POOHEAD189

The Sunday Group

I think Manny would be all for it, but trying to tackle these guys now OOC is ill advised imo.

The Deposed Dilemma

Her eyes were quite pretty, and they warmed for a moment that he thought enhanced them even further, until suddenly the warmth was gone and a coldness crept into her face, distaste evident. Berek wouldn't keep himself from helping, mind you. But he hadn't even learned her name yet, and once she was feeling better he'd lead her back to wherever she called home. For now he's have to deal with the attitude.

Well he'd never heard anyone give a less appreciative thank you in his life. It was a contrast he didn't even know existed! Well...that was not entirely true. But he'd never heard a woman talk like that. It was actually oddly cute. "Yes," he chuckled. "Humphrey's in there waiting for me to start cooking is all. Maybe once you get cleaned up I'll introduce you to him." He gave a light smile, and with a gentleness belying his muscled form, he lifted her up slowly, before ever so lightly placing her dainty feet in the heated water. Well, at least she seems to like dogs.

"Now, if you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen. Ok?" He asked her, keeping his hands on her waist and side to make sure she didn't slip. She still had on her rags, but honestly water with them on or off, it would be an improvement from the mud that caked her skin. He could tell that was one of the things that had soured her mood. She must be highborn.

He let her go gently, placing his hands on his hips and thinking to himself. Good thing I was there then. Any opportunist would hold a highborn for ransom these days.

The Deposed Dilemma

Berek blinked from the weak, wet, slap. He looked like a dog that had just heard a strange noise, more surprised and curious than anything. "Sorry," he said. Her words seemed to catch up to him, and not for the first time he wondered who she was. That was an upper class accent if he'd ever heard one. For a moment he thought one of the greedy lords had thrown out one of their mistresses on the street, but he suppose he'd find out later.

"Easy now," he told her when she yelped in pain. He moved one of his hands to lift her up a tad to help her sit up. He felt like he was trying to help a bird with a broken wing. "I'll give you what medicine I have, but I drew a hot bath and supper will be ready soon. I...don't have women's clothes here. But I've plenty of shirts and trousers. Just make yourself at home, ok?" He said to her. In the other room, Ferona would hear a 'boof!'

The Deposed Dilemma

Berek blinked, eyes widened in bewilderment at the muddied and broken form next to the alleyway. "God," he breathed, making sure he tied his foodstuffs to his belt as he made his way over to the woman. At least, he believed it was a woman. He knelt down and tried to wake her, seeing tear streaks down her heart-shaped face. He felt like going back into the tavern and beating the men he'd seen earlier, but now wasn't the time.

"Come on," he whispered, slipping his arms under her form. He'd wash his shirt later, the mud not the issue at the moment. While he drew this woman a bath, he'd wash the clothes. But for now it looked like he had nearly a mile to walk and an extra one hundred and twenty pounds to carry. Though it was far easier for him than most men, having been at the forge for over half of his life. He wanted to wake her and ask her what had happened to her, but he'd wait a bit on that account. Maybe she'd awake on the way there?

Feeling her legs and body as he carried her, he could tell she was cut up and underfed. Guess he'd lose a few days worth of food to help her out, but he wasn't going to just leave her there. A dog barked and bounded around him as he left the town proper, and a man gave him a curious look at what he held in his hands. But Berek paid them no mind, except a smile to the dog. He had a full night ahead of him.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Communications Code FM101-5-2. Master Chief Petty Officer Gunther Briefing.
Terran Date 3.4.189-87

It has come to my attention that the anomaly known as Harbinger, bearing the same name as the flagship of the vanguard fleet, has been identified and confirmed. At 1645 on the Terran date 3.4.189-76.3, an unknown craft approached Planet 139 known as Savran, entering its atmosphere past our scanners and evading one of our missiles. Less than a day later, Terran date 3.4.189-76.31, we sent commando squad falmer down to intercept where we believed subject X was located, also known as Drake Ferenhall. Their success was limited, and the anomaly was unleashed, destroy provinces bravo and charlie, before halting in its movement and shutting down by unknown means. We were prepared to glass the planet, but once its movements had halted, we waited on word from our on planet squad. Admiral Corvus ordered a planetary assault not a day later, given that the anomaly needed to be investigated and the despot Hatcher would hinder our efforts. It wasn't until the previously mentioned unknown space craft was gone that we received reports of its leaving. Drake Ferenhall has yet to be located.

---

Terran Date 3.4.189-76.7
Sector Tumultus
Planet Fornax
2 weeks later.

Well needless to say the two of them had been skeptical taking this for a first job. The volatile fusion reactors meant to power the orbital defense system of this planet on the edge of space were the last thing Neil would want on their ship (particularly how he piloted). But it had paid off in the end, they had to admit. Fornax had also paid them handsomely, the planetary Governor apparently overjoyed that they had actually received their shipment on time and intact. Neil wasn't entirely sure why they didn't get a legitimate transport to ship them to the Outer Sector, but then again Terran laws often changed. Perhaps they didn't want to ship them legitimately only for them to be arrested for treason when they arrived out of R.I.P. space.

