Penny

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-19

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-21

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

@JunkMail Firstly my relationships are important enough to deserve their own post. Secondly I cant make the stupid table bb code work properly and was experimenting.

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-19

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

Honestly does anyone in this town have a name that doesn't start with A?

Recollections: The Fourth Seal [Mystery/Urban-Fantasy/Horror RP]

*Clara Kane* Relationship Table

Abel Connell	Friendly Contempt - Abel is an Average Joe with an emphasis on the average

Amanda Blackmore	Guarded Reserve - I don't trust the Police, ergo I don't trust Amanda

Astraea	Friendly - Astraea is one of my people, literate, together and a bit of an outsider in this conservative community

Archie Malcom Anderson	Trusting pity - Its so sad that he lost his family, he seems like a nice guy who fixed my car without ripping me off

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

@Callousqueen-19

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

A brief review of Cylonikean history had revealed that Indra was effectively a sort of hereditary constitutional monarch, although with more of the attributes of a monarch than a figure head. This particular honor passed down the matrilineal line and the women were expected to choose mates with useful genetic traits and skills. Graciella remained the reigning Queen until that point which meant that even if Neil married the girl, he would have a long time to wait before he was elevated to the position of Royal Consort. Of course that presupposed a lot of things, like Junebug not strangling the girl in the next few minutes.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just fly your ship to this island and be done with it,” Indra said, repeating the theme if not exactly the words of several previous questions. Indra wasn’t stupid, on the contrary she was quite intelligence, but the tactical consideration an operation like this were too far outside her experience to grasp more than the vauge outlines.

They all sat around a holo console that had been set up in the Highlander’s hold. Though there were comperable and better facillities in the palace, Junebug had claimed that she had specialized software on the ship, that that wasn’t the case. Primarily she had hoped to simply get rid of Indra who had been tagging along ever since they returned from the weapons range. A guilty conscience told Junebug that Indra suspected something and was watching the pair of them, though this couldn’t have really been the case. Unfortunately barring flat out ejecting the Princess of the nation hiring her from a planning session, Junebug didn’t have an easy way to get rid of her.

“Pradec and his men certainly have a sensor net deployed,” Junebug explained patiently. She touched a control and the hologram shifted to imagery taken by a communications satellite. It showed a vessel, a pirate vessel judging from its sleek design and heavy weaponry heading towards the island. As they watched great geyser of water erupted around it and the ship veered violently and raced away pursued by similar water spouts. With another touch of a control Junebug added in reciprocal courses that the computer figured from radar returns and analysis of the imagery.

“These are 18 or 20 inch shells,” Junebug explained, indicating with an extended finger to the origin point of the ballistic track, an apparently empty stretch of concrete outside of a dug in series of buildings in a shallow valley pointed south from the dormant volcano that formed the center of the islands spine.

“I don’t see any guns,” Taya interjected, though her tone wasn’t one of doubt.

“They have a holographic screen over them, the refresh rate from the satellite isn’t good enough to pick up the shells breaking the barrier.” It was actually a fairly clever trick, although the exact circumstances that made it work were rare. In Sayeeda’s experience the first thing any two hostile forces did was shoot down all the satellites.

“The take away is that they opened fire a few moments after that ship came into line of sight of the peak of the volcano, so its safe to assume they have a sensor station up there somewhere. We can't risk flying the Highlander or…” she trailed off, a sly smile lighting her face.

“Thirty Seconds,” Taya said over the intercom. Junebug settled the helmet over her head, engaging the holographic display. Neil and Saxon did the same, though in the case of the Hex it didn’t look like it fit very well, with his snout pressing up against the glass. Junebug gave Neil an appraising glance, though he was still grinning like a school boy. This plan was tactically sound, but it's audacity appealed to Neil more than the conventional alternatives. He shouldered the strange device he wore on his back. It looked similar to a surfboard case, eight feet in diameter and two across. All three of them wore a similar device as well as a bulging duffel bag of weapons and equipment strapped across their chests.

There hadn’t been a good time to talk with Neil since the previous evening, between Indra’s presence and the possibility of listening devices. Even now it probably wasn’t smart, but given the likelihood of dying in the next few minutes it seemed worth the risk. She reached out and squeezed Neil’s arm, her face unreadable behind the darkened mask of his helmet.

“I can’t ask you to give up living like a prince,” she said quietly.

