Penny

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Emmaline eyed the pistol for a moment. The question showed a complete disregard for the practical difficulties of magic, but for a miracle she did actually have a trick. Theoretically it would allow her to transfigure an object for a few minutes. In theory it could be used to create fake coins, but the reality was that making a convincing fake coin was more expensive than it was worth. A trio of flaming beastmen charged towards them, flagstones cracking beneath clattering hooves. Emmaline froze in horror but before she could act a wall of water smashed into the three of them as the dwarves turned their fire fighting engine onto the chaos beasts. All three exploded with a thunder crack of expanding steam which literally blew fragments of bone in all directions.

"Ranald's balls," Emmaline muttered and then cast the spell, fingers flexing over the barrel of the pistol in a series of arcane gestures. There was a gentle hum as the spell took effect. Hastily she shoved the gun back into Neil's hand, worried it might fall from trembling fingers. Miraculously the Witch Hunter was still on his feet, though he was clutching his side and backing away towards the halbiders. His sword and hammer striking out at intervals to keep the attackers off him. Smoke wreathed him where his hair and clothing smoked from the heat of the ensorcelled beastmen. The Gods alone knew what had been in that building or how many beastmen were inside. Even as she watched another pair of beast man, one with the head of a bear burned down to a skull shoved its way free of the burning mansion.

"We need to go!" she all but whined.

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NSFW Em

[1x1 RPs] How much should a character do in a post?

That thing I always say.

People are so precious about their characters. It is stupid and pointless in a 1x1. Get some conversation going with your partner, outline your goals for a given scene, find out what their goals are and then write. The world wont collapse if you control their character a bit (with their permission) in order to keep the action flowing smoothly.

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Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Oh for Grungi's sake wake up," a dwarven voice groused. Camilla came awake her hand reaching for where she had set her pistol before she realized it was Gunir. She sat up drawing the bearskin covers around her as she did so. The fire had burned down to smouldering embers and the chamber was cold but the faint light from outside suggested dawn had already broken. Cydric sat up and gave the dwarf a baleful look. Gunir didn't look to have slept, though with the cragy features of the Dawi it was hard to be certain. Flakes of snow lingered in his cloak and on his boots.

"Fine I'm up," Camilla said, pulling a cotton shift on over her shoulders and clambering out of bed. The shift hung to mid thigh and preserved her modesty as far as she cared to.

"Trouble, get dressed and come see," he said. There was a pecurliar tone to his voice, the kind dwarves got when they were happy to be the victims of bad luck. Camilla pulled on her leggings and a coat, buckling her sword and hanging her pistols. Cydric did the same, dressing with a quick economy of motion. Camillia didn't don her armor. The dwarf would have told her if that were required, but she did don a heavy cloak against the snow that could be seen falling through the expensive glass window. Gunir was waiting impatiently outside and without a word clomped out into the snow. It wasn't falling heavily but the day was bitter cold and the wind whipped the few flakes around widely. Soldiers had been picketed around the house though they largely huddled around fires made from the bodies of last nights intruders, trying to stay warm. Gunir led them out onto the snowy streets and up to the highest point on the city walls, near the north west tower. Soldiers were on the walls too, many pointing and muttering in low whispers. Camilla climbed onto the parapet and looked out into the early morning.

"Damn," she muttered in Tilean and reached for a spy glass she wasn't carrying. Gunir shoved one into her hands. It was intricate and of dwarven design so she handled it carefully, lifting it to her eye. Across the floor of the valley was the forest only...

"Damn,' she repeated again, "Myrmidia's tits..." The forest was at least a hundred yards closer to the walls than the last night. Worse yet it had grown across the road, the paved expanse of the highway ending at thick old growth forest that looked like it had been there for a hundred years and not over night. The spy glass was good enough that she could see where vast ancient roots had prized up the stones into an untidy sprawl.

"We are under siege..."

