POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

It was all Cyrdic could do to hold off the beastmen that were teetering upon the stairway when Camilla fled. He was nearly skewered when he saw the Khornate warrior go after her, and he was honestly contemplating giving up the stairway and allowing these monsters to flow into the city to save Camilla's life. He wondered if such ways were how men turned to Chaos. To give up something morally imperative to save something precious to them. He decided now was not the time to think on such philosophical questions.

It was with a force of will that allowed Cyrdic to remain defending until reinforcements arrived, though they weren't the ones he had thought would come. By Sigmar, Ulric, and Taal, they needed the city guard, not two more mercenaries! No matter how skilled! He realized he had no room to complain however, blocking an axe with a swipe of his longsword and kicking a beastman's shin, causing the monster to topple off and hit the flagstones a dozen feet below, breaking a limb or two.

That beastman wasn't alone, as other marauders or beastmen had already fallen from higher heights and were either broken or unconscious. Yantz went to work dispatching each of them, slitting throats and gutting them while keeping his eye above so none that fell would land on him. Skaldi had not stayed idle, running up the stairwell as fast as his stubby legs could carry him, shield raised and gromril axe ready.

"Right, Ostlander!" Skaldi roared, and Cyrdic sidestepped toward the wall as Skaldi took the left side of the stairwell, taking much pressure off Cyrdic. Anyone looking Cyrdic's way would see he was only moving by sheer force of will at the moment. There was a small fountain of blood dripping from somewhere above his scalp, and his side was lightly ripped open. Still, he moved with a ferocity that befet a warrior or Ulric, matching Beastmen in strength and Norscan's in barbarity as Skaldi hacked and bashed, severing legs and eviscerating chaos spawn.

Camilla had begun to aid Yantz, cutting and slicing those that managed to leap or fall off. It was only by the grace of Sigmar, or perhaps Ursun that they were still alive. But as more Norscans made it up the walls, with larger and stronger opponents on the way, it was only a matter of time before the tired defenders were overwhelmed. Cyrdic cut a Norscan in the collarbone, while receiving a blow to his own shoulder, one that left a nasty gash he knew he needed to worry about.

Suddenly, just as Cyrdic and Skaldi were knocked back by a large Minotaur, arrows and gunshots rang out from the alleyways to the west, and a great cry rose up as men in brigandines and sabers came to the companion's aid. Otto the Greatsword led them, his face cleaned and with a renewed vigor and sense of purpose, charging in to aid his comrades. They rushed forward, causing the Chaos warriors to be distracted for a moment and gave the two on the stairway time to breathe as they rushed in.

As Camilla and Yantz were doing their bloody work, one of the headless Norscan bodies twitched. It was a barely perceptible movement, but neither of the two noticed. Until the Chaos infestation that had been borne within sprang to life, and a horrible face of a serpent with a man's visage sprouted out of the corpse's neck, and its hand grabbed Camilla's ankle. She screamed, turned and stabbed the writhing body with her blade, the elven sword ending its secondary daemonic life. Cyrdic had heard the cry though and turned on instinct, lowering his guard.

A club struck him at the back of his head and sent him hurtling towards the ground, ten feet below. His nerveless fingers let go of his sword, and he felt as if was now falling for eternity. Just as the city watch made it to the stairwell, Cyrdic' world went black, and he knew no more.
@Penny

Dark Streets - Urban Fantasy Noir

@Rawk@Fetzen Glad t'see you boys round these parts.

Dark Streets - Urban Fantasy Noir

It's looking to be fun! There isn't enough Urban Fantasy on the Guild.

Dark Streets - Urban Fantasy Noir

Celtic Fae

Name: Caber (his favored name)

Character Concept: Gancanagh (Celtic Fae)

Trouble: Wanted by the Fae court for absconding from a royal marriage to the river daughter. That, and for stealing a glorious jewel from the Sidhe. Also wanted for various petty crimes (thieving and the like) in his human guise, though mostly in Europe. Why limit yourself?

