Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Emmaline sat in the back of a simple coach, the kind of thing a minor merchant might use until he could find something more ostenatious. The thieves had wisely chosen it as an escape which would not be interfered with after dark. A stone figure sat on the bench opposite her. The statue was remarkably lifelike and seemed to have been caught in a pose of trying to fight of someone who had grabbed him from behind. She lifted a leather satchel of the floor and carefully folded the leaves back, inside was a small bundled wrapped in ancient leather silk. Her body throbbed with gold lust as she unwrapped it, revealing a small gold disc about the size of a clenched fist. On closer inspection, the seal itself was made of some kind of hard stone but chiseled expertly with the hammer sigil of Magnus. It almost thrummed with a power that Emmaline couldn't quite identify and made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. The creak of the carriage caused her to start and glance up guiltily. Amal was emerging from the shadow, seeming to materialize from the shadows and climb up to take the reigns of the carriage. It was hard to believe that these seeming amateurs had pulled of the heist but Emmaline supposed that some ideas were just so audacious that no one though to defend against them.

The reigns shock and the carriage lurched into motion the horses whickering nervously at the unfamiliar driver's quirks. Now it was just a matter of riding out of town and then sending a message back to Albrecht that if he tried to collect his money his name would be given to the authorites. One of the horses neighed loudly and the coach shuddered to a stop. Emmaline hear Amal curse as she was jolted against the statue she has created.

"What..." she began but as she glanced out the window of the carriage she saw the problem. Armed men were emerging from the side alley. They were clad in bits of cast off leather armor and carried crossbows which they pointed at the carriage. Emmaline spun to see a similar group emerging from the alley opposite them, these ones carrying short pikes as well as the ranged weapons.

"Why haven't they shot?" Amal murmered and Emmaline glanced forward to see that the way forward was similarly blocked off.

"You are probably wondering why we haven't killed you?" a man, sensibly behind the screen of approaching toughs, called in a thick Tilean accent. Emmaline wondered if she could create a shield that would protect Amal long enough for him to drive the coach through the cordon of men. She rejected the notion almost immediately, even if she could keep Amal alive, the horses would almost certainly be hit and they wouldn't escape. So long as these people, whoever they were, wanted to talk she figured there was no harm in playing for time. Emmaline stuck her head out the window with an irritated look on her face.

"Among other things yes," she responded peevishly. They weren't city watch, not clad in the rags and cast offs they were wearing. Cultists of some type. The thought chilled her momentarily but she didn't get a wiff of Chaos from them.

"We need you to come with us... and bring the Seal if you would, yes yes we know all about it."

Emmaline and Amal exchanged looks and climbed out of the carriage.

___________________________

"Sorry to have invited you here under such circumstances," a jovial voice apologized in the darkness. The leather bag that had been pulled over Emmaline's head was removed and she found herself in a strange room. It was underground, that much was apparent from the field stone walls and the slight smell of damp in the air, but the walls were adorned with tapestries and the floor laid with tiles just like a grand ballroom. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, periouslsly low, lit with dozens of candles that gave the place an unpleasant warmth. The Tilean who had lead taken them from the carriage stood beside them as did the two guards who had lead them after the bags had been placed over their heads. The speaker however, was what drew immediate attention. A jolly looking man in late middle age, he was dressed in silks and sat atop a throne carved from old oak. Dozens of other disreptuable looking types lounged around drinking and playing dice, but they kept a respectful distance from the throne and its occupant.

"Sorry to have had to accept," Emmaline responded, earning a snicker from the enthroned man.

"I had heard you were a bold one Frauline Von Morganstern, and this must be Amal. I'm sorry your reputation proceeds you," he explained.

"Yours dosen't," Amal interuptted bluntly, "Who in the name of Allah are you?" The man's grin widened.

"Amzaing that you are still alive, but as you are my guests, and I have not yet introduced myself, I am Jacob Felix," he told them with a mocking bow. Emmaline felt her heart skip a beat.

"Lucky Jack?" she demanded incredulously. The man was positively beaming now.

"See what I mean about reputations?" he asked Amal with a grin. Lucky Jack was the legendary head of the Altdorf thieves guild. Legend had it that not a single purse was cut, whore rented, or coin begged for that wasn't oaked by Jack. Emmaline composed herself with some effort.

"Ok, so you have a reputation," she conceeded, "What do you want with us." Jack sighed and looked appologetic.

"Under normal circumstances I would applaud your bold theft of the Seal of Magnus. Oh I'd want my cut, but I would applaud it," he explained. Emmaline folded her arms beneath her generous breasts.

"But these aren't normal circumstances?" she enquired. Jack nodded.

"Quite. A few months ago the Riekmarshall himself showed up at my house with a troop of knights. I thought I was for the high jump for sure, but it turns out he only wanted to talk." Emmaline shook her head, trying to picture the scene but unable to imagine the legendary Kurt Hellbore sitting down to talk with the head of the guild of theives.

