POOHEAD189

Post a random fact about yourself.

@Gunther@HaleyTheRandom
No one should be faulted for the racial diversity, or the lack their of, in their roleplaying. The nice thing about Roleplaying is that it's your imagination, and it is your choice, and no one should be judged for it. You don't need to be racist and only play one race, just like it's not sexist of me to play only male characters simply because I am more comfortable playing characters of my sex. That does not mean I judge women, and I do not believe Haley would ever judge someone of a different race. But that is good advice Gunther. We're all people.

Damned to the Depths

Markus looked out of the curtains as Calliope left, positive she would be able to handle the Prince. Though his appearance blatantly confirmed what he had already suspected. As he and the Princess were engaging, he recalled the moment over and over in his head. That knife had been meant for him. Only by the grace of the Gods, or the hunger of the Princess, changed his fate and the knife flew into her back as she turned Markus over to be on bottom. By why would anyone kill him? The only person he had embarrassed was Achmed, and his presence here all but confirmed that suspicion.

He hadn't come to see Calliope, he had come to see if the assassination was completed. He simply had not counted on the Princess making an appearance and taking the knife that was meant for Markus. It was a pity though. Markus wasn't overly charitable, but the Princess had done nothing but been interested in having a bit of fun, and she was now dead for it. Oh well, it mattered little now. What he needed to do now was think.

He didn't want to move the bodies yet. Their presence might somehow be used to his and Calliope's advantage. It was a short second before Calliope knocked on the door thrice, and Markus let her in and closed the door behind her. He now had his surcoat on, along with his trousers securely fastened by his silk belt. "He's asleep, but my spell will only last so long as his body will flow with sleep naturally. What do you propose we do?" she remarked.

Markus informed her of his theory, and she rolled her eyes briefly. Not at Markus, but at the possibility that Achmed would be petty enough to hire an assassin to kill someone who helped save his life over jealousy. "I'm not surprised, but again how do you wish to proceed?"

"We won't be able to convince Achmed of anything, if he's behind this. But all we need to do is convince his father." Markus said, thinking aloud. "Do you know the Vortarae Animo?" Referring to the spell that could subtly alter the mind. Calliope snapped, nodding. "And if the subject sleeps, it's easier to realign the mind." she finished for him. Markus winked. "Aye. I'll bring Achmed in here and place him on the bed. You can then beguile his mind into thinking the Princess and he were chased into my chambers while I lay in the central area or your chambers, either one, having not retired in here. We'll bring the assassin to the garden's, dead by my hand. Then the Sultan can only reward me."

"I cannot change Achmed's knowledge of him hiring the assassin, assuming he did."

"No matter, it'll only add to his confusion. We'll bring drink in here. At least 3 empty bottles."

It was sloppy, but still liable to work, and the best thing they could do under these circumstances. "I'm surprised you let the Princess beguile you. Let your guard down?" she smirked. Markus laughed. "I didn't know it was her until she had a knife shoved into her back."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Cyrdic guessed they should count themselves lucky. Just like modern Brettonians, these undead Knights of Old didn't carry the longbows the peasantry did, the Knightly class considering such a weapon cowardly. Still, they only had a brief respite. "I don't intend on running forever," Cyrdic replied, still intent on slaying the source of this permeating evil. But they needed to move now, and Cyrdic opted they move left, as the Knights had (at least seemed) to have turned right.

They fled the light of the central chamber into a lesser, upper hallway lined with worn paintings and web encrusted candelabras. Cyrdic took point while Camilla kept her eyes on the rear and their sides, noting the small doors framing the hall and peering into each if she had the chance to. Once they made it to the edge of the hall, Cyrdic opened the once hardy door and found themselves in a stairwell. If this was a less serious situation, it would have been humorous when Cyrdic halted at the top of the stairs to stare into the witchfire eyes of the undead Knight that looked up at him, both having stopped for a heartbeat to acknowledge the other.

Cyrdic didn't even bother to tell Camilla to run, instead turning around and lifting her up by the waist for a quick second to drop her back into the hallway, closing the door behind them and then using his intense strength to heave a large cabinet to block the doorway. "That way is occupied." he said. Camilla pointed at the 2nd door to the left. "There! There could be a way out through that one!"

Cyrdic punched the ancient wood twice, shattering it into kindling and stepping through. It looked to be an old servant's bedroom, only there was a gaping hole in the floor, with the planks protruding upwards. For a moment, Cyrdic could visually imagine a creature of the dead bursting into the room to devour whoever rested in here, thinking they were safe. Well, it was a way out now. As the Knights began to hack at the door and the cabinet, Cyrdic scooped Camilla up once more and leaped. She squacked but clung to him, and they whisked down onto the ground floor...

