POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil felt the slap hard across his face. It was something he was not prepared for, but honestly he had been slapped a few times in his life and he was glad for it. It brought things into perspective, though the two guards beside him seemed somewhat confused at what the woman was doing hitting the man. The Shaman did not seem to understand the altercation on what was happening, though as the crowds praised the Rakeeri, he raised his hands.

"Elevate them all!?" He cried in broken galactic. The Shaman seemed overwhelmed at the offering. "With such kindness, the Gods would be sated tenfold!" Watumpkah remembered the last sacrifice to the Rakeeri with a star man. It had been a prisoner of them, given willingly by the sky chariot captain. But this one...there would be no need for sacrifice if all of the youths would be lifted. The pilot did not seem to be eager either, and so he called for his guards to lower Neil.

For his part, Neil puffed out his chest and shouldered the guards away from him. "I would never insult the great god." He said, doing his best to seem imposing to those around, yet wary at the same time. Maybe some remorseful glances would work, though he wasn't sure if anyone was looking at him as a sacrifice anymore. Was he supposed to be the leader as the male, since the Shaman had picked him out? He didn't necessarily know what to do here, other than don't stare at the voluptuous woman.

Taya seemed skittish, at the edge of running for her life. She was a braver girl than most, but this was a situation she felt might get out of hand very easily, not to mention she was in a strange world out of known space.

"Starmen," the Shaman began, prostrating himself before them. "You honor us all. In ten nights, we shall watch as you elevate our children into the nether. For now, let us feast and sleep. Tomorrow, we will host the games of our people. Blood will flow, and you will have a seat among the elders to please you."
@Penny

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

"Where we are is a bit of a loaded question, lass." Geradin said, having seen fit to take out his pipe and smoking it, seeing as everyone else in the group had opted not to ask the cleric for help with healing. Of course, the sun of the upper world was shrouded from them, but it had been after midday when the Rogs had battled them, and that had been many hours ago. "Ah' can tell where we are as in, where we are compared to th' upper world. The caverns out of here ah' can help with as well. But couldae draw a map?" He shook his shaggy head.

Geradin was just about to settle on a stone when he saw Lizardfolk of the group smelling one of the larger mushrooms. "Oi! Don't touch that!" The Dwarf said, springing up from his seat. Argon seemed perplexed, and licked the mushroom. "Thissss seems edible."

"It's better for burning." Geradin replied, and pointed the end of his pipe at the mushroom head. "Ye see those purple markings? That shows this has sleeper ink in them. Eatin' it will put ye to sleep faster than you can say 'I just ate a mushroom'."

Beren had seen fit to start hacking away at one of the mushroom stalks, its texture surprisingly rigid as he chopped away with his Baldr axe. The cavern wasn't necessarily cold, but he figured cooking for once wasn't a bad idea. They'd not really touched some of their sit-down foods in awhile. Not that there was much. Just some venison, some onions, a pot and maybe some potatoes. As Beren chopped down the mushroom, Calanon and Brogach rode back down from the raised area of the cavern, the Elf hopping off to address the others.

"The room is like a small valley," Calanon reported. "It would take a minute or two to traverse to the otherside without the mushrooms, but with this ethereal forest I can't say. I think I saw a small river up ahead."

Beren had just finished hauling the mushroom 'tree' over and placing it in the middle of the group. "You guys start a fire. I'll go see about checking the water out." He said, holding up his pendant to show he still had the moon-lit vision they had been gifted back in RiverDale.

---

Meanwhile...

Two female Dorcha, along with three male subordinates surrounded her. Bound and bruised, the edge of the river was mere feet from her face. In their snarling tongue, they had debated on whether they should behead her or simply drown her, and were now flipping a coin over the problem. That is to say, the males were. The two females simply watched. One looked to be a sorceress, with a wand that bore a tainted sapphire at its head, bestial claws clung to a necklace that hung about her neck. The other female did not seem a soldier as the men, but she had twin curved blades, dark as obsidian. Her chainshirt seemed even higher quality than the male's, and their armor was fit for professional soldiers.

