POOHEAD189

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

"Well, it sounds like your life is kinda similar to mine," Neil admitted as he lounged on the couch he stole from a low-tier kingpin after he was ousted by an alliance of local gangs.

"Oh yeah, we have so much in common." Jocasta replied from across the small den. Neil grinned, hearing the tease in her words. She had not assumed anything about him, it was a knowingly facetious joke, taking his words to be flirtatious when clearly they had not been. "By the way, I don't mean to be the type of girl to steal from a host, but..."

"Check the bottom left drawer in the closet, you'll find some clothes. Might be a little small for you, but it shouldn't be too much of a squeeze." Neil remarked. Jocasta said something to herself that he could not quite hear, and she strutted into the closet. Neil lay his head back, and a few minutes later, she stepped out.

"Well, you weren't kidding." She deadpanned. The clothes had been his ex's, and they had been far less voluptuous than Jocasta. Still, the bodyglove and the fashionable jacket looked as natural on her as stripes on a Certilian Jungle Cat. "I'm surprised you offered this. I thought you were after... well, me without clothes."

Neil grinned, an infectious grin if there ever was one. "Normally I would be, and I would be lying if I said I am not immensely interested in that, but you needed help and I'm not the type of ganger to take advantage." She took the explanation with a slight skepticism, but there was an appreciation in her eyes. The woman marched over to plop onto the couch beside Neil, albeit at arm's length.

"Well then, what kind of ganger are you?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm the kind you need, and the kind that needs you." He said. "And not in the way you might think." He kicked the table by his feet, and a mechanism was sprung that sent an ice cold beverage shooting out from a small shute Neil had jerry-rigged, launching upwards between them. He had installed a mini-freezer beneath the sheets in the floor, and after dismantling a moneylending machine and adding a few automated springs, it was a smooth way to get a drink. To his surprise, Jocasta caught the bottle before he did, not expecting her to go for it at all. Neil pursed his lips as she winked at him. "Let me guess... you're a bounty hunter, looking for a way off this rock after you get your mark?"

She stopped mid-sip.

Neil ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. "Tattoo on your left ass cheek...Hey, don't look at me like that! You pressed against the glass, I wasn't trying to peek! Anyway, I need help with something that requires your expertise, and I can help you get your man. We help each other, than we get the hell off Neo-Elam. Sound good, or do you want to be stuck here until the blockade ends in 4 decades?"

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

My bad, don't mean to be an ass about it lol.

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

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Mate it was an accident by Wraith then we were just dicking around 😅

No harm done.

Don't worry I don't have the code smarts to break the matrix.

@Sep

Sorry, it was World's Collide is what I meant. Don't break those posts, please

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

I'm in this game?

@Colonel Sep

You won't be if you try to break the forum format again.

Absolute Comics - A Multi-Fandom Singular Universe Roleplay

@Colonel Sep Stop posting here, please.

Reborn: Death's Champion [GMxA, 18+, Isekai Fantasy RPG]

This looks really interesting!

The Namtar Cycle

Once again, Beren felt very much like a mortal walking beside an eldritch being from time immemorial. He wondered if he would ever get used to the feeling, as she walked in her ethereal beauty while dark shapes both large and small lingered outside of his vision, he very much doubted it.

Though that was not to say the sea was pitch black. It was a soft, hazy blue that swallowed all beasts and objected twenty paces away. If there had not been a slope, he would have thought them lost forever, or at least he might have been tempted to use another 'divine favor.' As it were, he was just happy she was on his side, even if she was bound to it. Perhaps he could try extending an olive branch to her at some point, but then he realized how odd that was to think about trying to find a rapport with a malicious deity of abyssal darkness.