Only to break through the floor and fall another dozen feet onto a dirt laden, hard ground inside a stone wrought catacomb. The two were tangled in a mass of limbs, but Camilla reoriented herself and leaped up, helping Cyrdic to recover as well. "Ranalds Roguish Cock, what is this place?" she cursed, stomping her booted foot into the ground. Cyrdic gazed up at the broken floor they had fallen through, knowing any minute a host of undead would swoop down from above.

Cyrdic had to guess this was a crypt from the elder days, probably made near Aquitaine's founding. Of course he was by no means an expert in Brettonian history, but he knew castles well and many times the crypts were the oldest parts of fortifications, made for the bravest warriors that conquered the land, and the first workers that began to build the vast structure of this fortress.

"We need to move." He told her. "Your turn to choose."
@Penny

Damned to the Depths

Markus was content to sit back upon the large, pillowed duvet as the women continued to sway closer and closer. There was something about a woman's hips that mesmerized him when they moved just a certain way, and he could feel his desire stirring as he indulged on the wine. But he understood the prudence his first mate had wisely chosen, and after a small session of simply allowing himself to eat and enjoy the entertainment, he took his leave and tossed a coin onto the ground with a mere flick of his thumb. As soon as it was tossed, he turned, and he could hear the girls scrambling for the pittance.

Cyrus the Leopard lazily looked up at Markus, but did not pursue. The beast was still chewing on the bone, its powerful jaws already making great cracks in the hard material. As it gave a satisfied growl, the women suddenly realized the leopard was still there, and they hastily made their exit out the side of the small living area. Markus paid no heed. He simply wished to go out to the courtyard for a bit.

As the sun lowered on the horizon, Markus placed a palm over the smooth marble of a column that overlooked the vast gardens. He made it his business to feel every nook and imperfection of the architecture, knowing that each was in fact an addition to the whole, made by tireless craftsmen dozens if not hundreds of years ago. And as he turned, he saw the blazing sun and it warmed his breast as he simply enjoyed it, wondering by all accounts if any God or eldritch power gazed upon him at that moment. There had to be some reason he had survived so many times in his youth, and had done so again just yesterday. He wished the could practice his swordplay here. He always could think better as he did so. But he needed to tread carefully. Any misstep, and even a hero could have his execution called in such a place.

Hours later, Markus was within his domed chamber. Candles and torches lined the walls, though the light was still dim. He had never felt such soft fabric, or a mattress that fit his form so well as this. But unlike Calliope, he could find no sleep this night. Instead he simply allowed himself to think, pondering what he could gain from playing along in this political game in such a foreign land. After a long length of time, his eyes grew heavy, and he realized the hour would be growing late sooner or later.

He began to douse each torch and candle, knowing the closed curtains and the covers would keep him comfortable while the heat of the fire lingered in the room, at least until morning. With an audible sigh, the Captain slipped into his bed and placed his hands behind his head and drifted off into a light sleep...

Until he grabbed the dagger that he had concealed under his pillow and placed it upon the throat of the intruder in one swift movement, causing a frightened gasp from what was clearly a beautiful woman. In the dark it was hard to see, though through the moonlight he could see the raven hair, shapely figure, and the copper skin of the woman. His mind immediately went to Calliope, and his sleep addled state of thoughts did not linger far from the mark when she placed a finger upon the knife and moved it slowly from her neck.

"We must not tell the Prince..." she whispered, placing a finger on his lips. Before he could say anything, she kissed him hungrily. Markus usually had his wits about him, but the fogginess of his mind and the wine that still held sway over what was still awake, as well as the stirrings he felt, he did not halt her. Idly, he stripped off the vest he had been given, allowing her hands to run over his bare chest. He took control, his hands gripping her waist and flipping her over, as his left hand run up her back while they enjoyed one another's bodies.

Their groans of rising pleasure could be heard from just outside, by the silent assailant that approached the chambers. Silently, the curtains were pulled back, and a dagger glinted in the light of the moon as the two were just about to begin. The woman giggled and turned Markus to give herself a better position to grab ahold of his-

The dagger embedded into the woman's back, taking her breath, as well as her life from her body. Her fingers lost all purchase on him, and it took Markus a moment to realize just what had happened, rising up from the bed and seeing the shadowy figure in the doorway. Gods damn it! Without a word, the assassin unsheathed a yatagan. Markus couldn't exactly pull his trousers up. They wouldn't go past his 'readied' state comfortably even if he had the time.

As the man charged, Markus ripped the dagger out of the Praelian's corpse and cut the sheet he was under, using it as a fanning shield to disorient his opponent while the man stabbed forward. Markus had simply let go of the sheet the second he brought it to bear, lowering his body and driving the dagger forward as the yagatan thrust over his head. Markus stabbed into the man's stomach, but kept the knife there to keep the blood from seeping out too much.