All of them had longer, light hair, with eye colors that ranged from indigo to silver. They were attractive in a dangerous fashion, and their pointed ears pierced their thick manes of hair. It was after the sorceress began to get impatient, that the Dark Elves felt beheading was quicker.

Despite the danger, the bickering, the ringing of her head, the cold feel of steel on the back of her neck...Aeryn would hear a rustle across the water. Something the other Dark Elves were too absorbed in their own conversations to notice. If she looked up, the small span of shallow water divided her and the face of a young human, tan skinned and scarred, with dark eyes that were steeled for combat.

He placed a finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet, and oddly enough gave her a wink.

The following moments were when the shouting reached the ears of the group around the fire, for Beren's axe had been launched with deadly accuracy, splitting the skull of one of the male Dark Elves. Bewildered, the Dark Elves still shouted orders and called for the head of whoever dare attack them. The sorceress immediately sent a fireball that tore through a section of the forest, Beren needing to dive into the water to remain alive as the other Dark Elves withdrew their swords.
@Stormflyx@The Fated Fallen@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@Fetzen

Warhammer Fantasy: The Guild of Esteemed Sellswords - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world!

Gonna bump this, because three people - for such a beloved franchise - is unacceptable!

@Jbcool

He has a point!

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Other than a few comically wide eyed looks from Neil, he wasn't too picky with the foods. After all, these people were human as far as he could tell and they had not died yet. Nor did newcomers get infected with diseases from the foods, if this Shaman's testimony was anything to go by. Still, poking what he thought looked like an egg, only for it to pop and open up like a fleshy soft fruit was a bit disconcerting.

"I'm on a diet," he said to the Shaman once he reached past the delicacy to some of the meatier foods, shoveling what cooked meat he could into his mouth. Once he actually got a taste for a few things, he found some of it to his liking. The insect-like appendages even seemed like some well cooked, land-sea food. Or maybe they actually had caught some of these creatures in the ocean. The sea was close enough, after all.

He did his best to smile and show he enjoyed some of it to the Shaman, only for his eyes to catch the voluptuous and very bare beauty that had draped a familiar insignia on his shoulders. He gave a short whistle at that, suddenly a bit ravenous in more ways than one. Stop it, they have spears and this is not the time for you to think with your other head he heard himself say in his mind. Neil blinked and turned away, shoving some more of the browned meat into his mouth as the youths singing below them were suddenly silenced, and he was unceremoniously (ironic?) thrust into the spotlight with juices dripping down his chin.

"How many you elevate, blessed ones?" The Shaman asked Neil as the younger tribes people filed passed. Neil shook his head, letting out a confused "uh," glancing Junebug's way and then back at the Shaman, who gazed at Neil expectantly. The pilot wasn't exactly paying too much attention to the younger men and women that presented themselves before them. He did his best to nod as if considering, chewing idly.

"How about her?" Neil declared, pointing to the gorgeous woman.

"No!" The Shaman cried, waving his hands about and shaking his head. "she too old."

Neil's eyes drank her in. "She looks just the right age to me."

A glance from Sayeeda snapped him back into focus, and he cleared his throat embarrassingly. After a few moments of consideration, Neil pointed to one of the younger men. He seemed to have very little in the way of tattoos, and there were no bone piercings on him that Neil could see. "You, come here." Neil declared, trying to give an air of command. The Shaman reiterated what he said, and the younger tribesman hustled over, fearful and curious.

"Well he definitely needs some pants first, but I do think we need someone to fetch the crew equipment. Someone other than me." His finger on his chin, Neil didn't want to start more trouble than was necessary, so choosing only one was probably for the best. There was a small rumble, and Neil felt it in his stomach. He supposed some of the food really had not agreed with him, and was suddenly acutely aware of the lack of toiletries he'd be privy to.

However, after a moment there was another rumble. This one an echo, yet much larger and more foreboding than the last. The Shaman Wetumpkah's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and the night sky was suddenly lit in the distance as one of the many mountains on the horizon erupted with a fiery wrath. Fortunately it didn't seem to be a big enough eruption to warrant taking cover, but the Shaman's next words froze the crew in their spines.

