Penny

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

I'm trapped in a writing Vortex, updates and decisions soon!

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

@Fetzen

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

It will be Wednesday night so 48 hours at least :P@Fetzen

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

@Fetzen@This Girlie@Rapid Reader@BurningCold@DruSM157

I'm aiming to make character determinations sometime Wednesday night if you are still interested

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

To speak to one of the old gods.

@POOHEAD189

Speak to an Elder God, got it.

The Sinful Stars

"Wait wait!" cried the man Ragnar was menacing with a knife. He must have looked, and smelled, like demon out of Ghenne, filthy with drying oudur and with white teeth drawn back in a snarl. The guardsman tried to hold up his hands in a placating guesture as Ragnar ground his face into the cearacrete floor.

"Look, I don't know nothing about no al-Malik priest, but Lord Engel had us grab the Inquisitor, said he was plotting against the Duke," the guard blurted, he seemed to grow hesitant but Ragnar encouraged him with a cuff across the back of the head. The guard yowled and cursed before blurting out the rest.

"We took him down into the lower level, there are hundreds of disused rooms down their, ruins really, Lord Engel said that it was the closest and safest church to confine the Inquisitor!" Though the guard obviously believed the explanation even a passing familiarity with Cannon Law would have told him such a thing was ridiculous. Priests could be and sometimes were arrested like anyone else, though their trials had to be conducted in Ecclesiastical courts rather than in civil ones.

"Good," Ragnar rumbled and then looked hopefully at Orion, "Can I kill him now?"

___________________________________

Annika stilled her mind. It was merciful that it was dark, to do what she was about to do in bright sunlight would have seemed even more of a sacrilige. Part of her mind told her that she shouldn't attempt the feat, that as a Daughter of the Church she should wait for the Pancreator to send some other form of deliverance, but what if this was the Pancreators will? Was it more of a sin to pass up his bounty, didn't that smack of hubris. The stilling of her mind obviously needed more work if she was pondering such theological questions. Though the warding circle had been broken by Mobian, she was still securely changed, and whatever the Avestii had seen on the altar had put him deep into the merciful embrace of unconsciousness. Psychically free but Physically chained was a paradox Estakonic pondered in their meditation, a way of thinking about the limitations of the flesh rather than an expectation of being in this exact position. The trick was to make the psychic physical which was, unfortunately no mean feat. As gently as she could Annika stretched out with her mind, finding the warm center of Mobian's being as he lay across her on the bier. A litany poured from her lips in hushed whispers as her body dissasociated and she seemed to suddenly feel as though her whole body were asleep the way a limb sometimes did after sitting on it while reading. A moment later she felt Mobian's body in the same way. Prickling pain shot up two sets of fingers as nerves cross connected in a way never imagined by the begin forces of the Pancreator's design. Annika opened Mobian's eyes and the Avestii came to his feet, his motion jerky with the muscule memory of a smaller woman. For a moment Annika toppled, disoriented in the darkness as she groped along her own body with calloused fingers to find the cuff on her right hand. With clumsy fingers she undid the claps, fumbling the attmept several times with the large graceless fingers, trying to ignore the screaming pain and mental alarm bells that were roaring in her mind. As her hand jerked free the psycic link broke and Mobian's body, once again animated by its proper spirit collapsed to the floor, his head striking the bier with an unmusical thunk.

"Blessed Panc..." Annika turned and vomited as her stomach churned at what she had just done, a thousand thousand biological impulses briefly doubled by the grotesque mental puppetry. In the back of her mind her Dark Twin capered and danced with delight. Wiping away the bile with her freed hand, she fumbled open the remaining cuffs and then slid from the bier, body aching from the uncomfortable pose into which it had been contorted. Her fingers found Mobian's pulse, strong despite the beating he had taken and she was pleased not to add his death to her sins this night.

"OK," she murmered and then, not quite believing she was doing this for this frothing bigot, she looped Mobian's arm over her shoulder and lifted the man as best she could, half carrying, half dragging him toward the door. What was she doing, she should leave him, he would only slow her down, better yes she should kill him, he would certainly do the same to her if their positions were reversed. If there was even a chance that she could save Orion she should... With her free hand she reached in and found her Jumpgate medallion, pulling it from her shirt and holding it before her. Her Dark Twin screamed at the interuption but she was able to, barely, ignore it long enough to grasp the polished symbol of her faith.

