Penny

Damned to the Depths

Calliope came forward at a regal pace. She had found a cloak in the pile of loot that covered her but the breeches proved to be too big to be practical. The cloak was of a fine grey leather of some animal that she was unfamiliar with and subtle patterns had been worked into it by a cunning leather worker. She had cinched it around her waist with a cord of black silk that had probably once been a scarf. This only partially maintained her modesty as the cloak didn’t quite cover her blood smeared breasts and the resulting v ran almost to her belly button. It would have looked weak to keep a hand clutching the garment closed and so she didn’t bother. It was good to see that Markus had survived, though she couldn’t claim to be surprised. It was hard to imagine that the crew would fight off such fearful odds if their captain had succumbed.

The former Tyrant of Calaverde reached the foot of the throne, her gaze not lingering on the dead bodies. For some reason the sight of them made her feel strange and so she didn’t linger. She offered Markus a slight bow, not deep but perceptible. The kneeling pirates began to whisper among themselves, muttering about witches and demons and ill omens. Among their kind any woman who presented herself so openly as Calliope was to be despised, but they dare not show their feelings openly.

“Congratulations on your victory Captain,” she called to Markus in her orators voice, clearly audible throughout the cavern.

“I am pleased to be able to tell you that the last of their mages is dead, it turns out that his faith that the manacles they forged could hold a djinn was misplaced.” Truthfully she was still unsure of how she managed to escape the arcane restraints, a lot of what had happened was hazy like a dream she had once known but had now faded. Unconsciously she touched the tattoo that spread over her chest, her mind supplying the feel of dragon scales to the nerves in her fingers despite the fact it was perfectly smooth. There would be time to unpack what had happened later but for now she saw no reason in adding to her reputation by claiming to have broken the restraints herself. Afterall, if Markus intended on adding these Arads to the crew, overawing them now wouldn't hurt.

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WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

Water poured out of Mave’s throat as she sucked in air in deep ragged gaps. Her throat felt as though it had been garotted with wire and she was having trouble making her limbs respond to her commands. Somewhere, along way down the list was the fact that she was naked and soaked.

“G...gahh….” she managed as she pushed herself up onto all fours, dark hair hanging lankly over her face before he reached forwrd and brushed it out of the way. She reached out and embraced Saidar, the flow of power and serenity calming her. She could suddenly feel every impresion of the killers fingers on her throat, and could trace every droplet of water on her body.

“Gray man,” she managed, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her torso to provide some vestige of modesty. Ali seemed too focused on the corpse to notice her brief nudity.

“Sh...shadowspawn?” Ali asked, though if he had heard of graymen or if he was just guessing Mave couldn’t tell. She nodded and picked up the dagger the man had carried. It was warm to the touch, greasy and unpleasant in some fashion she couldn’t quite define. Even now her eyes tried to slide away from the body, though the temptation was not nearly so strong now that life had left it. He seemed an ordinary looking man, a little older than middle age, unremarkable in every fashion.

“Do everything be alright in there young lady?” came a call in a thick Illianer accent. Mave and Ali both froze for a moment uncertain of how to proceed.

“Are you alright?” came the voice after another moment.

“I’m fine,” Mave called back, rather more hoarsely than she would have liked, “Just slipped while I was getting out of the tub, i'll be out in a moment.” That was, apparently enough to satisfy the proprieter whose departure was marked with heavy footfalls.

“What should we do with… with the bo… him,” Ali asked. Mave looked around.

“Stand back,” she instructed Ali before laying the dagger on the corpses chest. Reaching out she wrapped the corpse in flows of air and then poured fire into it. Mave squeezed her eyes shut and gave it everything she had, the air containing the fire so that the corpse blazed bright for a few moments before nothing remained but ash. She loosened her weave and a stream of hot ash blew out the window leaving a few drops of cooling metal on the tile floor from the melted dagger.

Had the gray man been looking for Ali and struck at her as a target of oppurtunity? Had it been hunting her? Was it merely preying on anyone who might be Aes Sedai.

“We should get out of here,” he managed before pausing, “And thank you Ali, for my life.” She leaned close to the distraught youth and kissed him briefly on the cheek.

Out on the Rim

Leyla’s first instinct had been to draw her guns, confident that her speed and precision would impress the hutt sufficiently but Cleo knew the situation better than she did so she represed the impulse. Instead she licked her top lip lasciviously in the crimelord's direction. The hutts eyes widened slightly in startelement and Cleo turned to see what she had done but by the time he had turned her face was once again pleasantly neutral.

