POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic was much more concerned with what the Graf could mean when he wanted them to present themselves. The powerful young man tilting his head, examined the note further and went lost in his thoughts on what it could mean. Until he felt his rump being slapped and he jumped. "Hey..." he joked, and as per usual, Camilla had dragged him into getting himself presentable again.

He guessed he should have felt more naked from the start, but he strode out into the halls and into Jiselle's chambers without a shirt as if it was normal, though the open mouthed stares from some of the servants did make him a bit reserved about it after a minute. Soon, they were more or less up to standard. Cyrdic didn't think the Graf would care, considering the circumstances, but he wasn't about to argue with Camilla when it came to courtly etiquette. It was her expertise, not his.

Cyrdic brushed a bit of her black hair out of Camilla's eyes, and nodded. He gave her a wink. "Let's go."

He didn't know what to expect when he and Camilla entered the throne room. But what the reality turned out to be was far from what he ever hoped for. Because as they stepped into the throne room chamber, they were met with Boris Todbringer upon his throne, and the Ostlander Count, along with his retinue standing to the right of the chamber. Immediately, Cyrdic stiffed and pulled Camilla behind him. He felt a chill run down his spine at what these implications were.

"Ah, herr Reiner and Misstress Vivvienne," The Ostland Baron said mockingly. "How rude of us to summon you in this early hour. Perhaps you'd like to enjoy some more of the good Graf's hospitality while we wait-"

"That's quite enough," the Graf said, his eyes smoldering. With a gravity and weight only Boris Todbringer could pull off, he stepped down from his throne and approached the two companions.

"These Ostlanders were welcomed here in the early hour of the Morn, and they gave me a tale that I did not quite believe..." He turned to Camilla and Cyrdic. "What are your names?"

"Cyrdic and Camilla." Cyrdic answered, knowing that to lie now would be folly.

"I thought as much. I did have a servant or two tell me you screamed one another's name during the ratmen attack, but I dismissed it. Perhaps it was a surname or a middle name. I see it was not." he said, and glared at them. "Now, tell me. Did you murder this Baron's son."

"No-" Cyrdic began. "Liar!" the Baron cried. His puffed grey streaked beard bristled with outrage. "We've tracked you a hundred leagues. I'll not sit here and hear these lies again!"

"Shut your mouth or we'll haul you out of Middenheim," Boris said, not even bothering to look at the Baron. He simply stared at Cyrdic and Camilla. "Go on."

"I saw the Baron's son Otto die during an Orc attack. I was there with him. Otto...had desires for Camilla. His mother did not approve, I suspect. But the blame fell on her," Cyrdic glanced at her, and then looked back to Boris. "They were going to kill her, and I was under investigation for aid in the murder." Cyrdic shook his head. "If they want to demote me, or take me away in chains, so be it, as long as my trial was fair. But Camilla did nothing wrong. They were going to kill her outright. So... I knocked out the guards that watched her, and ushered her away. I couldn't stand by and watch it. I don't know what possessed me sir. I've followed orders, and given them all my life. I guess...how are we better than the marauders, if we do not act upon right and wrong?"

The Graf stared at Cyrdic long and hard, boring into him with his steely eyes. Many moments later, his voice carried the weight of law. "I believe him."

The Ostland Baron and his men brandished swords, roaring in outrage. The Swords of Ulric in the room unsheathed their weapons as well. Boris held up his hands and waved them down. "He and lady Vi- Camilla are my guests, and they have saved my family twice. I cannot in good faith, give them over to you." he said. However, their accused crimes were not performed here, and so I cannot claim them as my own citizens either. What is a Graf to do?"

He held his hands out, though the look in his eyes showed he knew just what to say next. "An honor duel, if both parties consent."
@Penny

'Misthophoroi' - A Sci-Fi Mercenary RP

Still here and ready to rumble.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

To say that Cyrdic went from the hardened soldier to the young man he was in an instant was a bit of an understatement. "Sigmar's fucking hammer," he breathed in between her kisses. His voice might have even cracked. He'd closed his eyes and enjoyed her first kiss, and breathed through his nose as she continued to smother him with her lush lips.

