POOHEAD189

The Sunday Group

Concept Pic

Name: Manny Rockefeller

Age: 25

Appearance: Unkempt would be the best word to describe Manny. He's often seen wearing yesterday's rumpled clothes. He has brown eyes and refined facial features, with long legs and a fit body. He quit smoking awhile ago, though he felt odd without something in his mouth. He tends to use toothpicks now.

Concept: Jaded and paranoid supernatural investigator and researcher with an old soul. Officer in the field. Sarcastic and tired.

Powers/skills:

• Wing Chun: While he's by no means weak, he has no illusions that he'll be the strongest thing out there, so he took it upon himself to learn a martial art effective for close combat, yet it's power is derived more from stances, swift strikes, and momentum than ordinary strength. He's been a studious practitioner for 4 years.
• Gun play: Years working in the back streets, and spent in shooting ranges, had made him an effective shot and a competent gun wielder. He's not the best, but he's reliable and a quick aim.
• Sleight of Hand: He's had to do some unscrupulous things in his life in order to survive. He's a talented pick pocket and lock picker, and he's not too shabby with climbing small buildings if need be.
• Recollection: He has a fine memory and can recall more than most would think, due to his obsessive mind.
• Lore Student: He's studied more ancient and supernatural lore than a grown man should, thrice over. He could be a mythology professor if he cared enough.
• Hot Rod: He can drive cars and motorbikes fast and skillfully.

Writing Sample:

Ghoul Investigation

Picking the lock to the window was easy enough. The interior of the abandoned office building was stuffy and thick with dust. Manny slipped the cloth he kept in his back pocket up to his mouth, breathing in slowly as he looked around. His sharp eyes caught the trail immediately, dust having been wiped clean on the floor, leading to a trail that led toward the fallen ceiling of the break room. He placed his foot on the counter, and kicked off with a leap to grab a hold, and haul himself up onto the 3rd floor. He held his breath throughout, so as not to groan and give away his position.

When he pulled himself up, he didn't move quickly or anxiously. He knew if what he expected to be here was here, it would be much quicker than him unless he was prepared. He knew it would toy with him if he was slow, which gave him an edge. Manny wrapped his jacket around his right arm, holding a vial at the end of it. His other hand slipped the safety off his M1991 .45 handgun, and he moved with a practice silence across the floor, though the ruined wood creaked every so often.

The slabbering noise in the other room was loud enough to drown out any small creaks however, and Manny casually, slowly stepped through the open doorway to view a scene out of a horror novel. Grey and smooth, putrid flesh covered the hulking figure as it nuzzled its face into the open chest cavity of the still-warm corpse. Wet sucking noises filled the air as the ghoul fed, its back-bone protruding out like a reptilian spine.

The claw marks on the opposite rooftop had given the beast way an hour ago. He'd been sufficiently prepared. He'd learned long ago not to call the police. Nothing but red tape and lawyers.

"Hey bitch," he called. With preternatural speed, the Ghoul yanked its head up and turned, only for its face to be covered in shattered glass and holy water. With a screech it leaped at the doorway instantly, but Manny had already moved. Summarily blinded, it hit the side wall and screeched more in pain. Manny stepped back into the doorway and fired his weapon, punching 4 holes into the beast before it croaked, and fell dead.

Before he left, he slipped on his gloves and fished his hands in the corpse's wallet. He'd notify the police of the death, of course. But he'd take some cash for his trouble. A man had to eat, after all.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

He gave a small smile at her acquiesce of how she acted earlier. He didn't blame her though. These Templars had been very forthcoming with their opinions. Cyrdic had expected it, but Camilla simply wasn't used to Imperial Templars.

"I found you wandering the castle, trying to give away the vial," he told her honestly, not wanting to lie to her. She did have a right to know. He relaxed, one leg out and one leg bent, his arm resting on his bent knee. "My sword...spoke to me somehow. It has an abhorrence for Chaos, which is a fine thing to have, especially in a sword." He spoke matter-of-factly.

"And I found you that way. You were influenced by Chaos somehow, though the effects and hold over you is gone. I tried to snap you out of it, but instead you-" he sighed. "You whispered something in your native language into my ear and started kissing my neck."

He had to push the alluring accent and the image of her embracing him out of his head again as he continued. "And then you touched my sword. I think it expelled all of the magic, but it also flung you back. I picked you up and carried you here." He shrugged. "I wasn't about to leave you again."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

His powerful legs pumping, Cyrdic barreled forward like a locomotive and shoved the siege ladder off the walls, toppleing a dozen Beastmen backwards to howl screaming into their allies down below, crushing another dozen. The sky was bright red, and comets seared through it like a slicing dagger, as if their very presence ripped reality around them. The horde that was assaulting Wolfenburg was immense. A sea of Chaos Spawn, miles and miles long.

