N3v3rM0r3
Ezekiel
Pizza Box
RPM
Hos
rush99999
tadcfnaf
Syrenrei
Zeus23@Dark Cloud That is the plan yes. Hopefully I will have time to make the thread over the next couple days
Penny Member
STATUS: Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad. 16 days ago
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16 days ago
Current
Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad.
3
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24 days ago
She wanted to read, she wanted to write, but the main thing she wanted was something to fight
4
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1 yr ago
Make it clear that you don't need him to be reading Dante tomorrow. Also suggest it would be fun if you had a private language that you could use to mock English speakers in secret.
5
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2 yrs ago
Luckily history suggests an infinite ability for people to be shit heads ;)
1
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3 yrs ago
Achmed the Snake
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Bio
Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.
Most Recent Posts
It would have been unusual under normal circumstances for this section of the city to be so quiet. Normally stevedores and bargemen would be carousing in the alehouse and knocking shops that surrounded even the secondary harbor. With the siege entering its first full day, the city watch had been out in force enforcing a curfew at areas close to the wall. The pool itself held twice its normal volume of barges. There were big timber carriers from Middenland, grain and wine barges from the Reik and even a few pleasure craft of the idle rich. The river slapped their hulls with gentle rythmic sloshing and the lines tethering them to the wharves creaked and groaned. Emmaline had argued that this was a matter for the city watch, the army, the Templars of Sigmar and basically anyone who wasn't blond, buxom and indolent. Neil was not without sympathy for the shapelier parts of this argument, but had pointed out that if the city watch rushed the barge the most likely result was that the cultists would blow the powder right here in the pool. That probably wouldn't breach the wall, but it would demolish everything within several blocks of the docks and start fires. That still wouldn't have convinced Emmaline, but Neil was also sure that Leizbauhnor would happily throw them under the proverbial ox cart rather than take responsibility for such a disaster himself.
"Which barge is it," Neil whispered as they approached the waterfront, taking cover amidst a pile of netting that normally served to swing cargo out to the barges. Emmaline clambered up beside him. This was not her kind of thievery, but she had done enough creeping to not be a complete novice. The barges were much of muchness to her eye, but fortunately all wizards, even lazy apprentices had a natural abillity to see magic. Emmaline opened her 'eye' with a minor effort of will. The golden wind, Charmon, flowed strongly in Nuln. Pulsing rivers of it thundered around the artillery works an the gunnery school, spilling smaller more slugish current out over the rest of the city. The barges themselves were mostly dark save for where some product of alchemy, a lantern or a spy glass, attracted the wind. One barge, at the far end of the dock was different. Charmon and the other winds coiled and flittered around it, tangled together in an untidy mass which reminded Emmaline of drawings she had seen of tumors. She could just make out some men on the deck, covered with heavy ponchos against the chill of the evening. Hastily she released her sight.
"It is that one," she told Neil, extending a finger to indicate the barge which, now looked as innocent as the rest. They crept down the quay darting between crates and other cover until they were close enough to hear the conversation of the men on deck. One of them sounded like an Altdorf docker, the other had the harsh guttural cadence that Emmaline associated with Norsca. Neil led the way down between the wharves and onto the slimey pebbled beach beneath the wharf.
"Like this," he whispered and climbed onto the riders that ran beneath the wharf. Emmaline watched him dubiously for a moment and then did the same, following his lead as he eased himself from pylon to pylon beneath the wharf. By the time they reached the barge Emmaline's arms were complaining in no uncertain terms. Neil paused when he reached the curve of the barges hull and climbed onto a net which hung down over the side. Emmaline joined him and a moment later they were over the side and on the deck. The barge was open to the sky, its hold stacked high with barrels of what could only be gunpowder. The steering house was towards the stern where the two guards continued their conversation, interrupted only occasionally by the clatter of dice.
"Which barge is it," Neil whispered as they approached the waterfront, taking cover amidst a pile of netting that normally served to swing cargo out to the barges. Emmaline clambered up beside him. This was not her kind of thievery, but she had done enough creeping to not be a complete novice. The barges were much of muchness to her eye, but fortunately all wizards, even lazy apprentices had a natural abillity to see magic. Emmaline opened her 'eye' with a minor effort of will. The golden wind, Charmon, flowed strongly in Nuln. Pulsing rivers of it thundered around the artillery works an the gunnery school, spilling smaller more slugish current out over the rest of the city. The barges themselves were mostly dark save for where some product of alchemy, a lantern or a spy glass, attracted the wind. One barge, at the far end of the dock was different. Charmon and the other winds coiled and flittered around it, tangled together in an untidy mass which reminded Emmaline of drawings she had seen of tumors. She could just make out some men on the deck, covered with heavy ponchos against the chill of the evening. Hastily she released her sight.