The Ostlander admitted he'd had a few fantasies of them kissing on a bed, but leave it to Camilla to both shatter the mood of it, yet fulfill it at the same time. He let out a cry of pain as she embraced him, though it sounded more like a grunt. His chest heaved, lifting her up as well. He didn't mind the pain though. In fact he began to laugh, his face smiling fiercely. Before she could give an apology, he wrapped his great arm around her waist, and cupped her cheek with his hand as he kissed her back longingly.

When their lips parted, he completed his earlier thought. "I never thought I'd fall for a foreign girl," he whispered, and kissed her again.

---

Cyrdic had been a bit too tired and hurt last night for the two of them to get too physical, but when he awoke in the morning, he found Camilla in her tattered dress and jewels, asleep on his chest, with their arms wrapped around each other. The sun streamed through the far window, but the room was still bleak and low-lit.

There was a knock on the door, and Cyrdic realized that was what had awoken him earlier. Instead of a voice calling out, a note was slipped under their door. The muscled man blinked, and smoothed his hand in Camilla's hair. He almost didn't have the heart to wake her up. He shook his head, and realized that despite all of the shit they'd been through. He'd rather be nowhere else than here with her.
@Penny

Escaping the Blight: A Collaboration of POOHEAD189 & MiddleEarthRoze

Rannon had sat down, his powerful frame plopping onto the chair, and Feri's acknowledgement of his cut had him blinking. There was even a slight flush to his face, though he waved it away and chuckled, rubbing the cut. "It's nothing, I-" but she was already bounding to the next subject. He smiled to himself as she spoke, but realized he probably looked like a fawning fool and snapped himself out of it. Though when she began to speak of more serious business, he snapped to attention as if shouted at by a superior officer. She had his undivided attention.

Rannon tilted his head as he listened, eyes on the tankard of his drink. The man's jaw clenched, and he soaked in all of the intel she had found. "You did good." His brow raised next. "Impressive actually, I couldn't have done that." Indeed, he wasn't exactly the boisterous type, but he wasn't sneaky or smooth either. He was more like a hammer. Really quiet until it hit something.

When she gripped his hand, he looked very much like a hound that had had its named called suddenly so attentive was he, and he listened further. Her concern was very warm, and he nodded, looking straight into her exotic eyes to show her he understood. His next words were a promise. "I'll be careful." He said. He knew that right now, all they could trust was each other.

It took him a few moments to realize they still held hands, and for a moment he didn't know if he was going to let go. It felt nice, and there was a tinge of recognition in his eyes as he looked back at her, as their hands lingered for a bit. But suddenly he pulled it away, and he wasn't sure which of them pulled it away first.

He felt the heat on his face, and he decided to bulldoze into another topic before he made a bigger fool of himself. "I'm curious," he said, and he took a sip of his drink. "I was wondering on how you got to Fereldan. Or, how you became so good with Knives and finding out secrets. I guess I don't know much about you," well that wasn't entirely true. "or about your past, I should say. If you're willing to talk about it."

Rannon scratched Gideon's stomach with his foot, the Mabari laying on his side. The small amount of fluff that a short coated Mabari had was heightened from the position, and he licked his lips as Rannon rubbed him idly.
@MiddleEarthRoze

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

My hero, he thought to himself as Camilla hauled and threatened him back to their room and onto the bed. He felt like he was more fine by every passing moment, but he also felt the weight of the day on him and when she pressed her hand to his chest again, he didn't have the energy to disobey even if he wanted to. And he found he didn't want to.

He wasn't used to someone dressing and washing his wounds. Doctors and battlefield physicians had before, but it was few and far between and generally he felt he could do just as well without the leeches. He was very glad Camilla did not have any here. Her hands were gentle and firm, and he lay his head back as she worked, though he didn't take his eyes off of her.

The sergeant grinned at her comment. "If we're not careful, we'll lose all of that money we got from the mountains." he said, then winced when she pressed onto a sore spot. He groaned a bit, but tried to stifle it down. She was just doing what a true friend and companion would. "You still look like a pirate queen, though. The tear adds to it." He chuckled, and then coughed at the sudden stabbing of pain from his cut. It was better, but stung greatly.

"Camilla..." he began, and reached for her hand. He was too tired to be tactful, and he knew it. But like the bull-headed Ostlander he was, he continued with a smile. "you drive me crazy sometimes, but I'm glad we're together. I never..." he swallowed. He couldn't finish his next thought, and so he kissed her hand. "Thank you."
@Penny

Player Criticisms; everyone's responsibility or just GMs?

