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Ezekiel
Pizza Box
RPM
Hos
rush99999
tadcfnaf
Syrenrei
Zeus23-136
Penny Member
STATUS: Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad. 17 days ago
Status
Recent Statuses
17 days ago
Current
Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad.
3
likes
25 days ago
She wanted to read, she wanted to write, but the main thing she wanted was something to fight
4
likes
1 yr ago
Make it clear that you don't need him to be reading Dante tomorrow. Also suggest it would be fun if you had a private language that you could use to mock English speakers in secret.
5
likes
2 yrs ago
Luckily history suggests an infinite ability for people to be shit heads ;)
1
like
3 yrs ago
Achmed the Snake
1
like
Bio
Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.
Most Recent Posts
-136
Kris paired the guards stroke at the last moment, her sword transmitting the jarring impact up her arm. The dunmer screamed at her in his own langauge and launched a savage series of cuts at her head and neck. Kris could feel herself slowing, the overwhelming desire for vengeance sated causing her body to begin to relax. This was a terrible time for that to be happening. She barely managed to avoid his riposte, skipping backwards and delivering a clumsy cut which he batted aside with contemptuous ease. The Dunmer laughed and closed in for the kill. Kris surged forward, taking him by surprise and slipping inside his reach. There was no room for a clean strike so she smashed the hilt of her sword into his face feeling his nose break beneath the leather wrapped hit. The elf jumped backwards and drew back his sword to finish her. Kris desperately tried to bring up her blade but she knew she was going to be too slow. There was a flash of steel and a sound like a melon splitting as Dax split the Dunmer’s head from crown to jaw with a vast overhand stroke that sprayed Kris with slimy gray matter and shattered links of chainmail.
“Time to go,” the Argonian hissed.
“Right,” Kris agreed, gasping to try to fill her lungs. There were still guards trying to make their way up the stairs so they ran back through the halls till the found a window. Kris climbed out onto the roof of what might have been a carriage house with Dax close behind.
“Before we go,” she gasped, “I think I owe you a fire.”
A dozen mansions blazed as Kris and dax slipped down to the streets. Kris didn’t have alot of skill with destruction magic but she was a Breton and she knew the theory. A few bolts of flame into thatched roofs and priceless wooden mouldings got things blazing nicely. Kris was so weary after the battle and the magic she could barely move but there was no safety so long as they were in the city. Already the alarm claxons were ringing constantly calling the watch to help try to contain the fires Kris had started. It wouldn’t be long before one of those watchmen spotted a Breton and an Argonian and started asking questions. The made there way down hill towards harbor, the sea water already reflecting the fires above. There were several ships in harbor including several longships from Skyrim which Kris hoped would carry them east for the little bit of coin she had left, or failing that take them on as crew to work their passage. That depended on them getting there before the harbor closed of course.
The land flattened as they reached the bottom of the crag on which the city was built and the arcitecture became more akin to what Kris was used to from Colovia and the heartland of the Empire. The rooves were still steeply pitched to ward of snow, but the waterfront seemed somehow less alien. Quite a number of people were out on the street gawking at the fires but no one seemed to be looking for them specifically. Kris closed her hand and whispered the scouts spell, allowing her magikca to restore her stamina enough to keep moving. Finally they reached a tavern with a sign depicting a one eyed horker.
“In here,” she whispered to Dax who, despite the spell, was all but carrying the exhausted Breton.
“Time to go,” the Argonian hissed.
“Right,” Kris agreed, gasping to try to fill her lungs. There were still guards trying to make their way up the stairs so they ran back through the halls till the found a window. Kris climbed out onto the roof of what might have been a carriage house with Dax close behind.
“Before we go,” she gasped, “I think I owe you a fire.”
A dozen mansions blazed as Kris and dax slipped down to the streets. Kris didn’t have alot of skill with destruction magic but she was a Breton and she knew the theory. A few bolts of flame into thatched roofs and priceless wooden mouldings got things blazing nicely. Kris was so weary after the battle and the magic she could barely move but there was no safety so long as they were in the city. Already the alarm claxons were ringing constantly calling the watch to help try to contain the fires Kris had started. It wouldn’t be long before one of those watchmen spotted a Breton and an Argonian and started asking questions. The made there way down hill towards harbor, the sea water already reflecting the fires above. There were several ships in harbor including several longships from Skyrim which Kris hoped would carry them east for the little bit of coin she had left, or failing that take them on as crew to work their passage. That depended on them getting there before the harbor closed of course.
The land flattened as they reached the bottom of the crag on which the city was built and the arcitecture became more akin to what Kris was used to from Colovia and the heartland of the Empire. The rooves were still steeply pitched to ward of snow, but the waterfront seemed somehow less alien. Quite a number of people were out on the street gawking at the fires but no one seemed to be looking for them specifically. Kris closed her hand and whispered the scouts spell, allowing her magikca to restore her stamina enough to keep moving. Finally they reached a tavern with a sign depicting a one eyed horker.
