POOHEAD189

Warhammer 40k: No Pity, No Remorse, No Fear! - A Black Templars RP

FOR THE EMPEROR.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

<Snipped quote by Mortarion>

Don't let your dreams be dreams! I don't know how @POOHEAD189 feels about it, but I think that's an awesome idea

Edit: For some reason I totally mentally blanked the last post... Derp. I didn't realise there was another page of messages

@The Fated Fallen

You are just being supportive, like a good friend. <3

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

After Neil's first and only love had died on Fortus, he'd appreciated many beautiful women and had an almost hormonal desire to protect such precious commodities because they provided a much needed service as far as he was concerned. Plus they filled the void, however little, of what he once had. But he didn't feel that way recently, nor did he at the moment (much). He didn't really know why. "Don't worry," he said, patting Aiden on the shoulder. "She's still alive. Oh!"

Neil knelt down and rolled the woman over onto her stomach as Taya wiggled past them, terror from the thought of Sayeeda's merciless nature evident in her eyes. "Don't want her to suffocate on her tongue." he explained, and bound her hands and dainty feet. Aiden followed behind Taya, and Neil took up the rear. Aiden was clearly put off by the casual shooting, but Neil could tell the man would have to admit it was lucky to have someone run out there and open the door for them.

To say the inside was lavish and decadent would be a gross understatement. Tapestries and curtains made of the finest deruvian silks cascaded down the walls and separated the outer rooms, substituting solid doors. When Neil pulled them aside, they felt as soft as a dancer's thighs. The floor looked uniform, yet it was sturdy but soft, with a material that was not only practical, but he wouldn't mind sleeping on. The air held a hint of lavender and expensive wine. Paintings from all across the galaxy with colors he had never imagined were placed along the walls, displaying great historical battles and heroic feats of kings. "Hard to imagine this guy's after the throne, eh?" Neil joked, which provided a raised eyebrow from Aiden.

After exploring the outer rooms, Neil located a vidcaster in the next room. It was an opulent living area, with couches of lush pillows and tables of wine, fruits, and sausages. There was a balding man, lounging and watching the vidcaster as they gazed into the room. The Prince stroked his refined chin, contemplating. "That's Gaius' rival, Archimades. Why would he be here?" he asked softly. "Is the opposition to my rule bigger than I thought?"

"We can interroga-" Taya began, only for a 'clack' to be heard from within the room. The companions looked in to see Neil having pistol whipped Archimades on the head with his firearm, knocking him out cold from behind. "Well Taya, you got yourself a platform." Neil said, indicating for her to get to work rigging the vidcaster to broadcast.

Taya facepalmed. Neil began to clear out the room of telling objects and expensive paintings so as not to announce where Aiden would be broadcasting from his background, while Sayeeda guarded the entry ways. This was one of the first rooms with actual doors, and once Neil cleared the place he guarded and took point at the opposite exits. These doors looked to be sliders like the halls down below, but they would indicate an approaching person with a red light at its center, below the small window at the top of the door.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

As the Count and his remaining Captains hashed out the details and inked the routes the enemy would most likely take, Cyrdic couldn't help but grin at Camilla outfoxing these learned, military men. The Count was not too surprised, having heard of both of Cyrdic and Camilla's exploits, but the lesser commanders and sergeants looked at her as if she was a halfling that had just refused a free lunch. However, Cyrdic's mirth would soon be gone.

"Herr Cyrdic?" The Count asked, imploring the scarred young veteran to speak.

"We cannot assume they'll act solely as a normal enemy. There will be plenty of Norscans, and as tough as they are, they're men." Cyrdic declared. " and they'll move as we predict. But they could have allies of the dark powers. We'll need sentries and huntsmen along the routes to warn us of any mutants or unpredictable witchery."

The Mercenary officers took it to heart, and the surviving commanders of the last ill fated expedition nodded, having seen such horrors first hand. Only the Count seemed unperturbed. "Agreed."

Count Gausser dismissed his officers, closing the map and telling his men to wait outside before he approached Camilla and Cyrdic. He wasn't the largest man, but he was stoutly built, and he nearly rivaled Cyrdic in height. He studied Camilla past his golden eyebrows, taking her measure with a steeled gaze. "I suppose you have it in mind to go onto the expedition to flank and burn the ships, ay?" He asked her.

