Penny

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

@Jarl Coolgruuf I think we were waiting for a post from you, so if you can find time between section attack orders that would be great

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"This is genuine isn't it?" Nobby asked, looking up at Emmaline with sudden suspicion in his eyes. She spread her hands in a guesture of mock innocence.

"You wound me Master Dwarf," she protested, lips curving into a smile. Nobby scowled at her and tapped the ruby with a finger, verifying to his old miners senses that it was the real thing. Emmaline couldn't blame the old fence for being suspicious, certainly she had passed enough fake coins and faux antiques in her time to recognize that his suspicion was well justified.

"If I find the real stuff I don't need to fake it," she told the dwarf. Nobby grunted and reached under his desk to retrieve a heavy purse which clinked satisfyingly on the bench as he slapped it down. The dwarf was careful to keep his meaty fist gripped around the throat of the leather bag.

"I have eight hundred marks for the pendant, the rest of it will take time for me to pull together, find buyers you know," he told them bluntly. Emmaline arched an eyebrow, to be able to part with eight hundred marks meant her old acquaintance was doing better than he let on.

"I'll have to arrange to have someone test the crown of course, plus it will take time to find a buyer," the dwarf rumbled, sliding the pouch across the counter to Emmaline who pulled it open and ran her fingers through the coins with a satisfying clink of gold. Nobby gave an amused chuckle.

"Don't worry, I know better than to try to pass fake coins to one of your kind Emmy," he chortled. Emmaline smiled, but tested the coins with her magic anyway. Someone had scraped their edges a little, but you would be hard pressed to find a coin in circulation that hadn't been shaved down at least a little.

"We are on our way to Marienburg," Emmaline temporized, wanting to move the process along if she could.

"Suit yourself, but you know the crown wont fetch the same price there, historical interest here in Altdorf and all. A half dozen noble families would kill for the crown, so they can trot it out and claim some kind of link to the throne. Emmaline frowned, not having thought of that.

"Well I suppose we aren't on any real schedule, we can wait to have it tested," she conceded. Nobby nodded agreeably.

"I can hold on to the valuable until I can arrange it if you like?" he offered. Emmaline was already sweeping the valuables back into her rucksack.

"Master Haraldson," she said with an air of mock injury, "I know we humans are short lived compared to your folk, but I was not, in fact, born yesterday."

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

I've been thinking about getting it going again!

Decided to steal something from Poohead

Is your fantasy world over monetized given the nature of the economy? Are their standards of coinage, how is currency debasing handled?

Out on the Rim

Leyla hung inverted from the pipework, a small hydrospanner clenched between her teeth. Getting from the exhaust port into the main shafts of the ship had been the work of a moment. A quick patch to prevent alarms from sounding had been all that was necessary, the lack of security wasn't particularly strange, after all it was only an exhaust port, what possible trouble could it be?

"Mmmmhh ommmn mhhh wahhh," she replied over the commlink, the hydrospanner making a hopeless hash of her reply as she worked the last bolt free and prized the panel open with a gentle pop. Letting her legs relax she curled her body acrobatically and twisted through the gap falling another meter or so to land softly in the air duct. Pulling out the data pad Cleo had given her she consulted the schematics, orienting herself in the maze of ductwork that comprised the inner workings of the ship. It took her a moment, maintenance probably hadn't occured since the ship came into Jabba's slimy hands, and the serial numbers which identified the junction points were badly corroded, the third intersection she reached was legible and she turned right, crawling on her hands and knees, pads of fabric rapped around them to deaden the sound. Below her she could hear grunts and conversations in Klatooinian which reinforced the data pads claim that she was still in the working section of the ship rather than on the luxurious casino decks. Distantly she could hear the sound of pots clashing and smell the odor of cooking dewback steaks.

