Penny

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

Also, I really appreciate that the druggie had the most normal reaction to a disemboweled corpse out of everyone.

@Jarl Coolgruuf

Glassy eyed thousand yard stares all around!

Cinnabar Forever! (RCN)

The sun was just beginning to rise as Sabatine pulled her head out of the number three plasma motor and wiggled her helmet off her head. The world turned from the monocrome read out of her stress display back to the brightening colors of the normal human optical spectrum as the filter lifted away. Her prelaunch inspection had found a small pit in the throat of the unit, it was probably nothing but there was a small chance it was a casting flaw that might, at any moment cause the thruster to rupture. The ship could function with is remaining seven thrusters but there was no point in taking a chance like that when there was a fleet base with a full maintenance inventory to hand. The crew had grumbled that it was unnecessary but they were mostly just surly that leave had been canceled. Sabatine had loaded the unit onto one of the diesel powered trucks the locals used for fetch and carry and set it back to the yard office before replacing the unit with a new one. A two hour job even with three experienced spacers to help her. Maybe the yard would scan the thing and find it was ok and issue it to another ship, maybe they would pawn it off on civilians for a few extra florins, as far as Sabatine was concerned they could throw the damn thing in the ocean so long as it didn't put her ship or her people in danger.

"Caparelli, call chief Savachev and tell her we are in the green here, tell her I want her to run up the pump and light this one first when we star the power up to give it a few extra minutes to heat."

"Yes ma'am," Caparelii replied knuckling his forhead with a greasy hand. He was a wirey power room tech short and with a touch of the little man syndrome that made him a terror for bar owners. Those were civilian problems though and he was as fine a wrench as they had on the Vickie.

"Anything else she already knows that I should be telling her ma'am?" Caparelii asked, completely dead pan. The other crewmen tried with various degrees of success to conceal their snickers. Sabatine arched an eyebrow and placed her hands on her already grease stained uniform.

"Yeah, tell her to call me the next time she needs a personel detail, I have a few thoughts," she replied, a slight grin on her face letting her spacers know she was joking. Caparellii made a saulte to a point well scored and scuttled off to tell the already overworked and over stressed engineer that this little last minute project was finished.

"Uh Ma'am?" a voice came from above her. SHe glanced up to see Howarth's head protruding from an access hatch.

"What is it spacer?" she asked expecting another last minute problem that threatened to delay their lift-off.

"Uh that reporter lady is back Ma'am she uh.. she said the new Lieutenant invited her and I mean we had to let her pass?" Howarth asked, his tone turning the statement into a question. Sabatine stared at him in shock. Kaiden was bringing a doxy and a reporter on board? She reached for her commo helmet to call Captain Micha but froze. It wasn't technically her decision and if the captain had a problem with it he would chew Kaiden out for it himself.

"Right, well whatever the XO says right?" she told Howarth. An alarm pinged on the ships internal PA.

"All hands, stand by to close up shift, lift off in 15 minutes." Well, no time to worry about it now.

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

Would people like to loiter about the office a bit longer or would we like to get airborne sooner rather than later?

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Time seemed to move in a series of stutter steps punctuated by flashes of lighting and periods where the waters seemed to close over them. Only for the first few such flashes was their any sign of the ship, first listing heavily to port, then sliding broad side into the waves and then gone save for the occasional bits of flotsam and jetsom which polluted the waves. Emmaline kicked and thrashed, she wasn't a strong swimmer but she was able to stay afloat long enough to catch hold of a large wooden hatch cover which had been shaken lose in the final moments of destruction before the Tilean frigate had become one with Mannan. Handles of ancient worn leather furnished hand grips and they both clung on for dear life. The roar of the was appocalyptic and the wind whiped water off the foaming sea at such a pressure that even breathing above water was a challenge. Emmaline found she had to cover her mouth with her arm to avoid from being half drowned. She kept a grip on Amal, tangling his hand in the strap and binding it around him. After several attempts she managed to incant a spell, originally intended to keep noxious vapor out of an alchemists mouth, to keep him from drowning in the saturated air.

