Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Emmaline lay back basking in the lambent glow of so much gold, her belly filled with good food feeling genuinely pleased with herself. The one things she might have wished for was wine, but the fermented corn mash which apparently served a similar function for Lizardmen was beyond unappealing and likely poisonous to humans. She was just about to suggest that T'krit give her and Amal some alone time so she could 'reveal the will of Sotek' to him, when the skink abruptly stood.

"It is time," he said portentously and Emmaline felt her stomach lurch with sudden trepedation.

"It is time for what?" she asked the shaman as the Skink took her by the wrist and turned towards the top of the central ziggurart. Emmaline shot a concerned look at Amal and the thief's hands shifted slightly to his daggers. The lizard did not seem on the brink of plunging a dagger into her however.

"To view the will of Sotek," the skink explained impatiently tugging on Emmaline's wrist.

"Ow! Ok I'm coming," she replied huffily and followed the skink to the very top of the pyramid. At the pinnacle was a large cupola inside which stood an massive circular stone. The only object they had seen so far that wasn't fashioned from gold. The carvings were intricate to a level almost beyond belief depicting a great serpent coiled around the world. Smaller lizard and even human figures could be made out making sacrifice and offering obeisance. Other figures seemed to be intent on desecrating the great serpent, many of them were of human form, though heavily armored in the fashion of the fearsome men of the north, others were hunched and ratlike, skaven beyond a doubt. There was writing also on the tablet.

"Can you read the sacred words prophetess?" T'krit asked, sounding eager despite his alien speech pattern. Emmaline really tried but she couldn't help it, she began to snigger and then to laugh.

"What is this madness!" T'krit demanded. The writing on the stone tablet was in neat and perfectly legible Riekspiel, strange and arcane to the lizard folk but easily legible to any burgher who had ever been schooled in his letters.

"Sorry, sorry," Emmaline said, trying to act with the dignity T'krit evidently expected she should. It helped a great deal when she remembered how old this place must be and that Riekspiel probably hadn't existed even in spoken form when this tablet had been carved.

"For the time of contention shall come upon you, for the arrival of the Prophetess shall yield the day of challenge unto ye," she recited. Well it wasn't quite modern Reikspiel but close enough.

"And among your enemies also shall rise one who, upon the appointed hour shall open the way into the Golden City of the Serpent and contend for it with ye," the sinking feeling began to accelerate as she read.

"And neither ye nor ye companions may live whilst the enemy walk amongst the City of Sotek, ye though ye may try for all the days of your life you may not flee ere the contest is resolved..." panic began to well up inside Emmaline and her speech increased in speed.

"And yay by the reading of this prophecy shall the contest long ordained in the stars be opened." As she said the final word there was a sound like a distant earthquake and the door that lead back to the spawning pool slammed shut. Cries of dismay echoed from the Lizardmen though none of them tried to rush back towards the distant now solid rock face. Then a second rumbling came, this one from deep beneath the earth. Dust shook from the ancient golden structures and the vibration made Emmaline's guts contract. Suddenly the wall on the far side of the cavern burst open and a vast cone of spinning steel chewed its way in, throwing rocks and dirt in all direction before it paused on the precipice of a terrace, toppled and plunged downwards. It was like a great Steam Tank though many times the size of the one Emmaline had seen. Weird green crystals festoned it and brass pipework lined its rear section. It seemed that migthy chains had been wound around great wheels to drive the thing through the earth. The remarkable feat of engineering hit the ground at the base of the terrace and bent with a terrible creaking of metal and shower of greenish sparks. An instant later there was a flash of green light and a dull thump and smoke and flame began to pour from the body of the thing. Hatches flew open and skaven poured out of the thing like... well like rats abandoning a sinking ship.

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-206

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

It was widely known within the Old World that dwarves suffered from a kind of insanity bought on by the presence of gold. Though they would never admit it adepts of the Gold College suffered from an attenuated version of the same disease. As the golden city appeared before her Emmaline’s mouth fell open and there was a definite stiffening of her nipples and slickening of her thighs.

“Ummm,” she managed as she stepped though the portal and into the city of gold. They stood on a terrace that descended to broad streets and wide plaza below. It seemed to be a series of temples and, possibly habitation for priests, though there was no sign of them now. Emmaline intuited that it must once have been a vast seam of gold, drawn from the space and then reforged to create the shining city below. Though the engineering was beyond impressive, there was clearly something magical about it as she could feel the winds of magic even without opening her inner eyes.

T’krit hissed something that might have been down, or maybe submerge and the Kroxigor lowered her to the ground. The skink stepped towards her and drew an emerald from a pouch. Soft golden light seemed trapped within the gems many facets and it had almost a hypnotic effect on her.

“Tlatanak!” T’krit hissed and pressed the gem to her forehead. Understand. The syllabant hissing of the lizardmen resolved itself into speech, still hisses but intelligible as the magic flowed into her.