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

The warmth of late spring sunlight woke Emmaline in a series of twitches. Eventually the gentle pounding in her head overcame her natural reluctance to open her eyes and she crawled out from under the covers long enough to snatch a jug of wine from beside the bed and down half of it in a series of swallows. That accomplished she took the water pitcher and filled the wine bottle back up, diluting the thick resinous vintage. She settled back the ache in her head fading from the fresh infusion of alcohol. It was several hours after dawn already but she didn't have anything more pressing to do than ponder the results of a night spent over imbibing as she sipped watered wine from the neck of the clay bottle. There were other more pleasant aches as well making her smile and glance at Neil's slumbering form. Pulling herself physically out of bed she half stumbled half crawled across to the wooden tub that served as the bath and wash tub. A slight sheen on the surface indicated the water had been used one too many times. Emmaline muttered a spell in the cracking language of spell craft and then plunged her fist into the water. It cleared instantly becoming pure. Without further delay she plunged herself into the tub with a splash, gasping at the icy temperature that had lingered over night. A second spell and the water warmed to near scalding, a pall of steam rising from the surface as Emmaline plunged herself under once again. As usual the combination of sudden cold with sudden heat purged her of the worst effects of the night. There were still a few sore spots where she had scraped herself in the abortive robbery but the water was rejuvenating in more ways than one. The cuts closed as the minutes passed and the bruises faded. Emmaline's command of her abilities was haphazard but she had been in the Tower long enough to work a few charms. She made the usual promises to actually study the next time she had the leisure and then lay back, breathing out a long breath which carried away the final impurities of the night.

Neil stirred from beneath the covers, looking considerably less worse for wear than Emmaline had felt. He looked over at her and the steaming bath tub suspiciously. She shrugged her shoulders and began running a wooden comb through her hair. Restorative the effects of the bath might be, but they didn't extend to removing knots from her hair. The various hair musing activities of the previous night demanded some attention before she would be presentable to go out in public.

"You're up early," Neil murmered pressing himself up out of bed and casting around for his garments.

"It's nearly noon ja?" she asked, her Altdorf accent emerging to clip the end of her sentence. Neil shrugged, he had spent years as an apprentice engineer but for the first time his day was his own.

"I suppose..." he paused and sniffed at the air. Emmaline paused in mid stroke unsure what this portended.

"Something's burning," he said after a moment. Emmaline giggled.

"They probably set off a thousand pounds of gunpowder just last night," she pointed out. Neil smirked as he pulled on his shirt, covering his abs most regretabley.

"More," he admitted, "but its not powder, not cookfires either." Emmaline supposed that he probably knew enough about the city or combustion or both to know.

"You think the city is on fire?" she asked, genuinely alarmed. Fire was, literally, the great leveler when it came to urban life. Great blazes could spring up in minutes, incinerating hundreds or thousands of structures before they were checked.

"Something is... you don't think..."

____________

A half hour later they stood across the plaza from the towering inferno that had been a noble manor the night before. A chain of men were passing buckets up from the river and tossing it on the blaze. A group of bare chested dwarves had some kind of engine that was fed by copper pipework that ran all the way down to the river. The dwarves pumped furiously on a see-saw like lever, each compressing vomiting out quantities of water that, no pun intended, dwarfed the bucket brigade. Before the burning building stood the sinister form of a Witch Hunter. He held a hammer in one hand and a sword in the other as he harraunged the onlookers.

"...And so is Chaos always met by the strong of heart! With fire and with faith!" Emmaline made the sign of the hammer with the rest of the crowd. Pleased to be able to blend in, and pleased that she had dressed simply in a cream top with green corset and a skirt. This was no time to attract attention.

"... The foul denizens who lurked within this place thought that their wealth would protect them, but Sigmar sees the soul, not the purse!"

"... by his Holy name I have cast them into the fire that rages more eternally than any flame that burns here, into a pit deeper than any gravedigger could excavate! Sigmar, blessed be his name is..." Whatever Sigmar was was lost in a sudden rending crash as the building collapsed in a spray of ash and cinders. The Witch Hunter, to his credit, didn't flinch or even react, merely continued his litany as a storm of sparks raged around him.

