POOHEAD189

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

Busy as fuck, but still great! If we have every post, I will also update this weekend.

Famous Quotes You Shouldn't Say During Sex

Stick 'em with the pointy end

Into the Shadow

The wind picked up a bit, but with the trees looming closer and closer together, it didn't have much kick to it. Still, drawing the cloak about him tighter, he suddenly seemed taller. The cloak now hugging his broad shoulders, making them prominent rather than shrouded behind cloth.

He was surprised she knew his Order. He had mentioned it, yes. But she spoke with a familiarity that she had at least heard of it before. That was good. It meant there was still a presence of the Forged in the region, if not the world. "We do whatever we are bid by our Chapter Master." he said, a melancholy in his voice that he caught only after he had spoken. He glanced at her, sighing. "Sorry, I...I suppose you might not know I'm one of the last members of the Order."

He shook his head, thick hair waving. So thick that the constant rain hadn't yet matted it all. He suddenly felt very awkward. "Doesn't matter. But yes, we escort people of importance often, if we're bid." Despite the forlorn topic, he bounced back quickly. He seemed a kind soul, not wanting to weigh his new traveling companion down with the burdens he carried. "You must have quite the pull to get me as a guard." He joked, giving her a subtle wink. "You're not a princess are you?"

It was a double edged comment, as there hadn't been a Princess born to the royal line of this land for over thirty years. Some...most, would consider that lucky to be constantly blessed with sons. But that also meant there was very little in the way of diplomatic power with the Mooringild line, as other nations needed to approach them to offer daughters in marriage, not the other way around. It didn't matter. He was simply a lowly squire, skilled in fighting, but more seasoned in carrying his Knight's gear and holding his shield than leading charges into battle or guarding royalty.

Damned to the Depths

She was eager; excited even. That was good. After their hard fought battles and lack of real rest the last few weeks, they needed some extra energy. If they pulled this off, it would get them something they never had since they started this crew... A means to launch a fleet against Calaverde. Calliope might be the one directly tied to the place, but Markus could smell the blood and smokepowder already, and the spoils that came after.

"We sail with the morning tide." He told her. "Now get some sleep, that's an order."

---

A day out at sea, and Markus could still see vultures in the distance flying overhead. Circling as ominously as fate. He wondered if they learned to follow the trail of the BloodAxe Corsairs, or if they simply smelled death in the air. He couldn't tell. At this moment the Weathered Witch had weighed anchor near one of the mountainous islands, using the vast rock formations as cover as they awaited nightfall. The destruction that the Weathered Witch had caused the fleet days ago had kept them from sparing any ships for patrols, likely as not. It was a gamble Markus took, and it had paid off, it seemed.

Just as the sun was reaching the horizon line, Markus called for all hands to begin moving. Ropes were thrown and sheared and planks were hauled to the aft deck, Halvar giving a deep bass, hooting Norgardian cry as he and Sketti hauled the barrels and cannon balls, and hoisted the cannons onto the ingeniously designed pulleys Sketti had made not days ago, using Sron and his great strength to aid in that endeavor.

Markus desperately wanted to be the one to scale the mountainside and reach the top. He could almost see the wind whipping through his hair as he unsheathed his sword and told his men where to place the cannons. But he had to oversee down here, at least until the first cannon was on its way up. Calliope had persuaded him of that, so Jax the Lookout had scaled the walls. He was strong and light, his bare back glistening in the setting sun as he crested the mountain, leaping from one precipice to another, as if he was doing a merry dance.

Markus took his jacket off and gave both it and his hat to young Jim, who scurried off below decks, glancing at Calliope subtly as he ran. Above them, Jax had made it to the top, placing the rope he had been given around his arm, hooking it through a weighted grapple. Letting some of the rope swing out of his grasp to give better leverage, he spun the grapple in a whirl before sending it soaring onto the deck of the ship. Quickly it was hooked and aligned with the pulley.