With a snarl, Cyrdic twirled and caved in the skull of a Beastman. His weapon shifted in his hands. At times it was his broadsword, his Ulrican runic sword...he now wielded a hammer that he knew must have been Ghal Maraz. With a mighty stroke, he slammed the hammerhead into a Minotaur's chest, popping its ribcage open like a melon and sending it flying off the wall to die before it even hit the ground. Cyrdic turned again, and now wielded his broadsword, blocking the axe of a Khornate Berserker, kicking its legs out from under him and head butting the Chosen, splitting his face. He finished him with a stab to the chest, and shoved him off of his blade with his boot.

His next opponent was-

Cyrdic stopped, and lowered his sword. He saw Camilla, standing there, poised to stab at him. He cried out her name, but she wouldn't answer. Her eyes were glowing with an inner evil, and she grinned widely at him. He lifted his sword to defend himself, but couldn't strike her. He didn't know if he could.

She lunged forward with her rapier, and his reluctance made him too slow to effectively parry, her blade sinking into his chest. He fell to his knees, but there was no pain. Only sorrow. She knelt down beside him, and gripped the chain around his mother had given him...

Cyrdic started awake, having felt her hands on him. Like a cornered animal, he pressed his back to the solid wooden door and snarled like a Wolf, his bare chest rising and falling. It took him a moment to realize he was still within Camilla's dimly lit room, her face apologetic before she popped some of his beef jerky into her mouth. As she spoke, he placed a hand on his forehead to wipe away the sweat and lift up his matted hair. "You-...dreams?" he asked. He had too, he guessed, but he didn't feel comfortable speaking about it at the moment. "Do you not remember what happened earlier?" His voice was incredulous. He supposed that would be a good thing, right? "What was the dream?"

---

"Your failure was to be expected," The Tzeentch Champion replied, his hands behind his back as he stood before Gildenhoof and their followers of barbarians and beastmen. "The aura surrounding the man and the woman are troubling. But nothing I cannot handle." He put an emphasis on the word 'I' to show Gildenhoof how little he truly thought of the Slaneeshi Chosen. The lower champion glowered, but did not speak up.

"The Castle itself," a coarse voice said. Velabrass turned to see the Khornate Champion Kron gripping his massive two headed axe. "We attack it with our full force?"

"In a matter of hours, we will break the walls and slaughter them all. Yes," Velabrass said, and was accompanied by the moans and roars of the others. The Tzeentch Champion lifted his guantleted hand, indicating for the bray-slaves to run and grab the weapon that was still being infused with chaos energy. Moments later, the siege contraption was wheeled forth. The chaos cannon pulsated with energy. Veins along its warm metal gave it an organic quality, and indeed in a way it was alive. A screeching Daemon roiled within it, granting it unnatural power.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Back in the waking world, Cyrdic had finished shaking her and stood back to see if it had worked. He was concerned, but the wolfish sword, and his own hatred of Chaos had given him a grave look. He wouldn't harm Camilla, Ulric knows he wouldn't. But this was something he had to stop, and at the moment he knew Chaos energy seeped through his Tilean companion. He spoke her name again in a whisper, hoping she'd reply.

The last thing he expected was her sliding forward, closing the distance between them and speaking in Tilean. He'd always enjoyed her accent and native tongue, curious on how it was spoken. But whispered to him in such a way brought his heart speeding, and then her lips found his neck, her nose tickling his skin. Her body pressed to his, and he let out a breathe he didn't know he'd been holding. He let out a light moan of enjoyment, having had this fantasy once or twice.

"Not like this," he said, placing his strong arms on her shoulders reluctantly. He spoke just as much to himself as he did to her, snapping himself out of it. He'd push her away and tie her up, maybe. He'd-

She squawked like a bird, and was flung back as his sword howled. She hit the wall and slumped. He was dumbfounded for a moment. A very small part of him had to be the sarcastic ass and say '...or that could happen.' But most of his being was elsewhere with his thoughts, mostly for the safety of her.

"Camilla!"

He called as loud as he dared, running over to her limp form and checking to see if she was still breathing. Thankfully she was, and there was no blood on the back of her head either. The hairs on his neck still stood on end. "_{This woman is driving me up the wall!}" he breathed in frustration. But by Ulric, he felt like he loved her.