"Assolutamente," she said.

"Granted." He said, and turned to Cyrdic. The Count had the look of a hard man, much like Boris Todbringer. Their Ulrican faith not withstanding, Cyrdic could see why Middeland and Nordland had always had such close ties. "You've quite the woman, soldier. Now, I'll show you to your column tomorrow so you can get acquainted with them before we move."

Cyrdic narrowed his gaze, confused. "Sir?" He asked.

"Sir what?"

"You just...told us we were to go to the ships. I'm leading the expedition?"

"No, I told the lady here she was to go to the ships. You're staying here and leading a column of the line. I need good commanders, and if the stories are true, you'll do."

Cyrdic shook his head, giving Gausser a look he never would have thought he'd have the inclination or balls to do so back when he was an Ostland Sergeant. "With all due respect sir, but I go with Camilla."

"No," Theodric Gausser said. His voice dropped like an anvil, sealing Cyrdic's fate and his role in the army. "And that's final. As long as you're in my outfit, you follow my orders or I'll hang you. I don't give a damn who you are. Understand?" If this were any other man, Cyrdic would simply refuse again. Both Ostlanders and Nordlanders were known for their stubborn ways. Probably to Camilla's eyes, it looked like a stern father and fierce son at odds. But after a moment, without breaking his gaze, Cyrdic simply asked. "When do we move out, sir?"

"Tomorrow." The Count replied, and then his glanced Camilla's way for a moment. "I've a tent prepared for you both. Get a meal and get some rest. After breakfast tomorrow, we break camp and head north." Once he felt his words had hit home, the Count awaited Cyrdic's salute. He gave it, and the Count left them to retire within his own tent.

When they were alone, Cyrdic was silent for a few moments. He didn't want to appear overly protective or overly clingy, but not having her by his side...he'd feel naked. He'd worry more about her than the battle at hand. At least tomorrow he would have time to tell her how to deal with Norscans, but...

Cyrdic didn't meet her gaze initially. Instead he reached for his mother's necklace. The one he'd given to her. "Keep this safe, remember?" he asked her. His iron eyes lifted to look into hers.
@Penny

No Turning Back - Surving the Abyss

Simulation Battle

---

"Helmets on now."

Hal grabbed the VR device and planted it atop his head, fastening it with the under-the-chin buckle. Next were the goggles, and suddenly his vision was pitch black. Yet every soldier was expected to grab his simulated weapon with muscle memory, and he performed without problem. The inner room around he and his squad was smooth and stark white, with only a door and a boxed mirror where one of the military personnel watched and recorded the session. Inside, the team was on treading tracks, where their feet could move while their bodies remained stationary. Luckily, the VR equipment was advanced enough to input other movements within his mind with the neural link, in case they needed to tumble or duck.

Suddenly images began to flicker into Hal's vision. The scene was scratchy at first, before the definition of the jungle atmosphere about him was fed into his mind. He could feel the heat of the sun. Hear the chirps of exotic birds. Tastes the moisture in the air. The gun he held suddenly weighed as it should.

"Move out." Riley ordered. Hal held his hand up and extending two fingers, then five, the enclosing them into a fist. The troopers behind him, those similarly in the room, immediately followed orders. The two in the flanks guarding the six scientists they were to escort through near ten miles of jungle without a single non-trooper casualty. Hal had run simulations like this before, but more importantly, he had fought in jungles like this back on earth. Unfortunately, the scenario was on a foreign, hostile planet. He could not trust the flora or fauna here.

He took point, moving at a steady yet silent pace. His M356 Assault Rifle constantly trained along his visual. It was a mile before they met their first resistance. Enemy fire suddenly cut through the foliage as Hal and his company took cover behind stout trees with an unknown chemical within its trunk to give its bark a greyish color. The plasma fired roared and nearly struck a member of Hal's team, but they were all seasoned and finely honed soldiers, and Hal knew this type of fighting.