Scene: A clear stream cascading down a rocky decline as the birds sing from above, and the sky opens to reveal a midsummer sun, revealing a vast sea of green, the highlands peaking out as waves. That was all Delilah could conjure in her mind to describe the melody played by the dashing stranger's flute. Once he was done, he opened his eyes and twirled the instrument within his nimble fingers, and the flute was gone as if it had never been. A sleight of hand, surely. "What's your name?" She asked, her pupils enlarged. He took her hand in his, looking positively smug.
The pub residents had all halted their conversations to pay attention to the flute playing, but once he was finished, the conversations rushed back in like a crashing wave of water. Caber took a drink from the generous pint he'd ordered. "Ah, a loaded question, some might say." he said, almost sounding bored. Perhaps not a loaded question to some, but Caber had been known by many names, and had seen many things change in his lifetime. The land he had been born had been called Gaul, by the Romans, and that turned into Gaullia, into Francia, and then France.
"Caber, they call me." He said. "And yours?"
She told him almost too quickly, her eyes caressing his jawline and the waves of his hair, only to follow his hand as he lifted up his mug once more. He was so young! Yet she was utterly attracted. "I love your music," she continued, her finger now idly twirling her hair.
"Can you believe some believed me a God for how I played the flute?"
She took it as a mere boast, giggling at what she perceived as an attempt at humor. He laughed with her as his mind wandered back into that ancient past, when he had ran wild and plagued the forests of old Gaul and Germania, until Caesar and his legions with swords of blasted iron came. The blasted Roman had gotten what he'd deserved at the senate, if only Caber could have been there to see him fall. Caber recalled the consular pursuing him even across the English channel into the British Isles. But ever northward had he traveled, and he found centuries of fun with the picts and the celts of Ireland. That is, until the Norse arrived, quaking with war and seeking vengeance with the power of their Gods of Asgard, using swords of dreaded steel.
With an effort, Caber calmed himself. He had done much better these days with keeping his faerie side from taking over, and once he opened his pools of blue, he found he should enjoy the catch he had made tonight. He drew in closer for a kiss.
"Hey, pal."
A rough voice tried to tear his attention away from the lass, but Caber had decided he would like to continue gazing at her for a moment. The voice spoke again.
"Hey, that's my woman there." The voice held a warning in it.
"Is it?" Caber asked aloud, unconcerned or simply unaware of the danger the interloper promised to present. "You are a lucky man. Tonight, I think she will be mine, however."
A rough, Nordic arm shoved Caber back and knocked over the wine he had been drinking, spilling the delectable contents across the table and shattering the serene mood the fae had placed himself in. Caber turned to the burly man, and the debonair young man suddenly looked feral, his teeth bared and the hair, no fur of his arms on end. What's more, his eyes blazed with the color of burning bronze. The lights began to dim slowly, and with the swiftness of the turning winds, Caber left his chair and had grabbed the man by his shirt collar, the youth's muscles firm like oak. "Do you think your Gods will save you from me?" the fae squealed in devilish delight. With an almost treeish certainly, he shoved the hairy Nord back into the next table, causing it to collapse. No sooner had the man hit the ground did Caber look as he had been, collected and as calm as can be.
The woman Delilah looked confused and torn, as if she needed to be told what to do next like a lost child. Caber smoothed his still-combed hair and cleared his throat, regaining his senses. "Two thousand and eighteen," he breathed, an indecipherable whisper to himself. A moment later, he turned back to Delilah. "My dear, it was lovely to speak to you. But alas, our time has come to an end. Had we met when I was a young one, you would be a Gwragedd Annwn." He clapped thrice, and the lights flickered once more. Those bar patrons that had not been too engrossed in their drink or still eyeing the prone body of the jealous boyfriend, would see the image of a goat-like thing in their retina before the lights turned back on, and the youth was gone.
The fae, now floating out in the nightsky back to his calling stone within the PHI HQ, realized he should speak of none of this to Morgan, or she would bind him to the station itself. That would be utterly dreadful!

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"You sure you can drive one of these?" Junebug asked.

Neil carefully flipped every switch he believed he needed in order to get this ship out of orbit, at least moving as if he knew what to do. "Well," he began, yanking the throttle that happened to be hanging above him in the form of a lever grip. "It's no Highlander, but I've flown things like this before back on Signus Prime, when I was there for a few months and sweet on one of the loading worker girls. I spent my time flying a small loading-"

Saxon cut in. "Spare us the stories. Can you fly this or not?"

Neil gave him an intensely sarcastic side-eye look. "Yes." He said with emphasis. To hammer in the point, the entire ship jumped for a split second and sent everyone, even the heavy Xenos off the floor for a moment, causing everyone except Sven to give a small cry of a alarm. When they righted themselves, there was only a small but incredibly uncomfortable juttering across the entire ship. Saxon's growl caused Neil to turn around. "Might wanna fasten your seat belt, bit guy." He turned to Sayeeda. "By the way, what kind of weapon was that guy you killed carrying?"

Sayeeda coughed, holding her stomach as if to keep each rib still in line. "Looks like a slug-thrower M90." she said.

"Wow, don't see much of those anymore." Neil replied, secretly hoping it had been a las-carbine. Those were usually best when trying to board a ship. Very good against personnel, but gave little damage to ship plating. Still, he doubted the slug thrower would do much to a ship hull either. By Good Gideon, he wished he had his other guns. He didn't even know if this ship had a honing sensor that could lock onto other ship frequencies.

Sudden wind currents caused the ship to rock to the side in a way that felt very much like they were freefalling, but after a moment the cargo ship righted itself. "Ho ho, thought I'd killed us all for a moment."

"Wouldn't," she coughed. "Be the first time."

Neil grinned at her, and helped her sit back a bit so she could keep still and not get hurt further. "Only a few more minutes and we'll be out of orbit. We'll find it." He said. And he was right.