He groaned in annoyance, picking up the vial she had dropped, and scooped her up in his arms to carry her as if she was a babe. He was going to take her back to her room and guard her, regardless of her pride. He didn't think of her as helpless, but they needed to work together. With a sigh, he spun and stepped to walk back into her room, only to find himself face to face with an imperial guard holding a torch.

"........"

"....."

"Have you worked under ser Gilderoy long?" Cyrdic asked.

"I'm a conscript from Stirland. Just here to man the castle." the man said.

"Fought in the Storm campaign?"

"Aye, 4th regiment of Halberdiers."

"I was in the Ostland regulars." Cyrdic said, nodding. "Listen, these Templars don't need to know all that happens here. I'm simply helping her back to her room, but they'll jump to conclusions. Could you keep this between us?"

The man looked at Cyrdic, then to Camilla, then back at Cyrdic. "Silent as the grave, Sergeant."

Next Camilla woke, she'd find herself in her bed. Cyrdic would be asleep on the floor as he often had been the past few months, only this time his muscled form was against the door. She'd need to wake him to leave.

---

Gildenhoof let out a shrill cry, his desires unsated for the time being. Damn that soldier and his cursed blade. He had been so close to caressing the woman's smooth form. His tongue slithered out of his mouth, spikes suddenly protruding from it as he imagined the ecstacy. He would need to report to Velabrass the failure.

Unfortunate though it may be, he found himself moaning at the thought of killing imperial soldiers. He knew the time would come very soon, and he would ravage the woman before the soldier's eyes, and then have his way with the sergeant as well once she was finished with. Oh, yes...all in time.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

There was a slight breeze wafting along the night air. Something that had Cyrdic on edge, though he wasn't aware of what. Dimly, he realized it wasn't even his sixth sense as a soldier, the type of feeling that often saved a man's life on campaign. No, it was something else entirely. Something pulsating within the blade of his sword, and he gripped his weapons for surety as he thought to himself.

On instinct, he sniffed the air like a dog, his nostrils flaring. He had no idea why, but there was something inherently wrong with how the air felt. His sword stirred, and he picked himself up, moving like a pacing wolf on the hunt. He passed a few curious guardsmen, and made his way down the back part of the stairs.

Was there an enemy in the castle? He doubted it, but he'd be the fool he often thought he was if he ruled out chaos from being so unpredictable. The darkened corridors of the keep only heightened his wariness, and before long he found himself in a part of the castle that led to Camilla's room.

Before he could put two and two together, a curved figure sauntered toward him from out of the corner, and he saw it was Camilla, more bare than she should have been in a castle of men that fawned on her. And to his mounting horror, she had the vial in her hands, holding it out as if it was a gift.

"Camilla..." he said, but she just continued forward, a sensual look upon her face. In contrast, Cyrdic narrowed his eyes dangerously, and his sword howled. He briefly thought she was an apparition, but he doubted it. He wouldn't take the chance of striking her down, anyhow. "Camilla," he said a bit more loudly, and when she reached him, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Hard. "Hey, come on." he said. He wouldn't hurt her, but she'd thank him for the rough treatment later. "Snap out of it," he ordered.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic gripped her hand in his, callused fingers entwined within her coppery hand. He smiled to her, reassuringly. "From what I've seen you do, you're as much of a warrior as I am. Plus I don't think I'd have had quite as much fun of a time as I'd have with an ornmanet." he said, and kissed her forehead. "Get some rest. We're both just tired."

Cyrdic helped her into bed, and then stepped away. He poked his head into the hall to make sure no one knew he was in her room, and then slipped out.

Once there, he leaned against the wall outside her door and simply rested there for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Not for the first time did he think that maybe he should go back to Ostland, or hire himself out to a free company regiment. Not because he wished to be away from Camilla or this life, but perhaps it would be the right thing to do. He'd seen men better than he die so much. Why should he be so fortunate as to-

Fortunate? He's had bad luck after bad luck. That and good luck. Treasures, love, danger, hours of bone breaking tiredness. Ulric, he didn't know. He really couldn't see himself not using his sword, and ordering the men out on the trail earlier was as natural to him as a fish swimming.

You're a fool. You'd regret going off without her everyday. He thought to himself, in which he chastised himself back again for being a fool to find himself in this position in the first place. The middle of the Drakwald, surrounded by Chaos warriors, Beastmen, a Dragon, and crazed Templars.