Riley gave the signal, and Charlie's 3,6, and 8 began providing cover fire as 2 and 4 held the scientists behind the thickest of cover. Hal, Charlie 7, and 9 began to move as silent as death round the indention in the battleground, covering their movements until they flanked the enemy. Luckily 7 and 9 moved about as well as he did, only passing past the foliage that would sway with the wind, as if the soldiers had never been through at all.

Inch by inch, Hal drew his gun over the short branch, past the wickedly pointed brush that separated he and the enemy. Upon inspection, they were insurgents. Likely earthling or martian rebels. Hal could see the sweat beading down their tanned faces as they fired across the expanse toward his squad, and yet again he marveled at how real the simulation seemed. This all happened within the span of a nanosecond, and before Hal could think through the action, he ordered his men to open fire and their bullets cut through the enemy like a scythe through wheat.

When it was over, they had another 7 miles to go. Charlie 3 had been hit, but he could still move. They couldn't afford to lose any men.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Ohhh boy, Aeryn definitively hit a nerve with her own little diatribe. I kinda wanna post again since Nicademus wouldn't take that quietly.

@Mortarion

Nothing stopping you, my friend, if you want to. People just need to post within 10 days.

A wee short one from me this time :) bit dialogue-y though which is a different one for me!

Hope you're all having a nice week so far!

@Stormflyx

You are surrounded by doggos, yet you post. You are the best

I am definitely halfway through my post, in fact I'm nearly 95% through my post! Hahahaha! *looks about nervously*

@BCTheEntity

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"This is what I live for," Neil said, though his voice wasn't screamed so there was no way for anyone to hear through the gale force winds that pummeled the passengers of the car into their seats. The pilot grinned despite the obvious insanity this was. Fast ships, fast cars, lots of guns. He knew what he wanted out of life, and those were definitely some top picks for him. "Hold on to something!" He cried out as the car began to plummet back to the planet.

The seconds went by painfully slow, and Taya began to scream as Sayeeda closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Aiden began to yell for his life, gripping the seat. Only Neil seemed perfectly at ease, his eyes focused on the task at hand. The Palace suddenly grew in size as their velocity increased exponentially. Neil turned the car slightly to the left to give it just that much more of a tipping balance, and soon their car's electromagnetic field beneath it grabbed ahold of the wall as they dived past it.

Gradually, too gradually, their car began to slow as the ground came up to meet them. Sayeeda gripped Neil's arm in a reflex, but the Pilot simply rerouted the direction and slammed on the breaks, causing the car to spin on its axis once as it grinded to a halt, before the bumper lightly tapped the ground and broke the taillight.

"Aw, are you kidding me!?" Neil shook his head in frustration. Luckily they had taken out the car alarm or they would be in deep shit. Neil gave the others a wink. "And you guys were worried," he said, sliding the car off the wall as he increased the vertical thrusters, letting it slip gracefully from a vertical to a horizontal position ontop of the grand Balcony of Alexander's Palace Wing. Neil unbuckled his seatbelt, letting out a breath.

Neil's voice grew into a baritone as he spoke like an airflight announcer, obviously joking. "Thank you for choosing Neil for all your travel needs. If you have any questions or concerns, you can kiss my ass."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic spun the two coneys he had caught above their small campfire, singing the flesh slowly. He was surprised he had found the two in his trap. A week ago, what mercenaries that decided to stay at the camp had run out of supplies and had gone to hunting or stealing for their food. He'd heard rumors a few had turned to banditry along the southern roads near the edges of Laurelorn Forest. To find these two rabbits here was a blessing from Sigmar. He knew Camilla would be overjoyed at the food.

"CEERDIK"

The Ostlander gave a start, and he turned just in time to smell vodka and sweat musk before he was engulfed in a hug by none other than Ivan Petrovich of Kislev. Behind Ivan, Camilla gave a helpless smile, and Cyrdic could see two Kislevite companions drop a bleeding deer next to the fire.

"By Ulric's balls!" Cyrdic cried in surprise.

"Ah, Ayve meesed you! We vound za leetle dov in trouble and help. Hav deer too."