As he thought, he continued to walk with her, and the fact the sand beneath their feet was somehow dry escaped his notice until his boot bumped into something solid. He stopped, and glanced down to find an ivory white protrusion from the sand. What's more, there was something else. Beren noticed a deep, metallic surface that drew the eyes. He stopped and knelt down, batting the sand away. His heart began to race faster as he did so, and had Calliope not stopped in curiosity, he would have been engulfed by the sea for his carelessness. Yet he was enthralled almost, by his studious nature and the supernatural attraction of this object. Breathlessly, he realized the protrusion was a rib cage, and a huge one at that! Beren was a muscled man with a noticeably prominent chest when he stripped off his robes, but this man, this thing must have been broader by a foot and eight feet tall.

Beren glanced at Calliope for an answer, but she simply watched with an intensity to her dark eyes, though he felt he saw a glimmer of...something. Anticipation? He looked back down at the metal, and took it in his strong hand. With his considerable strength, he broke the ancient cord, and beheld a brass chest-plate; a pectoral. It was plain, in a way, but depth of the color and the way the soft light danced upon it was mesmerizing.

"How is it not rusted?" He asked, admiring it.

"There are many arcane crafts in this world, Beren Draiglwyf Mac'Riglas," The sorceress said elusively. Jocasta (I think that was her name...) thrust her head up in a curt gesture, signifying they should go. Beren pocketed the thing, and the two of them moved away from the ancient corpse, the bones swallowed by the sea as they began to climb the coastline. Another minute, and the pair stepped out of the surf and broke the surface.

Upon the beach, a shepard tended his flock. Two dozen sheep milled about, idly chewing the tufts of grass upon the high hill overlooking the coastline. One moment, the man had been looking at empty shoreline, save a party of soldiers a mile in the distance. Next he turned to look, an immaculately dressed, imperious woman and a stranger in an odd garb were walked away from the water, as if they had just taken a dip. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

The island of Ubtar had always been strange.

Silver & Gold: A Warhammer Roleplay

Malcador believed he was dead for a good, long moment. The finality of his last fall weighed on him. However, as soon as he realized Morr had not taken him to the realm of the dead, he bolted upright, a surge of spiteful energy rushing through him.

"That's it!" He cried, coins sliding off of him like raindrops. "I'm finished! Nothing is worse this nightmare!" He brushed his princely apparel, certain his knee was bleeding and his face ruddied from the elements, but still more concerned with his handsome image. Even without Emmaline there, he was a vain man. He gestured to the left. "Not the gold!" He gestured to the right. "Not the prestige!" He turned around. "Not even-!"

Emmaline looked at him, her big blue eyes shining and her full lips in a pout. Malcador immediately deflated, knowing he would do it all over again. That, and try as he might, he was a loyal son of the empire, and it would gain him more scholastic achievement once the word got out. Emmaline squeaked and gave him a hug, which he reciprocated.

Out of the locks of golden hair, Malcador noticed something distinctly grey, and it took the mage a moment to realize the steel head of a halberd was pointed right at him. Malcador pulled Emmaline away from it, and she squeaked a second time when she was aware, herself. Six halberds bristled from the well trained hands of the imperial palace guards, their mustaches nearly as ornate as their finely wrought breastplates, burnished and intricately crafted with the heraldic skull of the empire. The plumes on their caps along with their steel shells made them briefly look like a strange chimera of bird and crustacean.

"Give us a reason why we should not run you through without mercy." One of the palatial guards declared.

At that moment, Clodfoot finally decided to make his debut. The halflings had all landed in a pile, like a clutch of hairy and particularly smelly kittens. He shoved Humper off of him and rose to his full height, impressively tall (for a halfling). "Is that any way to speak to my honour guard!?" He cried.

"Who in Sigmar's name are you!?" The largest guard spat.

"I am Clodfoot of the mootland, dignitary and expected by Karl Franz, Prince of Altdorf himself! I come bearing...uh..." He looked at the piles of gold scattered across the courtyard. "this wealth, as a token. These two are mages of the Imperial Colleges of Magic, having risked life and limb to help me arrive without coming to blades with terrible assassins!"