"It is that one," she told Neil, extending a finger to indicate the barge which, now looked as innocent as the rest. They crept down the quay darting between crates and other cover until they were close enough to hear the conversation of the men on deck. One of them sounded like an Altdorf docker, the other had the harsh guttural cadence that Emmaline associated with Norsca. Neil led the way down between the wharves and onto the slimey pebbled beach beneath the wharf.
"Like this," he whispered and climbed onto the riders that ran beneath the wharf. Emmaline watched him dubiously for a moment and then did the same, following his lead as he eased himself from pylon to pylon beneath the wharf. By the time they reached the barge Emmaline's arms were complaining in no uncertain terms. Neil paused when he reached the curve of the barges hull and climbed onto a net which hung down over the side. Emmaline joined him and a moment later they were over the side and on the deck. The barge was open to the sky, its hold stacked high with barrels of what could only be gunpowder. The steering house was towards the stern where the two guards continued their conversation, interrupted only occasionally by the clatter of dice.
@rocketrobie2
Past experience suggests rapid short posts work best. The flow of the game tends to lend itself to one or two paragraphs rather than a post like a traditional RP. The players dont need to be together so pace can be adjusted for each player.
Past experience suggests rapid short posts work best. The flow of the game tends to lend itself to one or two paragraphs rather than a post like a traditional RP. The players dont need to be together so pace can be adjusted for each player.
"What do cultists want with a barge of gunpowder?" Emmaline asked, an uneasy feeling settling into the pit of her stomach. Stedder snorted with an audible range that was almost poetic in the emotions it conveyed.
"They want to put on a show for Karl Franz' birthday? How the bleeding hells should I know woman?" Stedder demanded. Emmaline chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully.
"You obviously didn't think to tell anyone about the theft before now?" Emmaline said, a touch exasperated, even though she knew it wasn't the thiefs fault that an Inspector was blackmailing them. Stedder's eyes buldged.
"Sigmar's cock woman, I said I THOUGHT it was cultists, you know what would happen to me if I went squealing to the watch and it turned out to be the Saltzhiemer's or one of the other criminal families? They'd pull my balls out through my throat just for starters!" Emmaline held up both hands in a placating gesture, it probably had been little more than a suspicion before the forces of chaos showed up to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.
"I thought they already grounded all the barges," she mused, remembering the mob scenes she had witnessed from the tower earlier in the day. Stedder made an equivocal guesture with his hand.
"Grounded is a bit of a stretch, most of the shipping is in Tar Pool for the duration though, taverns and brothels there abouts are overrun with out of work bargemen, slim pickings in thier pockets let me tell you. Most of 'em got turfed without even their pay," Stedder continued mournfully, his upset at the injustice of merchant captains directly related to the tragedy of so many marks with empty purses.
"Tar Pool?" she asked.
"Its the downstream docks," Neil explained, "near the western river gates." There was a momentary mutual silence. Neil leaped to his feet a half second before Emmaline and Stedder, all three of them overturning their chairs with a clatter that drew all eyes. The all started talking at once, conveying with varying levels of profanity, that a barge loaded to the deck heads with gunpowder was now moored within a hundred yards of the sparsely defended western walls while beast men threw themselves oh so continently at the eastern ramparts.
"They want to put on a show for Karl Franz' birthday? How the bleeding hells should I know woman?" Stedder demanded. Emmaline chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully.
"You obviously didn't think to tell anyone about the theft before now?" Emmaline said, a touch exasperated, even though she knew it wasn't the thiefs fault that an Inspector was blackmailing them. Stedder's eyes buldged.
"Sigmar's cock woman, I said I THOUGHT it was cultists, you know what would happen to me if I went squealing to the watch and it turned out to be the Saltzhiemer's or one of the other criminal families? They'd pull my balls out through my throat just for starters!" Emmaline held up both hands in a placating gesture, it probably had been little more than a suspicion before the forces of chaos showed up to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.
"I thought they already grounded all the barges," she mused, remembering the mob scenes she had witnessed from the tower earlier in the day. Stedder made an equivocal guesture with his hand.
"Grounded is a bit of a stretch, most of the shipping is in Tar Pool for the duration though, taverns and brothels there abouts are overrun with out of work bargemen, slim pickings in thier pockets let me tell you. Most of 'em got turfed without even their pay," Stedder continued mournfully, his upset at the injustice of merchant captains directly related to the tragedy of so many marks with empty purses.
"Tar Pool?" she asked.
"Its the downstream docks," Neil explained, "near the western river gates." There was a momentary mutual silence. Neil leaped to his feet a half second before Emmaline and Stedder, all three of them overturning their chairs with a clatter that drew all eyes. The all started talking at once, conveying with varying levels of profanity, that a barge loaded to the deck heads with gunpowder was now moored within a hundred yards of the sparsely defended western walls while beast men threw themselves oh so continently at the eastern ramparts.
