POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Cyrdic!"

"You must live!"

The Ostlander ran ahead of the group, the others unable to leave the protective field of Dietrichia's enchantment save Skaldi, whose short legs did not allow him to move near the pace Cyrdic did. The Ostlander knew the smell of the barbarian, and his runic sword gave renewed energy and strength to his tired limbs at the prospect of killing a follower of the ruinous powers. But what's more, he felt something different. His ears heard a distinct whistling in the air, the Ostlander's body feeling the shifts of the Chaos winds about him.

And he smelled blood.

His sword howled into his mind, and the eyes of his wolfish pommel glowed. A rock suddenly exploded out of the cracked ground, but Cyrdic vaulted over it as if he had seen it from miles off. The next pillar to erupt from the ground, he split with a stroke of his sword, too engrossed in the hunt to notice the superhuman feat he had just performed. The winds grew stronger, and bit into the very rock as he ducked and dodged his way through the maze of rocks that threatened to disembowel him with every eruption.

He could swear he heard an insane laughter in the air, echoing across the walls of stone around him, and then one word was whispered into his very being.

Slaanesh

Cyrdic exploded out of the shifting landscape, the wind and destruction around him silenced so suddenly, it felt like a forgotten memory from long ago. He breathed in deeply, and smelled a myriad of scents he recognized. But only two mattered. The scent of Camilla, and the scent of corrupted magic. He had learned to use his sense of smell before his eyesight through a natural transfer of senses, one now stronger than the other. He gazed upwards to see a desert of white sand that he saw extended beyond the very fringes of the world. The mountains and ruins were gone, and in their place were two bodies not forty paces away. One of them was a huge Norscan that had been cut limb from limb, bleeding into the dirt, yet somehow cackling hoarsely.

The other was Camilla.

"No!" he cried, running to her as fast as his legs were able, his enhanced energy somehow radiating through his body as his limbs were still weakening from the emotional pull of his hopelessness. Cyrdic made it to the small patch they lay upon and he skidded into the sand to his knees. The dust billowed, his throat constricted as he reached down to gently lift Camilla up, cradling her head. The Tilean's eyes gazed listlessly forward wherever her head was turned. "Hey," he breathed, cupping her chin and turning her to look at him. "Camilla..."

"Hyou ckankt shav her," the Norscan croaked from behind them, hacking blood. "Shlaanesh conchsumes er."

Cyrdic turned to the Norscan like a whip, his eyes glowing silver and his teeth bared savagely, his face so brutally altered into abject fury that it caused the Norscan to pause before he dare speak next. The Ostlander turned back to Camilla, his visage calming. He clenched his jaw and patted Camilla's cheek. "Little Bird...Camilla please," he breathed, but there was nothing. His eyes flicked to the ornate, gleaming sword that lay next to her. The Glyphs along the fuller blazed brightly, and he suddenly realized what he must do.

Cyrdic lifted his runic sword before him, and tried to intone a litany. "By Ulric, Sigmar, and all enemies of Chaos... banish all evil from this place." The prayer might not have been necessary, but he would take no chances. The runes along his Ulrican blade burned so brightly, many would be concerned that they would scald upon the touch. But he lay it across Camilla's forehead, and Cyrdic closed his eyes, hoping beyond hopes the magic would expel the Chaos that was invading the body of his lover and companion.
@Penny

WARHAMMER 40K: THE TARSON INCURSION

Same, will post for Herold the maniac.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Dax will climb the tower and Alim will attak warewolf.

@POOHEAD189

After a suggestion from spoops, I will switch these two around. Alim will climb, and Dax will slay Queen

Will They Reign Supreme? {Whispers x Poohead}

Meldyr crossed his arms and breathed in as she walked towards the rose, its lush petals still full and healthy. He couldn't have guessed its significance, but he raised his chin a bit higher as it dawned on him, and he gained a somewhat solemn expression to honor her father's memory. He had met the King on two occasions, though each were quick. He was a good military man, which in Meldyr's experience showed that he often had an ordered way about his personal life as well.

"I make sure it is taken care of properly, which means that I take care of it myself." Meldyr could not help but smile at her, knowing full well her confidence must come from her father. The recently crowned King was glad she wasn't shy or overly fragile. No one could rule in that way, and he would have had a hard time finding a potential wife with those qualities to be a good match for him. He'd much rather a woman with confidence.