How long the storm raged was impossible to tell. There were no stars visible and the pounding waves made her senses uncertain. At one point she lost consciousness and awoke with a start to find herself, to her infinite, relief, still tethered to the catch cover. Amal too was still securely attached, breathing through the spell she had worked in her sleep, she offered a prayer of thanks to Apsath that the enchantment had not failed when she slipped into unconsciousness. When the seas finally began to calm she hauled herself up on top of the hatch and collapsed once again. Strange dreams came to her as she slept, visions of strolling the streets of Altdorf while Amal stole Karl Franz' pocket watch, strange barren tundras and far away places, snarling Araybian Gods playing cards with Sigmar while Ranald offered advice.

"Wake up," Amal's voice sounded in her ear and Emmaline sat up to tell him that stealing Karl Franz' watch really wasnt a great idea, only to find herself sitting atop the hatch cover, stark naked with a gently rolling sea extending in all directions. The sun was just over the horizon but there were enough clouds in the sky to keep it from broiling them alive. Amal was equally naked she noticed, and while the sight was still impressive, it lost some of its romance given they were adrift somewhere in the ocean with no food, no clothes and no supplies.

"It isn't as bad as all that," Amal was quick to point out, obviously catching something of the sudden panic stealing over her space. She opened her mouth to ask how but as she did so the carpet they had stolen from the sorcerer in Araby floated sedately from the sky to land beside them. It was soaked and bedraggled looking and Emmaline got the impression it was very tired but she had never been more relieved to see anything in her life. Or at least she hadn't been until a cobra slithered up out of the water took a moment to give her an irritated glance and then coiled around her wrist becoming a golden bracelet wrought in the form of a serpent. A serpent that still looked rather put out.

"Did you see anything?" Amal was asking the carpet. The carpet seemed to shake itself in the negative and then slump into exhausted inanimacy. Emmaline blew some of her soaking wet hair out of her face and sat back glumly, folding her arms beneath her bare breasts.

"Well, I had a lovely evening but it took rather a sharp turn at the end there," she joked weakly.

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-190

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene had though the underwater ball room looked impressive before, but now it nearly defied description. The afternoon had passed and they had eaten a simple meal, assured that there would be food at the ball, and dressed. Rene had donned his formal uniform to which he had added the appropriate sash and a scabbard that held the sword they had take from Lord Armon's estate seemingly so long ago. The Kalderi had a complicated system of lore and custom that surrounded carrying swords and though Kel'shaiel had done her best to explain it the details were a little hazy to Rene. Apparently fencing had developed among Kalderi as part of courtship ritual rather than a tool of war. Given the fact the were able to fly territory had been less of an issue in primitive Kalderi society with groups able to travel easily over long distances. This cut down on competition for resources but also placed a premium on maintaining genetic diversity. The human prepensity for violence as well as their cultural heritage made associations with swords that were probably not present for the Kalderi themselves. Rene found that he was pleased that the Kalderi had achieved their technological advancement before they had come into contact with humans rather than the otherway around.

The ball room in its full glory, also reflected this inhuman pattern of thought. Scores of Kalderi filled the place, the gentle breezes stirred by their mostly motionless wings created a definite breeze which rippled the aquatic walls. Bioluminencent creatures in the ocean, attracted by the rich source of oxygen glided around the rippling walls, their soft light refracted to gentle rippling rainbows by the shifting walls. They appeared to be somewhat analogous to Terran jellyfish, though the moved much faster and maneuvered by jetting water through contracting semitransparent tubes that flickered with light as the pulsed.

Lithyll stood at the base of the doors bedecked in a robe that was black but woven with so much gold thread that the color appeared to ripple between black and gray as the varicolored lights reflected off the metal. Around his neck hung several chains of gemstones and his head was beset by an intricate lacework of beads which formed a sort of a crown.

"Ah, welcome honored guests," he said quietly.

"If you want to take a moment, then I shall introduce you to the gathering," he told them seeming completely calm and almost blissfully serene.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

+Events of Stormy Weather+

Emmaline gasped for air as the ship pitched precipitously beneath her. The weather had gotten worse, much worse while the two of them had been completely focused on each other. Beyond the transom window great flashes of light lit the blackness, though it was still but early evening and the sea rose in long rolling gray waves. Emmaline opened her mouth to whisper some endearment to Amal but was interrupted by a sudden thunder of feet outside the door. The door rattled as someone tried to force it but Amal's dagger prevented access.

