POOHEAD189

The All Dawi Party - A Warhammer Fantasy Adventure

@Wampower I shall check my schedule down the line!

Damned to the Depths

There was the barest hint of a smile on Markus' face at her admittance of who she was. He sensed an arrogance about her, but at least the woman had a sense of down to earth wit. "Yes," he said. "But I didn't know who you were when I saved you." The vagabond shrugged. "Not that it matter's much now." Perhaps it would matter to the authorities or anyone wanting to score big on a bounty later, but at the present, momentary survival was all he cared for.

"I'm just glad you're not fancying delusions of retaking the city." He said, his sarcasm matching hers as he shook his head. He had a vast problem with aristocrats, particularly ones who believed they owned everything without any sort of effort. Calliope might be a stone cold bitch (from what he had heard), but at least she seemed learned and competent in various ways, magic being the most prominent so far. "We might want to take fake names, or at least change the name of the ship at some point. But for now, the Weathered Witch is fitting."

He took a large swig of whiskey as well, drawing his sword as he gazed out the back window. Through the blinds he could see the ocean, though they had some city to wade through still. The moon on the water looked the same as it did when he used to gaze across the lake at Highmeadow. He couldn't afford to get comfortable on this night, even with what he might consider to be a fine omen.

"Are you ready?" the swordsman asked.

Calliope laughed, giving a wicked grin. "Boy, this is my city. Though I need to leave it now, we won't be stopped leaving, even if we need to gut a few pigs."

Markus couldn't argue with that. "Very well, child." He replied, and the man didn't bother to look back after the statement as he opened the door into the alleyway. With rope around his shoulders and whiskey bottles and various other supplies in his pack, and a sword in his hand, all he would need would be a hand crossbow or one of those matchlock pistols Dwarves were so fond of and he would be completely set to handle any true situation.

"You can't have everything," he whispered to himself, while an entire city was out for their blood.

The two ducked and dodged down alleys and sidestreets, avoiding all people like the plague and making sure not to make any noise past the smallest footstep, leaping over fallen rubble and even shying away from puddles. They were moving down a decline, the city lowering as it neared the docks. The elevation was one of the reasons Calaverd had survived the hurricanes and monsoons of the Sea of Swords, its main streets being high above sea level.

Minutes later, they made it into where the seaside market would usually be held. But it was too late for any merchants except the seediest ones to be skulking around, though shouts were heard from the men every which way. It was hard to tell if they were soldiers or citizens, and even if they were the former, where their loyalties now lay. Crouching down, Markus placed a finger to his lips and led Calli behind the stalls and into a back garden that one of the richer seaside merchants had made between buildings, making their way through a small cobblestone path, turning the corner and ending up behind two guards who stood watch, facing outwards rather than toward them.

Markus glanced Calliope's way, and she gave a nod at the questioning look. The blademage crept forward without a seconds hesitation, and with a swift motion, he beheaded the left guard from behind. The other man didn't even notice his comrade had lost his head until the skull bumped against the ground, and he gave the smallest whisper of alarm before Markus ran him through, swiftly and efficiently piercing the lungs. No alarm had been raised.

Before them floated the Weathered Witch.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil winced at the entire display, and even the act of putting Saxon down. Clearly the man had some augmentations given to him. But Neil was wincing for more than any sympathy for Saxon. As the Hexa was being dragged out, Neil shook his head. York raised an inquisitive eyebrow, the barest hint of disapproval entering his pleasant visage. "You do not wish to take this offer?"

"You uh," Neil said, looking back at the door. "You made a huge mistake."

York blinked. "Explain."

Neil hesitated, as if saying the next phrase would summon what he knew to be coming. "You went and pissed him off."

York opened his mouth to speak, and then realized a sound in the hall was fading into an echo. Had that been a cry of pain? Neil scooted to the side and pulled Taya as well as Saxon re-entered the room. He did not seem filled with unbridaled rage. More a calm, stalking beast that had sighted prey. York blinked, clearly surprised Saxon had recovered so quickly. His body had been limp earlier. The Alien suddenly surged forward, and York moved like a whip, angling out of the way perfectly. He moved with a grace Neil could hardly comprehend for a human. It reminded him of the Aelahyne in his visions from the tattoo.

But Saxon followed his every movement.

