POOHEAD189

The Sorceress and the Slave

It seemed Rhaak was now officially bought.

A reality he'd need to get used to as much as he would need to come to terms with him now traveling in the wider world, though what this woman wanted of him was unknown. Protection and pleasure most likely, though she seemed to have a purpose that drove her forward, ignoring all of the expensive baubles and trinkets that had inexorably caught Rhaak's eyes. Old habits died hard, even for someone who had not thieved since his youth.

For now, he kept his hands to himself. He was still a slave, albeit one under a new master. As she moved forward, he did his best to remain wary, particularly when she spoke of them meeting someone who this woman claimed was dangerous. That was an alarming prospect to hear from her lips, though she seemed in control of the elder enough when they entered his small shop of valuables and scents. Rhaak blinked in surprise when she bade the man to provide Rhaak with visions.

To his credit, he remained stationary and did not even speak, though his brow was raised and his eyes questioning.

"Him?" The man scoffed, nervously fidgeting. Pulling on his old tunic to try and regain some lost dignity, he gestured towards Rhaak. "This is but a slave, you would have me open the gift of sight for this one?..." His words trailed off, having already received his instruction. He cursed a foul curse, flourishing his hands. His robes flapped as he did so, and a strange scented sand was flung into the air that tickled Rhaak's nose. "Very well, Allah be with us all." He declared, reaching forward to grip Rhaak's face in his hands, intoning.

"As the sun burns and the dunes roll,
show this one a vision of what has been foretold.
One who's whispers is the wind and the water of the sea,
show this slave a fabled destiny.

"

Rhaak's entire world began to slowly spin, his clarity of mind now fogged in the mists of time. He began to breathe heavily, his eyes looking to Amira for aid before his consciousness was sucked into the world-that-was-not-of-this-world. He cried out to Allah, falling to his knees as his eyes began to see what was not there to see.

A cave in the desert, surrounded by three obelisks. A cave that led to their destiny. And yet he knew, this was but on of many destinies.

A being of fire and shadow, an Ifrit who guarded an oasis, all must pay the toll. The toll, what could he part with that Amira could not?

Treasures Kings would die for. A bejeweled ring of power that unlocks the entrance to-

The world came flooding back, causing him to stumble and grasp at the ground with his strong hands. It left him more winded than his fight in the pit, and far more vulnerable, his mind having unwound to allow the granted vision to take hold. The emphatic beating of his heart was intensely audible in his ears. He swallowed, regaining his senses enough to stand on his feet moments later. He opened and closed his hands, making sure he was truly back in his own body.
@Penny

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

Same here. I spent 18 days in Florida sleeping on my aunt's couch back when I was in college (and missed a course) because my grandmother was dying, and I was in the room with her when she passed. It was her own choice and all my family and I could do would be to comfort her while it happened.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil had that water and a bite to eat, and then he unfortunately donned the space suit once more. It seemed just a few hours ago he'd worn the thing. Refitting the helmet firmly atop his shoulders, he gave a light burp at the quick consumption of the provisions and he turned the comm on to get Junebug's attention. "Shut the door to the cockpit." He told her. "I'm juuuust about to make for the compartment area and fix the hull best I can. Copy?" He waited a few moments for confirmation.

Once he was sure the coast was clear, he held onto the railing parallel to the door and used his free hand to release the hatch, letting the door slide open. It did so so violently it impressed him, and he felt the void yanking him in. He was glad his suit's magnetic boots still worked fine, and even with the immense pressure he walked steadily, closing the door behind him. Once the pressure was equalized, instead of being sucked out into space, he felt a weightlessness now counteracted by his boots.

All that was audible was his breathing, and he went to work. "All clear. I'm outside the ship." He clarified to Junebug, beginning to reshape the rent metal, one gloved hand running over one of the immense marks left by the R.I.P. Beast. Hideously, he felt a slick liquid that clung to the bits of metal. The substance seemed a bit too light to be akin to most liquids, yet it wasn't a gas. It made him feel entirely uneasy, mixed with a feeling of intense interest. No one had ever witnessed one of the outer dimensional creatures and lived to tell the tale, save the Great Gideon. And even he was too disturbed to speak of such things, Neil had heard, the hero claiming it nearly shattered his sanity.

