POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The two men stared at one another, their senses on a knife's edge. If this was a normal circumstance, Cyrdic would be wary but confindent that he could overpower the man. But his Ulric honed instincts made him realize the way he moved, the easy grace in which he smiled, the controlled grip of the man's hand. He was far more dangerous than he appeared. He seemed to be studying Cyrdic as well, though the Ostlander could tell he seemed far too at ease for what was about to occur.

Maybe if Cyrdic could head inside and beat him to the party. No, that wouldn't work. Perhaps if he could-

The music started.

They looked at one another one more time, and then moved. Cyrdic and Rishnekov stepped forward simultaneously. Cyrdic had the feeling that the man wouldn't fall for an easy punch, so he moved forward with his weight but kept his guard up, feinting high then kneeing low. Somehow with a serpent-like grace, the dark man knocked aside Cyrdic's leg with a mere sweep of his hand, his other hand shooting forward faster than the eye could see, grabbing Cyrdic's shoulder. Sigmar he was strong!

The mercenary pushed forward, grabbing the expensive cloak of his adversary and pulling upwards to lift him off the ground, though Rishnekov snarled and slapped Cyrdic so hard across the face, he dropped him and stumbled backward. It was only on instinct that he punched forward, somehow landing a solid blow on Rishnekov's abdomen, though it seemed to faze the man little. As they traded punches, Camilla and Indendre were the object of the court's eye, the music echoing off the chambers as they watched the two dance. Outside, Cyrdic felt nail-like claws puncture his skin beneath his furs. He only just barely caught the wrist, muscling the hand out of his lower stomach before he was eviscerated.

"What the hell are you?" Cyrdic growled.

"You're strong for a human." Rishnekov replied back venomously. "Even stronger than you appear." As if he was savoring the moment of his triumph, Rishnekov opened his mouth to reveal predatory fangs. Horrible realization flooded Cyrdic, and the reason he was fighting an uphill battle became frighteningly clear. They found themselves grappling in a contest of strength. Wolfish ferocity against Unholy might as they each tried to break the other.

Slowly, all too slowly, Rishnekov's unlimited stamina began to win. Cyrdic felt his grip on the Vampire's wrists slipping, and even the strength Ulric had granted him was waning in the face of this monster's will to feed. The dark regent opened his mouth once more, fangs protruding as his face inched toward's Cyrdic's exposed neck. Until Cyrdic felt the warmth of one of the balcony brazier's behind him. He did what Rishnekov did not expect, buckling under the force and using his weight against him, going under and then pressing up with his massive shoulders, sending Rishnekov end over end to fall into the flame.

Rishnekov shrieked, his skin instantly catching fire as if he was laced with black powder, his dark suit lighting up in a parody of oil on water. Cyrdic did not have time, he grabbed the Vampire's kicking feet and pushed them upward, sending him falling to a fire death into the darkness below. Behind Cyrdic the curtains opened a moment later, and the Servant walked out with drinks. "Herr Reiner I..." he began, looking about. "Where is Regent Rishnekov?"

"He went back inside." Cyrdic said, trying not to appear too out of breath, holding a hand on his disheveled mane of hair. "Could you fetch my wife?"
@Penny

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@VeridianSeeker I am always looking for new players, but because of that there is always a waiting list. If you make a character, you can skip up the roster since some haven't yet.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Morty is having some technical difficulties, but he'll post soon and then we'll get this going!

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil had expected everything to turn to shit, but he didn't expect it to happen this fast. He had felt a few 'tings' on the back of his mech and as suddenly as he realized they were small arms fire, it stopped sprinkling and began to pour. "Alright this is a little much," he muttered under his breath as he began to redirect the MH-350's systems and undo the cargo latch, opening up and taking the Aestimobium inside the mech where it's safe while his back was still turned to the growing mob of attackers. He turned when he heard the tredds scraping against the floor of the plaza, and finally drank in the army and the newly arriving armor.

Ironically enough, Sven had taken this time to disappear much like Saxon had earlier. While the Xenos on the other hand decided it was his time to make his debut, and a group of a dozen men who shot various lasbolts and traditionally kinetic firearms at Neil lost half their number in mere moments. Saxon had uncloaked his massive form and attacked from their flank, serrated blades of Xarconian steel protruded from his forearms as he literally butchered 4 men before they realized they were under attack. Neil still felt it wasn't enough. Sayeeda was already being suppressed from above.