Of course, he couldn't help but feel a certain attraction towards her when she batted her eyelashes at him. Her gaze seemed to ensnare him for a few moments as he realized just how pretty she was.

It was his turn to be a bit flustered, but he decided he should have some time to adjust to everything. "Well," he began, gathering his thoughts. "I'd enjoy some rest now. But perhaps tomorrow you could show me around the Palace? Maybe I could take you horseback riding in the countryside. Close by. Whatever my Queen wishes." He gave a smile, bowing lightly and extending his hand.

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

Sword Brethren Tiberius

---

"O Emperor, in wrath rejoicing at bloody wars, fierce and untamed,
whose mighty power doth make the strongest walls from their foundations shake.
All-conquering Master of Mankind, be pleased with this war's tumultuous roar.
Delight in swords and fists red with alien blood, and the dire ruins of savage battle.
Rejoice in furious challenge, and avenging strife, whose works with woe embitter human life."

Tiberius intoned the prayer as a daily invocation, aiding a sense of clarity to his faith, which in turn brought a sense of clarity to his mind. His Mark VII Power Armor swelled as he breathed in deeply, the armor grafted onto him acting as a second layer of protective skin, so in tune to his every movement. The previous master of the superb armor wasn't well documented in the archives, but by all accounts he was a decorate hero of the Imperium. Tiberius only hoped he could live up to that ideal.

He lifted himself off the floor of his room, his powersword held firmly within his gauntleted fist, unactivated yet still as deadly as the Emperor's judgement. He sheathed the blade with a solemn slowness, and placed his helmet back on upon his head. He had felt the reverberations of the ship moments ago, and wherever they were, he wasn't to be caught off guard in his duties to the Chapter. They had already lost more than enough good Chapter members. They are by his side now, in glorious triumph. I can only hope I have the honor of such a position one day.

A ping within his helm began to beep incessantly, and it took his enhanced mind only a fraction of a second before he realized he was being summoned to the deck for a matter of importance. He pressed his finger to his temple, and replied. "Affirmative. I am en route, honorable Chaplain." Within moments, he was stepping into the hallway and making his way toward the deck.

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

Any room to still jump on board with this one?

@Romero

Perhaps with our next adventure. We'll let you know^^

Such dedication! _{Which means he's gonna come after us with a baseball bat if we don't post}

@Hero

Don't hit me with a baseball bat, I'll get a post up in the next day or so.

@Amaranth

This could be us but you playin'

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Dax will climb the tower and Alim will attak warewolf.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 2 (Completed)

Tsleeixth & Daixanos: Before the Attack

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A Mortarian and POOHEAD189 collab

---

Tsleeixth made his way to the deck of the Kyne’s Tear, after his conversations with Sagax, Keegan, and Wy the Saxhleel had found it difficult for sleep to come to him. And, as such, he now found himself on the deck of the ship that carried them to Jehanna, the chill breeze of the early night buffeting against his skin. He breathed in the cold wind, a sense of nostalgia suddenly overcoming him; for the first time in nearly three decades he’d be leaving Skyrim behind. A sense of excitement and anticipation surged through him and, surprisingly enough, he also felt a poignant sadness within himself as well. Despite all that had occured in Dawnstar, there was still a part of him that clung to the idea of Skyrim as his homeland, despite the fact that what had happened in Dawnstar proved that such an idea was nothing more than a fantasy that’d never come true.

Shaking his head, the Argonian made his way through the mostly empty deck. He gave a brief nod in acknowledgment to the crewmembers that he passed by, but what he was mostly looking for was a quiet, undisturbed, place where he could think, that is until he saw another figure, one much more familiar, in the deck. “Dax.” He thought, guilt surging inside of him shortly after he had recognised his fellow Saxhleel. They both had been imprisoned concurrently and yet he hadn’t made an attempt to talk with his fellow Argonian, then he had been sent with the other group of the company and in the ensuing chaos that came with their hasty voyage to Solitude, further complicated by the fact that they had travelled in separate groups, meant that he hadn’t had time to speak with Daixanos in a long time. Deciding to remedy that, Tsleeixth approached his fellow Saxhleel and gently tapped him on the shoulder “Also looking for a secluded spot to think brother?” He asked softly, wondering what had brought Dax here.