“Oh sure you have had that the whole time and you only use it now?” Emmaline asked stamping her foot crossly. T’krit hissed and shook his head.

“The magic will only work in sacred place priestess,” T’krit informed her. Amal was looking at her as though she had just sprouted a tail. Which might have seemed more likely than the fact that she had just begun hissing in the lizardman language. Emmaline looked back and forth from the gem to Amal and then snatched the stone from T’kritt’s talons darting it across the room to press against Amal’s head. There was another flare of golden light as the mystical spell took hold of the thief as well.

“Sacrilige!” T’krit grated behind her.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene grinned at Solae in a fashion which would have made the instructors of the Imperial diplomatic corps wince. Well what were they going to do force him to join the Marines? The thought made him chuckle to which Solae raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“I was just thinking,” he told her, “that being a disgraced former aristocrat who was forced to join the Marines before going on the run with my fiancee who happens the Duchess of a sector in open rebellion against the Empire currently hiding out on an alien world is not without its advantages. To which end...” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately full on the lips, an act which seemed to draw the howls of all his former etiquette tutors forth from the ether. To hell with it, let the Kalderi see that humans lived and loved as much as they hated and calculated. Rosaria made a strangled sound of shock at the display and after a moment he reluctantly released Solae and straightened up, the ghost of a grin on his face.

“I believe we are ready,” he murmured to Lithyll. As though on que a fanfare, clearly meant to be Imperial but evinced from alien instruments commenced, adding its own rhythmic shimmers to the rainbow coruscance of the undersea hall. Solae stepped out as Rene hastily adjusted the crimson sash that covered his sword belt which had been disturbed in his impromptu display of affection. Lithyll preceded them and took a place off to the side. He spoke at some length in his own tongue before switching to Galactic for the benefit of his guests.

“I present Solae Falia, Duchess of the Eastern Cross and Ambassador Plenipotentiary of her Serene Majesty Mercedez Villantre Monarch of the Stellar Empire and her fiance Colonel Renard Du Quentain of Her Serene Majesty's Imperial Marines. They come before our community in peace to seek understanding and common purpose with our people,” he intoned formally. There was a beating of wings from the gorgeously clad Kalderi answered the pronouncement. There seemed to be two or three score of the aliens, each bedecked in silken garments similar to Lithyll’s although no one other than their host wore a head covering. Some of the more slenderly built Kalderi wore gowns that were more sheer though they seemed to lack obvious breasts as a human would understand such things. Instead their gowns seemed to accentuate hips with elaborate tracery and cut aways to smooth golden flesh. Given the human capacity for sexual inclusiveness Rene imagined there were humans who would find the aliens attractive but he was not among that number.

“I Lithyll of the community of Ranal Pindi stand as their host and guarantor,” he added after the noise died down. Another Kalderi a male if Rene was any judge, stepped forward. He was draped in a bright almost metallic red with silver and black threading woven through the cloth that made Rene think of the scales of a tropical fish. He too spoke in his own tongue and was received with somewhat less applause. He turned and bowed formally to Solae.

“I Andalyll of the community of Ranal Pindi stand as their adversary and guardian,” he said in halting Galactic that was understandable if lacking in Lithyll’s polish. He gave Solae a toothy smile and then drew a head covering of black lace from a pocket and draped it over his head. If this development was unexpected Lithyll showed no sign of it, offering the other Kalderi a congenial smile. Andalyll gave them both measuring glances. Rene once again found himself frustrated to be part of a game of which he didn’t know the rules. At least he thought, no one was shooting at him. The thought brought a grim smile to his face which seemed to startle the new comer.

“Let the dance begin beloved friends,” Lithyll intoned and soft music sprang up from some unseen source, the vibrations seeming to mellow the timber of the room and mute the rainbow colors into soft gorgeous pastels.

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

Eleanor nodded her head at the teams observations. It wasn't surprising that Edgar jumped straight to the possibility of a Norse connection. At times it seemed like the old man saw Odin under the bed. The fact that he was following his obsession didn't mean he was wrong and iced wounds were something that police or the preliminary coroners reports had picked up on. The others broadened the conclusion expanding the list of possible suspects. It was always good to get these impressions early before too much data was available, sometimes the more piece of random data you have the less pronounced the sequence in that data became. Surprisingly Val's insight was the most pragmatic and the only one that could be further addressed without getting out into the field.

"So far as we can tell, Tailor and Talbot never met each other, of course its possible they did and we simply have no record of it. Tailor was a high roller, six figures, ski vacations to Aspen, Talbot was basically a drifter, doing jobs for hire living hand to mouth most of the time," she explained, flashing through what limited biographical information they had been able to assemble. The Sunday Group didn't have access to the same resources that Law Enforcment did, though Eleanor had some contacts in both Law Enforcement and the Intelligence community, but she rarely involved them unless it was absolutely necessary. The last thing they needed was some climber at Langely deciding the the Invocation of Korzan Nekt was more accurate and cheaper than a drone strike and rending the veil asunder by accident. Fortunately with the advent of social media and a little judiciously applied cryptomancy, it was possible to gather a fairly reliable picture of most people.

