Penny

There's Always a Price: Sci Fi Bounty Hunters

"Shit," Jocasta observed as she reached up to touch her nose. Blood was running out of her right nostril and she tried to brush it away, succeeding only to the extent of smearing it across her face. Psychic Techniques or P-tech, worked best in controlled environments where preparations could be made and abilities honed by the use of various drugs and amplification techniques. Direct mental assault, a dream of spooks and assassins everywhere, was an extremely dangerous business which was as likely to injure the attacker as the victim. Even a child possessed resivours of mental strength generated by their neural networks which powerfully resisted disruption, even though Jocasta's mind was disciplined and skilled, she still had to project herself into the mind of her victim and the difficulty increased logarithmically with distance.

"That looks ridiculous you know," Jocasta commented as Dirk once again sipped beneath his helmet. She underscored the point by sticking a napkin up her nostril to staunch the bleeding before slipping the heavy bore capacitor pistol back into its sheath. She was relieved it hadn't come down to a fire fight. Her pistol might stop a light armored vehicle, but three rounds, no matter how powerful, wouldn't have ended this fight. She clicked her wrist twice and two thumb sized drones whirred off following their almost attackers at a discrete distance using preloaded recce sub routines. It wasn't as good as the constellation she normally would have deployed, but she suspected that their hosts might not take it kindly if she appeared to be spying on them.

"Some of those guys looked familiar," she commented after a moment, arching an eyebrow at Dirk.

"Friends of yours?"

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Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

"Mathilda Othenburung-Ziegser," Emmaline added helpfully, allowing the elderly gentleman to lift her hand to his lips in a traditional greeting. The Othenburung and the Ziegser families were both from Averland and were both in the habit of sending their children to Altdorf for 'finishing' as well as the traditional rounds of diplomatic matchmaking which was the usual fate of second sons and younger daughters. The Averland custom of combining surnames made it all the more difficult for anyone to prove she wasn't who she claimed to be, even if there was someone from distant Averland present. It was an identity that Emmaline had tried out a year ago while attempting to swindle a particularly rich, but somewhat dull noble out of a dowry payment. The scheme had fizzled but she recalled enough about the fictional Mathilda that she wasn't worried about being called on it. The greeter straightened and nodded his head before stepping into the main chamber.

"Baron Neil von Hresveig and Lady Othenbrung-Ziegser," he declared in a stentorian bellow. Heads turned to watch as the pair of ersatz nobles stepped through the door, Emmaline's hand resting gently on Neil's arm with proper dignity. The paused conversations resumed after a moment and a small orchestra struck up faintly martial air.

"It is Othenburung," Emmaline corrected the greeters pronunciation though too softly for that worthy to hear her.

"Though I don't suppose anyone minds too much," she giggled. As they entered the restaurant Emmaline realized that there were actually three subtle tiers that sank towards the impressive artwork at the center, the upper tiers provided more privacy but the inner ones carried the greater prestige with larger tables and more elaborately carved candelabras lighting them.

"My Lord, my Lady, if you would follow me?" a dashing young man in black and white livery asked, executing a proud which would have done the Emperors own bodyguard proud. He rolled his hand in a practiced theatrical gesture and led them towards a white silk covered table. However much Neil had scammed out of the gunnery school, Emmaline suspected tonight was going to take a serious dent out of it. Of course he could just tip extravagantly and ask for the bill to be forwarded to his major domo, a charge that would come as something of a shock to that gentleman, if he existed in the first place. That too made Emmaline giggle as she settle gracefully into the seat which the waiter had drawn back for her.

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