"The Rakeeri have spoken. As you elevate Naphrit to the stars, we shall gift the world with this one's body."

Neil suddenly felt his arms grabbed by two of the stronger guards, though they did not seem to be ready or willing to hurt him. They seemed thankful, which was scarier in and of itself. Neil wasn't entirely certain what was going on, but if what he thought was happening was happening, that fucking volcano just asked for his soul. "H-Hey whoa, hold on fellas!"
@Penny

The Sorceress and the Slave

Rhaak put his corded muscles to good use, bracing his callused and rough feet and propelling the skiff through the canal with all speed. His eyes gazed around at the markets, travelers, and peddlers. Luckily, he saw no cries for stopping them or composite bows aimed their way. To his credit, he did his best not to spare too many glimpses at his curvaceous new master. He did not wish to incur her wrath, nor was he the type of man to take a woman when the mood came upon him either, as some others he knew.

The canal led toward the mouth of the Tagria, and soon the outer shantytown of the great city gave way to a magnificent sight of the great river. Rhaak had not seen the Tagria in many years, and it filled him with a wonder at how much life such a thing could bring. The dust and dirt of the city had given way to trees and brush that clung to the banks. The honks and hoots of various animal life echoed across the trees. If the river were not so wide, the trees would have made him feel constricted, for he was not used to any landscape save the roiling waves of sand.

"The sultan will not be far behind." Rhaak said, gingerly speaking. He did not know if she wished him to be silent, but so far they had seen no other skiffs or boats, and that would likely change soon. As if Hayashim himself gave them a nudge, around the next bend was an estuary-like split in the river, with various paths on the water to snake through. Rhaak stepped atop the smaller seat he would use when Amira permitted it, and saw the eastern river busy with trade as fishermen bartered along a hamlet.

Even past them, he could see the dunes of the Alsahra on the horizon, and it was sobering to realize that the sunbaked curse of their land was always just over the horizon. Little did he know, that was the least of their worries, for soon the old gods would have their say upon their souls.
@Penny

Warhammer Fantasy: The Guild of Esteemed Sellswords - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world!

Interested, sir.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil caught the pistol casually, childishly enjoying the effortless catch. He doubted the two guards at the door knew what the pistol was, so he didn't exactly try to hide it. Tucking the firearm in his belt would do. He let Sayeeda handle Taya initially, his nod accompanied Junebug declaring she assumed everyone would try to kill them. "T's how it is, girly." Neil replied, before getting a huge stinking whiff of the animal carcasses.

Despite how much it smelled, he had to admit he was hungry. Hopefully they'd use the firepit and not just toss them bits of meat to eat. He'd need a real drink if that were the case.

"Are you with the Starmen?!"

Whoever the man was, he'd definitely seen better days. Actually, on second thought today must have been a good day. Most of his others looked even rougher than one would expect on this world.
"We uh," Neil began, looking to Junebug. Taya hugged herself in the corner, shivering despite her obvious curiosity on what was happening. The pilot turned back to the man. "We technically are starmen, right?"

He immediately fell to his knees. Not exactly groveling, but giving respect in some primitive fashion. "The Rakeeri have spoken of you." He said breathlessly, nearly in tears. "We...we have offerings!" He said. "Offerings, but first let us eat and speak. It has been since my father's generation many cycles ago. The God of ash has roared thrice since I last saw your star chariots." Neil was slightly taken aback, but he was not about to say no to a free meal. Still...

"I am sorry, who are you?" Neil asked. He was ready to shoot his way out a few moments ago, but he was curious on what this guy was blathering about. That and, what offerings could they give to them? The man drew himself up, and gave a more serious albeit still somewhat daunted look. "Wetumpkah, son of Warheeka." Neil did his best to follow, but with the accent and those names he simply nodded, not knowing if the man was giving a name or if he tried to speak normally. "The shaman of the village, and the interpreter of what the Rakeeri will."

"I see."

"But first, let us feast!"