Neil didn't give a flying fuck. He now sat on the hellish manufacturing world's most debauched and infamous bar, fully three stories with more selections of drinks than you could fathom. On a world that never stopped their employees working, men and women needed serious downtime when they could afford it. Plopped on a chair, with his left hand holding a mug to his lips and his right arm snug ontop of the chair next to him, Neil felt like he had made the right choice in becoming Highlander's Pilot.

"So, tell me about how you saved the planet from destruction again?" The dancer asked, lithe finger running over Neil's chest as her girlfriends sat in wonder at his story. Likely they had never even been off-planet, and hardly met any off-worlders. The sky being a constant haze of red and soot, he felt sorry for them. The young pilot sighed and placed his mug down, slipping his now free arm around the dark eyed beauty as he shifted in his seat. "Certainly," he conceded. "But this is the last time, ok? I've been in space for over a week and I need some rest."

"You're not leaving soon are you?" A blonde girl asked, her eyes big and blue. Neil shook his head. "No, I'm here for another few days while my crew finds a new job. Don't worry." He gave her a wink.
@Penny

The Deposed Dilemma

Here it is, Rin!

The Deposed Dilemma

Berek raised a hand, the bartender refilling his mead. Tonight was one of the few nights the young blacksmith was allowed himself to relax. A second mug wouldn't necessarily hurt. He saw the liquid gold filling the cup, and once it foamed at the brim he took a sip. The brew was as delicious as the last, and he let out a satisfied gasp. The young man felt like the only thing that would make this moment better was some good food, but he promised himself he'd cook when he got home.

At his feet were a sack of foodstuffs, just the last reminder of his day full of errands. The amount of beef, chicken, cheese, wheat bread and salt would last him a few weeks, just in time for him to finish his most recent batch of contracts. Outside the window, Berek didn't notice the shaved, and once voluptuous figure being shoved into the mud from the workers that were hauling a carriage worth of fertilizer into their small business.

He simply enjoyed his mead, and would have continued to do so if not for the men who walked in not moments later, laughing uproariously and speaking too loud to be ignore.

"Dumb bitch deserved it." the lead one said, clenching his fists. "Had the lack of common sense to not get out of the mule's way!"
"Aye. Probably has the plague, that one." the next one said, and the others shook their heads. "Well if she don't now, she will soon. The mud and cold'll get you as quick as the illness."
"What say once we're done here we go outside and have a little fun with her before she's dead?"
"Fun? She might have been a looker at some point but she's skin and bones now, unless you mean shoving her down again. I did see a small coin purse 'round her belt. Must be from losing all that hair."

Berek took another sip of his drink, eyeing the men and wondering what in God's name they were talking about. He sighed his next words. "Well whatever it is, doesn't sound good." He groaned and stood up off his barstool, giving the bartender a coin and a nod of thanks for heading to the tavern door.

He pushed open the door with a strong hand, and found a curious and bedraggled sight next to the alleyway.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

As the others spoke among themselves, Beren had used his powerful legs to leap across the magma like a pouncing wolf, landing right enough with the barest scuff of his stout boots. He seemed to be preoccupied with something in his thoughts, glancing around as if he could smell or hear something faint. "Yeah it sucks," he said absent mindedly to Ursaren, not voicing his thoughts on the man-bear having known any Dark Elves in his life. That was nearly impossible without them trying to kill you.

Beren found a few small boulders near the back end of the room, where an archway had been collapsed upon itself. Beren squinted at it suspiciously, then called back for Ursaren to help him move some of the debris.

Meanwhile, as Calanon smoothed Brogach's snout, Geradin raised an eyebrow and gave An-Hasst the old Dwarven stink eye. He huffed, puffed, and befuffled! "Course I can!" He announced, smacking his chest. "But be patient. Foul magics have been wrought in this place, soiling the very stone!" The Dwarf marched past the Skayleigh over to the far right wall, where the lava entered into a tunnel and disappeared from the chamber. The Dwarf began to dust off parts of the wall, and knocked his knuckles against the stone, before sniffing it. He nodded thoughtfully, and continued to check.

Settionne and Alice would notice something to the far left wall, where across the lava there looked to be a side passage. Granted there were many passages, but as it was stated, they would notice something. Something the others wouldn't. For Alice, a myriad of magical energies whispered to her, bringing her a somewhat bitter taste to her mouth and dulling her senses, and not in a pleasant way. For Settionne however, he was having a much better time of it. He felt a presence, something intriguing and oddly amusing from the energies he sensed. The Fineki pendant he wore would throb lightly. Some sort of mystical runoff or residue led to that tunnel, that much was certain.

Brogach began to neigh and knicker, and Calanon tilted his head in confusion before he gave a start, realizing what his companion was sensing. Argon felt it too, flicking his tongue and gazing into the lava. An-Hasst would feel it after them, his shamanistic culture and their communal with the elements of nature giving him some sense of this new phenomenon.

Namely, the lava had a spirit within it. Something faint, but it was there.
@Banana@The Fated Fallen@BCTheEntity@Fetzen

Buccaneers and Blades (Fantasy, High Casual)

So we have heard from our resident mage Assalya, so most if not all are now accounted for! Still need some character sheets, but soon we'll be underway!

Dragon Age: Oathbreaker

Will post myself in a day or two.