My thoughts

Criticism is fine and welcome, as long as it's tactful. I realize that GM's set their RP's to a certain standard, and it must be upheld for the benefit of all. I'm going to go ahead and say that while I am confident in my posting skills, I often times have difficulty filling out huge character sheets in the way the GM's foresee a character to their liking, mostly because I don't know their style, or the RP's tone. I'm more of an author and I view things that way, and I write stories with characters in mind, not written down, so sometimes I'm not the best at sheets.

Now, if I get a PM or a message from a GM that goes "Hi, I read your characters. A few things. I need this, this, and this done, and I am curious on this. Might want to flesh it out and switch this around." I'll be glad to help out. Utterly glad.

But if they use words like "I think the problem with your character is," or "this has led me to believe you're not taking this seriously" when, quite honestly, there are clearly well written paragraphs, its taken days to send this in, and I'm in the fukken advanced section and have been in 3 different RP's with you who are questioning me already,...implying that my work was worthy of a "you have to be kidding."

Well...I'll certainly feel like:

Hider

It's all about how you say it. It would be an extremely hard task for me not to go "maybe you should look again." Which, quite frankly, is cordial when the implication of what you just said reduced my, or anyone's work, into a joke.

And also, if you give criticism, you should be able to receive it as well. Like if we are in a Dragonball Z RP and you question a bit of backstory, and I go "well if you look in volume 8, this clearly is here" and you don't like me being, well, correct...

Simply put, people should be open and welcome to criticism, as long as those who criticize are nice, and willing to discuss things. Though honestly, I'm such a softy I'll probably go "yes sir, yes ma'am" regardless. I hate the idea of hurting someone's feelings over an RP, whether I am in the right or wrong. Usually it's not worth it, and it's a sin of pride to even be that way most of the time.

Discord and The Guild/RPing

I have no strong feelings one way or the other. However, I will say that back in the old Guild discord, which was pretty much the same as this guild discord, I made the joke that I hung out there when I should have been posting, and people unironically agreed and said they did the same. But now that it's questioned, the same people are saying 'hell no.'

Like I said, Idk in all honesty. But I'm just reiterating what I have heard/seen.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic was far and away, his world darkening from lack of blood. It seemed that dagger was cruelly serrated, and filled with what could only be guessed as either poison, or chaos taint. Still, he was breathing, and drifting in and out of consciousness. What brought him back this time were soft hands and a nice place to lay his head on.

He opened his eyes, and though he didn't notice it, he had broken out in a sweat. "Camilla," he breathed. He seemed to fluctuate from being extremely weak, to near normal strength, as if some war within him was fighting. He gripped her hand in his, and grinned. "Let's not trust chamberlain's again..." he coughed. "That wasn't our best move."

"Are you going to get better, herr Reiner?" Jiselle asked. Cyrdic turned his head to her, and nodded. "I think so-"

"Move away!" Eloise said, scurrying up and kneeling down before Cyrdic, on the otherside of Camilla. Her eyes glowed with an ominous power, and she placed her hands on Cyrdic's chest. Moments passed as she examined him. "That dagger was imbued with chaos energies, but it seems to have been nullified by his sword, and probably bull-headed stubborness." Her eyes met Camilla's, before she continued. "But he's lost a lot of blood. I can fix that..."

As she began to intone a spell, Camilla would hear booted footsteps approaching. Even as the last cries of mercy from the heretics rang out, Boris Todbringer halted over Cyrdic and Camilla.

"Are you dying?" he asked Cyrdic, and the warrior shook his head. "I think not."

"Good." he said simply, and Jiselle began to sputter and sing about what Cyrdic and Camilla had just done to destroy the morale and magic of the enemy. Boris snorted. "I've fought ratmen once in my life. Vile creatures, and easily routed once you kill their leader. You two have done a great service, though I should not be surprised."

Cyrdic swallowed, feeling his throat very dry at the moment. "How long has Osfurth been-" He was cut off by Boris. "Long enough," the Graf said, and his hard set jaw spoke volumes. Both of the men had begun wondering if the Count of Middenland's misfortune had been caused by an internal cultist such as he.

"Rest up, herr Reiner, and you as well Vivvienne Du Courrone. You're to have a guest room in the palace, and tomorrow we will speak further. You have my thanks."