His weapons had been mechanically 'sheathed' to better grab the treasure. It would take a few moments to redirect the systems to unholster them again and set them up. He knew he didn't have the time. Even if the vehicles hadn't shown up, there were enough gang members here to get a few bullets into his cockpit before long. He felt a sudden surge of frustration at everything having to go wrong so quickly. His mind worked without him realizing it, the mech reaching down to grab a sufficiently large enough piece of rubble. He locked the hand-like claw onto the stone and turned the propulsion of the MH-350's right arm at full strength, something you would only ever normally use to shove large obstacles at high velocity.

"Eat this, bitch." Neil spat, aiming on instinct and unleashing the energy of the mech's arm, launching the stone that probably weighed more than Neil's body weight flying like a bullet into the cockpit of one of the tractors. Needless to say the vehicle had lost its driver, though the machine still moved, turning as it did without someone to steer and ramming into 8 gangers, crushing them like so many twigs.

That was when the explosion happened, Sayeeda's expert shot having detonated the Dart T Combat car, though Neil could only watch as the aforementioned warfare was shot at Sayeeda's perch, shattering the building below her and sending her flying into the air. As if on cue, Sven's voice was heard over the comm. "That explosion will give you time. Leave her and go."

"Fuck you!"

Neil had already shifted gears and sped the Mech toward where he calculated Sayeeda would fall. He knew he couldn't catch her gracefully, controlling a high powered and modified cargo mech. But he managed to just catch her by her stomach, only her legs bumping into the metal of her arm uncomfortably, but not so much as to worry Neil at the moment. He had the treasure and the Captain, they needed to get out of there. He pulled the arms in and had Sayeeda close to the cockpit as he sped out of there through one of the main roadways, killing an unfortunate ganger who had wandered into the wrong direction by simply running him over.

"We'll rendezvous at the corner of Nicias." Neil replied over the comms and shut them off abruptly. On his rear camera, he saw the last tractor mowing over debris and in pursuit of him. It was about a 10 minute run before the tractor had finally lost track of the mech it had been chasing, the Ordellion Xenos with its tentacle-appendages wriggling back and forth already annoying its human companion in the passanger seat.

"You lost him. Now you'll need to explain this to the boss." The man said, or would have if his window had not been torn open and a mech's arm didn't unload a small canister of its flamer ammunition into the tractor, igniting the skin of the passengers before they could even scream. Neil didn't like having to kill to indiscriminately, but he had set an unconscious Sayeeda down a block away and had to end the pursuit as quickly as he could.

Once that was over with, he made his way back over to her and settled his mech into stand by mode, opening the cockpit with a 'hiss' and dropping out of it, lifting the woman's head up from the (relatively clean) pile of bagged waste he had left her sitting next to. "Captain?" he said. He patted her cheek hurriedly, pragmatism and worry intermingling. "Captain, come on. Don't do this to me." he breathed. "I know you like fucking with me but now is not the time..."
@Penny

Warhammer Fantasy: The Guild of Esteemed Sellswords - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world! [REBOOTED] [FULL]

@Dusty I suppose I can give a reply soonish before the next round of posts.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The night was cold, colder than even Cyrdic was used to. But crisp. His senses were keen as a knife's edge, much like he often felt when he was in danger. He did not know exactly why, though the Chaos-wrought stone gargoyles mounted at various intervals of the balcony he had stepped on could have been a factor. The snow had stopped falling for now, leaving the outside an almost impenetrable void of darkness beyond the torches on the balcony.

"Leave us," Rishnekov said to the Royal Hussars who framed the doorway. They only hesitated for a moment, and then gave a curt bow before exiting into the Palace, closing the curtains behind them. Cyrdic tried not to think too much on it for his sake. He felt Rishnekov was a brave man, meeting Cyrdic alone without supervision. His voice caught the Ostlander's attention.

"So, Herr Richter, from where do you hail in the Empire?" he inquired, though his eyes were on the gem that was attached to the head of his cane, polishing it idly as he stared into it. The silence after he spoke was near deafening. The wind howled a moment later. It sounded uncomfortably similar to wailing. He tugged his furs closer to his muscled form, recalling he felt the familiar press of his dagger sheath against the side of his leg.

"Nordland."