The Xenos managed to duck, spin, and almost with a sixth sense, he caught the leg that had been aiming for his forehead. With a quick spin, he threw York at the wall. The man hit the steel hard, though something told Neil he wouldn't be down for the count. Saxon was on him in a moment though, his next step threatening to crush York's skull. "Do you think, puny human that you can-"

His entire body shuddered from an immense spasm of energy. His cry was an indecipherable garble, and some wiry strength pulled him back, so he was to fall backwards onto the floor instead of forewards onto the agent. The Hexa fell, crushing a table under his weight. As soon as the form of the Hex had left Neil's field of vision, the pilot found himself faced to face with York, the agent having already regained a standing position and his sidearm as if he hadn't been tossed like a ragdoll. Neil on the otherhand, nonchalantly held an electro-riot gun one of the fallen guards had dropped.

"What was this about a deal? Because I'm all ears." Neil said, dropping the gun and holding his hands up. York raised an eyebrow, and spoke into an earpiece for a moment, calling for more men to come and make sure the large Xenos was restrained.

"Very well Mister Edwards. You are with your uses, I will grant you that." he said, smoothing the two strands of hair that were out of place on his smartly groomed head. "As I was saying, you and your 'team', if you would agree, will escort a few key individuals and another team of Terrans onto Savran, where you will aid us, without question, with your specially emblazoned hand to help us excavate the Elder tech that we are certain lies beneath the planet's surface. Do that, and your team will lose its bounty and you can have a fresh start. What do you say?"

Neil looked over his shoulder. "Taya?"

The girl peeked over a fallen desk, and squeaked something. Neil nodded. "You heard the lady, we're doing it. May we see our Captain now?"
@Penny

The All Dawi Party - A Warhammer Fantasy Adventure

Well, @Jbcool was supposed to post the next mod post.

Damned to the Depths

Useful Notes

The Sea of Swords

A hot, unrelenting sea of beautiful but deadly waters and terrible storms. The Sea of Swords is host to a multitude of free cities and various national colonies vying for power and trade routes. The Dragon Crown Wars had just come to a close, and now many Privateer's are out of a job, and many turn to piracy. The Continent to the Northeast is European in culture, whereas the south east is Arabian, and all the lands to the south or west are filled with either colonies or dangerous natives (humans and/or lizardmen). Many Islands dot the Sea, and the Silver Elves live on a large island far off the western coast, i.e. their homeland. Below the Southern Continent is the Cutlass Coast, where Free City's under a Confederation live and try to survive without direct aid from the Northern Continent.

Useful Notes

• Magic is very real, but is regulated by laws, guilds, and licenses. Apostates are often hanged.
• D&D magic, though we'll make it a rarity and even mages can be killed by two feet of good steel.
• 14-17th century technology, depending on where you make port. Bows/Crossbows/Matchlock Guns alongside Sabers/Arming Swords/Sideswords, Cutlasses/etc. Catapults and Ballista are more common than Cannons.
• Humans are the most populous race. Dwarves, Elves, Gnomes, and lesser known races are uncommon but not unheard of.
• Death by Sea Monster, Cutlass, and Storm are the most common death in the Sea, bar drowning.
• Despite the dangers, Overseas Trade is still a lucrative business.
• The Sea of Swords is littered with treasure, items of a magical quality, and ancient secrets. It used to be a much smaller body of water where a great empire lay, but a catastrophic war led to a mass flooding of the western sea and separated much of the continent into north and south, with great bays and cuts in the land covered in ocean.
• The most common ships are Carracks (built for defense and trade), Sloops (built for speed), Cogs (trade ships), and Caravels (maneuverable and versatile).
• Yar, matey!
• Nirn Root is a revolutionary herb for the career choices for women, though most fighters are still men and old habits of patriarchal succession die hard. The root is essentially a birth control pill.
• There are many Gods and Goddesses, though only a few important ones. The five on the Main Continent are Baelon (Justice), Galena (Peace, Healing), Guandet (Civilization), Solomon (Wisdom), and Seradwyn (Magic). All in the Sea of Swords gives homage to Throngel, the unforgiving God of the Seas. He Imprisoned his Sea Goddess Wife, Lorelia, Queen of Sirens and Sea Nymphs, somewhere under the seas as punishment for her chaotic tendencies.

Damned to the Depths

Calliope opened the door with a simple word of command and led Markus inside. He took one last glance behind them, seeing nothing more than shapes and shadows, and it was likely the mob that had gathered outside rather than the one chasing them. He ran in and closed the door, locking it and closing every blind that wasn't already down. "We should be safe enough here, whoever you are." the woman said, a bit more at ease within the shop. She likely knew something he didn't. Considering she was the ruler of the city they were currently in, he wouldn't doubt.