Daixanos had heard Tsleeixth approaching from a ways off, his hunter senses always upon the edge of a knife. Beforehand, however, he had been in quiet contemplation. He simply allowed the scent of the sea fill his nostrils as he brooded over the events that had transpired the past few months. Even after having bled and fought alongside the mercenary group, he felt much akin to an outcast. When he had joined, he had stayed merely to fight the Kamal. And when the news from Blackmarsh had circulated, he had still remained behind to protect the other Argonians from oppression and slavery. But as the ship traversed the waves of the deep, he wondered why he had decided to step upon the vessel and take the ship into the west. A part of him wished he had simply disappeared into the wilds of Skyrim as he had done for years, and traveled the old path back to Blackmarsh.

“I look for a secluded spot to be secluded,” Daixanos said, turning to look at Tslee. His small nod showed that he did not mind Tsleeixth’s company however. Merely newcomers or those who never truly had gotten to know him. He had made friends, to be sure. Do’Karth and Sevine, along with Ashav, Gustav, and even the ever complaining Keegan. But as it had turned out, Tslee was his closest friend, though his fellow hist brother was still unsure of the ways of their people. “I have thought far too much these past few hours. I would rather get there, to this home of the Bretons.”

“Ah, I see.” Said Tsleeixth, nodding in response to what Dax had told him. “From my question it should be obvious that I’m looking for a spot to think.” Spoke the spellsword before he sat next to his fellow saxhleel. He listened in silence as Daixanos spoke, “Is something the matter brother? You seem troubled, and if your comment is any indication you wish for a distraction from your thoughts.” He spoke, stretching his left leg as the pain in his knee began to manifest again. True to Wy’s words, the pain on his knee had lowered but it still remained present.

“As for me, truth be told, there is much that I need to think about. The last week...it has left ample themes for me to contemplate.” Tsleeixth said, wincing slightly as his mind briefly returned to the events in Dawnstar “But, enough about me, there’s something that’s bothering you. Maybe it’s not my place to ask, or to offer this, but I’m here if you wish to talk about this.” He offered to Dax, hoping to help his fellow Argonian deal with whatever was troubling him. He knew that he was no counselor, like Wylendrield or other chaplain might have been; he was merely a spellsword, but he still wished to help his fellow Hist-brother with whatever that was troubling him.

Daixanos sighed, a juttering sound escaping his gullet as he did so. So unlike the others in the group, or the Nords in Skyrim, a fact that had brought death and pain to the refugees in Dawnstar. “I lived alone with my thoughts for four years in the wilderness, and with the invasion I joined the group. Now I cannot trust my mind not to question why I am here...I feel I should be. My dreams tell me so, from what sleep I gather.” He let his comment end there, and he breathed in deeply. “I am perhaps not used to such closed in spaces as this. I will feel better in the land of the Bretons, I think.”

Dax turned to Tslee. “And you, brother. What do you contemplate?”

“Hmmm, I see. Maybe it’s the Hist telling you that you are on the right place? I’m no Pakseech, and my dreams as of late keep turning towards recent events, but perhaps you and I are meant to be here rather than in Blackmarsh with the rest of our brothers and sisters?” Offered Tsleeixth. Speaking as if he knew what the Hist intended left a bad taste in his mouth, he had no greater knowledge of Argonian culture but, as of late, he no longer had that dream of the Kamal army invading Blackmarsh. He doubted that it was a sign that the invasion of the nation of his birth had stopped, but maybe it was a sign that he, and Dax too perhaps, were in the right place?

“As for what I contemplate…” He said with a sigh, letting the silence stretch for a few seconds. “The events that happened in Dawnstar, my beating at the hands of the mob and the massacre of our brothers and sisters, have left me perturbed.” He admitted to Dax, “Before that day I...I considered Skyrim my homeland, it had been the place where I had grown most of my life after all, but now I know that was nothing more than a mere fantasy of my mind. I could never call Skyrim my homeland in truth, and yet…” He continued, falling silent once more as he gathered his errant thoughts.