The heavily mustachioed halberdiers looked at one another, some incredulous and others in plane disbelief. Still, it worked in the end. Malcador and Emmaline were swiftly escorted to one of the outer lobbies of the Imperial Palace itself, waiting with Clodfoot and his 'men' while their arrival was brought up the chain of command. Malcador and Emmaline could only wait an uncomfortably long amount of time, hand wringing and wondering if they were going to be thrown in the stocks or taken into custody by witch hunters for what had to be a brazen and unadulterated use of magic. However, Clodfoot and his men, along with the carefully picked horde of coins they had meticulously plucked from the ground, were inducted into the inner sanctum of the palace by a bearded and overly pompous chamberlain, who glared at them the two mages and seemed to be about to shoo them out of the front gate, before a carefully whispered message in his ear had him take a sizeable pouch of golden coins from his belt and toss them at the two contemptuously.

"Mine!" Emmaline yelled, but Malcador was quicker, snatching it out of the air, and subsequently bowing before the chamberlain.

"You do us great honour, sir. Please know Malcador Zauberhaft, Magister of the Celestial college, and Emmaline Von Morganstern of the Golden Order, live to serve..." He remarked, and backed away slowly. Emmaline had the frame of mind to do the same, and within two hours, they had made it back into the Colleges, richer and more famous than they had anticipated. The consequences, however, might bite them in the ass within the week, if they were unlucky. Hopefully Ranald had a sense of humor.

The Namtar Cycle

The air was not stifling, like it had been in the jungle. In fact, it was a complete opposite in terms of environments, yet he still somehow felt it was just as difficult, if not more difficult to breathe. Perhaps the air was thinner here, the seemingly endless void spanning beyond imagination. It gave him a view much like the sea, except it was as if he could see to the very bottom of the ocean depths. The structures far away were strange and alien to Beren, but Calliope barely gave them a look. Perhaps they were from her time... or perhaps she has been to other worlds? He thought.

He stretched his neck for a moment, and did his best to steady his breathing after that brief insanity of combat. "And you care if it changes?" He asked her. He realized he was becoming far more casual with her than he intended, and she shot him a look as if she read his thoughts and agreed wholeheartedly.

"Perhaps..." she answered cryptically. Beren noticed she remained in the glittering armor, which was likely a bad sign of their current predicament, or at least a message that he should stay on his toes. "I care whenever my...brethren are concerned."

Beren felt he was growing slightly better at keeping up with her mastery of the archaic language, but he knew if she continued to speak that way, there would be questions. And if other scholars like him heard it and could decipher she spoke more fluently than any modern person should, there would need to be answers. As she turned away, he spoke up, drawing her attention back to him.

"Is there ...way... you can speak my tongue?" He asked her, curiously.

Her eyes were as sharp as daggers, the coat around her armor unable to keep the glittering depths of the scales from bedazzling the eyes. She seemed to consider something for a moment, glancing downwards and placing a hand to her chin. "Yes..." she said. "I would have to break the mind of a mortal and suck the information out of him. We often performed such rites when we were bidden to pacify a people. Perhaps we will get lucky on the road." She pursed her lips and her brow rose as if to say 'sounds like a plan.'

"Whoa, hey!" Beren declared, waving the thought away. He briefly glanced around, glad his words did not carry too far, before his eye met Calliope's. "We aren't killing innocents for that. Maybe if we run into an enemy, but I can not allow that."

"Very well, then you shall have to wish it." She said simply, crossing her arms. She tossed her head back, moving a dark fringe out of her eyes.

Beren opened his mouth, and then closed it. He knew she had him, but there seemed to be no victory in her eyes. Maybe she simply hid it really well, but still. Even if she could lie to him, and he was mostly certain she could not, he couldn't think of any other way to solve the problem. If they were to keep going, she needed to understand his language, and if they needed to speak privately, they could speak in Xubian.

"I wish you could speak my language." Beren said.

