadets think as part of a team. Junebug like most cadets destined for the armored and played Kipsi. The game was played in micro-gravity with a small but heavy ball about the size of a grapefruit. The micro-gravity didn't allow true weightlessness but combined with very very smooth pitches made it difficult to bleed of momentum. You could pick up speed by running and bleed it off by dragging your feet, but it was many times more efficient to control your momentum of collection of poles which moved randomly across the pitch. Junebug had found that crashing into members of the opposing team to be doubly effective as any player who touched the side walls of the Kipsi chamber fell into a regular gravity zone and had to run back to the entry point for his team. Unfortunately while Kipsi was excellent preparation for controlling an air-cushioned vehicle, it was of limited utility here.
With a flick of her... staff? club? she directed the ball towards another member of what she hoped was her team, raising her shield to deflect the frenzied blow of an on rushing brute with a matted beard and teeth stained red with some sort of vegetable matter. She allowed the blow to turn her and twisted around the onrushing native, driving her elbow hard into his kidney as he stumbled past. Stars this was murderous a half dozen of the natives already showed bloodied noses or pressure cuts. It seemed to be poor form to hit a player while he was down, so she made an effort to make such blows appear accidental. The crowd was roaring as one of their team members kicked the ball at the basket, the hasty shot bouncing from the rim to the hoots and jeers of the opposition.
"Going to be kind of hard to run plays when we can't speak the language!" she called to Neil as they raced back towards their own baskets.
@POOHEAD189
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