"Let's think about lighter things." Neil pipped up to himself, welding and reshaping what he could, the advanced vacuum-welder working like a charm. He only lamented he had no tunes available to listen to while he worked. Instead he just decided to go over what had occurred the last two months, er, years. He'd need to get used to the time thing. Wait...he needed to call his mom!

So engrossed was he in his work that he never turned around. Sayeeda would see... it on the radar once it passed the stellar nursery of molecular hydrogen in the distance. An immense oblong shape of what looked to be polished stone hurtling toward Highlander general vicinity.
@Penny

The Sorceress and the Slave

Rhaak blinked, considering his options. He could indeed probably attack this woman. His master was a bubbling mess and there were no guards posted at such an early hour. However, there was something about her that compelled him beyond her beauty. There was a certain destiny in the air, and despite himself, he had gotten used to being a slave. One master was as good as another, and so he would be her slave, at least for the time being. She weilded powers he had not seen before, and he was more than a bit intrigued on what she wanted.

"Yes, master." He said, giving her a bow and slipping the Scimitar within his sash belt. "My name is Qabdat Alhajar within the Pit. But my birth name is Rhaak Bin Hakeem, if it pleases you."

The sun was barely peeking over the desert sands when Amira and Rhaak stepped out of the pit through the curved archway. He stepped out hesitantly, as if he expected to be suddenly attacked for having abandoned his previous master or for leaving the confines of his three year prison at all. He had not seen the outside world in some time.

The sorceress, for what else could she have been, stepped with a surety of purpose. He kept one hand on his Scimitar hilt, and his other hand closed into a fist as they walked.

"Master, if I may speak?" He began, letting there be a slight pause before he was certain she would not cast a spell upon him. "What is it you require of me? Where do we go?"

Even now, the marketplace began to awaken. Fish mongers and jewelry merchants set up shop, with would-be alchemists painstakingly placing their vials of what was probably salt water within their coffers to sale as the sun continued to rise.
@Penny

The Sorceress and the Slave

Rhaak had fought men of all sizes and creatures from distant lands, but he had never seen someone floor another human with a mere look. There was something supernatural afoot here. A heretical power that he could not fathom. The word left his disbelieving lips, eyes looking up to meet the woman's enchanting gaze.
"Sorcery-"

He was cut off from saying more when the eunuch's arm was suddenly around his neck in a brutal hold. Rhaak gasped, trying to move his hands onto his arm to slacken the pressure on his neck. Even as the bald headed opponent began to squeeze harder, the six fingered brute waded in, spittle dripping out of his jowls as he sought to steal the kill the from eunuch. The young pit fighter breathed out of his nose as best he could, grabbing a hold of the eunuch's arm for support before burying his feet into the midsection of the bearded one.

The force of the kick sent the eunuch back stumbling, and winded the would-be opportunist. All the while the sorceress watched with eyes as sharp as a bandit's blade.

Rhaak found traction on the ground, immediately taking advantage of the slight slack in the eunuch's hold and elbowing the man thrice in quick succession, making it out of the grapple. His fist then struck the eunuch in the stomach, a rib shattering in a resounding crack that made the bald slave wail and stagger. A roar behind Rhaak betrayed the sudden charge of the lumbering cursed man. He spun, ducking a punch before getting hit by the second, causing him to grunt. He reacted like lightning, one hand gripping the slave's rags and the other his beard, holding them in a vice-like grip before spinning his body and roaring in return.

The sorceress would see Rhaak's caramel muscled grow even more pronounced, and the pit fighter suddenly lifted the brutish figure over his shoulders to sail end over end and land hard on the arena's sand. The man must have weighed twice Rhaak's weight, if not more. The younger one did not delay, and swiftly stomped on the six fingered man's windpipe, ending his life. Blood fountained from the man's mouth, the wind picking up as if some Ifrit demanded the scent of blood to spread.

Meanwhile, the injured eunuch had decided to take advantage of the downed slave master, freeing him of his scimitar. Rhaak turned, seeing the lanky slave warily approaching him with his new weapon, the blade gleaming in the morning sun. With a cry of rage, the eunuch slashed at Rhaak repeatedly. The pit fighter who still held his manhood in check thought it would be best to keep it that way, ducking and dodging. Once he saw an opportunity, he struck the eunuch on the leg, causing him to stumble. His next blow knocked the scimitar into the air, and his third punch shattered the other kneecap, causing the eunuch to fall to his knees.