Calliope The Blackstar gave him a flat, unreadable look. Beren blinked, wondering if anything changed. Long seconds passed, and he glanced around. The muscled young man scratched his thick head of hair as he glanced to the left. "Did something chan-" He felt strong hands in draconic scaled grab his head, cold as death. It contrasted the warmth of Calliope pulling his head down and kissing him open mouthed. He words trailed off in an 'mmmph!' He felt a tingle on his lips, unlike the normal tingle one might get from a kiss. It was over in three heartbeats, and as Calliope pulled her head away, she breathed in deeply. Beren could not tell, but he believed he saw a bit of light from behind her teeth.

"Well," she said in perfect Akkanaein. "That was not as unpleasant as I would have thought, but nothing to write home about, either."

"You can spe-..." He pointed at her, dumbfounded, before her words caught up with him. Blood rushed to his face, and he flung his hands up. "I wasn't ready!"

She snickered, clearly enjoying embarrassing him. If she could not slaughter innocents, at least making him insecure would do. "If you say so, now let us go. We had not much longer to travel, but after that, I'll follow your lead."

The Namtar Cycle

The lumbering monstrosity charged at him on all fours, it's misshapen face twisted in rage. It was eerie to watch how its limbs worked, the strength it took to launch its sheer bulk almost mesmerizing. Yet the most unnerving aspect of the beast was its eyes. They had the look of pits that were in the midst of consuming his soul. He briefly felt utterly weak under that gaze, as if he should just fall to his knees and accept his fate. This was a being from another realm, even more alien to him than ancient Calliope and all of her cosmic power.

Her Dark Thoughts

As the vines crumbled to nothing, Calliope turned to see the massive firbolg bearing down on Beren, and she smiled. Her powers were limited against the guardian of the gate, and were nonexistent when it came to Beren. However, once Beren was gone, so too, would her petty thralldom be ended. She watched the younger man stand as still as she had been in her petrified state, completely open to being crushed. Even if the powers that be incentivized her to not destroy the guardian of the gate, she could still do so easily once Beren was out of the picture...

Beren willed the clogging fear to leave him, and as the firbolg lurched at him like a bull out of nightmare, Beren sprang upwards, using his staff to help vault his form with his impressive strength. The beast screeched when its prey disappeared before its eyes. It barely felt the booted feet landing atop its back a moment later, but the two feet of iron that sank into its back was all too real. It tried to stop its charge, convulsing from the pain as Beren held the hilt for dear life, his feet planted and his chopping sword buried in the mass of furred flesh.

"An beithíoch thruaillithe bás!" Beren cried out in old Albani, before shoving off the thing's back before it rolled over and crushed him. He landed on the uneven terrain in a roll, and from Calliope's point of view, it mirrored the firbolg's unceremonious roll. They were both closing on the edge of the peak. However, Beren recovered first, the dust billowing from beneath his feet. Like a wolf on the hunt, he didn't waste time collecting himself. His head immediately snapped to the behemoth, the malformed thing finally halting its precarious tumble. It dug its too-human clawed hands into the stone, trying to find purchase. It had no idea the insane Sanguken monk was now the one charging its position, and it swung its hairy, worm-like head in time for Beren to hit it with all of his muscled weight. It roared in defiance, trying to redirect its limbs to swipe at Beren. It likely could have stopped batted him away if it was not off balance, but with a roar that rivaled the firbolg's cry, Beren shoved the firbolg further off its precarious position.

The beast was off balance, and its position gave it an untenable balance, but it was still an impressive feat of strength on Beren's part. The bravery, skill, and power he displayed was something only someone highly trained and heroic could ever hope to achieve. Not to mention utterly audacious!

What's more, it worked. The firbolg did not even cry out. It fell like a tree getting axed, and slowly, it fell onto the lower slope to tumble straight off the sheer drop. Beren watched as the firbolg fell to its demise, and luckily his back was turned. He couldn't notice Calliope's jaw dropping.