“Ho ho ho,” Bogga rumbled, and the crowd of hangers on seemed to relax without noticeably moving. Conversation seemed to resume and the music began once more to pollute the air. Bogga guestured them closer so they could speak with what passed for privacy. Leyal followed Cleo closer to the hutts diaz trying to ignore the smell. She had visited a hutts lair once before, back when she had been a padawan, and it hadn’t one well.

“Well I think Jabba will have other things to worry about for the next while,” the corpulent gangster rumbled in Hutesse. He made a gesture to a nearby droid who obediently began projecting a hologram of what appeared to be a luxury space liner of some sort.

“Which is why he wont be worrying about what you are going to be stealing from his casino ship,” Bogga explained, his lips splitting into disgusting grin.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Emmaline sat up, her head buzzing. Tiny flecks of gold drifted across her eyes for a moment as the disembodied voice of the skull echoed in her head. The spell she had just performed had taken nearly everything out of her, it had only been possible at all because she found the small bronze pin which had once been a part of the skeletal leaders chariot and thus provided her with a link to him.

The skull finished its oration and then seemed to waver for a moment before vanishing. The chill night wind blew for a moment as Emmaline beheld the ancient city beyond, perplexed by the powerful enchantments that had hidden the city for thousands of year. Even as she watched the eastern sky began to grow lighter, heralding that dawn was not far off. Sluggishly Emmaline pulled herself to her feet, leaning against Amal as they half hobbled, half walked up over the dune.

By the time the receached the crest of the dune the sun had broken the horizon and they had to squint to see the city beyond. It was vast and spawling with dozens of large buildings which might have been palaces or temples. At the center stood massive pyramid of white stone, taller even than the colleges of magic in Altdorf. The morning sun blazed around it like a halo as they staggered down the far side of th dune and onto the ancient and dust choked streets. By mutual agreement they staggered into the nearest building, finding relief from the already sweltering sun in the white washed stone edifice.

Warhammer Fantasy: From Small Beginnings...

CDC: The best thing you can do is get plenty of rest.
All Healthcare Workers: *Start writing wills*

Warhammer Fantasy: From Small Beginnings...

Sorry for my inactivity guys, I am up to my ears in Covid-19 meetings right now.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene nodded his head as though the information they had received hadn’t just completely up-ended centuries of Imperial thought on the Kalderi. It was possible that Lithyll was lying, though it was hard to see where that would create an advantage. The footage that survived from the Jeweled Armada depicted vast energy beams. Rene could easily see them boring into the crust of the world to release magma or exploit fault lines. Come to think of it, this very world might have had islands created by such a technique.

“We do have some warships, as you would think of them,” Lithyll continued, making an eloquent gesture with his palm and the tip of one wing to the ceiling above them, clearly indicating the guard ship in orbit.

“But that is more a matter of dissuading any unwise human raiders, we find we have little need of such things,” the alien declared. The Kalderi clearly understood humans better than humans understood Kalderi, it was easy to imagine raiders, seeing an apparently unguarded world, sweeping down on it, even with the lessons of history to advise against it. Unfortunately that meant getting ships from the Kalderi was likely to be something of a challenge.

A chime at the door rang and two slender Kalderi entered carrying trays of refreshments and flutes of what appeared to be champagne. They set them down before their guests with the precision of a drill team. The food seemed to be some kind of sushi cooked in a very acidic vinegar and Rene waited for Solae to take a bite before he joined her.

“Eat and drink,” Lithyll encouraged though he made no move to join them.

“Our thanks .... ah by what title should we address you?” Rene asked. His military rank gave him the option to ask questions that might be too blunt for Solae to voice but might nonetheless prove useful to his fiancee.
“I am merely Lithyll Colonel,” the alien replied, “we do not use titles in the sense you understand. All here know that I am Lithyll and that I speak for the community of Ranal Pindi on the matter of your embassy.” Rene nodded in understanding though the information didn’t clear much up, he still had no idea how the Kalderi here or anywhere else organized themselves, but he would leave further questioning to Solae.

“Will you join us in a drink then Lithyll,” Rene asked politely. The alien responded with a grating sound that Rene interpreted as a chuckle.

“I am afraid not Colonel, I do not mean to be rude, but we are not evolved to digest ethanol, I would be dead within an hour if I were to have so much as a mouthful,” the alien explained.

Tales of Tamriel

Kris fell into a doze, for the first time in many years her dreams were empty of the events on the battlefield at Colovia. Purged away as she had hoped by the death of her long time quarry. She hoped that all the legionnaires who had died there would rest a little easier.

She woke sometime after midnight. Scouts learned how to tell how much time had passed, though no one had a good explanation for exactly how the trick was accomplished. Dax’ scaly hand covered her mouth in warning not to cry out. Instinctively her hand went for the heavy knife at her hip but she managed to catch herself.

