Penny

Dark Streets - Urban Fantasy Noir

@Fetzen Still with us?

Damned to the Depths

Calliope gasped lungfuls of air, her throat burned like the very devils. She had just enough time take in the fact she was still alive before the mob, baying for her blood, came charging down the stairs, torches and bloody knives waving. At their head dressed in an elegant and expensive suit of armor was Caliban, one of Sebastian’s chief lieutenants.

Her captor, a dirty looking man with dark hair in a ponytail, rightly judged that the mob would tear him apart and grabbed her and pulled her away from the cell. He seemed to be leading her towards a cracked culvert where the waste from the prisons open latrines flowed. Calliope was in no position to argue even though the wretched smell made her half gag. As she turned she looked back over her shoulder and shouted another word of power. It came out as more of a hoarse croak but the actual sound of the utterance mattered less than the mental focus. A shimmering plate of force appeared across the bottom of the stairwell. It was a simply shield spell not good for stopping more than a thrown rock or knife, it shattered almost immediately as the armored Caliban charged into it, but it did check his progress for a half second. Dozens of bodies crashed into him and the front rank of the mob collapsed in a heap. Those behind continued to charge forward, unaware of what was going on at the foot of the step and unable to arrest their progress. The whole mob became a mass of tangled bodies and shouted curses but even had she more powerful magic to hand their was no way they could have dealt with the whole lot of them.

Without a backward glance they fled into the hot foetid darkness of the sewer. Her rescuer, whoever he was seemed to know the way. Was he perhaps a smuggler who had been bringing people in and out of the palace. Whoever the fellow was he clearly realised that now was no time to argue with an angry bloodthirsty mob. That spoke well of him at the very least. Their feet splashed up a spray of stinking waste as they fled down the low tunnel. It twisted and turned but her guide seemed to know the way. Within a minute they burst into small chamber where several smaller tributaries of shit river ran together. THere was also a small exit to the street. The stranger didn’t hesitate taking the exit at a dead run, behind them the sound of the screaming mob was amplifying. She climbed out after him into an alley.

“This way!” she snapped. In her mind she rationalized that it would be safer to stick together, safer for her which was the important thing, but in her heart it was because she didn’t want to be a lone fugitive in a city hunting for her. Moving at a brisk jog they wove their way down the street, passing looted shops and the occasional body. Here and there the riotous mob were drunkenly shouting triumph and looting more prosperous shops. At last they came to a rope makers shop, too poor in attractive women or alcohol to make an attractive target. Furthermore Calliopie knew it to be deserted because the fellow had been thrown in prison for failing to pay his taxes a few days ago. It smelled powerfully f hemp and flax but it was a good place to lay low.

“We should be safe enough here, whoever you are,” she said, her hand rested on her sword. WHoever this was she doubted he had saved her out of some sort of innate goodness of heart.

Dark Streets - Urban Fantasy Noir

After painful consideration I have decided to go with:

@Hour Error@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@Sophrus

Everyones character was excellent and I was sorely tempted to expand the RP but I really wanted to keep the group small. Thank you all so much for you interest!

If I picked your character please move it to the character tab. We will start workshoping shortly.

Dark Streets - Urban Fantasy Noir

Much interrupted by thanksgiving but I should be back in the saddle tomorrow

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

“Ah,” said the Intelligence Officer, “ I should be delighted.” With an unhurried grace he made his way across the room, and took a seat behind the console. With swipe of his finger he bought a holographic display live. The display focus at the eyes of its user and was just a blur of light to anyone else trying to read it. The terminal might have been displaying data, stress readouts, or it might just has easily have been a ploy to make them feel like they were less important than mundane work.

“Firstly my name is Major York,” he said in his tone of faux gentillity, smiling at them like a snake with particularly perfect teeth.

“You are here, because Mr Edwards and Captain Cykalii are wanted for the murder of a team Terran archaeologists about three years ago.

“What!?” Neil spluttered coming to his feet with a look of shock on his face. If York was discomforted or surprised by the reaction he gave no sigh.

“You mean that team of commandos you dropped on us back on Savran?!”

York cleared his throat delicately and turned the display into an omni-directional mode.The screen flashed into holographic images of Neil and Sayeeda with biographical notes in galactic including charges of murder and conspiracy. The photos ranged in quality, old photos from an I.D showed a younger Neil, and a twenty something Sayeeda Cyckali in an officer cadets uniform. More recent footage was of grainy poor quality recording equipment like helmet recorders and gun cams.

“Those would be the archaeologists yes,” the officer continued a note of wry amusement giving his voice a richer tone than before.

“The Directorate was very insistent you be picked up after the incident,” York continued, “You wouldn’t believe how much time and resources they spent coming space around Fornax for you. Of course you were off taking your little cryo nap at the time. Funny how the universe works.”

