POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic idly bit into his trencher. The bread, cheese, and meat was too enticing for the hungry soldier to not bite into. He'd been hungry enough to have the 'campaign hunger.' Often times when out marching, the lack of food made him believe (sometimes rightly so) that his muscled abdomen was shrinking, muscles and all. It was now hard wired into his mind for him to think of that whenever he was particularly hungry, unfortunately. He felt better with the solid food now, however.

"That is troubling," Cyrdic replied, stone face now mired in concentration. He should have guessed that such a night had been approaching. Of course, most people in the southern provinces worried about that, for most nights in the north were nights when chaos was about. But it always paid to pay attention to Morrsleibs and its cycles.

"And the...internal investigation?" Cyrdic asked, brow furrowed. Von Koneinswald raised an eyebrow, looking to Cyrdic. "That is for me to know, herr Reiner."

"I understand," Cyrdic replied. "Only, as guests of the Graf and privvy to his banquettes and counsel, I merely thought it would good to know what you meant, if you were implying what I think you were..."

The Witch Hunter bit his tongue, and looked between Camilla and Cyrdic, before clearing his throat...

---

When the meeting had broken, Cyrdic and Camilla decided it was best to merely stroll about for a bit before making it back to their Inn's room. They had some things to discuss without prying ears, after all. Apparently, there had been very heretical leaks from Boris Todbringer's inner circle, helping the heretics to evade capture. It was enough to distress the Witch Hunter, and the 'Wolf lovers' did not often give him much information to go by.

He had said he would continue to investigate throughout the day, and the two of them should retire for the evening. He would contact them if he needed help. He did implore them to ask around the courts, however.

Cyrdic would not sit idly by as Koneinswald searched alone within the city. But he knew it would be best to return back to the room for the night, for Camilla's sake if nothing else. She still seemed a bit out of it, and if he went out searching alone, she would likely follow no matter what.

Cyrdic set some water on the table beside her. The room was fairly big. Much bigger than most Inn rooms at least. A large bed, a desk, a table with two chairs, and a fireplace just next to it.

Cyrdic had undone his vest and unlaced his boots, leaving his linen shirt on his body as he leaned against his chair. The firelight played across his skin as he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Ulric and Sigmar, things kept getting worse and worse. But first things first.

"Are you ok?" he asked Camilla, iron eyes meeting hers. "You gave me a scare earlier. What exactly happened?"

He was nearly effected too. But with his sword, he had not received the full brunt of it. He hadn't felt it like her.
@Penny

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@BananaSorry, not you. I accidentally typed your name and not Syphs lol.

Humanity's Last Army

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

Sorry, since this is one of my first times GMing, I want to see how many players I can handle writing for first before letting any more in.

@Roughdragon1

No worries, my friend.

Humanity's Last Army

Are you still accepting players?

I own a TAR-21 and Vz 58, real steel. I know what I like. ;D

@Dervish

But you're Canadian!

The Lord of the Rings: The Age of Men

Thurin stepped into view. Armor scuffed and battle-axe still dripping with the ichor of dead forest spiders. His great black beard was stained and a tad unkempt from his travels, but still very well groomed. While not as naturally silent as an Elven ranger, Thurin had kept himself alive the past century by walking far more quiet than others of his boisterous kin.

The past tenday he had tackled the forest known as Mirkwood. His supplies had run for quite awhile, but eventually he had needed to hunt. The Dwarf had managed to nab two conies, but the only other prey he had managed to kill was prey that had aggressively approached him. Needless to say, he was quite tired of Spider meat, but he still thanked Aule for the provisions, and the satisfaction of killing a few of the monsters.

Come back alive, or at least leave dead in your wake his father had told him when he had volunteered. Thurin felt that statement odd, for he'd gone through worse surely. The Trolls and Orcs of the mountains, and the nameless beasts of the deep, were more dangerous than forest spiders. Either way, Thurin had embraced his father and had traveled the foothills the past month before wading into the realm that was Mirkwood.

Seeing Elven arrows aimed at him, his stared at Elennína as if to say 'try it.' He was never the most polite around Elves at the best of times, and he was more tired and hungry than he cared to admit now, to say the least. The broad adventurer stood as a statue, grim and stonefaced before the Elven warriors.

"No harm," he grumbled. "Unless you're kin to spiders."

The Valencia - [High Fantasy, Pirates]

Gonna try posting in a few days :)

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

The Beast Within

---

The last week had not been kind to Dax, and those who would stray near him upon the Steelhead most likely would swiftly turn away for fear of incurring the silent wrath he held openly for all to see. Yes, often times Dax would keep silent. Controlled anger, patience, discipline, these skills made him invaluable as a hunter and as a teammate of the crew. However, ever since he had been released from prison, he has taken his brooding nature to a level not even he thought possible.

If anyone spoke to him directly, he simply looked at them and went on his way, if he even acknowledged them at all. He would help the raising of the ships sails silently, as was his duty, and then disappear from sight like a vengeful wraith that had retreated back into the nether. His claws fists clenched often, and he hissed dangerously more than he had in years. True, most of his companions did not get too close to him for sympathy of his wanting to be alone, but he was not certain what he would do if they did. He felt as if he could not trust himself anymore, and some demon within him asked the most terrible question. Is that so wrong? To give in to rage?

"Yes," he whispered, gripping the pendant his father had given him at an early age. The Hist only knows how he had not attacked the guards that had...chained him. He still shuddered at the thought of when they had placed the manacles on his wrists. He had bared his teeth and shouldered a sneering guard, but caught himself and calmed as best he could. He would not endanger his crew, nor Tsleeixth any more than he he could help it. He did actually appreciate some of the guardsmen letting him privvy to their thinking he was innocent, and the well-cooked steaks they would give him. He knew deep down they were only doing their duties, and he apologized to the guard he had shouldered. Though that particular one happened to think he was guilty, he found out later.

He did not do well in chains. He did not do well being judged by his race. Nor did he take it well when the Jarl, a man whom he had worked for personally, accused him of murder. It was just after Ashav had him and Elmera investigate the abandoned warehouses after Ashav had been attacked. The next day, he and his fellow Argonian had been imprisoned. Just thinking about it brought a low growl from deep within his throat, and he felt it rousing once again.

The beast within.

The want to rend and tear. The desire for solitude, and the rage boiling underneath, threatening to overwhelm if he did not find it soon. He had dealt with his anger all of his life, and had no desire to take it out on his companions. Or more accurately, he had no desire to have desire to take it out on his companions. The promise of hunting rogue Dunmer had helped keep him calm for now, and he sighed as the ship lolled along the ocean current.

The night of the landing...

Daixanos had his bow strung and in his hands, his eyes steeled for the hunt of what was to come. He had spoken to no one since they had landed, and had already begun to wade deeper into the island as the others tried to organize themselves to do just that. He did not go far, however, forcibly making himself play the role of scout and vanguard, instead of splintering off from the group entirely.

"Hist," he whispered. "Guide my hand, and my blade..."

The Lord of the Rings: The Age of Men

@MiddleEarthRoze Looking forward to getting a post up ASAP.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

@PennyAwesome! Glad to hear from ya. Didn't know if things were ok or not.

Warhammer Fantasy - Call of Chaos

@Willy Vereb I'd wait a day and see if anyone else shows they're interested past us 4 lol.