POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"With a siege at the walls, I don't think any cult would last very long within the city, no matter the means." Cyrdic said aloud. The Ostlander was far smarter than his rough nature and powerful physique would claim, but even after all of their experiences with the upperclass and counts, he still did not fully appreciate the sway they could have within their realms. Oleg was shaking his head as soon as Cyrdic finished. "They'll be too busy focusing on the army to worry about conspirators within the walls. You don't know these men like I do, nor the city for that matter. I tell you now your help is of grave importance not only to me but every citizen of Praag stuck within these walls."

"What do you suggest we can do about it?" Camilla asked, taking a gingerly sip of her wine as Cyrdic dug into a chicken leg, though his wolfish eyes were still intent on the good Merchant as he spoke. "Even after your tall tales, I thought you would refuse out of hand. But you're different, aren't you? Yes, I suppose I cannot show my face to the 'syndicate' anymore, or even leave this house without being under Bornhalds protection. But I can tell you where they frequent."

"I don't feel right joining a cult's activities, even if it is to spy," Cyrdic said, unwavering.

"I did not suggest that is what you do, though that would most likely be the smartest and most covert option." The fat merchant said, his face nearly as steeled and soldierly as Cyrdic's. "Who the leader is I cannot know. They were masks, even among each other. But there is a very high end establishment called the 'Hussar's Hooves' in the eastern quarter of the city. Every few days, some of the lords and merchants that frequent there leave early. If you were to go there and follow one..."

"How would we get into such a place to begin with?" asked the Tilean. She had already devoured her meal, though chose not to pursue seconds as Cyrdic was. Camilla dabbed the sides of her mouth with a cloth, trying to regain some of her formal training. Her experiences in the north and east had done just as much to her normal habits as to her health, though thankfully both seemed to be rejuvenating rather quickly.

"Why, with my seal." Oleg said, reaching into his pocket. He presented a silver symbol in the form of a bear's claw. The merchant tossed it to Cyrdic, though Camilla plucked it out of the air and stuck her tongue out at Cyrdic. The broad shouldered merc eyed her but smiled after a moment. "That will get you in, as long as you look the part. Granted, business has not been as well as it could have been the past year but I am still a man of means. I'll have my tailor suit you up something nice."

"At our suggestion?" Camilla asked, clearly wanting to guide and have a choice on the kind of dress or suit she would wear. Oleg chuckled and inclined his head. "Of course, my dear. Now, where do you currently reside?" Cyrdic not for the first time was curious on how long he had been in Praag. He had a ksilevite accent, but it was far more conservative than someone like Ivan's. Perhaps city upperclassmen had less of a drawl.

Camilla blushed at his question, hiding it behind another sip as Cyrdic spoke. "The Drunken Mare. We're bouncers. We...sleep in the stables." He admitted with a sigh, more because it sounded horrid to someone like Oleg rather than Cyrdic truly disliking it himself. For his part, Oleg's eyes widened, and he guffawed. "This simply will not do!"

"It is fine, sir. It is." Cyrdic replied, holding his hands up to calm down the once again very civilian looking gentleman. Though Oleg would have the last word. "Well if you ever need another place to stay, I insist you come to me first. My upstairs has plenty of rooms! And if you wish to be let in, knock thrice in quick succession and then twice. Bornhald should be here to allow you entry."

"You're placing a lot of trust in us." Cyrdic said, blinking. "Even considering we we saved your lives."

Oleg smiled sadly. "Let's just say, I am at the end of my rope. If you don't succeed, I might soon need to move...if I live through the siege that is."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Dinner?" Cyrdic echoed, used to more gravity in these sorts of life or death situations rather than immediate pomp and celebration. However the wife seemed to agree and with a shrug and smile from Camilla, Cyrdic found himself practically whisked away down the alley and across the street to where the fat Merchant called Oleg's business and home would be found. Cyrdic wasn't sure what to expect, but the building was three stories tall and it seemed as if his shop was on the bottom floor.

"Yes yes, come in." He implored them when he opened the door. "Bornhald! Grab some meads and fetch dinner! We have guests!"

Inside, a heavily accented voice that Cyrdic could not quite pinpoint called back. After a moment he realized the man had said "as you wish, sir," in a dialect he had never heard before. The shop inside looked to be of the sales of textiles and embroidered clothing, with some silk from Cathay on display. He shouldn't have doubted Oleg's means but he truly was an upper-middle class of the city, far better off than many of the struggling merchants in the poor quarter. Then again, with a siege mounting, many of the merchants will probably do well the coming months.