The console made a beeping sound and York looked down at something before brightening.

“You will be pleased to know that our surgical computer predicts that Captain Cyckali will make a complete recovery. She should be combat effective by the end of the day. Excellent news!”

“So you shot down all those ships and captured the Highlander to arrest them?” Taya asked, looking back and forth between Neil and York in confusion. York reached up and fiddled with his musache for a moment. Then he clicked a holographic key and the image zoomed in on the strange tattoo Neil had picked up from the Ancient artifact on Savran.

“I shot down all those ships and captured your freighter so that we could talk about this.”

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene followed Solae into the hallway swinging the hatch to within a handbreadth of closing. If the girl woke up he didn’t want her to feel like she was a prisoner behind a locked door. It was true that Damaris had been through alot but Solae had been through far worse and there was much worse waiting for her if they lingered here long enough to get caught. With each moment that passed the storm waned, the window they needed to exploit grew a little narrower.

“We can’t do anything till she wakes up,” Rene replied, neither agreeing or disagreeing with Solae’s statements.

“Well I mean we cant make any final decisions,” he corrected as Solae led him into the galley. Reaching across the table he turned on the hot water and filled two of the chipped ceramic cups. Reaching into the cupboard he withdraw two packets of synthetic coffee and tore them open pouring the dark crystals into the hot water. They foamed for a moment as the chemical reactions ran their course and then passed on of the mugs to Solae. The brew was bitter and tasted vauguley oily, it wouldn’t have been worthy of house servants back on Capella but it was considerably better than some Rene had drunk since joining the marines. Ration coffee was rumored double as thruster polishing grit. Though he knew it wasn’t true Rene could certainly see where the urban legend had begun.

“And no, I think I can rig a propulsion system from gear we have here, basically a big pump that will act like a water jet,” he explained. Equipment meant to operate in vacuum was typical many times more powerful than that designed for terrestrial use. Without the coefficients of friction that governed atmospheric operation there was less concern about waste heat. The Bonaventure had a half dozen such pumps that were surplus to what it needed to operate. It was simple to say but it would be something of a production to strip one out. Perhaps Mia could suggest the easiest one to access, preferable one that wasn’t built into the hull. Pumps built into the hull… an idea flared to life in Rene’s mind, something so simple and obvious he was a little embarrassed it hadn’t occurred to him before.

“Mia, can you pump water from the caldera into the air above the ship?” he asked. A light on one of the heating units lit up as the AI signaled it had heard, it wasnt nearly as effective as the complex system of lights at Armond’s manor had been but Mia seemed to be adapting to her new surroundings.

“To what purpose Ser Rene?” she asked, her tone suggesting that she simply couldn’t wait to discover whatever juicy secret might lay beind mundane water pumping.

“If we pump water over the ship, its going to drop algae all over it,” he replied, it was obvious from Solae’s expression that she didn’t yet understand so he elaborated.

“If we coat the outside of the ship with algae its going to look exactly like the caldera from the air, even if they have jumpers there is virtually no way they will be able to pick us out!” He set down his coffee, excited to have a solution to a problem for once.

“I’ll rig it up then get to work on the boat,” he declared, feeling far more excited than a simple breakthrough should have accounted for. They could do this. He knew they could.

Dark Streets - Urban Fantasy Noir

Ill be making final decisions about the cast in the next 24 hours or so so if anyone else is going to submit a character now is the time.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The November Sky was immense over a kilometer and a half long it dwarfed anything in local space. The vessel was shaped like a throwing knife with a thin tapered bow that came to a fairly narrow point, a slight bulge just aft of amidships and then a second tapering section around which her vast sublight engines were clustered in six housings which protruded from the midline. Unlike a freighter like the Highlander, the November Sky had never touched and atmosphere, having been constructed in one of the many orbital shipyards that served the Terran Navy. No ship so large could ever hope to enter a gravity well and leave again. The entire length of the ship was festooned with weapons ports. Turrented plasma cannons, missile batteries, mass drivers as well as dozens of launch bays which housed fighters, bombers and the various utility craft that the ship relied upon for its dirtside business. All of that was just window dressing for the ships real armament, a massive spinal mounted rail gun which ran the length of the ship. Such weapons were useful only in capital ship engagements or to threaten static positions like space stations or ground facilities.

The unnamed cargo lifter was directed by laser designators to a large hangerbay just below the port side bulge. Even before it touched down the Highlander was visible. Terran technicians in gray disruptive pattern fleet utilities were climbing over the ship, some were obviously engaged in repairs while others appeared to be taking readings.

“The Terrans are friends of yours?” Saxon sneered.