Unfortunately, he only picked up the Terran ships and their cloaking devices were dicovered when they were within a hundred and twelve kilometers from them, and they were closing fast. "Sssshit!" Neil exclaimed, trying to get the cargo ship to turn. He knew then that they had to have captured the Highlander. He'd been following their frequency ever since they made orbit. "So Junebug, er, Captain. I think they have Taya..."
@Penny

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

The Mantiraus roared long and loud, bearing fangs that a bull shouldn't naturally have in its maw. It's cry was abruptly halted as a crossbow bolt from An-Hasst stuck into its mane, though it didn't seem to be any sort of a fatal wound. The mane was tough and full of thick hair, and more as likely the bolt merely dug into its skin near the shoulder. An arrow followed suit however, the bodkin point that had been shot from Calanon's recurve finding its mark into the flesh of the beast's opposite shoulder, staggering it slightly. Calanon was a fine shot with a bow. He had even done it as Brogach had reared like a wild stallion.

Unfortunately, the Mantiraus was now angrier than ever, and instead of roaring, it opened its great maw and an arc of lightning shot out of its mouth. Calanon had barely the time to turn enough to block the blast with his shield before he was knocked clear off Brogach to roll into the thickets, alive but obviously out of commission for a moment or two. Brogach scampered about, letting out brays. Argon the Saurdraxus did not seem perturbed, and though the beast was larger than even his considerable bulk, he charged and gave a wild slash, tearing into the muscled flank of the Mantiraus. The beast responded with a swipe of its tail that Argon took solidly to the chest, but the Lizardman held his ground. Though a few more hits like that and he might have a few broken ribs.

Argon leaped back to avoid another hit as Nicadimus called and rallied the group to him, slithering over to he and Alice and holding his shield out before them, protecting their left side.

---

Beren blinked, his face softening and concerned for her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and stepped out of the trench. "They'll be ok, don't worry." He told her, and bent over to grab his shirt. He slipped it over his broad shoulders, covering his muscled chest. "Look...let's get a few drinks. Calanon will be ok and I know you need to wind down. They're on me, ok?" He asked her, and went to inspect her spikes. He inspected the spike, and nodded. He muttered a 'not bad' to himself.

On the otherside of town, there was tears and thank yous galore, and the mother cradled her child with love as her husband told them to tell the bartender that John Cam sent them, and they'll get free mead for their first three rounds. Within the bar, there was a slightly rougher crowd than earlier now that the day had gone on for a time now. Three of the younger men were practicing knife throwing at the southern wall, and some of the older, more bearded gentlemen were playing a game of cards called 'Guantlet.' Each were betting on their outcomes.
@Mortarion@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@Fetzen@Stormflyx@The Fated Fallen

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Normally the guards...lazy-inclined mercenaries would be a better term, would have put up some initial resistance against an aggressive foe. Unfortunately for them, their foe was consisted of a hulkingly feral Xenos, a tall and methodically deadly Cyborg, and the most dangerous of all, a young pyromaniac operating heavy machinery. It took less than a minute past the fence and five men dead to get the group to one of the junkers that lay in the lot.

"Securing perimeter." Sven said with pausing, immediately patrolling the vicinity in the hanger to make sure there were no more enemies lying in wait. Reinforcements would no doubt be minutes away and they would likely be overwhelming. Not to mention AA guns would be coming online shortly after that to send them all to hell. The MH-350's cockpit opened, and Neil picked up Sayeeda as carefully and as quickly as he could and stepped out, her body draped across his shoulder with her legs at his front.

She patted his back. "Weapon." She said to him. He blinked, not knowing if she was awake enough for that. After a slight hesitation, he handed her his 10 mm pistol. "You're the Captain." He said.

The Hexa had done his best not to rip onto the doors to the Junker, the metal screeching as it slid open. He entered the Junker with Neil following tentatively behind, trying not to stand too directly in the middle of any walk way in case the avalanche of an bounty hunter decided to wade his way without looking. A part of him still feared that Saxon will just 'decide' that they had partnered long enough and he would casually snap Neil's neck. He hoped there was a way he could bring the mech.

As they stepped inside, the walls themselves looked ruses and lightly bent from constant use, but upon a very very quick inspection, Neil designated that the structure of the ship was good enough to risk a flight, considering the alternative. Across the ship, he heard Saxon's footsteps halt for a moment, and then a very human scream echoed across the halls before it was suddenly silenced, and the heavy footsteps continued. Neil bared his teeth in a grimace.

The door in front of him burst open, and a mangy, grime ridden man holding a rifle stood there, eyes wild and his barrel pointed at Neil's face. The pilot was glad he wasn't holding a weapon. "Hold on, I have a wounded person here." Neil said, slowly raising his hands. The man's hands shook, and Neil wasn't convinced he wouldn't accidentally shoot Neil out of sheer shuddering. "T-Turn around. Slowly." He ordered him.

Predictable, Neil did so, and the man found himself on the wrong end of Sayeeda's pistol. He dropped even before the crack of her gun had faded. Neil had only heard the shot, but judging the fact that he hadn't been hit and Sayeeda was reloading the weapon, it was a safe bet she killed the guy. "Nice shooting." Neil said. Sayeeda smacked his ass, causing him to jump. "Get to the cockpit," she ordered hoarsely.

"You got it."
@Penny

guess what? a newbie emerges

Glad to have you!

Dark Streets

@Hour Error Hid the double post for ya ;D

Star Wars: Western Frontier

I might join...hmmm