"The God King is ever..." THere was a sudden chilling sensation and the flames turned a lurid shade of blue and began to twist in unnatural sinuous shapes.

"Magic!" Emmaline exclaimed.

"Yeah, we had already figured that out Em," Neil responded dryly, reaching for something in his coat. With shrilling cries burning shapes lurched out of the blaze. They looked like beastmen save that flame seemed to drip from them like candles cast into a fire. The burning beasts charged at the crowd, howling and brandishing flaming weapons. For all the fire that covered them their muscles and bones didn't seem to burn away. With commendable skill the Witch Hunter pivoted and smashed in the skull of the closest attacker with the hammer. Golden light exploded from the blow and flung the body back into the flames. His rapier slashed out at another cutting ineffectually. The crowd which had been gawking a moment ago was screaming in terror and rushing away now, bodies packing into the platz' few exits. One of the flaming beast men leaped into the fleeing civilians cutting down a pair with the swipe of a great scythe. Guns cracked, though they were as likely aimed at clearing a way through the panicked
crowd as at the hell borne attackers.

"This isn't good," Emmaline whined.

"Yeah we figured that out too Em," Neil replied dryly.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Junebug came too all at once. Her body uncoiled like a spring driving a fist upwards towards where her subconscious told her she would find a target. Woven canvas straps snapped tight around her wrists and ankles. Bright light stung her eyes and her stomach turned as the drug in her system burned off on the tide of adrenaline. A shadow crossed the light for a moment and then it was pulled away.

"Her vitals are spiking well beyond norms," a worried voice commented.

"Stop your stalling, she is simply another heretic who is called to serve in renewing our faith," a stern voice responded. Sayeed blinked her eyes into focus. A middle aged man and a younger woman stood above her in scrubs. A third man in vestments, partially discarded after the ceremony stood in a corner, fingering a shock baton.

"She is not, there is something wrong with her, her hormones are out of whack, her neurotransmitters are way off the charts..."

"Is she a Xeno? If she cant carry children..."

"No she is human its just... not normal she isn't responding to the induction process."

"Induction process..." Sayeeda murmured.

"She is awake," the woman said accusingly. The baton wielder took a step towards her menacingly.

"Will everyone settle down," the older male snapped, "we woke her on purpose." Sayeeda's vision cleared, she was strapped to a surgical table in a white walled medical bay of some sort. The contrast of a modern medbay with the cathedral trappings outside was jarring. Monitors on the wall blinked with unintelligible medical information including several scans.

"We have some questions for you young lady," the older man said with counterfeit kindness.

"Go fuck yourself," Sayeeda snarled pulling at her restraints. The acolyte stepped closer and raised his baton. The older man lifted a hand in bar.

"If we don't know what is wrong with you, the procedure may kill you."

"Nothing is wrong with me," Sayeeda said after a moment.

"We have dosed you with nearly twice the normal load of skirtamanol and we haven't shown any of the normal responses," the old man said.

"Yeah well I don't know fuck about that, I do know..." she paused and worked her tongue, "that im being held hostage in the basement of an old colony ship by a bunch of religious crazies and it'd be super great if a big pissed of Hex stomped in here and started snapping spines."

"Silence heretic, you think God hears the prayers of your kind?!" the acolyte sneered. Something beeped on the wall and the young woman turned with an alarmed look.

"Something..." the technician murmured.

"Do you think God hears filth like you?! Your only worth is that you can be used like a breeding sow to produce children who will serve the One God!" The acolyte roared.

"I don't know about that..." Sayeeda grinned.

"She sent a radio transmission!" The tech exclaimed, "it scattered the scans!"

"I have a mastoid implant," Sayeeda admitted, grinning up at the alarmed trio.

"I also have a military grade IUD implant that's guaranteed effective for twenty years by Kadian biotech on Celandine. Probably more than you hicks can handle in this crappy med bay."

"Put her under, now!" the old man snapped, making a gesture to the tech with a bony hand.