"If either of them were practitioners," she went on nodding to Clive to show she was addressing his point, "They did a better than average time of hiding it." Initially her mind had gone on the same path as the former Ranger's. Tailor did seem like a candidate for some sort of dark pact, rising quickly with wealth and power accumulating with little effort and the chuckle and violent method of death would not be unheard of if he had reneged on a deal with a dark entity of some kind. That also might have explained why he choose to call his exwife if it were some sort of primogeniture arrangement, but Oliva West had no children and so far as Eleanor could determine had been separated from Tailor too long for him to have impregnated her in a way that fit the time frame. Also the killing of Talbot, if they were connected as Edgar had confirmed they were, wouldn't make sense in that framework.

"No major movements in bank accounts, Tailor did withdraw about ten thousand dollars the night before he was found dead, but that isn't out of character with him when he partied. Talbot had seventeen fifty in a Bank of America account that it looks like he lost the card to a couple of years ago."

"Unfortunately I think our next logical step is to head to Seattle and investigate what Tailor was doing there, I say Tailor rather than Talbot," she paused silently cursing the similarity of the two men's names. This kind of think never happened in a story where all the characters could be relied upon to have distinctive names.

"Because we have the phone recording from him and the Fargo police department... well they have dealt with us before and are likely to be less well inclined to aid us," she said with a massive understatement that made Edgar chuckle.

"With that in mind, gather up what you will need, transport will be here in an hour and we will be wheels up by noon," she continued with Germanic efficiency that would have made Emmaline proud. She took a sip of coffee and grimaced. It really was terrible.

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

Hopefully have a post up later today

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-205

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-204

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

This time when Amal tried to cross the threshold the Lizards stood aside, they did not react to him warmly as one might a new member of their party, neither did they react to him coldly as one who had just badly wounded one of their champions, they just.. allowed him. T'krit stepped to the Saurus and spoke the words of a spell in his own language. Emmaline paid close attention repeating the words under her breath to fix them in her mind. Sure enough the wound began to knit and heal as though it had never been.

Abruptly the waterfall fell closed across the opening, the rushing sound of water filling the cavern. One of the Saurus moved to the back of the cavern and touched a stone. THere was a sudden grinding of rock against rock and a section of the back of the cavern slid aside, crafted so precisely that until a moment before it would have been completely invisible. The door was tall enough for the creature carrying her to traverse but it knelt so that she could fit without dismounting.

Beyond the door was another much larger cavern. This one had been cut into a series of descending terraces, like an inverse pyramid. Bundles of dried fruit hung from the wall as well as other less identifiable food stuffs. Bundles of arrows and other weapons were also stockpiled and smoke rose from a forge built into one of the walls. Perhaps most incredible was the fact that the lower three terraces were planted thick with some sort of crop, long green stalks topped with a golden gord of some sort. At the very bottom was a pool of water of such uncertain and wavering color that it seemed to shimmer with some inner magic.

"It must be some kind of outpost?" Emmaline mused to Amal stunned by the suddern transformation. Light came down from large veins of luminecent quarts in the ceiling giving the place an oddly twlight feeling. There weren't enough houses for this to be a city or even a village and no evidence of children, assuming these creatures cared for their children the same way humans did.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Emmaline had been listening closely to the sounds and ululations of the lizardmen since they had lifted her onto their shoulders. There was something familiar about their speech though from where she couldn't rightly say. Perhaps it was from the old spell books she had seen back at the Colleges of magic, written in the old arcane tongue, this seemed to have some similarites though modified by necessity to pass through their reptillian vocal cords. The leader, the headress wearing lizard, appeared to be known as T'krit and she thought that she picked up the words for time, or maybe dawn and an interrogative that might be 'how far'. The word challenge however stood out both in word and intention.

"I ahh.. I think they want you to fight that thing," Emmaline called to Amal concern evident in her voice.

"T'krit, must my mate fight," she said in the odd arcane langauge that was ordinarily reserved for spell casting and the tedious debates on the nature of magic that the master wasted their time with. The lizard turned in surprise at the sound of its name and then cocked its head at her words.

"Tlaloc inacta Zalleench kastata Sotek!" it replied. Inacta maybe meant worthy and tlaloc probably meant doorway or entry point or maybe beginning.

"Uhhh, I think you are supposed to prove your worth by fighting the lizard thingy," Emmaline called, encouraged that some communication was possible but frustrated with how difficult and imprecise it was. T'krit expanded with a stream of almost unintelligable words that did nothing to improve her grasp of the situation.

"Zalleench!" he concluded with a final stomp of his foot.