Markus turned to the beautiful Witch and gave her a nod, indicating Calli to use her magic to help the Cannon ascend to the closest cliff edge. Another grapple was tossed, and Markus grabbed it once it hit the ship, placing it on the railing and using it to climb himself up the length of the rope, making his way up the mountain. Calliope would be able to use it once the Cannons were in place at the top.
@Penny

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

Ali and Mave spent the night in the deep of the woods, resting as best they could, though in truth neither gained much sleep. Ali kept watch. He trusted Mave, he found. But still, something kept him up much like a Two River's Watchdog, dark red eyes only glinting in the ever shrinking firelight. It was in the early hours of the morning that he got any sleep. He had dreams of dark terrors surrounding him, and being watching him from within a void. A terrible evil.

Shaitan. He knew it was him, somehow. But why would the Dark One be intent on Ali? He tried to tell himself it was just a dream. But the feelings of being surrounded and watched invaded his very being, and he felt naked and uncloaked even when he woke, despite being covered in furs and blankets. He found Mave dressed and up, putting the fire out wordlessly, urgency in her every move.

He didn't need to be told twice.

Within minutes they had their belongings packed and they both mounted their horses, trotting at first to get themselves acquainted to the saddle again after a short sleep and then sending themselves into a canter. The fog had not lifted, but the sun gave them some visibility to allow them to move, but almost as soon as they had begun riding, Ali felt far more vulnerable than he had within the camp. It must have been Mave's wards.

"If we keep riding south, we should hit the River Beorn!" He told her, but Mave wasn't the first thing to answer him. A howl echoed in the distance, toward the east. Another one answered its call, and for a reason Ali couldn't fathom, he didn't expect they were normal wolves. The wolf of the mountains were bad enough. Whatever lurked in the Forest of Shadows was bound to be even worse. They trotted down a small drop, nearly causing Ali to fly off his horse. Mave held on to her mount like a born rider, though truthfully she was only marginally more skilled than Ali and the fact that she weighed less aided her.

Suddenly, a shadow passed overhead. So noticable among the many shadows cast by the ancient trees that even Ali took note of it, though he wasn't to be cowed until Mave shouted at him to go faster.

It was then Ali's skin prickled at a roar he heard from deeper within the woods. A primal fear rose up in him that even his Two River's stubborn resolve couldn't immediately quell. "Blood and Bloody Ashes, what is that!?"

"I don't know! MOVE!" She yelled at him, their horses now spooked too. Every way past a tree only brought more trees in their path to mess up their sense of direction and slow them down. It was all Ali could do to keep Mave and her mount in sight. His heart pounded in his chest, but even through that he could hear the pounding of something massive behind him. It was as if every beast of his nightmares as a child was summoned forth, and one had him in its sights.

A part of him wanted to leap off of his horse and face whatever was behind him. At least he'd die like someone in the stories. But something compelled him to keep going. Something called him forward, and just as he felt he was about to have his horse ripped out from under him, he felt a sudden calm. As if the world and all of its ails had halted for now. The roaring and padding of clawed feet had stopped somewhere behind him, and both he and Mave found themselves trotting into a small clearing, the woods behind them foreboding and the woods ahead welcoming.

Mave looked bewildered and confused, something Ali wasn't used to seeing in the pretty woman. He couldn't exactly blame her, however. Something about this area of the forest was...different.

"Where are we?" Ali asked, blinking.

She spoke as if the words were pulled out of her from a knowledge she had been given from her past. "A stedding."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"My Lord, are you well?"

The Baron's walking staff planked along the Long Gallery's floor methodically, rhythmically, and cryptically. His old bones and sunken skin gave him the appearance of the dead of which he protected through his wiles and deceits. Soon he would no longer worry of mortality. Even after the death of the Red Duke's wife, it had only embolded his master in his rise to power. All the Baron need do now was to open the gates and keep his foolish nephew and his men from the Aquitaine's chokepoints. The only outlier was the Contessa De La Tratio. A thorn in this old Baron's side if there ever was one.

A pity he would have to see her killed. She was vivacious enough to be a good wife, though she would need to learn some obedience. Perhaps once he rose to Vampirism or Lichdom, he would turn her himself. The very thought aroused him somewhat, and he realized he would call for his current wife to bed.

"My Lord?" the squire asked him, holding the torch aloft to keep the halls visible for the elderly baron. He had nearly forgotten the lad was there. It was good he did not speak aloud, or he would have needed to kill him. Even in his aged body, he had learned more than a few fell magics to silence any enemies or threats he needed to, when the need arose. This lad would be dead soon enough anyway, along with all of the other foolish knights under his vassalage.