Eloise drew out of her trance, and wiped sweat off her own brow. "All he needs is a good night sleep. He might be a tad stiff, but he'll be fine."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic wished he could say he was horrified. He wished he could say he was appalled. But he had seen so much of this in the North. In the slaughtered villages ransacked by Chaos shamans and their barbarians. Perhaps it was his experiences out in Nordland and Kislev. Or perhaps it was his sword that was howling like a wolf in his mind. But the hackles on his neck rose, and he snarled inhumanly as Camilla asked him what there was to do.

He stepped out of cover, and if Camilla screamed at him, he wouldn't have been able to hear. Chamberlain Osfurth snorted, and waved him over. "Ah, herr Reiner. I was wondering if the Heroes were too scared to show themselves. Well, what do you suppose you should do now?" He cackled.

Cyrdic did not hear him either. He merely kept walking, drawing his sword. The Grey-Seer chittered, and blasted him with magic. Despite his intense concentration, Cyrdic screamed as he felt the unnatural energies surround him...and then dissipate.

He kept moving. He felt a tad weaker, and a tad burnt, but otherwise he was fine. So surprised was Osfurth and the Skaven that Cyrdic was within Bastard sword length by the time they could respond, and by then it was too late. The Grey-Seer squirted the musk of fear, trying to scramble away as Cyrdic caved in its head with his runic sword.

Osfurth strangled a cry, and leaped at Cyrdic. The sergeant spun, and knocked aside the Chamberlain into the ground, but not before the old man managed to embed a black bladed dagger under the soldeir's armor and into his stomach. Cyrdic felt white hot, stabbing pain in his lower abdomen, and he staggered.

"No!" Jiselle cried.

The death of the Grey-Seer caused a wild panic amid the Skaven, but there were still many of them. They merely lashed out wildly now, with no voice to say where or what to do. The Rat Ogre roared and bit into a servant, ripping him in two with his teeth. Heretical men cried to Tzeentch as they tried to keep their hostages in line as they fought against the Ulricans.

"For the Wolf!" a voice roared, and Camilla would recognize it as Boris Todbringer himself, charging into the archway with a dozen greatswords at his back. Now the battle was in full swing, and Cyrdic was on his knees.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic was stunned at the revelation to say the least, but he had little time to actually speak of it.

In the din of the crowd, a woman screamed. Her voice rose into a crescendo, until it was suddenly silenced. The crowd grew deathly quiet, and in the center of the dance floor stood Osfurth, his hand holding a ball of pure warpstone. It glowed ethereally, and he cackled as the haughty woman that had verbally dueled Camilla warped and twisted before the crowd's very eyes. Her whimpers because bleets as her face transformed into some beastkin's snout.

She fell over onto the ground, her gown ripped and her head now sagging against the marbel floor. "It seemed her body could not take the transformation," Osfurth said, his smile impossibly wide and pleased. "And it had spent most of the warpstone...too bad. It's fortunate there is plenty where that came from. Is that not right, my brethren?"

Suddenly, the room to the Palace shuddered and rumbled. The floor tiles began to wither and rust, falling into the dark, and rat men began to spew into the room, catching the Swords and Knight's completely off guard. Storm Vermin surged up, and oddly cloaked Skaven swung down from the balcony on ropes and hooks, some having already shoved off lovers who had been kissing just moments before, now falling to their dooms.

The cries of the crowd grew, and to their credit, the Swords and the Knights of the White Wolf roared in outrage and battle-lust, and those not overwhelmed began hacking apart Skaven slaves. Storm Vermin, and even a towering Rat-Ogre joined the fray. All looked to be chaos and blood, and within the center of it, the Skaven Grey Seer clambered up, rising to stand beside Osfurth. The cultists of Osfurth joined the fray, men among the servants and court turning on their brothers and running them through, their treachery and heresies revealed.

Only when the Grey seer blasted apart Jiselle's father beside the young girl did the violence stop, Osfurth holding a hand up to halt the confrontation.

"Now...let us all calm here..." the Chamberlain said. "Why fight us? We only wish to change you into what you were meant to be."

One Sword of Ulric surged forward, only for the Grey-seer to point his glowing paw toward Jiselle next. It seemed lucky that the three of them had not been spotted behind the pillar.
@Penny