“I...I feel lost.” He admitted finally, his shoulders sagging as if he had been defeated “Skyrim is no homeland of mine and, yet, I’m not sure if I can call Blackmarsh my home either….I’m a Lukiul, the deeper mysteries of our people elude me.” Tsleeixth explained himself, shaking his head. “I’m as a leaf gliding in the waters of a river, always in movement with no place to truly call my home. At least, that’s how I feel.”
Dax felt there was a certain irony with Tslee’s words. Daixanos felt no real divide between him and Skyrim as a whole, for he considered the very land itself as home, in a certain way. He had nothing against the Elk or the trees, or even the people of Rorikstead, whom he remembered fondly. However, he still felt as if Tsleeixth was more alike the landstriders than Dax could ever be, and in a foreign land that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“The Northern cities were the closest ones to the Kamal invasions. They’re scared...confused. We should not tolerate oppression or imprisonment, but the landstriders have always been confused and driven by their base desires. That is the gamble we take with spending time with them, even if many are admirable and can grow to be friends, like those here on the Kyne’s Tear.” Dax placed a strong hand on his friend’s shoulder, and he looked at him with driven eye. “I merely confuse myself with my place. But never forget that Blackmarsh is the home to all of our kind, not only through location. But our very blood and souls. It will always be your home, whether you have seen it or not. One day, perhaps we will both go there.”

“I suppose that is true, but...it was like seeing through a veil that had been cast over my vision. I’m not naive, I’ve always known there was a division between our people and the...the landstriders.” He began to speak, pausing for a second to collect his thoughts. It felt weird to refer to the other races as landstriders, he had never even considered them like that even though he had heard both his father and the other saxhleel workers in the Riften fishery use the term plenty of times, but yet part of him found it appropriate to use the term. “But I never expected the divide to be this deep, or for there to be such hatred waiting in the depths of said divide.”

He was surprised when he felt Dax place his hand on his shoulder, a smile drawing on his face. “Thank you brother.” He said once his friend was done speaking. He fell silent once more as he, again, gathered his thoughts, trying to explain how he felt to Dax. “I would like to go there with you, to Blackmarsh I mean, I think it’d do me good to see the homeland of our people...and yet, I can’t help but be unable to shake this...this fear that I’d be a stranger there.” He tried to explain himself to Dax, “As out of place as if an Imperial suddenly arrived there and decided to leave in the depths of Blackmarsh.” He said, slightly frustrated with himself. Why was it so difficult for himself to explain how he felt? “Do you understand what I’m trying to say brother?”

Dax nodded, driven as always. “I do.” he said, knowing Tsleeixth only needed encouragement. In truth Daixanos did understand. He would feel a small trepidation going back himself after having been gone near six years. “But we are not so different from the landstriders, when it comes to social cues.” Dax breathed in deeply. “We are all children of the Hist, no matter what. And that can never be undone. Never forget.”

Tsleeixth listened in silence as Daixanos spoke, nodding along when his fellow Hist-brother was done speaking. “Yes...I...I suppose that is true, thank you brother.” He said, his tone contemplative as he mulled over Dax’s words “Thank you Dax, you’ve given me a lot to think about...to contemplate about of my place in this world.” The spellsword said to his friend, smiling before he stood up. “I think I’ll take my leave now brother, but I once again thank you for your words.” Spoke Tsleeixth, bowing slightly to his friend. “But, for now, I think I’ll take my leave and try to get some rest. I do hope that you’ll feel better soon brother, but if you need to talk don’t be afraid to look for me.” He said before he left the upper deck of the ship, returning to the lower decks and to the hammock that had been assigned to him.

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

So... Yet again my RP's died on me one after the other. Something of a theme for me on the Guild ever since I subscribed. I don't think I've joined one RP that survived for more than three months. And I'm quite tired of it. Since this one is pretty new and fresh I'll give it my sole attention and try one last time and make it work. I just might not be as active in OOC.

@ihinka

Aw, you're always a ray of sunshine in my RP's so hopefully you don't get too scarce. I have no intention of this RP dying.

The Political Thread

@mdk There's probably no real point, but it seems odd there isn't one for such a large country. Here is a list of pros and cons though.

Also, apparently Trump's meetings with Kim Jong Un haven't gone as spectacularly as a lot of conservatives claim, though they might be back on due to Sung Kim.