"Truly? I heard there was an unfortunate incursion as recently as a few scant months ago."

"I was there at the battle." Cyrdic replied. He was lucky Ostlanders and Nordlanders were both terse in their wording. He doubt he could pretend to be a Reiklander unless he was speaking to someone from Cathay. "The barbarians were tough as always, but they were sent back to the realm of Chaos where they were spawned."

"Chaos is never truly defeated." the dark man replied. He spoke to Cyrdic as if he was talking to a hound that had done something ignorantly wrong. "I had thought someone from a region such as Nordland would have understood that."

"Let us not argue semantics, my lord. The Norscans were slaughtered save a paltry few, and I believe we can do the same to the force outside. They have little in the way of provisions for a long campaign, yet they continue to sit there. Would that not suggest they know help is coming?" Cyrdic reasoned. "Better to strike at them now. We need only 7,000 good Lancers and archery support from the walls and they will be routed in a day."

Rishnekov finally halted his inspection of the gem and turned to regard Cyrdic. Somehow, he felt as if a weight had landed upon his body merely by the man's look. His cloak opened with a small sway of his shoulders, and Cyrdic thought he could see a drop of red. "Herr Richter, how long have you been in Praag, may I ask?" The question was rhetorical, he could discern. "You are of noble blood, if I recall correctly. Yes? I have only been to Nordland a few times in my life, but I familiarized myself with the courts there well enough. You know, as I do, that certain politics plague those in charge and threaten to topple what we hold so dear... If Enrik were to attack tomorrow, then he would be overthrown the next day. He has more enemies than you can imagine. And if Praag was without a ruler, we would not be able to hold off what is coming."

"If it is not already here." Cyrdic replied.

"There is always evil in Praag. I suggest you come to terms with that, Herr Richter."

There was something very off, but Cyrdic could not quite understand what. He felt him needing to keep himself from baring his teeth in front of the man, though he made no move to threaten Cyrdic. "Have you eaten yet, Lord Rishnekov? Shall we call for a servant to provide some food as we speak? I had just eaten at a place of very high esteem, the Hussar's Hooves. But I could still eat a bit more." Cyrdic saw all he needed to see when Rishnekov looked at him, the barest whisper of a nameless recognition. "I always grow famished when speaking of killing Chaos worshipers."

Cyrdic flexed his hands behind his furs, gazing at Rishnekov's every move as the man regarded him.
"That is very kind of you..."
@Penny

The All-Dawi Party - A Warhammer Fantasy Adventure

@Lady Selune AYE

The Bureau of Supernatural Affairs

@Avadon Please do not go into other OOC threads and post an advertisement for yours in any way, shape, or form. Thank you.

Silver and Blood: A Warhammer Roleplay

Bronr had spotted the hold two days ago at the peaks behind Karag Yar, but it was only today as the sun began to set closer to the west did the party of Dawi he had guided made it into the pass. Only once had they been assailed by Greenskins, though it left two of the stout Soldiers injured. They had hired him two fortnight's ago to find the safest trails to travel through, the relatively flat roads where the goats and mules could haul the precious cargo of Iron and Silver the merchants so greedily kept under guard. Bronr did not blame him. He felt the Gold lust even less than most Dwarfs, and he was no thief. But even his eye was drawn to the metals once or twice.

When he had made his way down the slope and had announced their arrival to the merchants, there were grumbles of cheer. The merchants, sturdy Dawi or no, were not soldiers. They merely traveled to sell their wares, and they had heard tell of the new activity at the fabled Hold of Eight Peaks and sought to exploit their wares at the old Silver Gate. With a cry in Khazalid, the mules and goats began to move once more, and the soldiers kept a watchful but less strict eye as they crested the hill and saw the settlement beneath them.

Once Bronr received his payment, counting it thrice to make sure the merchants weren't being stingy, he wandered off into the Silver Gate in search of a pint and potential work to continue his growing hoard of funds. Oh, he could survive well enough on his own out in the wilderness or beneath the mountains, hunting and foraging. But like all good Dwarfs, he valued Gold and honest work nearly as much as he valued his beard he wore proudly for all to see.

What he needed now was one other thing he truly valued. A good pint of Bugman's.

Video Games: The General Discussion & Community Thread

@Dynamo Frokane Even if it's spoiled somewhat I'll still enjoy it a lot.