"It should take me about another ten minutes to reach the bridge section," she elaborated on her previous unintelligible reply. A shaft yawned open infront of her that ran from the ventral to the dorsal side of the ship and carried turbolifts, she looked down and up to make sure no cars were in motion and then leaped across and up to catch hold of a maintaince bar, before flipping herself and kicking off to the next one, ascending the shaft level by level.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Altdorf came on slowly as the day wore on, small hamlets giving way to outlying villages and towns until they reached the city proper. Even here where three story half timbered buildings rose to crowd the approach roads they were still more than a mile from the 'city' walls. Like many Imperial cities Altdorf had outgrown its original walls long ago, and then outgrown the 'new' walls which were themselves a century old. Little effort had been made to ring the city in modern times, instead block houses and low star walled forts had been built to control the roads and the river, they bristled with guns and the the bright red and white flags of Reikland. The traffic on the road steadily increased also, artisans carrying implements of their trade, farmers bringing crops and stock to market or returning home with empty wagons, processions of priests leading the faithful in pilgrimage to some shrine or other thronged the road. At one point a troop of Reiksgard Cavalry, resplendent in their shining armor and steel clad horses clattered by, lances held aloft. Although her clothing was by now travel stained, the leader dipped his lance slightly in salute as he passed Emmaline and Amal and she performed a slight curtsey in response. The river too was busy, ships both large and small maneuvered in and out from a series of piers and jetties bringing the vast wealth of the Talabec down river to Altdorf. Small groups of men in livery, customs officials, met each ship, making sure the Emperors taxes, and possibly a bribe or too were extracted from each captain no matter how mean and lowly.

The smell of the city grew steadily also, that peculiar mix of body odor, wood smoke, torch oil and garbage which cloaked every human city since the beginning of time. Emmaline experienced a strange sense of homecoming as they stepped onto the cobbled streets. Hawkers cried their wares from carts or shouted advertisements for local business, a crier bawled out the days news, drunken patrons staggered too and from taverns, all of which brought her back to the time of her apprenticeship a lifetime ago. Once she even saw a bright wizard, his beard crackling and smoldering, ride by but she made no attempt to engage him in any way. Better to avoid the notice of the Colleges of Magic, whose baroque spires peaked above the skyline to the west. There was a feeling of safety that came with the city, not so much because it was less dangerous physically, Altdorf was rife with pick pockets and thugs, but because of anonimity. With the possible exception of Marienburg, Altdorf was the most cosmopolitan city in the Empire. The languages of a dozen lands could be heard in its streets, and Amal would attract no more notice for being Araybian than a foul looking Norscan who stomped from a tavern muttering about the inferiority of Imperial ales.

"Shall we find an inn?" Amal asked, looking around his face unreadable as he took in the bustling throng of the Empire's capital city.

"Lets find a fence first," Emmaline suggested, "I know of one, if he hasn't been hanged yet."

The shop of Nobby Haraldson was where Emmaline remembered it, nestled in one of the run down tenement districts between the main city docks and the Colleges of Magic. It was a two story affair, with a stone lower story set slightly below street level and a timbered upper story which jutted out prodigiously over the streets surrounding it. The roof was done in slate rather than the cheaper wood shingles and shone with a gloss which legend had it was oil that Nobby poured on it to make it too slick for thieves to climb. The pair of adventurers stepped through the canvas flap that had been hung from the door frame to keep dust and insects out and into the interior of the store. It was a single large room with stairs at the back and a solid wooden counter behind which a squat powerful looking dwarf sat cradling a flagon of ale. His left arm was missing, having been taken off in some ancient battle, or accident or act of revenge, depending on which story Nobby was telling and having been replaced with a polished brass cap that covered the stump. Nobby opened his eyes to regard them with displeasure before he started upright.

"Emmy? As I live and breath is that really you?" he demanded. Emmaline grinned at the old dwarf, having disposed of her ill gotten goods here many times in the past. The clutter of weapons, second hand clothing, kitchenwares, art and other items which lined the shelves and tables of the place suggested that Nobby hadn't been having any trouble finding suppliers in her absence.

"I'm afraid so master Haraldson," she admitted as the dwarf stumped over to grin at her through broken teeth before shifting his gaze to Amal as well.

"And you are welcome to sir," Nobby said raising an interogative eyebrow at the thief.

"This is Amal, Amal this is Nobby Haraldson, a buyer of unwanted items," she introduced. Nobby snorted.

"By the look of them he knows a fence when he sees one," the dwarf rejoined and then narrowed his eyes.

"I heard you were lost at sea, so broken up was I about it that I completely forgot about those 'genuine dragon pearls' you sold me." Emmaline coughed into her hand, blushing slightly.

"I was lost at sea, shipwrecked in Araby, rather a long story," she admitted, glossing over the 'dragon pearl' incident as best she could for the moment.