Behind the counter moved a burly, albeit somewhat aging barbarian. It was the only word Cyrdic could use to describe the man, though he did not look Norscan. His features were brutal but fair, and his skin was covered in blue woad tattoos. He wore an apron and a white linen shirt above rough looking trousers, his beard looked to be braided enough to make Skaldi proud. "Deenar is redeh," he said to the master of the house, setting down a large roast chicken along with various other bowls of foods, peas, potatoes, etc.

"Thank you Borhald, on time and apt as per usual," he said with a satisfied smile. His wife had already sat down, having gone into the back to clear off her tears and fix her hair for but a moment. He turned to Cyrdic and Camilla, who seemed somewhat confused on the ettiquette that was expected of them. "Please, please, sit!" he told them, waving them over to have a seat. "By Ursun, save my life and expect me to scold you on manners. You truly are heroes, aren't you?" he laughed.

The mead was set down, and silverware was provided. Cyrdic had not seen so much shined and luxurious kitchenware and plates since Middenheim, to be sure.
@Penny

Star Wars - The Old Republic: Legacy

*screeches into the thread* You had my curiosity, but now you have my attention

Symphonis: Three Part Sci-Fi Adventure

The idea and the pedigree of others expressing interest have piqued my curiosity in a big way. :3

@Naril

Same. You have my attention.

Tombs & Treks: A Pulp Roleplay

I'll be sifting through posts and posting this week!

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Despire the modest purchase, Camilla having new clothing overjoyed her. It truly marked they had reached civilization once more, and she was giddily bouncing along the backstreets and alleys as they began to make their way back to the Inn. Cyrdic had them on a strict schedule for meals to fill their forms out. Three strict meals a day and snacks in between. Along with certain meads Cyrdic knew added some ample-ness to one's figure. Truthfully, he honestly had been worried sick over Camilla's weight loss, and had felt a bit less powerful with his, and so they did their best to keep to that regime.

"You look about as excited as when you showed me your blue dress at the court of Middenheim," Cyrdic grinned as Camilla hummed to herself.

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed. "Was fabyoo-lose! Beautiful but deadly, like me, no?" She giggled and gave him a dazzling smile. He knew she was joking, but he had to admit it was right on the mark. Everyday she was getting quicker and healthier, every day closer to being her old acrobatic self. It gave him hope, he realized. To see her having gone through all of the horrors this world had to offer and still be just as bubbly when she found something she enjoyed.

He gave a laugh. "Hey, calm down. You still need to rest." he reminded her, though truthfully he rather enjoyed seeing her dancing about. She spun on him and drifted very close to him. "Calm down? Who will make me, hmmm? You?" She said, and poked his nose. He smiled and tried to grab her, but she danced away, and then glided closer once more as if to tease him.

The mood suddenly changed when they turned the corner, and a tear streaked woman blindly ran into them as if the very Gods of Chaos were on her tail. She screamed as soon as she hit Cyrdic's side, and scratched at his face wildly. Cyrdic felt nail driving into his cheek and with a gesture he shoved her off easily, thinking her a daemon until she hit the wall and crumple. "By the hammer, what?" Cyrdic breathed. Camilla had a dagger out within an instant, though when she saw their 'assailant' she made no move.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry..." the woman said, crying hysterically. "There's men trying to kill my husband a street back! Are you the guards? I have to find the guards!" she yelled and scrambled past them. Cyrdic looked at Camilla, both knowing they had left their swords back at the Inn. Other than her dagger, that's all they had to work with. He'd never really thought of themselves as overly altruistic people, killing for money. But they ran to the aid of this man they knew without hesitation.

Down the next alley, a well off merchant was surrounded by three men with knives, with a fourth man running headlong into them like the woman did, probably chasing her. Only when he realized who they were he tried to stab at Cyrdic. The big mercenary blocked the man's forearm on instinct, and took a measure of the situation even as he incapacitated the man with an elbow to the nose and a rough shove.

Camilla tore the knife out of the falling man's hands and flipped it to grab the blade, taking only an instant to measure her aim before she embedded it into one of the three men's backs with an impressive throw. Despite the lack of light, from here Cyrdic and Camilla could see these men were masked, as if they wore the fanciful disguises of a Nuln Imperial ball. Cyrdic doubted nobles would be doing any stabbings in the back alleyways, however.

"By Ursun, help me!" The fat man cried.
@Penny

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@Fetzen
I thought I saw you did, I guess I was mistaken. Well, I'll let you have until monday. You don't need to post much.