"And I have one more thing, an unfortunate amount of experience with Terran's." She ripped her right hand free of its restraints, the canvas parting like a gun shot as her arm muscles bulged and responded well beyond human norms. She felt her tendons strain and rip at the bones, promising painful repercussions later. But if she was alive later she would be luckier than she had any right to be. Her hand lashed out and ripped the stun baton from the acolytes' shocked hand. She tumbed it live and jabbed it into his gut, sending him flying into a bank of monitors with a crash and a shower of sparks. Without breaking the ark she slashed it across the face of the tech. The powerful electrical current snapped the woman’s jaws shut so hard that Junebug heard her teeth crack as the blast sent her crashing to the floor, the fine hair around her face burning. The old man made the best choice, lunging towards the medical controls rather than trying to get out of the way. Unfortunately his years slowed him for the extra half second it took for Junebug to drive the point of the baton into his neck. The muscles spasmed and he dropped with a crack of breaking vertebrae as his neck muscles wrenched in opposite directions. Junebug sagged back against the bed, still held by three point restraints and weak from the physical effort and the surge of adrenaline.

“Well, I suppose that is problem number one…”

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The feasting and dancing continued until the sun began to sink towards the horizon. The rift valley cut of direct view to the sun so that only a diffuse illumination remained. As it did so they party seemed to break up and couples who had paired off for the dance took seats together on the grassy green beneath streamers of shimmer cloth. Junebug had been dancing for several hours at this point and she could feel the genetic enhancements that had been forced on her amping up to keep her at full effectiveness. It wasn't a good feeling in the middle of a crowd of well meaning dancers and smiling farmers. Battle fatigue was an occupational hazard for a mercenary, a couple of weeks rest in the RIP had been some balm but it never entirely went away. The banality of civilian life wasn't a good fit for her, it was hard truth that she wasn't going to be able to return to it. That likely wouldn't be a problem for her of course, catching a stray bullet was as much of an occupational hazard as battle fatigue.

After a few minutes a hush fell and Gerome emerged from the cathedral ship. He was dressed in priestly vestments instead of the utilitarian garments he had worn earlier in the day. Behind him trailed a dozen acolytes in similar if slightly less ostentatious vestments. Each man was pushing a small black sphere that hovered three feet of the ground. Each of them crackled with the soft incandecents of an induced levitation field. It wasn't high tech but it was still higher tech than Sayeeda was used to seeing. Judging from the ohhhs and ahhs from the crowd it was obviously not something the saw everyday either.

"Are those stasis pods?" Taya asked, leaning over from her own seat beside a handsome young man she had been dancing with. He looked troubled that she had spoken but made no mood to prevent her. That was good because Sayeeda was keyed up enough that she might have made an issue of it.

"Brethren!" Gerome called out before she could respond. The little procession came to a stop at the center of the green, spreading out into a phalanx around the elder man.

"Brethren, on this, our most scared day, we celebrate the Lord's bounty and the renewal of our faith..." the speech continued for perhaps ten minutes, invoking their God, giving thanks for the harvest and that sort of things. It seemed to Sayeeda that the stasis pods were the real draw. Couples gazed at them longingly, some squeezing their hands together in anticipation. The old preacher knew his crowd, he grew more extravagant in his gestures with more and more frequent references to bounty and rejuvenation.

"Let us now give thanks as we celebrate the rejuvenation of our community and our faith. Come forward!" The couple closest to him stood eagerly and walked forward. One of the acolytes brought forward a simple pottery urn. The woman reached in with a trembling hand and withdrew something. Sayeeda squinted her eyes, it seemed like a simple black stone. The woman sagged visibly, hugging her partner clearly holding back tears. One of the acolytes laid a hand on her shoulder consolingly and led her away to the side. The next couple approached and the process repeated itself. When the third couple approached the woman pulled a white stone from the urn. The reaction was immediate and opposite. Her face transfigured into jubilation, it was mirrored in her partner who threw his arms around her and swept her up into his arms. One of the acolytes approached with one of the black maybe stasis pods. He touched a control on the front of the pod. It irised open with a hiss. Inside was a baby, apparently sleeping though perhaps drugged. Its chest rose and fell indicating it was alive. The woman reached in and lifted the child carefully then turned to face the community. There was a great cheer and a raising of cups.