Neil did his best to absorb the information, but before he knew it, half naked men and women began to stream into the hut and gather up the animals, and soon a fire roared as Neil, Sayeeda, and Taya were given the pick of the best meats available.
@Penny

The Sorceress and the Slave

Rhaak held a bit of cloth to his mouth, his open tunic tugging at his body as the wind and dust began to coalesce, and the walls that held the iron resolutely not moments before began to give way. He was not certain what his new master was capable of, but it filled him with a wild fear mixed with a wondrous thrill. He heard shouts in the distance, and it crossed his mind that while she controlled powers he could not understand, she still ran from their pursuers as he did. He supposed there were reasons she needed his help.

At her leave he grabbed the iron bars that now sagged slightly, wrenching it two and fro before yanking the stubborn gate from the loosened wall. Unfortunately, the act of doing so caused the sandstone roof above to crack and grumble. Turning to look back into the ancient pathway, the slave could see scimitars blades glinting in the light. A last crack drew his attention, and he threw down the gate and took his master's hand as he jumped.

The sudden light of day along with the heat of the sun glared in their eyes, but Rhaak just managed to grab ahold of one of the many lines that clung between buildings that held drying meats and clothes and carpets. "Hold on, master!" The end he grabbed broke, but it allowed them to swing and lose some falling momentum as they plummeted. With an athletic twist, his feet skipped twice across the sandstone wall as he tried to make it to the opposite side of the bank.

Unfortunately, a sword above cut the thread and caused them to fall the remaining dozen feet into the canal. They crashed into the water to resurface near a small shoddy dock. Cries of protest and awe echoed behind them, from their pursuers to onlookers and fishermen, but for now they were safe. The pit fighter sputtered and grunted, hacking away the last bit of Tagria water out of this throat, and helped his master onto the side of the Canal, before pulling himself out.

They found themselves near the dock, the dirt of the city was at hot as fire and as hard as the iron Rhaak had just removed.

"Ah, Salaam and good day to you friends." A serpent's voice was heard. Out of the milling crowd, a small man with a hat that looked very much like a coned beehive gave them dishonest smile. It showed a few lesser teeth and one bronze molar. "It seems to me you are of the desperate sort yes?" He asked, his eyebrows wiggling, fingers already sweating at the promise of swindling them for all of their worth. The faint smell of the addictive drug boruba smoked out of his rancid mouth.

"I know not your business, but only thieves and heretics dive into the canals, and I happen to have a boat for sale if you would indulged me with some business..."
@Penny

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Ok so at first we were waiting on our new character, then the site plunged into darkness, and then I got the flu.



But give me before the weekend and we'll have an update for everyone!

WARHAMMER 40K: THE TARSON INCURSION

The lights of the lift filtered over them, end over end, shadow over shadow as they ascended toward's the forge's control room. To most PDF troops, surviving an encounter with Xenos was enough to have them balking at their own chances of living through such an ordeal again. Despite his misgivings on some of his companions, it was less annoying to be around those used to danger and the deafening silence that followed. Then again, he had to admit it seemed somewhat awkward.

Stepping into the control room, Herold swept the wider room for any signs of allies or enemies, dead or alive. After a few moments of looking, it seemed the area had actually merely been abandoned. He knew they hadn't seen the last of the green tide however, and gave a grunting nod to Aviza's orders, making sure to remain extra vigilant once the Krieger troop's attentions were drawn elsewhere.

He made his way past the Psyker performing her witchery and unveiled the security cams, giving a small prayer of thanks to the Emperor that they still worked. Instantly the screen was sectioned with many different images. Most showed empty halls and a silent outer perimeter, save a few gretchin fighting over a bit of meat he didn't quite recognize. In other areas, he saw grotesque scenes. Bodies hacked apart and ripped open. Orkoid and human.

Nothing he hadn't seen before.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be a few smaller mobs sprinting about after he got a good look at the feed. A nob with a power klaw had seen fit to gather up whatever wayward Ork and Grot he found. It wasn't a warband, but it could definitely cause problems if it found its way to the lift.

"Possible Orkoid marauders incoming. Close to the lift, but they could pass by it."