“In here,” she whispered to Dax who, despite the spell, was all but carrying the exhausted Breton.
The hovertruck screamed around the side of a shallow hill kicking up a rooster tail of dust and grit. The blaster cannons on the swoops whined as they spat powerful bolts at the truck, though fortunately with more enthusiasm than accuracy. The pursuers seemed to know the rendevous point was coming up as well and they redoubled their attack. The enemy speeder truck, loaded as heavily with troops as Cleo’s convoy was with surprise edged closer, blaster bolts striking the back fender and ricocheting wildly of the steel. Leyla tried not to think about the fact that Cleo had mentioned that the ammunition they were carrying was an explosive rather than the more forgiving power packs that moden blasters used. The question was very nearly decided then and there as a Sulustan in the cab opened the door and stepped out onto the running board. He unslung a long fat cylinder that could only be a missile tube. Leyla fired, hitting him in the chest. There was a sudden fizzingly flame before the Klatooinian driver, realising his peril, threw the control yoke sideways tossing the screaming Sulustan into the air. The rocket reload Leyla had hit cooked off, fratriciding the remaining round in a multi stage explosion that tossed a fine gravel over half a mile and nearly flipped the troop carrying truck.
“I really hope your friends are going to be happy to see you!” Leyla shouted at Cleo as he tracked one of the swoops with his rifle. The smuggler waited till the last minute and then fired, smashing the lateral stabilizer and sending the lightly built air craft into a broad turn that ended in a cartwheel of exploding metal that left a cork screw shaped smoke trail through the air.
As though in answer to the statement the Bith threw them into a hard turn and the ground momentarily went out from under her. Leyla floated upwards as the hovertruck crashed down into a dry swale, Cleo narrowly managing to snag her belt before she went overboard. The truck came down hard, compressing its repulsor fields so low that the undercarriage came within a handbreadth of touching the rocky ground which at this speed was have flipped them like a tiddlywink for the few seconds it too the ammunition to go off.
At the end of the swale sat a battered looking skiff of a harsh looking triangular design. Around it lounged several Garmorean’s looking distinctly uncomfortable in the hot desert suns. As the car and the pursuing vehicles burst on to the scene they leaped to their feet and grabbed up vibro axes grunting and growling in agitation. More usefully a Klatooinian who had been relaxing on the deck sprang to the prow of the skiff where a short barreled blaster cannon was mounted on a pintle.
“Uhhhh, these guys know they are on our side right?” Leyla queried as she touched the quick releases to drop her near empty power cells to the deck of the truck, slapping new ones into place and continuing to fire at their pursuers. One of the swoops exploded into flaming fragments as the deck mounted blaster cannon screamed. That was probably luck rather than marksmanship, but there was nothing in the universe better than good luck.
“Apparently so,” Cleo replied with what sounded to Leyla like relief.
“I really hope your friends are going to be happy to see you!” Leyla shouted at Cleo as he tracked one of the swoops with his rifle. The smuggler waited till the last minute and then fired, smashing the lateral stabilizer and sending the lightly built air craft into a broad turn that ended in a cartwheel of exploding metal that left a cork screw shaped smoke trail through the air.
As though in answer to the statement the Bith threw them into a hard turn and the ground momentarily went out from under her. Leyla floated upwards as the hovertruck crashed down into a dry swale, Cleo narrowly managing to snag her belt before she went overboard. The truck came down hard, compressing its repulsor fields so low that the undercarriage came within a handbreadth of touching the rocky ground which at this speed was have flipped them like a tiddlywink for the few seconds it too the ammunition to go off.
At the end of the swale sat a battered looking skiff of a harsh looking triangular design. Around it lounged several Garmorean’s looking distinctly uncomfortable in the hot desert suns. As the car and the pursuing vehicles burst on to the scene they leaped to their feet and grabbed up vibro axes grunting and growling in agitation. More usefully a Klatooinian who had been relaxing on the deck sprang to the prow of the skiff where a short barreled blaster cannon was mounted on a pintle.
“Uhhhh, these guys know they are on our side right?” Leyla queried as she touched the quick releases to drop her near empty power cells to the deck of the truck, slapping new ones into place and continuing to fire at their pursuers. One of the swoops exploded into flaming fragments as the deck mounted blaster cannon screamed. That was probably luck rather than marksmanship, but there was nothing in the universe better than good luck.
“Apparently so,” Cleo replied with what sounded to Leyla like relief.
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-136
Damnit I should have called him Johan Strauss
-137
@Dusty It wouldn't be warhammer without a silly joke hidden in there somewhere ;)
@JbI will save you!
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