Rhaak caught the descending scimitar, and beheaded the eunuch in one swift motion. Another fountain of blood erupted, seeping into the sands of the pit.

Sweat lightly beading on his forehead and chest, his red vest open. He pointed the weapon at Amira. Even being under the lash for years, he could not help but speak up in anger. "Who are you?"
@Penny

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

So when I get into arguments about just how healthy pot is for you, I have enough actual secondhand knowledge to roll my eyes.

@SleepingSilence

I am so with you on this. I'm not saying it dosent have benefits in certain therapeutic circumstances but people need to stop pretending its some sort of panacea.

@Penny

^^^^^ 1000%

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

The data I presented is percentage of successful attempts rather than percentage of attempts by a particular method. I'm not sure what the actual breakdown is in absolute terms.

@Penny

Oh I see. That makes more sense^^

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

I'm surprised there's such a high number of people committing suicide by suffocation. That's such a slow way to go.

The Sunday Group

The detective had not sat idly by.

Fashioning a toothpick from a twig he'd found with his small pocket knife, Manny felt restless as the sun continued to set in the distance. The cold wasn't making him feel anymore sluggish, instead giving him a crisp feel for his surroundings he sought to take advantage of. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he made his way toward the other side of the house, hearing the door open. Manny squinted as Leon walked out, but said nothing. There was something else.

There was something odd about the way Leon walked at one point. A slight misstep in his gait that piqued Manny's curiosity. Noticing it was gone once Leon passed a certain threshold, Manny went over to investigate and noticed a small impression in the grass. He crouched, reaching into his pocket to draw his knife out again, gingerly slipping the blade into the soil for a moment, feeling the dirt loosening a bit too easily.

"Huh."

He tried the ground a few feet back, and it looked to be much thicker. The smallest suspicion began creeping into his head, one a few of his colleagues would consider a bit too paranoid. But in this world, there was no such thing to Manny. Counting his steps, he moved from the side of the house to the front lawn and checked the soil with his blade again, before checking the other side of the house, and then the back. His theory seemed to hold up the way the grass felt. He even felt a solid mass below the back of the house, feeling the distinct texture of concrete within his fingers after he ripped off a bit of the grass.

"Figures," he said, and made his way inside. His booted footsteps would be clearly audible to Ellie and Kennedy, as would the creak of the door as he (somewhat) slammed it shut. He walked into the living room, cleaning his knife of dirt as he did so. He didn't quite look at them, lost in thought and routine. "This house was built on a crossroads." Manny said professionally, making his way into the kitchen to see just what supplies they had on hand. His voice could still be heard from the other room, as could the sliding drawers and the jingle of containers. "Probably covered up completely a few years ago. Feds might have thought to keep this house under wraps in more ways than one."

A few moments later, he entered the room with salt and some ornaments. "If only silverware was actual silver," he grumbled, plopping down on the couch. Next he spoke, his voice was louder, as if continuing his previous thoughts. "Which means more than likely, someone wanted to cover up the fact that a demon has been summoned here at some point." He dropped a few .45 shells onto the table, the projectile clanking and rolling about. "And one can still be summoned, with the right spells."

He popped the top off of one with his knife, pouring out a bit of gunpowder and replacing it with salt. He would do the same to another five shells. "There's also a bit of sulphur on the drapes I saw earlier. All this next to a graveyard? Probably shouldn't stay here for much longer." He broke a small ornament on the ground, shattering it with his foot, the brass likeness of a Greek Neoclassical Olympian now reduced to rubble. He let out another stomp, breaking it further. He began to put the smaller pieces into the rest of his bullets, and with the small pile of gunpowder he'd accumulated, he'd pour the rest of that into the salt shaker.

The telltale click of his gun cocking brought his gaze back to the women. "I did ward the place. Can't be looked at as long as we're on the premises via magical means. At least for a short while." He winked to Kennedy at that last statement, before addressing both of them. "So...we got a plan?"

Frokane's Mildly Politcal Hangout Thread

I was trying to find a native meme for the small pox joke and I stumbled onto a gold mine of them.