“But I’m not talking the job with Gregorious, when we are done here I’m leaving this rock and I want you to come with me.

“Ten seconds,” Taya prompted over the intercom. Junebug turned and took her position at the top of the cargo bay. Neil and Saxon took up positions to her left and right, staring at the closed bay doors at the end of the hold.

“Sayeeda…” Neil began but she held up a hand.

“Tell me later,” she instructed.

“Run!” Taya shouted, the excitement and strain evident in her voice. All three of them sprinted towards the cargo bay doors. With a scream of protest the Highlander lurched out from under them, all four of her big thrusters firing in opposition to her current course. At the same instant the cargo bay door dropped open and all three of them were pitched violently from the hold. Ten thousand meters below the surface of Cyloneika glittered and shone. From this altitude she could see the day night divider hazily creeping towards what her helmet navigator informed her was their objective. The wind howled passed her as she tore through the air, fractionally below the speed of sound. Fortunately they were high enough and the air thin enough that the ejection from the highlander didn't smash them to paste. Spreading her arms and carefully twisting her body she lined herself up with the indicated safe zone on her helmet display and then slapped the deployment stud on her right shoulder. There was a sudden deafening WOOOSH as Polymer wings twenty feet in length sprang from the unit on her back, her careful angle allowing her to hold onto the velocity the Highlander had imparted to her without tearing her limb from limb. She gripped the two control sticks on her belt and adjusted her course minisculely, nosing down slightly to match the computers optimum projected aerodynamics. Neil had modeled the units of racing gliders he had seen in the past, but the goal in this case wasn’t speed but distance. The launch from the Highlander gave them enough velocity that they should be able to glide to the island several hundred miles away without enough metal on them to worry any ground based observers.

Clouds whipped by as Junebug continued her decent, whipping past in a white blur. Her helmet displayed her speed as something close to four hundred KPH, calculated terminal velocity was 423 KPH so she nosed down slightly to pick up speed. The computer refigured her vector and placed her in the green, marginally, for reaching the island. She couldn’t turn her head, and it was dangerous to use radios, but the two green beads, a result of a broadcast of broadcast from the Highlander disguised as innocuous weather data, indicated that Neil and Saxon had both, thus far, survived the jump.

Damned to the Depths

Calliope caught the dagger as the camp erupted into chaos. She lunged towards one of the two guards holding her chains but the other reacted instinctively and jerked her off her feet. She tumbled to the ground the collar biting into her neck as the other guard pulled his own end taut. Calliope pivoted and flicked her wrist, the first guard screamed and clutched at the hilt of the dagger suddenly protruding from his right eye, dropping the chain. The second guard jerked her towards him but she turned and leaped allowing the momentum to carry her towards her captor, he realized his peril and grabbed for his sword a moment before she hit him in the chest with both feet sending them both tumbling down the stone tiers between the legs of the two struggling captains and plunging to the floor of the amphitheater below. The pirate holding her chain hit first with a crack, his body breaking her fall. She rolled to her feet pulling the sword free of the man's belt and thrusting it into his belly, though judging by his lack of reaction the ten foot fall had broken his neck.

She stood for a moment with her back to the stone wall. Above her she could hear Markus and Mahal exchanging furious blows, the acoustics of the ancient structure making it sound like battalion at war rather than just two men. Blood Axe pirates shouted in anger and confusion, their instincts dulled by drink and uncertainty.

“Lass look out,” Sketti roared and Calliope pivoted in time to avoid being disemboweled by a pirate with skin the color of polished mahogany, artlessly she hacked into his back dropping him screaming and twitching to the ground. She turned and tossed the bloody sword to the Dwarf who snatched it out of the air and howled a dwarven war cry at his staff wielding tormentors. The rest of the crew were on their feet also Haldvar throttling a distracted guard while one of the others pulled his sword free and hacked inexpertly at the chains that held them together. Calliope took a step towards them but a pair of Blood Axes steeped into her path, both brandishing rusty spears. Calliope's hands grabbed the long chains still attached to her brass collar and lashed out with the iron links like the tentacles of a cuttlefish. Instinctively the pirates raised their weapons to block and, as the chains wrapped the hafts of the weapons she jerked them out of their wielders hands. One of the pirates opened his mouth to scream but a seconds slash of the chain smashed his face into ruin spraying blood and teeth as he staggered back. The second chain hit the second pirate but this one was quicker than the first, catching the punishing stroke on his forearm and ripping Calliope towards him. She kept her feet out of desperation and struck hard at the pirate as he pulled her close, the flat of her hand crushing the cartilage in his throat with a pop that was audible even over the unfolding battle.