The weakened assassin gasped, and using his adrenaline, Markus disarmed him and flipped him over the bed to land atop the woman's corpse, stabbing into his neck to silence any croaks that might forthcome. Without hesitating, he pulled the dead man off the woman and checked her pulse, but even as he discovered her dead, he finally got a good look at her face to reveal her as... the princess? "What?" he mouthed, realizing his mistake.

As the identity of the woman dawned on him, Calliope would walk into the chambers having heard a disturbance, to find a dead cloaked man, a dead princess, blood on the sheets, and her Captain with a notable hard on.
@Penny

Post a random fact about yourself.

Random fact about me: I never use celebrity faceclaims

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The putrid stench of the...thing from the hallway was ever present to Cyrdic's keen nose, but it was faint enough to tell him that whatever it was, it was not in the vicinity. Unfortunately, the scent of a thousand decaying corpses was not the worst thing to assault his senses, and he shuddered in unbridaled horror and anger at the abomination that rose from the throne. A parody of an expectant mother. An undead imitation of life. He made a sign of the hammer on instinct, as any man of the empire would do when faced with such a thing.

"Back," Cyrdic told Camilla, his sword out before he could even register he made the move. His sword keened with a burning desire to cleave through whatever this abberition was. If she noticed the threat, she gave no sign. Her throat croaked, and her body groaned as she attempted to draw breath like she had in life, but it was more like cleaning a chimney than breathing through a throat, dust and flakes of what Cyrdic assumed was dead skin filtering out.

"My husband, have you seen him?" She asked, her hand lovingly caressing the bulge of her stomach as she watched them. The Ostlander had the uncomfortable notion that it looked very much like a spider curling its web around helpless pray. "He must pay for his crimes. He has been quite the rapscallion. Driving a sword through my stomach is not how a Lord should act in such times." The blade looked heavy enough that Cyrdic was surprised it didn't simply slip through her paper thin skin.

Cyrdic stepped forward once, placing his free hand on the hilt of his longsword as well while she spoke, hoping to strike before she noticed he made a move. Camilla placed a hand on his forearm, shaking her head to stop him. He had been intent on slaying this thing quickly. Even such an abomination likely deserved a swift, merciful death. But the glint in Camilla's eyes bespoke of an idea, and he learned years ago to trust in her wiles.

"Who is your husband, my lady?" She asked in perfect Brettonian, curtsying in a courtly fashion. Cyrdic stiffened, unsure if he was to bow. Camilla yanked his sleeves and he did so in a mechanical fashion simply to sate the obviously mad creature that spoke to them. She only gave them the barest of looks.

"Why, Lucien, brother to Louis the Righteous. I know not where he is. The Wars in Araby have been kept him occupied. Crusading is a dull affair, but he does it for the lady." She said, and Cyrdic realized she truly must be mad. That occurred over a thousand years ago. "It was when he returned from a campaign that he died, and did this to me. He killed poor Francois..."

"He sounds like a man who demands respect," Camilla replied, though her face was contorted in confusion towards Cyrdic a moment after she had spoken with such surety.

The Great Hall suddenly jumped by a thud, followed by another thud. Cyrdic sniffed the air, smelling the stench of rotted cadavers growing closer. Had this been his and Camilla's first time fighting in such a situation, they would likely be dead. But now they both had the eyes that could penetrate darkness and bathe it in the mere light that penetrated into the gloom. And Cyrdic could see that the thing approached once more.

"If you find my husband. Ask him why he slew me." she croaked from behind them. "Have I not been a faithful wife?"
@Penny

Post a random fact about yourself.

I over think things. Like.... a lot. And I mean A lot.

@HaleyTheRandom

You'll grow out of it. I mean, not permanently. But it won't be so overwhelming and intrusive in a year or two.

As for me, I just got a scanner for my birthday so I'm going to be drawing more!

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil stepped past a few of the mercs waiting outside, nonchalantly slipping past without notice to the looks he was getting from the hard men. He reloaded his gun, though anyone could have told him that wielding such a long rifle indoors was simple idiocy. Beggar's can't be choosers, however. He entered the room, and immediately gave a look of disgust as the Pasha's wrinkled old junk was hanging out for all the world to see.

"Ugh, put that away." Neil said. He was as impressed at the full form of the woman as he was disgusted by his flaccid equipment, but he'd had enough of the female flesh today. He simply wanted this activity done with. Of course, Junebug's casual dismissal of this woman's life drew a displeased look from him. "You're in a cranky mood, aren't you?" he joked, reaching behind her veiled pantaloons to what looked to the Pasha to be her ass, when in fact he simply took a pistol she had cleverly concealed after killing a mercenary or two.

In the hall, the mercs had begun to step aside like the ancient stories of the parting terran seas as their leader approached. Sven did not enter the room, however. He already felt confident enough of his victory. Instead he took a gun from one of his soldiers without a second thought, and realigned the structure of the weapon with a few simple twists before handing it back, to solve every imperfection of whatever machine he could find to increase his chances of being the deadliest despot in town.