“They search for us,” Dax hissed.

Kris, who had fallen asleep in her armor stood up feeling the painful spots where the leather had pressed into her skin while asleep. The Argonian gestured to the window and Kris could see torch light out in the street. Peering through the dusty pane she saw a squad of livered soldiers head into a tavern with weapons drawn leaving a half dozen men on the street to keep watch, arrows knocked in their long bows and red eye scanning.

“Shit,” Kris commented and glanced up at the city above. A faint red glow still lit the night sky, indicating that the fires had not yet been extinguished. She could feel the distant pull of magicka as the Dark Elf wizards used heir magic to chill the flames from existence, accompanied by nod doubt the vast majority of the garrison hauling buckets of water. That meant that Dax’ people had probably made a clean escape, with no one worrying about slaves at a time like this. She didnt waste time pointing out the obvious fact that if they were found here they were worse than dead.

“Lets go,” she told the Argonian grabbing her pack and whispering a spell. Cool healing energy flowed into her body, easing her aches and relaxing her muscles. Her mother had been a healer and had taught her the basics, though her daughter, wild and rugged had prefered running through the woods to lessons. The slipped wordlessly down the stairs and into the taproom. Quite a few of the denizens were awake, many smoking pipes or sipping at ale and casting nervous glances at the street. They might be reasonably sure they weren't the ones being hunted, but no man has a clean conscience when the watch come calling.

“Out the back,” Kris whispered and they moved to the back door. Pausing to whisper another spell Kris seemed to soften, chameleon like into the background and then slipped through the door. As she had expected a dunmer soldier stood at the end of the alley, though his eyes were out into the street at the tavern currently being searched. Drawing her knife she slipped down the edge of the alley until she was only a few feet behind the oblivious elf, then, with the speed of a striking tiger, she clamped a hand over the Dunmer’s mouth and yanked him into the alley, her knife sawing across his wind pipe and turning his attempted scream into a choking gurgle. She lowered his slackening corpse to the ground and then peeked out into the street. The remaining sentries hadn’t yet noticed their fellows dissaparnce.

“We have to move quickly, down the street towards the docks,” she told him. The both set of at a quiet run, moving as swiftly as they could while keeping quiet. It felt eerie to be in plain sight but there were very few other options. For a moment Kris believed they might make it but then a shout sounded behind her and a arrow buzzed spitefully past her ear. She skidded around the corner and down onto the stone docks, where long jettys thrust out into the inky black ocean. As she had several craft were in the process of getting underway. Ship captains had no cleaner consciousness than tavern patrons afterall.

A hue and cry erupted behind them as a half dozen soldiers reached the corner. A sleepy looking dark elf in stained livery stirred from his slumber just in time for Dax’ axe to take his head off with a sweep. At the end of the closest dock a long ship was casting off its mooring lines.

“Run for it!” she shouted and bolted for the ship. The crew gave up their attempt to undo the lines and grabbed for axes, cutting the heavy ropes just as Kris and Dax reached them. Steeling herself for an axe thrust she leaped into the ship. There was no deck and she plunged into the thwart with crash landing in a tangle on a pile of rope. There was a second thud as Dax landed beside her, a little more gracefully. She made to get up but a fur clad nord with a tight expression and a rusted axe pinned her to the deck with a foot and raised the blade, pausing to cast a questioning glance back at a red beared giant who stood at the tiller.

“You there, hand over those fugitives at once or I’ll have you skinned alive!” snarled an aristocratic Dunmer voice. The red beared man shook his head at the crewman and the pressure on her chest eased as she was allowed to stand. The ship was already sliding out into the ocean two horse lengths from the docks and gaining.

“Tell your mother to go back to fucking horkas!” the Nord called sounding for all the world as though he were wishing the officer a pleasant morning. The crew howled with laughter, adding their own insults impressive both in their creativity and in their flavor.

“You are aiding the escape of criminals!” the Dunmer screamed, “our ships will hunt you down!”

“The day a fucking dark elf sea cow can run down Halfdan son of Haifiar, ill cut off my own fucking skin!” the Nord yelled. Arrows whizzed through the air but the Nords merely ducked beneath the shelter of the gunnels. Men grabbed oars and began to stroke, driving them farther and faster away from the docks. Within moments the arrows merely splashed into the water astern. The Nord, Halfdan apparently, jumped down from the steerage board and thumped over to the two stowaways.

“And just what the fuck to do you two think you are doing?” he demanded, his voice was loud but good humored.

“Working passage,” Kris replied, “at least I hope so.”