Sketti had reached the crew and was cutting them free, using the narrowing effect of the stone benches to buy time while the crew of the Weather Witch freed themselves. To Calliope’s amazement she saw Jim snatch up a lose flagstone and hurl it at an onrushing pirate braining him and dropping him to the ground with grey matter oozing from his ear. Calliope grabbed at the collar and tried to pull it free, but there was no obvious method of opening it, perhaps no method outside of magic. Flecks of razored stone grazed her arm and she yelped in pain as a Blood Axe musket ball missed her by inches. She turned and ducked into one of the entrance tunnels to avoid a second musket blast that struck sparks from the stone a few feet from where she had just been standing. Fortunately for her and her crew firearms were much less common in Arad Lind than they were in the northern kingdoms as a massed volley of shot might have ended the fracas before it began. Desperately she tugged at her wrist-cuffs, but the ensorcelled brass was even more securely fastened than the collar.

A blast of arcane fire washed over the doorway she was hiding within, setting fire to the passion fruit vines that were working to demolish the ancient stone work. Yelping in fear and swatting at cinders she ducked back into the tunnel, looking out to see a Blood Axe mage striding across the sand towards her. Lacking any obvious way to fight she raced back into the tunnel, heading down underground into the darkness. She emerged into what must have once been a holding cell for combatants or a storage room for props, it was difficult to tell in the darkness that filled the unlit subterranean space. Desperately she cast about for a means of escape but the only obvious exit was a collapsed tunnel filled with tons of fallen masonry and dirt.

“So you are the sea bitch that killed my brother on the Al-Hakim,” a sneering voice called from the tunnel.

“Mahal wouldn’t let me cut out your tongue when he was going to keep you as his slave girl, but killed while trying to escape… a different matter.” Judging from his voice he was in the tunnel doorway now, blocking any possible escape. Desperately she reached for her magic but, as before, found nothing.

Now is the time little drake. The voice thought/spoke in her mind. She felt the tattoo pulse with heat and then felt the heat sliding down her wrists into the cuffs. The metal grew hot against flesh, so hot that she couldn’t believe she wasn’t burning. She wanted to scream in agony but something inside her stopped the action. Suddenly she realized that the bracelets might be meant to hold a djinn, but only one djinn. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth opened in a primal snarl as she felt her flesh ripple.

The Blood Axe wizard stepped around the corner and raised his hands, a curtain of spellfire ripping from his fingertips to incinerate the foreign witch. The fire splashed across something black and glistening for a moment before the shock of what he was seeing caused his concentration to waver and the spell crumbled. The fading spell lingered just long enough to illuminate a pair of serpentine eyes the size of pomegranates and the double row of white finger long fangs that were the last thing he ever saw.

Out on the Rim

Leyla sat up at the knock on the door. She had been slumped against one of the walls awaiting landing. Waiting for a situation to change was one of the hardest things to do but it was also often one of the best strategies. There was some old Jedi aphorism that stated as much but she could no longer remember it.
“Alright come on in, I’m not planning on shooting anyone,” she called. That probably wasn’t completely true if there were Imperials waiting for them, but she didn’t even know where they were headed so she didn’t have enough information to go on. She held up her hands to show they were empty as the Zabrak entered.

"You have yourself a deal," she declared.

“Well they can’t be here for me, news doesn't travel THAT fast,” she protested.

“Could it be something you are carrying?” she asked glancing around. The look on the Zabrak’s face answered the question for her.

“Spice? Guns?” she asked. The Zabrak stepped towards a crate and pulled aside the canvas cover that had been concealing it. The familiar logo of Czerka arms was prominently displayed. Leyla winced slightly.

“Are they legal?” she asked skeptically.

“Legal is a fluid term out here,” the Zabrak replied, “I have papers for them if they don’t look too closely.”

Leyla blew out a breath as she thought things over. The Empire was a big place and coordinating a galaxy spanning bureaucracy was no easy feat. The problem was that Imperial troops on out of the way worlds were a law unto themselves and just as likely to harass the locals as enforce Palpatine’s laws.

“Ok, I think I can help bluff our way past them, but first, can you tell me who you are, and where in the galaxy you have brought me?”