Still. All of the wars on the continent and the raids at sea, and he was about to be skewered by a mob of hungry common folk." Sink me," he cursed under his breath. What did Sketti the Dwarf say when they were in a difficult spots? 'Harp up in a clinch and no knife to cut the seizings?' He wished the maniac Dwarf was here now, he could use his help. The man calmed himself, picturing himself breathing in the very mystical essence in the air, and breathing out his worries. It was an old elven technique his master had taught him to concentrate.

"I'm a privateer." He told her, giving the smallest peek out of the window. "Or was. Markus." he said. "Flintbrook."

He didn't presume to tell her he knew who she was. He wanted to see if she would lie. The Blademage pulled back as shadows ran by, and stepped deeper into the room. Once she introduced herself, he would give her a cursory glance. Even in her traveling outfit meant to conceal features, she was undeniably gorgeous. It was just his luck. The first beautiful woman's company in months and she was the one that now threatened his life with her presence. Then again, it was his fault. If he could he'd hang his damned honor.

Subtley, he entered his magesight. If one looked closely, they would see the barest glow of his pupils before they turned dark once more. Even without studying the woman thoroughly, he could tell she was a competent mage. He'd met ones who were stronger, but she was far more powerful than he was, not that that was saying much. He'd met few in the realms that were a better blade than he. His magic only enhanced his martial skills.

His glance and magical examination lasted the span of a second. "I take it you don't mind leaving Calaverd." He told her, striding past her to collect whatever supplies they might need. Plenty of rope, apparently. A few bits of dried meat in the cupboard. Three bottles of rum. "You can go your own merry way, or you could help me in procuring a ship I know of. A full rigged Sloop of War."

It had been roped to the docks for a week. A captured Praelian Sloop, unnamed since its obtainment. The privateer had been wanting to steal it since he laid eyes on it, but he hadn't the incentive yet. He had even snuck aboard one night to become acclimated to its halls and build. "I would take it by myself, but it needs two bodies on deck..."
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

I am not photogenic, Neil thought to himself. He felt he was good, or at least ok looking, but he was that type where you'd need to be looking at him instead of taking a picture of him because something would get lost in translation. He shook his head, marveling how picturesque Sayeeda always looked, badass and combat ready while it just didn't work for him. He pondered this while trapped on a Terran ship, hundreds of guards with guns between him and any exit, for some unknown purpose.

The entire explanation of their murdering Terran operatives was unsettling to say the least. Neil almost called bullshit on that. He did speak up, at least. "Look, that planet was not a Terran planet and your boys were on the ground. We were just doing a job."

"Truly?" York asked, probably rhetorically. "Well, I suppose you might be right, if not for the fact that Savran was a criminal hive that harbored known terrorists, and was located in the Ptolemy system. I am certain I do not need to remind you what organization owns the Ptolemy system, and all system's connected to it? But I, and you, digress. Allow me to see your palm."

Neil paused for a moment, scrutinizing York before he opened his hand. The man approached, then looked at Neil with a neutral expression. "Your other palm."

"Can't blame a guy for trying." Neil said, opening his other hand. Taya shook her head, knowing full well Neil was being far too ironic just to be difficult. She would have hit him if she didn't feel that any sudden movement wouldn't be met with lethal force from hidden guns. York seemed to be satisfied with what he saw, however. He grabbed Neil's hand and examined the scarred tattoo. "This matches the Aelahyne designs we found elsewhere...what significance was this on Savran? How did you get this?"

Neil pulled his hand away gingerly. "It helped me access doorways and consoles. It hasn't been useful since, though it's stung in certain circumstances." he explained. "I...don't remember how I received it. Or I couldn't tell. It was dark in an ancient facility and I fell. One of the tiles I placed my hand on burned this into me."
@Penny

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!

The Book Club Thread

@Mae I've been wanting to read it for years.

Me? I am reading a few things. Mostly I am reading The Greatest Knight by Thomas Asbridge, which is essentially an autobiography of William Marshal, the most renowned Knight in history. But I am also reading Streams of Silver by R.A. Salvatore for fiction. He's my fav author growing up.

The Greatest Knight is fairly entertaining as well as educational, however the author is clearly more of an historian than a writer.

R.A. Salvatore is just a great writer though. Streams of Silver is his 2nd book.

The Book Club Thread

@Mae How is Black Company? You'd recommend it then?