"We are passing through, and I thought I'd look up an old friend and see if he had any interest in buying an item we came across," she admitted. Nobby pretended to appear hurt.

"And here I was thinking you had come for naught but the pleasure of my company," he declared ironically. Emmaline snickered and then reached into her improvised sack to produce the crown they had recovered from the barrow, setting it down on the counter top with a clink. Nobby twitched visibly as his gold lust pricked him.

Penny's Pencils

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

That was easy for Amal to say of course, he hadn't spent all morning playing magical peekaboo to annoy some anonymous horsemen. Nor had he just blocked a doorway against the vengeful dead. Magically speaking, Emmaline was nearly exhausted and didn't know how much more magic she could work. Still given a choice between being torn apart by an undead monstrosity and trying, she was certainly going to make the effort.

"Let go!" she yelled at Amal, hoping that he would obey and then tossed the crown underhand up through the gap the creature had punched into the ceiling. The wright roared and leaped after the circlet. Amal tried to cling on but the eldrich powers that kept the thing together gave it predigious strength. It leaped after the crown, crashing through the ceiling of the barrow dropping the Araybian thief to the ground. Emmaline raised both hands and began to chant frantically. The wright fell back into the tomb, the crown gripped in its hand, landing on the floor with both knees and one hand down.

"Now you will..." the doom laden voice cut off as the creature realized that it wasn't actually on the stone floor it remembered. Rather it was six inches deep in a pool of mud.

"Pathetic Sorceress you seek to undo me with water?" the creature sneered, derision dripping from its lips. Emmaline released the spell and the mud wavered back into the original stone, entombing the lower six inches of the wright in solid rock. It let out a roar of pure frustration and tore at the entombing earth, bones creaking and popping.

"Em..." Amal cautioned but she had already begun to chant again. One of the ancient statues now appeared to be half standing in a pool of mud. Hundreds of pounds of stone began to tip, slowly but with increasing speed as the statue toppled over, coming down atop of the barrow wrigt with a crash that seemed to shake the very earth and kicked up a wall of sepulchral dust that coated everything in the chamber. Emmaline sneezed violently as the dust began to settle. All the remained of the creature was a disarticulated arm protruding from beneath the ruin of the kingly statue.

"For my next trick," Emmaline coughed, sitting down heavily and leaning back against a wall, "I shall need a volunteer."

Penny's Pencils

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Emmaline let out a deep relieved breath as the door closed behind them, the golden light fading from her eyes as the spell faded. The sound of boney hands slapping the far side of the tone were muffled and insistent, though it seemed unlikely that the skeletons would be able to make much headway.

"That was too close," she gasped, amazed that Amal had managed to open the ancient door.

"Even the dead are slower in this land," Amal joked, running his fingers around the top of the chest, apparently searching for any kind of traps concealed in the ancient metal rim. Emmaline was about to respond when her eyes fell upon the jeweled crown on the head of the chained corpse. Gold lust surged inside of her like the tug of a vast tide. She took a shaking step towards the throne, stepping between the stern eyed statues that seemed to be standing some sort of guard. Despite its evident age the corpse was well persevered, shrunken layers of muscle and sinew curled around it as tightly as the golden chains that still glittered. Almost without thinking, the sorceress reached out and lifted the bejeweled crown from the things head, marveling at the way the jewels sparkled.

"Em... I don't," Amal began but before he could finish there was a sudden gust of sourceless wind that seemed to drown even the spell wrought illumination. A high pitched ping of parting metal echoed through the room and the cadavers hand, ripping free of the chain shot out and seized Emmaline by the throat, lifting her into the air as the ancient corpse ripped its way free of the chair. Emmaline kicked the thing in the chest, but the attack had about as much effect as attacking a boulder. The corpse king shouted something in a booming voice, fingers tightening around Emmaline's throat. In desperation she struck at it with her staff, the golden metal bouncing of its shoulder with no effect. The corpse began to laugh but was cut short as the staff struck of its own accord, the golden fangs of head piece sinking into its neck. The undead thing yelled again, but this time in pain, dropping Emmaline to the floor as it reared back. Veins of gold were spreading slowly from the snake bite, but it didn't seem to have mortally wounded the thing. Emmaline scrambled backwards away from the creature, the crown still gripped in her left hand.