"...Fuck it," he said, pushing off the wall to head out to the front of the keep, out into the inner walls of the castle and along the battlements. It was truly night now, and only a few men were out on patrol. He didn't quite feel like sleeping yet, so the rugged young man planted himself onto the wall, sliding down a parapet until his rump hit stone, simply gazing out into the wilderness and hoping he could find a Beastmen's skull to crack soon. That always helped his head.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic blinked, looking both taken aback and frustrated too. Though mostly hurt she felt like he thought she was a dainty thing. He simply looked at her for a moment, and then shook his head. The Knights must have really annoyed her for her to lash out at him. That would be the last time he would try to get close to her for a bit. "Camilla, I-...you have the vial." he whispered to her with emphasis. "They're looking for us, and more likely you than me." He said.

He blinked, still bedazzled that she could switch between impressions as easily as he switched sword hands. He ran his hands through his hair, and sat down next to her on the bed. He placed his chin on her head when she leaned against him, and he chuckled. And then he considered her words, and nodded as she spoke. This explanation of Gilderoy was something he'd foreseen. "Templars are unhinged," Cyrdic said. "They're not bad men, mostly. But they're so ingrained in their way of life they can't think outside of it. I should know. Soldiers can get that way too. I was so into campaigning and fighting Chaos I never thought of anything passed it."

He pushed her away a bit, but only so he could look in her face. "You're tough as hell," he said. "Do you really think after all we've been through, I'd think you're weak?" he asked earnestly. He paused for a moment, and then stood up. He'd head back to his room. "I forgive you, I know this place is weird." He let his words sink in. "And we've been through too much the past few months."

"I'm sorry I offended you. Just...I don't like you having to play this game for them. I don't like the way they treat me either. We'll be gone soon, I think. Let's just focus on surviving and getting that vial back."

---

"And when will it be done?" Gilderoy asked Garmmenn again, chewing on his mustache in annoyance. He paced back and forth in the back archway, this part of the Castle surrounded by the strongest stone. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. This was supposed to be a small, covert operation in a heavily defended fort. Not the farce it has been so far.

"As the ancient texts of Abhorash say, tomorrow's setting sun shall bring the specimens into the correct celestial alignment, and we can perform the ritual."

"In another day that damned Dragon could find this castle," Gilderoy growled, stomping his foot. He breathed in deeply to calm himself. "I would say move further into the Drakwald, but there is an uncomfortable amount of heathens and Beastmen about. It's just our luck."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic raised his goblets to every cheer, his and the Knights. Truthfully, despite his slight mistreatment, he was proud to fight alongside Empire men once more. There were more than a few lowborn men without the haughtiness of the Knights, and even some Knights seemed more down to earth than most. Some who had been on campaign with commoners were often less arrogant than others.

"I've fought the Northmen in Ostland and Nordland," Cyrdic replied, sipping his drink. He'd eaten earlier, but by Sigmar he was certainly ready for seconds. "I've seen their like before and know a few tricks on how to fight them. But honestly, it was luck that saved the day, and some fast thinking from Camilla."

"The Marchioness." Gilderoy stated challengingly. A few of his Knights who often performed on ceremony agreed. He wondered what they'd do if he stated that he had a noble title in the works. He supposed they simply wouldn't believe him and call him a charlatan, and honestly? He wouldn't blame them.

"Yes, the Marchioness and I managed to secure one of the wagons and speed off into the Drakwald, only to lose ourselves off of it miles away. Beastmen pursued, and we slew them by the river...we saw a Dragon, Sir Gilderoy. A great red one. I'm sorry we had not mentioned it before."

The disbelief of the Knights and servicemen were gone in a flash. Some of the lowborn seemed positively shocked at the news. In fact most in attendance did. But Gilderoy and his Knights seemed merely perturbed. "The Drakwald is filled with beasts. I'm certain such a creature is miles away now. Now enjoy your meals. I have some business to attend to." He said, giving Garmmenn a knowing look. The scribe sputtered a bit, and then hustled to follow as the gallant figure of Gilderoy disappeared.

Cyrdic and the soldiers began conversing of gossip within the empire, about one Elector count and other, and certain jokes Camilla had probably never heard of. Cyrdic laughed and grinned, and ate, and he attempted to bring Camilla into the conversation as much as he could so she didn't feel left out.

Once they were done, all in attendance were dismissed. Cyrdic offered to escort Camilla to her room, offering her an arm as if they were at the Court of Middenhiem once more. "This situation here is a bit odder than I'd like," he said, gazing at every hall as they passed. He stopped at the door, and after he opened it for her, he looked a bit shy. "I should guard you, tonight. In here, if you want...I really don't think its safe us being separated and..."

He sighed, and seemed more annoyed with himself than anything. Finally, he just spit it out. "I know it was only a few hours. But I missed you."
@Penny

The Sunday Group

@ihinka Nah, he's not that good.

Darkwater: City of Intrigue and Adventure

OOC will be up in the next few days, gents.