“Fucked if I know,” Neil responded as he tapped the attitude jets to slow the decent. Several point defence batteries, designed for shooting down enemy missiles but more than capable of shredding an unshielded freighter, tracked their descent. The ship touched down with a gentle clang. Neil tore his harness off and ran to the ramp slapping the activation switch. Junebug lay on her side, extremely pale and breathing in short shallow puffs that stirred her dark hair. The ramp opened with glacial slowness to reveal a phalanx of Terran Marines suited up in vac-armor and carrying bulky vacuum rated rifles.

“We need medics!” Neil called down, looping his arms beneath Junebugs and dragging the unconscious mercenary to the mouth of the hatch. A smallish man in an immaculately tailored uniform snapped his fingers and a trio of men, each wearing armor marked with a caduceus on the right shoulder pad and bearing a grav stretcher rushed forward, lifting Sayeeda and laying her on the grav stretcher. A large hoop like device flipped upright and ran over her at the speed of a brisk walk. Holographic screens sprang to life showing detailed scans of internal organs and bone structures as well as dozens or hundreds of vital statistics. One of the medics, his armor marked with a lieutenant's bars, watched the data scroll passed for a moment.

“Keep the armor on, there is significant swelling we don't want to risk a crash before we get to preop” he snapped in the precise accented galactic typical of the Terran military.

“Get me a tatrobane drip and three large bore IV access points. Med bay prep for a level one trauma with…” the medical babble trailed off as the stretcher rushed down the ramp and towards one of the blast doors that granted access to the hangar. Within a few seconds it was gone beyond the doors.

“Mr Edwards,” the suave looking officer called from below. He was a handsome man with dark hair and an immaculately trimmed mustache. His voice was rich and cultured and sounded friendly, although his eyes remained still and cold. White piping rimmed the rank tabs that identified him as a Major in Directorate K, the legendarily ruthless Terran Fleet Intelligence.

“Would you and your friends come down please, I would take it as a favor if you left any weapons aboard your ship,” he called in a pleasant cultured voice. The marines flanking him didn’t bother with an amateur theatrics, they merely kept their weapons leveled.

“He is no friend of mine,” Saxon snarled irritable. The officer shrugged his shoulders as though the point didn't much matter to him.

“In that case we shall be happy to escort you to the nearest airlock.” The fellows jovial tone didn’t shift even a fraction, but there was no doubt in the world that he was willing to do exactly that if anyone made any trouble.

Penny's Egregious Overreach

bump

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Camilla shouted something particularly unpleasant at Cydric and then dashed down the stairs onto the open cobblestone street at the base of the wall. There was a sound like a foundry collapsing as an armored chaos warrior, leaped from the battlements to crash to the stones beside her, shattering the flint bearing rock into powder as he landed. The force would easily have killed a beastman or another lesser creature but the warrior merely rolled sideways sweeping his blade out at ankle level. Camilla leaped the blade and kicked out hard at the things head, nearly spraining her foot with the force of the blow. She swept her own blade around but the chaos warrior exploded out of his croutch batting her weapon away with enough force to numb her arm to the shoulder blade.

Camilla dodged backwards, twisiting to keep herself with her back to an escape route without exposing herself to a sword stroke. The black armored figure rose to nearly seven feet in height, hefting a blade of blackened steel as broad as Cydric farm. Camilla knew she should run, but something stopped her, almost without her concious will her blade rose into a duelists guard. A strange grinding sound issued forth from the armored figure and it took her a moment to recognise that it was laughter. The armor glinted with fresh blood and seemed to flow when the warrior move to raise his own weapon.

“Blood for the Blood God!” it shrieked and launched itself at her. Camilla flicked the blade aside and ducked under the mailed fist that arced at her head. Time almost seemed to slow and she thrust the razor sharp elven blade into the knee joint as the big warrior passed her twisting the point to avoid it catching. The chaos worshiper roared and rounded on her she danced backwards elven steel pressing away the tainted blade with a touch.

“Skulls for the Skull throne!” the warrior roared. Camilla caught him across the wrist as he swung his fist at her again, severing it in a spray of bracking black blood.

“De La Trantio for the Senate!” she shouted in Tillean for want of anything else to say and stabbed at the things visor aiming for the eye slit. The Chaos warrior turned at the last minute and the weapon struck sparks from the helm as Camilla tumbled passed, using her momentum to carry her out of the reach of his good hand.

“You will all die before...:” The creatures breasplate caved in abruptly with a sound so loud that Camilla didn’t register it as a sound. Incredibly the thing stayed on its feet turning towards an alleyway.

Yantz and the dwarf burst from the alley, wreathed in powder smoke. The imperial dropped his heavy pistol and drew the second from his belt. The chaos warrior rushed at him and the snap of the weapon crushed his helm like a beehive hiting a lance point. Black and red motes poured out of it for a moment before a dwarven axe crashed into his ruined chestplate.