"To make a long story short, I agreed that no major crime would occur in the next twelve moons, until after Acheron was defeated you see and I'm afraid you have put me in breech of my word by nabbing that seal." Emmaline frowned, trying to keep track of the many things wrong with what she had just been told.

"So what, you are going to take it from us? Kill us?" she demanded. Jack laughed, an honest and merry sound.

"Of course not my dear, I'm just going to ask you to put it back. Before anyone notices its gone."

Penny's Pencils

Well, I technically used a digital pencil...

Penny's Pencils

Penny's Pencils

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"I still say its soft hearted," Gunir muttered but it was clear that the dwarf didn't really have the heart to run down the fleeing brigands. Given it was midwinters night and they had nowhere to go but the forest it might not have been the more ruthless option. The snow was already beginning to fall more heavily and the temperature was dropping fast enough that Camilla wished she hadn't left her cloak back in the carriage. Camilla had met a wizard a few weeks ago who had told her that Archaeon's forces had used sorcery to control the weather and that the backlash would make this winter a particularly bitter one as the spell crumbled. The blonde wizard had seemed rather a dizzy libertine to Camilla, but perhaps she knew her business.

"I don't want you out here any longer on that leg," Camilla scolded Cydric, fussing over the wound for a minute. The big Ostlander smiled patiently.

"Then by all mean lets finish up here and find a fire," he suggested.

"And some beer," Gunir put in from the side. Camilla nodded and drew a length of burning timber from the fire, holding it close and savoring the warmth.

"Fine lets get to it," she agreed. A brief search of the camp turned up little in the way of loot. A few skins of questionable wine, a poorly concealed lock box with a handful of silver and a second rate ruby, and some sewing needles and other odds and ends pillaged from traders. The biggest find was made by Gunir who rolled out two kegs of what appeared to be smoked herring and a sack full of barley. Camilla was pleased that they had made no promises regarding loot as the food would certainly have been taken. The coming winter was going to be a hungry one. With most of the manpower of the Empire campaigning in the north for the long harvest months, crops had withered on the vine for want of labor to bring them in. Armies on the march and the accompanying looting had destroyed fields and orchards and granaries and stockpiles had been emptied by Imperial Order or by pillage. Worst still the enormous casualties which had been sustained meant that even after the bitter winter passed, there would be a serious shortage of men to replant in the spring. Hunger and the accompanying horror of disease would carry off as many as Acheron's horde had done, probably more. Camilla could understand the contempt in which men of the Empire held southerners who had not suffered the scourge of the Chaos invasion, and who through no efforts of their own, would go to be with full bellies.

"We best be getting back," Camilla decided as Gunir hefted a keg over each shoulder and kicked the sack of barley to Cydric. She hefted her still burning timber in her hand and then tossed it underhanded onto the thatch of one of the nearby hovels. Methodically she repeated the act for each of the other structures until the crackle of burning thatch and timber filled the air. The winter winds fanned the flames hot enough that the snow didn't douse them. Destroying the structures meant the bandits had nothing to come back to and that Dounkebruk would be safe from bandits, at least until the spring.

"Aye, a heroes welcome awaits no doubt," Gunir chuckled as they turned and headed towards the waiting carriage, the flames growing behind them.

Dounkebruk was a peaceful looking place. It was nestled on a small knoll beside the river that ran through the center of the small valley. The half timbered buildings had high peaked that were now covered with a crip layer of snow and a palisade wall of stout ashwood encircled it, with watch towers thrusting up at regular intervals. Bough of holly hung from doorways in celebration of the festival, although most families were already inside around their fires by the time the Gräfin's coach clattered up the stone cobbled streets. Predictably the highest point of the town was the seat of power. A stone temple to Sigmar stood on one side of a square, facing off against the ornately carved façade of the guildhall of the towns burgermisters. A third building, less prepossessing than its neighbors covered the northern side of the square. The great hall was the center of government for Dounkebruk and the surrounding valley and though the Gräfin had a private house of considerable splendor, she lived and worked in the rambling two story stone hall which had grown up in earlier times. Rumor had it that the Graf, now in advanced years, had lost his mind entirely and that his younger, though not young, wife preferred to avoid the town house. It was surrounded by a stone wall with an imposing set of wrought iron gates, kept meticulously free of rust by the efforts of the Gräfin's servants. Armed guards, older men smoking pipes and with handguns leaned against the stone wall watched them approach without comment.