"Good." Cyrdic wheezed, and hugged back despite the sudden appearance. He'd missed Ivan too, truth be told. Mustache and all. With his considerable strength Cyrdic tore out of the hug a moment later, then slapped Ivan on the back. Ivan returned the slap, jovial as ever. The two Kislevites next to Ivan were smaller men than Ivan, though they still had the size and look of formidable kossack soldiers. Cyrdic gave them an Imperial salute, and they bowed in the traditional Kislevite fashion.

"What are you doing here?" asked Cyrdic, bewildered.

"We vere on our vey to Kislev vhen we met vith the Count and his men. Zey ver in need of scouts, und it seemed like good verk. But ve were met vith trouble..." Ivan abruptly paused, and he shook his head. Cyrdic was a bit disturbed at his sudden mannerisms. If something could bring Ivan down, it must have been horrible. "What is it?"

"Za Norscans attacked and killed many Nordman soldiers. Za Count will be here soon vith vat forces are left." Ivan explained. "Nat many levt. Maybe 2 Rotas."

It took Cyrdic a moment to understand his meaning, but from what he knew of Kislevite terms, he meant five hundred men. Cyrdic's mind began to consider very quickly. He would be considered a learned man in the library of Altdorf, but he knew warfare. If 500 men was not many compared to what the Count had summoned, then this was more than a normal Norscan raid. There were maybe 400 mercenaries left in camp, compared to over twice that many a fortnight ago. And about every merc and field soldier was probably hungry or tired.

As the men trickled in, Cyrdic could see it was much worse than that. It seemed most men that had lived through the attack were heavily wounded. They began to trickle in by the dozens, with bandaged heads and rent armor, carrying their comrades that could no longer walk. Their eyes were set and hardened, as if all they thought about was moving forward inch by inch. At the center of the army was none other than Count Theodric Gausser, riding atop his fabled Griffon. The Nordlanders were a hardy folk, and even as wounded as they were, they moved. Cyrdic had heard the Nordlanders shared some blood with the Norscans from across the Sea of Claws. If the Count's name was no indication, being the same name as the ancient Norscan champion Cyrdic and Camilla had defeated less than a month ago.

Count Gausser reined his Griffon in when he spotted Ivan, and turned the beast about to approach. It was massive. A few hands taller than a horse, and one of its legs looked stronger than both Cyrdic and Ivan combined. Its beak looked as if it could pierce mail, and its claws were close to small daggers in size. Yet the Griffon's eyes had an intelligence to it, and its mane, bloodied though it was, was beautiful. Theodric Gausser sat atop it, every bit the noble his title suggested. He had glorious golden facial hair, and a face that looked as hard as iron.

"I see you've made it, herr Petrovich."

"Da, but my horse vas lost in za vighting." Ivan said, looking somewhat grim at having to relay the news. The Kislevites truly loved their steeds. His footsteps within the rocky snow were oddly placed, as all Kislevite soldiers walked with an odd gait. The Count gave a nod. "We'll see if we can fetch you a new one. Who are these? Friends of yours?"

The Count looked Cyrdic and Camilla up and down. He raised an eyebrow at Camilla, an obviously slim beauty with weapons to spare. But he spoke nothing against her. His eyes met Cyrdics, and he weighed Cyrdic as if he didn't know whether to conscript him or fight him for some slight Cyrdic could not guess.

"Zey are olt friends. Zey kno var as I do. You will be happy zey are here."

"You a soldier?" The Count asked Cyrdic.

The Ostlander nodded. "Cyrdic Becker. I served in Ostland as a swordsman and halberdier. I spent two campaigns on your shores. Four and six years ago."

"Becker you say?" The Count echoed, and then he gave a grim laugh that even a Sylvanian count couldn't match in ferociousness. "And that means this one here is Camilla, yes?" Cyrdic and Camilla shared looked, as the Count continued. "Same names and an Ulrican sword, it must be you. I heard you beat your Baron in single combat and saved old Boris Todbringer from a right scandal. It's good to meet you both. If you're as formidable as I've heard, I'll see to it you're both set in charge of a regiment if I can get this rabble back into fighting shape. Damned if the Norscans did not attack off season. Half my troops cannot be deployed and I was sent this paltry force to face them."
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

As the lights turned on, Neil's jaw dropped as soon as he saw the stacks upon stacks of weapons. This couldn't all be for the museum. But he wasn't about to question it, simply drinking in the different weapon types and calibers and wondering which he'd use for a mission like this. "Now Neil..." he said to himself. "Grab what you need, not what you want." He repeated that to himself as he walked forward, grabbing assault rifles and sniper rifles, along with lasguns and plasma rifles. Some of these he had no idea how to operate, but when in Romeula...