@rush99999 That will be up to our intrepid new(ish) cast!
Stedder sucked his gums against his teeth and stepped back. He was dressed in what had once been a fine coat, though it was a little too tight for him and the oils from his neck had crusted the pristine white of the collar. The gnatty wescoat was somewhat spoiled by what appeared to be a pair of knife holes in the back.
"Tits and thievery are too great flavors that don't go great together," Stedder groused, turning to lead them to a corner where a trio of chairs sat around an upended ale barrel which served as a table. A none too clean linen cloth was spread across the top scattered with a handful of what looked to be small rubies and a gem cutters ocular in dented brass. Stedder folded it expertly and stuffed it into his tunic, shooting Neil a suspicious look as he did so.
"Man can't think clearly if he is using the smaller of his heads," Steeder continued, taking a seat with his back to the warehouse wall.
"One man's opinion," Emmaline replied with a droll smile. She took a seat on a three legged stool as Neil slid into the remaining chair. Without obvious summons a boy of perhaps ten years appeared carrying three tankards of foaming ale. He set one down infront of each guest with practiced aplomb. As he set down Emmaline's her hand shot out and seized his wrist. The boy yelped and tried to pull way but without success. She forced his hand open and retrieved the leather coin purse he had lifted from beneath her cloak and tucked it back into its pocket. The white linen of the gem rag was just visible at the cuff of the boy's frayed jacket but Emmaline figured that was Stedder's problem and let go of the squirming child.
"Tibs what have I told you about stealing from the guests?" Stedder demanded without particular animus.
"Not to get caught?" the boy stuck in impudently, running a finger though his mop of brown hair.
"Right, now bugger off we have business," Stedder continued, turning his gaze back to Neil and Emmaline. The kid vanished as quickly as he had appeared, taking the rubies with him.
"Apologies," Stedder grunted, taking a gulp of ale that left a foamy residue across his upper lip. He let out a satisfied belch and then wiped it away with his sleeve. Emmaline took a somewhat more decorous sip and found the ale to be creamier and less bitter than was the taste in Altdorf.
"Things are a bit unsettled here with the siege and all, one of these splinter groups filtering through the Drakwald and picking up every beastman and mutant they can find. With most of the armies still in the north there isn't much to check them," Stedder lamented. Emmaline avoided rolling her eyes. Every tavern, and apparently thieves den, had someone who was willing to play armchair Reikmarshall at any opportunity. Fortunately Neil didn't pick up on the comment to invite any discussion, letting the silence hang for a moment.
"You mentioned blackmailing me for information?" Stedder asked, apparently having concluded the social niceties.
"Tits and thievery are too great flavors that don't go great together," Stedder groused, turning to lead them to a corner where a trio of chairs sat around an upended ale barrel which served as a table. A none too clean linen cloth was spread across the top scattered with a handful of what looked to be small rubies and a gem cutters ocular in dented brass. Stedder folded it expertly and stuffed it into his tunic, shooting Neil a suspicious look as he did so.
"Man can't think clearly if he is using the smaller of his heads," Steeder continued, taking a seat with his back to the warehouse wall.
"One man's opinion," Emmaline replied with a droll smile. She took a seat on a three legged stool as Neil slid into the remaining chair. Without obvious summons a boy of perhaps ten years appeared carrying three tankards of foaming ale. He set one down infront of each guest with practiced aplomb. As he set down Emmaline's her hand shot out and seized his wrist. The boy yelped and tried to pull way but without success. She forced his hand open and retrieved the leather coin purse he had lifted from beneath her cloak and tucked it back into its pocket. The white linen of the gem rag was just visible at the cuff of the boy's frayed jacket but Emmaline figured that was Stedder's problem and let go of the squirming child.
"Tibs what have I told you about stealing from the guests?" Stedder demanded without particular animus.
"Not to get caught?" the boy stuck in impudently, running a finger though his mop of brown hair.
"Right, now bugger off we have business," Stedder continued, turning his gaze back to Neil and Emmaline. The kid vanished as quickly as he had appeared, taking the rubies with him.
"Apologies," Stedder grunted, taking a gulp of ale that left a foamy residue across his upper lip. He let out a satisfied belch and then wiped it away with his sleeve. Emmaline took a somewhat more decorous sip and found the ale to be creamier and less bitter than was the taste in Altdorf.
"Things are a bit unsettled here with the siege and all, one of these splinter groups filtering through the Drakwald and picking up every beastman and mutant they can find. With most of the armies still in the north there isn't much to check them," Stedder lamented. Emmaline avoided rolling her eyes. Every tavern, and apparently thieves den, had someone who was willing to play armchair Reikmarshall at any opportunity. Fortunately Neil didn't pick up on the comment to invite any discussion, letting the silence hang for a moment.
"You mentioned blackmailing me for information?" Stedder asked, apparently having concluded the social niceties.
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