"Sir," Neil said, drawing the man's attention to Neil's smiling face. "I want to apologize for my teammate. She's a little difficult to deal with. If you would just draw your attention here-" Like lightning, Neil aimed and fired, taking the Pasha in the side of the head. It left a scar cutting across his skull, and though he dropped and let the girl go, Neil grabbed her hand before she could flee. "I suggest you take a back way out." Neil told her, indicating the hungry mercenaries outside. Casually, he shot her chains, seperating her wrists with a simple motion. She didn't answer or even thank him, she just turned tail and ran the other way.

Neil looked to Junebug, and pointed his hand at her, mimicing her impersonation of using a pistol with her free hand earlier. 'Bang' he said with a wink, before making his way to the downed man who groaned audibly. "Tsk tsk tsk," Neil said, shaking his head. "We would have taken you alive if you hadn't been so dead set on being uncooperative. I guess in the next life, you can be a bit less standoffish."

Neil executed him, and took the holobook off of his person, tossing it to Junebug. "All the info should be in there, Cap."

Junebug caught it easily, turning the device on. In a moment, she smiled devilishly. "We have it. Maybe think next time before you execute someone though."

"Hey, he pissed me off."

"Now you can leave." a voice echoed, and when they both turned around, Sven stood at the door, looming over them like a guardian of legend. The mercs behind him looked ready to start killing once more, but their guns were down in obedience...for now. Neil shot him a thumbs up. "No problem. Thanks for the shit."
@Penny

Post a random fact about yourself.

I've kind of said "no" to a LOT of women the past five years ever since my heart was broken. I might start dating again though, I just realized.

Damned to the Depths

Markus was a hard man. Used to working with his hands and not accustomed to wiping off blood, his or his enemy's, until a job was done. He was very good at holding back his mischievous impulses until he could cash in the fruits of his labor. Though he was still not without the curiosity of youth, and here he felt he had a difficult time not indulging himself on whatever he saw fit, even though he knew logically that he was in the stronghold of a despot who could easily use he and Calliope as leverage for his own personal gain.

The Palace begged to be enjoyed. The light filtered off in ubiquitous rays of overlapping gold, with the aroma of foreign scents in the air. Not to mention Markus was starving, and seeing both the delectable food and Calliope's dress hugging her curvaceous form as she walked didn't help him keep his mind sharp. Still, he knew he could control himself and summon the urge to be crisp at a moment's notice. But there was an inherent magic to the air that sweetened lift by its very presence, and he had just survived an impossible battle. Why not celebrate a bit?

Markus plucked a grape off the table, ripped the stem off and ate it. It was fresh, though it didn't sate his hunger. "Well are we not blessed then?" he said in reply to Calliope, and gave a sweeping bow with his immaculate cloak to her, before he sat down and began to dig in. Calliope chuckled and joined him, and though they started out being picky, they began to eat a bit less politely as they began to understand how truly hungry they were.

"I saw you gazing past the villa." Calliope said, inspecting the food with a meticulous focus.

"Looking for an out, just in case." He explained, having already spotted a small low incline in the back wall through the gardens with his practiced eye.

"You know, you'd make a fine first mate." She said, winking. Markus let her have the jab with humor. It was then they began to dig in.

Calliope felt a near insatiable hunger for the red meat on the table, and Markus was morbidly impressed that she could eat so much prime steak and pork and uncaring to how it looked, while somehow being delicate and quick enough with the cloth to keep the juices from running down into her top. It was a true sign of nobility. Markus was not quite as skilled, but he kept himself relatively clean. If it wasn't for the sound of what seemed like a rudder chain running off of a ship's wooden railing, they would never have heard the Leopard approach.

It's growl was low and constant, and Calliope drew her feet and legs up on her comfortable chair, grabbing the arms as she glared warily at what was approaching. It was walking casually. The Leopard they had seen lounging at the front of the palace when they arrived. A beautiful beast the size of Markus, loping slowly with its body moving in perfect motion as it approached, mouth open to aid with the heat, its four inch fangs protruding from its maw.

Markus stiffened for a moment, before slowly grabbing a rib bone. There was a glint in his eyes that matched the leopard, and he smiled ferally as he began to whisper in a flowing language that seemed to drift into the walls as if carried by whispers. The Leopard halted, its rounded ears perked up as it turned to look at Markus in the eyes. Calliope would recognize the language as Elvish, something Markus sometimes spoke aloud when talking to himself.

Slowly, the beast turned and began to make it's way over to the Captain, and just as it neared less than a pace away, Markus' soft elvish reached an end, and he tossed the rib to the beast, who caught it easily, slumping down to gnaw on it happily.

Markus, looking like a prince in all but title, ran his hand over his new 'friend' approvingly.
@Penny