"You know what we need..." Neil said, holding up a fletchripper, one of the more notorious shotguns on this side of the Galaxy. "Some rope."

"Why would you need rope?" Taya asked, simply lost in the maze of weaponry and content with sitting down next to the Prince, who'd simply grabbed a handgun and called it a day.

"Haven't you seen any of the vidcasted movies? You always get rope."

"Name one thing you'd need a rope for."

"You never know what you need it for, you just always need it." He said, and grabbed a coiled bundle of 50 feet worth of rope the Prince pointed it.

"It does have a lot of practical applications." Junebug said, the commando checking the ammo stock. Taya rolled her eyes, defeated. "Fine, get your stupid fucking rope."

Once Neil's weaponry boner was gone, he grabbed a combat shotgun and a plasma carbine. Luckily they had straps to them so he could carry both with minimal effort. He tossed Junebug her weapon of choice, and he tossed the prince with probably the most valuable item in the room, a personal shield. "You place it on your chest, and you get a small forcefield around your body. Can't handle sustained fire, but it should get you in without getting killed."

"Want anything Taya?" Neil asked her.

"No, but give me something anyway."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Dear Eloise,

Inside the letter is a few coins and a recommendation by the office of Elector Count Gausser for your employment as a midwife and lady of the court to the Baroness Von Eisenbruke. It was the best I could do under such short circumstances, but it will give you a nice place to live and a fair wage. I am sorry but Karl was dead when we found him, but his spirit is now with Sigmar. I made sure of that. I wish you the best, but Camilla and I are now in the service of the Grand Barony of Nordland. We're traveling eastward, but don't trouble yourself with worry. You know how I am. I'll be fine. Sigmar and Taal watch over you, El.

-Cyrdic

---

The Ostlander's fist buried itself into the paunch of the soldier who'd tried to touch Camilla. Fat and balding, he wheezed and fell to his knees, sweat beading on him despite the cold wind whistling past the campsite. He knew full well Camilla could have probably taken him, but Cyrdic felt like letting off some steam. They'd traveled for a week through the wilderness before hearing word of mercenaries being hired out to the local baron for Norsca's raiding season. Unfortunately, the Baron and his levied forces were now close to a fortnight late themselves, and the mercenaries were growing restless and concerned. The camp was vast, almost a forest within a forest, with at least five hundred campfires dotted within the trees and rocks of the rendezvous. Those that weren't leaving were letting their urges get the better of them, be it violent or otherwise.

As usual, Camilla had received more than a few looks from the men in the vast camp. But Cyrdic beside her and how she carried herself had kept most at a distance until the past few days. This was the third man to try and grab her, and the fourth man to try and steal some coin along with her.

After Cyrdic felled the fat one, a few jeers and cries rose from the milling crowd, and a brawl in and of itself erupted among them. The ex-sergeant was shoved by a falling man, and nearly struck in the nose from a launched fist. He knocked the body aside and ducked the blow, hammering back with his elbow. The soldier collapsed forward, and Cyrdic caught him and tossed him to the side. If the mercenaries got closer they would have trampled over Camilla and Cyrdic's breakfast, but as it were, the brawl slowly drifted to other parts of the camp. Cyrdic stood over the man he'd struck, who was just getting to his senses. He definitely had the cut of a soldier.

"Where are you from?"

"Ostermark." The man coughed, spitting blood through his mustache. "4th halberdiers."

"Ostland, of the 8th." Cyrdic replied, reaching out to help the man up. The downed soldier eyed him for a moment, before accepting the offered help and getting to his feet. Cyrdic saw him look at Camilla, and then back at Cyrdic. The Ostlander could tell he was weighing several options. Some of them violent, and others more cordial depending. Cyrdic stared at him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch.

"Sigmar knows we have enough enemies already." Cyrdic said, and he gave a nod. The man nodded back, unable to not agree with the logic.
@Penny