"Home sweet home," Gunir observed with a chuckle that sounded like rocks grinding.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Emmaline's eyes brightened at the idea, but she shook her head after a moment. Much as she wanted the old sleaze brought down a peg or two she didn't want him executed or imprisoned. Not the least of which there was the issue of what would happen to her if her master were suddenly to be taken out of the picture. Traditionally, when a wizard died, his associates had the choice to adopt the apprentice. Given the quality of Albrecht's 'associates' that might be trading one problem for another. A least Albrecht was happy just to collect his money and let her go about her business, something she couldn't be sure about with his disreputable drinking buddies. If no one stepped forward to claim her, the college itself would find her another master. That might be even worse as a by the book wizard might expect her to study, do chores and generally compel her to work, all of which were very much against her nature.

"I don't think we want to implicate him," she said musingly, flopping down on a couch with a generous bounce.

"But maybe if he thought we could implicate him..." she went on. A slow smile spread across Amal's face as he followed her logic.

"What do the call blackmail in the Empire?" he asked.

"Blackmail," Emmaline responded with a smile.

Penny's Pencils

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene hefted the small breeching charge in his hand, feeling its weight and wondering for the hundredth time if he were doing the right thing. There was always the chance something would go wrong with the blast and if he mangled the end of his improvised derrick there was no chance of saving Solae and the others. He had debated using the plasma rifle for this, but he might need several shots to completely breach, which would mean pumping the excess energy into the chamber where the women sheltered, killing them as certainly as asphyxiation shortly would. The thought of Solae gasping for breath in a lightless hole was enough to overcome his moment of paralysis and he stripped the priming cord out of the charge and dropped it down the tube.

"Fire in the hole!" he yelled and then both he and Yarue leaned their full weight onto the tubing. Rene felt the crump of detonantion through the metal pipe like an electrical shock. Muddy water blasted from the end like a gyezer, and then, to Rene's incredible relief, the pipe sank another meter into the earth.

"I see it!" Rosaria shouted, excitement and hope in her voice as the end of the pipe came into view in the near darkness below.

"Is everyone ok?" Rene demanded the strain of suppressed worry evident in his voice.

"Yes we are all right," she replied a moment later before adding, "There is alot of water and mud comming in around where the pipe came through." Rene nodded although she couldn't see the expression. The blast had cracked the ceiling enough to allow the pipe to come through, but there was no realistic way to seal it completely. It wouldn't be a real problem though, not if the moved quickly enough.

"Ready?" Dasin asked, hefting the meter long package he had prepared. Rene nodded and the Syshin stepped to the pipe and thrust the object inside. It slid down into the darkness smoothly and he quickly added a pair of canisters about the size of a pressurized can of lubricant.

"Do you see them?" Rene demanded. It was possible they would bind or hang up on burrs in the side of the tubing, in which case they would have to blast them down with water. It wasn't going to make the job any easier if they had to half flood the small refuge to get the supplies down there.

"I have them," Rosaria reported. Rene let out an audible sigh of relief. Bundled in the emergency raft were three oxygen recyclers, three chemical lights and several feet of breeching mesh. Breeching mesh was designed to bring down sections of wall to provide an ingress point for an assault team. Ordinarily it would be deployed by a lancher that would sling it into place, but Rene had instructed Yasin to remove it from his weapons kit.

"Ok Rosaria, Bel'sian, I need you to do exactly as I say..."

It was a tense twenty minutes. Even with the oxygen problem solved by the activation of the air recyclers, Rene couldn't help but worry. Even at this late stage of the plan, if the hillside shifted or settled, the resulting force might snap the pipe making rescue all but impossible. Rene had a back up plan, but it was desperate and even he was more relived than he could express when Rosaria reported they were ready. In the chamber below the orphan girl and the exiled Kalderi had followed Rene's instructions, laying the blasting mesh over the ceiling and inflating the emergency raft Ten had provided. Rene suspected he had done so after hearing of their escapades on Panapontus, but whatever the reason he once again found himself grateful to the kingpin. Perhaps, if Solae were ever to take her new position as Duchess he could lure him into her service with the promise of a full pardon for his crimes. It was a shame to waste such a shrewd individual. The raft was designed to handle storm conditions at sea, enfolding the occupants with a 360 degree bubble of reinforced plastic weave that couldn't be capsized or submerged. Even the tough weather resistant fabric wouldn't have handled rock on its own however. This problem had been solved by pumping the raft full of vacuum sealant a carbon sealant meant to repair hull breeches in starships. The carbon slurry inside was precisely calibrated to from a tetrahedral lattice, that was both light and nearly as strong as steel it also had the benefit of expanding rapidly to fill a space and so had inflated the raft with little difficulty before hardening into what, in effect, was an armored capsule.

"Ok we are inside and have sealed the entry," Bel'sian reported. Rene had been impressed with how calm the alien had been given the situation must have been even more a nightmare for her than it had been for Rosaria. She had followed his instructions without argument, haste or panic, for which Rene was very grateful. Rosaria had held it together also, an impressive testament to Alayla Thorne's conditioning, the girls natural reserves of courage or both. It was a minor miracle they had both avoided a panic which would have almost certainly been lethal. Of course, the next part wasn't exactly safe either.