"Blessed Pancreator, Illuminate my path as your worlds Illuminate our passage through the Empyrean," she beseeched. A pale glow, just enough to illuminate the way infront of her sprung to life. A woman dressed in black stood in the doorway, a sardonic expression on her face and her arms folded.

"I take it you have decided not to join us," the woman all but purred. Annika drew in her will but in the blink of an eye tendrils of icy blackness sprang from the woman's back like an Urth Angel of lore. Lightning fast they lashed at her, a rind of frost forming at the womans feet as the black charnel power poured through her. Annika dropped Mobian face down onto the flagstones and dived out of the way, barley avoiding the strike. She scrambled behind a pillar, amulet still gripped tightly between her fingers and determinedly keeping her eyes from the Altar. Her hands felt around and found a lose flag stone, she pried it up and hurled it at the antimonist as she stalked towards her. A tendril batted the missile away even as others lashed out. Annika scrambled away, scarping her palms on the edge of a ceremonial window as she ducked back behind the bier on which she had been imprisoned. Desperately she lashed out with her own mind, though it was an instinctive blow rather than anything planned. SHe felt it strike the antimonist's mind like a boulder impacting a glacier, a momentary curiosity, devoured an eyeblink after it appeared. Annika and her Dark Twin screamed in thwarted frustration and very real fear.

"There is only one way this ends," the woman sneered, "either join us or make it easy on yourself and ill end it quickly." Annika cast around for an idea and then, suddenly, it hit her.

"That is actually two ways," she called from her cover behind the bier.

"How very pedantic," the antimonist sneered. Annika sprang from behind the bier, diving over the stone box. The woman slashed her tendril down to protect herself, but it wasn't an attack, she dove past the woman, evading the tendril of icy cold by millimeters, tucking into a roll. Her assailent spun to deal the death blow, delayed for but a few heartbeats, but Annika's finger swept in a curve on the flagstone, closing the circle with blood from her pricked finger. The tendrils of dark vanished in an eyeblink leaving the woman looking shocked and furious.

"How did you..." she demanded and then her confident sneer returned.

"Very clever Priestling, but I have but to step over the threshold and..." something flashed over Annika's shoulder and struck the woman with a sound like a meat hook striking a slab of beef. The antimonist let out a choked gurgle as she clutched at the metal shaft of the candelabra which now protruded from her chest like a boar spear impaling a kill. She reached towards Annika, staggered and collapsed to the ground in a spreading pool of blood. Their was an agonized scream somewhere else in the catacombs an Annika felt queasy spill over of a psychic link being severed. The third of the three women she had seen in the park was here, and she knew what had happened and where.

"Blessed Pancreator... purge the... purge," Mobian gasped before sinking to his knees.

"NO! no stay with me," Annika commanded rushing over to the Avestii and turning him away from the altar before he accidentally glanced at it again. He stumbled uncertainly, his skin clammy and unhealthy feeling to the touch.

"We have to find a way out of here," she told the half conscious priest. Much as she hated to admit it, she wished he had his flame gun right about now...

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"Fine!" snapped Warez, springing to his feet so fast that he almost seemed to teleport. The thug put two meaty palms on the table and leaned forward, smoke billowing from his nostrils like a mythical dragon. A grin split his face, displaying teeth long yellowed by his drug of choice.

"You know, I hope he doesn't like you," Warez said, patting the hilt of a heavy knife on his hip, then turned and yelled some instructions to his men in a dialect Junebug didn't quite follow. They stood and followed Warez out of the bar. Out in the street the exchange of insults between the two gangs was dying down as night feel and booze and sex became more appealing options than testosterone fueled violence. Both gangs had pulled heavy trucks across the road, blocking what little civilian traffic there was with effective road blocks. Both of the big both of the big disel flat beds had armament of a sort, machine guns welded in expertly to pintles and with improvised armor made of metal sheeting. Junebug couldn't imagine the haphazard armor provided much protection, more likely it would just add shapenel to the devastation wrought by whatever incoming fire it was supposed to deflect.