"Open up!" someone shouted but then, without waiting for a response, there was crash and the door flew inward off its hinges as a heavy boot crashed into the jam. The flying timber struck Amal across the back and sent him sprawling. Sailors rushed into the room, soaked to the skin and eyes so wide they were completely rimmed with white. Their faces were ashern and their visages grim. Two of them grabbed Emmaline and dragged her toward the door, oblivious or uncaring of her nakedness.

"Let me go!" she shouted as she was dragged towards the door.

"Throw her over the side or the storm will take us all!" the leader, one of the men who had been on the forecastle earlier shouted. At that moment Emmaline's staff which, despite the pitching of the deck, had remained propped in in the corner of the room toppled over. It struck one of the men holding her and he screamed as a hissing cobra struck at his neck with razored fangs. He let go of Emmaline and struck at the snake but it was already nothing more than an ornate staff tangling his inept blows. Amal leaped to his feet, the attackers were motivated by panic and, perhaps still thinking of him as meek satrap, hadn't thought to deliver a coup de grace. The thief, also still naked, seized a piece of the shattered door and swept the legs out from underneath one of the sailors before reversing his grip and knocking the man senseless with an almost musical 'thunk'. The man bitten by the staff had dropped to the ground, froth flecking his lips as he began to convulse.

Cold air assaulted Emmaline's naked body as she was dragged kicking and screaming up the stairs and onto the deck. Sheets of cold rain slapped her and the keening wind rose from a dull howl to a roar that blew out her air like a banner. The sky above was roiling darkness lit almost continually by flashes of lightning and great crashing booms of thunder. The rigging, so organized and neat a few hours before was a tangled shambles. One of the foremasts had been torn away by the sudden and unexpected wind and had dragged half the cables down into a tangle rats nest with its destruction. Crewmen frantically hacked at cables with axes, trying to free the shattered yard so they could get it overboard. Up on the quaterdeck Diego stood white knuckled, shouting orders that were largely ignored in the panic. The deck rose up and plunged down into the troughs sending great sheets of spray up over the decks, paradoxically warm compared to the hammering rain.

"What are you doing?" Garza demanded as the man dragging Emmaline all but trampled him. The pudgy first mate looked grim but calm despite the storm and the sudden appearance of a naked woman on deck.

"Mannan will take us if she dosen't go over the side!" the sailor yelled, struggling to make himself heard over the gale. Garza opened his mouth to object but the fellow struck the first mate with his free hand sending him reeling an dragged Emmaline towards the railing. There was a sudden crack as lightning hit one of the remaining masts, the flash and boom simultaneously. Pieces of charred timber and smoking embers rained down on the deck like a rain from one of the Hells depicted in the passion plays.

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-189

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

I really like the poser gandalf gag :P

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Emmaline turned to follow Amal quickly so that the flamming blush in her cheeks wasn't immediately apparent to the sailors as they scattered to their duites. Amal really did have the knack of appearing at the worst possible times. The walked back along the sail tending gangway to the rear of the ship as cloud bursts continued to open above them, sending down sudden blasts of warm rain that stopped as suddenly as they began. The sea to their rear was obscured by darker clouds and the mist of distant rain merged water and sky into a single gray continuum. The drumming of the sails overhead grew deafening and the ship healed over to the wind, canting the deck hard enough that the guns snugged up against their stowing lines. Captain Diego appeared from below decks in a canvas coat peering up at the rigging with a critical eye before glancing back at the approaching weather.

"Lay her sou-souwewst," he called to the helsmen, "and shorten sail or we will have spars carrying away by nightfall!"

The wind whipped up around them and Emmaline's hair, mostly secured in a lose braid flew around her face like a halo. They stepped down the stairs and through the doors which muted the sound considerably. Even so the timbers continued to groan with the strength of the sea surging beneath them.

Emmaline stepped into the cabin ahead of Amal her blush unabated. She hadn't truly meant for him to hear what she had been saying but what was done was done.

"Ummm..." she said lamely as he closed the door behind them.