Over the next hour the process continued, with couples going forward to take part in the lottery. There were perhaps thirty couples but only a dozen children. Those that drew black stones were dissapointed and those that drew the white jubliant. When the ceremony finished there was a general blessing before general revelry resumed.

"Well that was fucking weird," Junebug commented, forgetting to be circumspect among strangers. Did they practice some for of adoption rather than raising their own children. It was bizzare but stranger things happened in the isolated corners of the galaxy. Further discussion was interupted as Gerome hurried across to them.

"Blessed night," Gerome called wiping sweat from his brow. He looked elated and a little exhausted.

"What did you think?" he asked.

"It was the best baby lottery I have ever seen," Junebug said dryly. Gerome chuckled and drew a flask from beneath his robe.

"Its sinful," he admitted before taking a slug of the liquor, "but this is a special night, will you join me in a toast?" He handed the flask to Junebug who took a drink and passed it on to Neil and Taya.

"We had reproductive problems when we first settled here," Gerome explained, "fertility rates were way down, only a select few could have children. We have found a solution but..." Gerome's voice was becoming a drone and Junebug's eyes felt incredibly heavy. A fog seemed to be closing in around her. She tried to turn her head towards Neil but her muscles weren't responding. Strong hands held her as she sank towards the ground and blackness enfolded her.

Oblivion: Wrath of Akatosh

Character Sheet

Lucretia Midori

_{Well in my defense I didn't think you would actually believe me}

---

] ___________________________________ P R O F I L E Known as Lucky, Greenie, Sprout Height 5'5 Weight 130lb Gender Female Race Imperial Age 24 Birthsign The Atronach ___________________________________ C A P A B I L I T I E S Deity Zenithar Attributes MAJOR: Luck minor: Intelligence Skills Illusion Alchemy Alteration Enchanting Restoration Destruction Speech craft Athletics Spells ... ___________________________________ I N V E N T O R Y Weapons and tools Daggers Staff Thief tools Rope Scribe tools Alchemical equipment Outfit ... Consumables ... Valuables ... Misc ... ___________________________________

____________________________________________________________________________ APPEARANCE Lucretia always manages to look somewhat disheveled. ____________________________________________________________________________ MOTIVATION AND OUTLOOK Lucretia is a survivor. She is not particular how she survives but finds it easiest to hustle and steal rather than work honestly. She is extremely lucky but often presses it too far. She is open and friendly and always willing to help particularly if it might stick a coin or two to her palm. ____________________________________________________________________________ HISTORY Lucretia is of Breton ancestry but has lived her whole life in Cyrodil. The daughter of a pair of traveling tinkers she was introduced to minor magics, both slight of hand and magicka at an early age. She displayed a prodigious talent for Illusion and alteration but having been born under the sign of the Atronach is unable to regenerate her own magicka. She traveled with her family learning the arts of peddling and performing small repairs. During her wandering she met a young Khajit who joined the band for a season. He taught her something of alchemy and how it could be used to restore her magika. Beyond this his influence was mostly bad and he stole away her virtue and introduced her to the thieves guild. While not a guild for mages, thieves always have a use for the odd bit of magic and were happy to provide a bit of training in exchange for exorbitant 'tuition' fees. In order to pay her debts Lucky has tried all kinds of things, from hiring herself out as a mercenary wizard too creating custom illusions for brothel patrons. Debts and trades are a major part of her life and no matter what trade she makes she never seems to be able to complete free herself. Currently she is laying low, waiting for the heat to die down from a heist in which she was double-crossed, necessitating a triple cross on her own part that she is inordinately proud of but really should keep her mouth shut about. ____________________________________________________________________________ RELATIONSHIPS AND OPINIONS Is on the record as being against Daedric invasions. Lucretia has an unshakable optimism that things will work out for her, her natural luck tends to bring her through no matter how bad things look in the moment. ____________________________________________________________________________ MISC ...

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