Dragon Ball Reborn

I'm sorry but you cannot advertise roleplays on other sites, sir. @Korin

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The news shouted in their tavern was one of the first heard in the city of Praag. Cyrdic bolted up. "What?" before he felt the intense stabbing of his shoulder, and he nearly buckled. Sigmar, why did the wound bother him after Camilla had tended to it? Outside, members of the cult of the White Wolf stalked past their window, and Kislevite guards moved to and fro as if being ordered by some collective intelligence. More than likely they had been given various tasks and were unsure of which they should first perform. Cyrdic had been there.

Konrad entered the Tavern at that moment, a new cloak wrapped around his form. He looked more like an uncouth mercenary rather than a Greatsword of the Empire at this moment, his unshaven face and lack of a haircut in over a month, along with his sullen visage. "I take it you've heard?" he asked them. Ivan nodded. "Haf you been to da valls?" He asked.

"No, and I almost wish not to." he admitted, walking in and ordering a drink by a raise of his hand. The serving wench scurried off to grab his drink with a smile. If Cyrdic didn't know any better she seemed sweet on Konrad despite his unkempt state. "We make it out of hell and hell followed us. Sigmar I feel as if we are cursed." He said, taking the drink with a rare smile from the barmaid and taking a sip. Cyrdic snorted at his comment, and glanced at Camilla. He often felt the same way, it was almost humorous now.

"Ve are safe in Praag," Ivan said. "More of an unfortunate zan anyfing. Unless da army is larger than any ve haf seen in a hundred years."

"Only one way to find out." Cyrdic remarked, stoic. He gathered himself up and donned his own cloak. Camilla did so with him. They had eaten as much as they could the last day or so, but Camilla was still far too slim and Cyrdic was leaner than he'd been since age 17. Yantz seemed less than enthused going to the wall, and he simply stabbed a piece of ham with one of his knives and devoured it off the blade, before standing up.

Konrad sighed, took one last swig of his drink and made it to his feet. He was no coward, Cyrdic knew. Almost any man would be tired after the journey they had undergone. "Where's Skaldi?" Cyrdic asked. The two men shrugged, but Camilla spoke up. "I think he might still be cooking. His shifts not over yet." Cyrdic wasn't going to bother him over this and they all headed out, the carved streets, normally bustling with citizens, were now filled with marching soldiers and the occasional onlooker, though at a glance many of the citizens were hanging out within the buildings and homes, and a few less reputable or uncaring men and woman still walked the streets. Cyrdic felt as if he was having a bad dream. Not from the news, but that coupled with the horrific architecture of Praag, moving toward what could be his doom gave him that impression.

They made it to the innergate of the city, one one of the second walls that overlooked the first and found the stone steps leading to the top of the parapets. Cyrdic's legs protested as he made his way up the steps, still sore from his journey. As the group crested the wall, Cyrdic blinked when he saw Skaldi and Dietrichia already there. "Aren't you supposed to be cooking?" Yantz asked the Dwarf, stepping over to stand by the witch. Skaldi scoffed. "No one's hungry." the Dwarf replied gruffly. "Not since that lot showed up." And he gestured to the horde of enemies gathering on the vast plains of Kislev.

The tail end of the winged lancers were heading through the outer gates of Praag into the safety of the fortress city, and the beastmen that attempted to chase them were riddled with arrows and shot down. Beyond them, an army of Norscans and beastmen had set up a hasty camp, and smoke rose from around the horizon, signalling the end to over a dozen settlements. "Ulric's wrath," Cyrdic breathed, frustration in his voice.

The army could not storm the walls of Praag and live, but it was still a sizeable force. 20,000 strong if he had to guess, and among the Chaos worshipers were the hulking shapes of war mammoths, and huge minotaurs lumbered about, grumbling and roaring. It was fascinating in a disturbing way. Seeing an army of Chaos always was, and he could tell it had that effect on his companions, all save Skaldi who was simply disgusted.

The fact that Praag could defend itself at the moment didn't relax Cyrdic. The army would not be stationed there if they did not have a plan, and if they received new warbands each day then soon they could storm the walls. "Only Norscans would go on a winter campaign," Cyrdic said, drawing the gazes of Yantz, Konrad, Boris, and a few of the nobles there as well. "They'll be effected like all men, but something about them let's them hold out longer in the cold. Let's no hope daemons join their ranks."
@Penny

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

You all posted within 10 days time! W00T!