Neon signs blazed in the night, offering drink, drugs and negotiable affection. Naked women, and in some cases men, stood in upperstory windows gyrating unethusiastically to a variety of musical styles that volume rendered into an indistinguishable boom in the background. Wire mesh had been stretched across the windows to protect against bottles and worse being hurled at the shills. The buildings that lined the dusty street were universally business, bars, clubs and brothels all catering to the gunmens pleasure. Now that Sayeeda knew what to look for the gangsigns and colors were everywhere at this end of the street the Scorpions had a clear advantage while at the other the Spiders were boldest. Those businesses in the middle naturally muted their allegiance not so much to attract both groups, but in order to be able to deny support. It wasn't simple robber though, or at least not only that, the gunmen paid at least a token for what they did, probably because their gang bosses collected protection money from the locals. Civilians mostly stayed inside, waiting no doubt for the night to pass and their unwelcome guests to return to the fields. As they crossed the street Junebug heard screams coming from one of the brothels but none of the gunmen seemed concerned she she figured she could afford not to be.

Warez gestured them towards a four wheeled jeep with a pintle mounted grenade launcher. It didn't look like it had enjoyed any maintence in Sayeeda's life time. She climbed into the back alongside Neil and Taya, regretting that she had bought the girl although Taya herself watched everything with a determined expression trying to be tough. Warez climbed into the cab and spun up the diesel engine which sputtered and coughed smoke before the transmission caught and the wheels spun spraying dust and grit into the door of a nearby bar. One of the patrons shouted an insult as he was pelted with dirt and debris but ducked back inside with a yelp as one of the gunmen casually fired two rounds at the doorway, both missing and blowing chunks from the adobe facade. The truck pulled out into the road and down the dirt street. Beyond the bars and clubs Junebug could see houses and tenement buildings in the alleys and narrow streets beyond. Their lights were out, tryng not to attract attention.

They drove for only a few minutes until they reached the edge of the town. Junebug didn't know if it had a name other than that of the planet, though she didn't imagine her life would be much poorer without that datum. A large compound, encircled by walls topped with broken glass and retrofitted razorwire dominated the eastern approach. Armed guards, half stoned thugs really, stood infront of the gate lounging on seats of cloth stretched over wood frames and cradling weapons. There were even a pair of sandbagged block houses, better organisation than Junebug had seen thus far, protecting the large wrought iron gates. Music blared from inside them and the heavy weapons emplaced inside did not track the approaching truck. The truck pounded to a stop, its unmainted suspension hissing as Warez leaned out of the cab and screamed at the guards to open the gate, they did so without much enthusiasm but a moment later they were driving down a gravel driveway towards a house that might once have been handsome but was now disfigured by obvious attempts to make it defensible.

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-136

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

@This Girlie its not first come first serve, so if you make a character sheet you have as good a shot as anyone!

Damned to the Depths

Calliope cracked her knuckles, casting a glare across the water at their Blood Axe auxiliaries. She wished they would shut up but supposed she ought to be grateful they appeared to be sailing in to the attack. A canny commander might see the chance to hang back and then catch the Witch between the Dalib Sahara fleet, such as it was, and the Blood Axes, perhaps be hailed as the savior of the city if all went well. Luckily none of the Blood Axes appeared to be as treacherously minded as she was or perhaps they just lacked the imagination.

"I think I can manage something," Calliope replied with a serpentine grin. In truth since she had returned to her nest she had been filled with a desire to wreak vengeance on those who had sold her out to the Blood Axes, under normal circumstances Calliope was cold, a plotter, but on this occasion she was in a mood to see something burn. Fortunately Dalib Sahara was handy. The fleet which protected the city, was, like alot of things in Arad Lind, impressive to look at but not tremendously effective. A half dozen ships lay at anchor at the mouth of the bay. Five of them were galleys, similar to, though larger than, the Blood Axe vessels. The sixth ship was a Galleon, purchased or taken from a northern fleet at some point in the past. It wasn't a modern design but the high hull and the heavy guns it could carry made it a serious threat. Whether there was anything other than guttersweepings aboard was another matter and likely not many of them. In Calliope's experience the Princes and Emirs of Arad Lind found it more pleasing to tell their Sultan that his ships were crewed by a hundred men and then keep the pay and rations assigned for seventy of them for themselves. That had hindered Calliope's own attempts to intrigue with them in the past, but it would work to their favor today. Unfortunately the ships were only part of the problem, two massive batteries were perched on either arm of the bay behind adobe walled fortifications. The guns were not new, and the crews were likely to be unpracticed, but they were still a serious threat even to the Weather Witch.

"Our arrival has been noted," Markus commented peering at the shore through his enchanted glass. Even without the magnification Calliope could see a large flame begin to billow from one of the many towers along the waterline, quickly turning crimson as some chemical or other was cast into it. Even so it was another minute or so before the first bells began to ring, and there was still no sign anyone onboard the guardships was awake.