"Ok," Rene replied, "you are going to hear the blast, and then mud and debris are going to bury you. It is part of the plan, just keep calm and we will do the rest. Is Solae secure?"

"Just like the last time you asked, yes," Rosaria replied, her voice betraying the edge of tension in the slightly barbed reply. Rene supposed he deserved that, objectively he was worried about all three of them, but only one of them was the woman he loved, and the woman whose safety he had been charged with protecting by the Empress herself.

"Alright, detonating..." Rene thumbed the trigger. There was a crump and another blast of air and water from the pipe. Then the hillside slumped beneath them. Rene cursed as the ground gave way beneath him, sucking him waste deep into the earth. The armor on his legs saved him from serious injury as Yarue and Dasin, who had been standing back, shouted in alarm and raced forward, sezining him by the arms. Rene cursed himself for a fool for not anticipating what would happen when the void below was collapsed.

"Are you ok?" Rosaria's worried voice came through the comms.

"Yes, yes, its fine, little miscalculation out here," Rene responded as the Syshin pulled him free. Carefully he made his way over to the pipe and was relieved to see it hadn't been torqued by the miniature collapse.

"Alright, we are going to start," Rene informed Rosaria. Yarue hauled the reaction mass hose over to the pipe and closed the connection with a wrench. Rene threw the switch and the hose pulsed to life pumping hundreds of litres a minute down into the void below. Rosaria had tied the raft to the end of the pipe with cargo ties and as the water pumped down it created a void beneath the improvised life pod. Dirt and mud fell into the void and natural buoyancy lifted the pod. At least that was the theory.

"I think its working," Rosaria said excitedly.

"The pod has ascended thirty five centimeters," Mia confirmed, apparently gleaning the information from the position of the transmittors. Rene and Yarue hauled up on the piping, lifting it upwards as water continued to pour down it at firehose pressure.

"Easy does it," Rene cautioned, "we have a long way to go yet."

Penny's Pencils

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Camilla watched the surviving bandits turn and flee into the woods as they realized that the party of men their captain had led to ambush the coach was already decimated. She lay a hand on Gunir's shoulder to prevent the dwarf from giving chase, not that she could have stopped him if he wanted to press the issue of course. The Dwarf was two thirds her height but easily thrice her weight in corded muscle.

"Let them go," she advised as they vanished into the trees, "whatever they find in the Drakwald in a night like this is more than punishment enough."

"You manlings are too soft hearted," Gunir grumbled, but he didn't make any attempt to press the point. Camilla blew out a breath, which steamed in the cold air and climbed the shallow rise to the depression beyond in which the bandit camp lay. The had reconnoitered the place the previous night after Brunhilde Von Dounkebruk had hired them to break the virtual siege the band had enforced on the isolated valley since the late summer. It was already a hungry winter in Dounkebruk because trade had been strangled. The timber and furs on which the town depended had not been able to reach market without being subject to pillage or extortionate taxes. With most of the garrison away to the north fighting the remnants of Archaeon's great invasion, the handful of city watch, mostly old men and boys, hadn't been willing or able to deal with a score or more of bandits. By chance Camilla and Cydric, as well as Gunir and his wounded kinsmen Thor Grunegonson had reached the valley through the treacherous forrest paths that ran into the eastern hills. Their quest for fabled Hoard of the Dragon Kamac had ended in disaster when orcs had ambushed the mixed dwarven human force in the high passes. The dwarves had opted to trigger a rockslide with their explosives, cutting off purist but the four of them had been caught on the wrong side with the wounded Thor. They had been fortunate to make it to Dounkebruk before their food ran out, fortunate but poor. Dealing with the bandits was the easiest way to feed themselves as well as secure passage west before the snows closed the roads entirely. Judging by increasing flurry of white flakes they might be pushing their luck on that point also.

The bandit camp was much as she had seen it the previous night, a half dozen rude structures and a handful of cook fires curling smoke into the air. Where the previous night it had been full of swaggering boasting bandits, it was now deserted save for the bodies of the slain. Camilla caught sight of Cydric and sighed with relief. Though she wasn't one to admit it she always worried about him when she wasn't their to watch his back. Using the coach as a diversion had been her idea and Cydric had agreed, having correctly predicted that the bandits would split their forces rather than sending everyone out to rob a single coach. If that had happened Cydric could have simply set the camp on fire and she and Gunir would have run into the woods, allowing the cold to drive the bandits off as effectively as steel would have done.

"I see you didn't leave any for us!" Gunir grumped, unslinging his coach gun and beginning to reload the big weapon for the next time he might need it.

@POOHEAD189