"Silence boy. Only speak when your baron wills it." he croaked, and obedient silence followed. Yes, the hills were filling with wights and wraiths, and the peasants were too frightened to even revolt, as was their usual custom when pushed to the brink. The Baron's mind caught up with him, and he realized his thoughts had wandered yet again. Where was he? Ah yes, his wife.

"On second thought, boy. Once I am in my chambers, fetch my wife Melisendre after I am in my chamber." he said, turning the corner into the main hall. It was somewhat more well lit here, but only the smallest candles were still alight. After a moment, he rolled his eyes, realizing the conundrum he had placed the boy in. "You may speak." he remarked, stepping into a further darkened corridor. For a brief moment, he wondered why the squire had the insolence to not answer him, and the next moment, he wondered why he was now walking by the faint candlelight rather than the light of the torch.

He turned as best he could, needing to place his walking stick upon the floor twice in order to summon the momentum to spin his decrepit body to fully look behind him. Blinking, he realized the boy had not followed him. The light of the torch still at the precipice of the other hall. "Boy!" he called, his rasping voice still full of command. And yet, there was still no answer. Confused, he noticed a shadow against the torchlight. A terrible wolfish figure that he saw with not only his eyes, but his mind. However, what stepped out of the hall was even more terrible than the shadow indicated.

"...Y-you were slain! By Nagash, what are you!?"

The beast did not answer him. Only reached forward, plucking the Baron off the floor by the neck as easily as one might pluck blade of grass. The old Baron tried to summon some magics, but the grip on his neck kept him from uttering any incantations, and feebly he resisted. Though even if he were 30 years younger, he would not have been able to escape the iron grip of the risen wolf, and with a strength as inexorable as the sunset, the beast of Cyrdic squeezed the life out of Baron D'Epee...
@Penny

Into the Shadow

Roland blinked in mild surprise. They hadn't told him much information on his partner for this trek. He wasn't prepared to be traveling with a priestess of Luna, much less a woman. Not that he believed that women were any worse of than men in combat or dangerous situations. As long as someone pulled their weight and worked with him, he didn't care at all. But the somewhat inexperienced squire had little interactions with women over the years.

He took her hand in his and shook it, giving a smile. "Well met. I'm Roland, of the Order of the Forged." he told her, trying not to sound too awkward. "No I just arrived. I trust you're ready to head out?"

Once she confirmed it, he give her a nod and pull his cloak about him tighter so as it wouldn't slide off of his sword. The sheathe protected it readily enough, but he still wanted to prevent rust as much as possible. He saw she wasn't heavily armed like he was, but then again she probably didn't need to be. A staff was a smart choice, he realized. They'd do far more walking than fighting, if there truly was any danger out there other than the occasional wolf or bear.

"Let's hope the weather isn't a bad omen on us," he half joked as they began their walk down the road that led into the Knollwood. This forest was fairly civilized, but pockets of bandits were known to make their homes deeper within the forest. "Have you traveled much out of the city?"

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

No worries people! I just wanted to make sure people weren't getting bored. And also remember, if you need more time you can always ask, I just need to know beforehand or I'll get the impression otherwise. But I getcha, things slip by :)

Into the Shadow

The cloak he wore covered his form, though the sword poking out of his hip and the shield strapped to his back were obviously protruding from the veiled body of the squire. Rain dripped idly from the birch trees that surrounded the city of Dal'Mahra. They say strange spirits lingered in the forest further inland, but he was just glad to be leaving. It perturbed Roland to be in a city where a third of the city's power was held by the court of Mages. Even with all of the Paladins within the city maintaining order.

He had arrived seeking his Knighthood, and he had heard the Order of the Silver Fist had taken hold of the city after they had liberated it from the demonic invasion not seventy years ago. Ever since, the Paladins had held the military power in the city, though the Court of Mages and the local nobility still held much political sway. He'd been called to service via a council of Knights to scout out the northern mountains. There had been strange stories coming from some of the local villages near the blighted ruins.

He wished they would have provided him a steed. But he had two fortnights to report back, and it would take days simply getting there. Not only that, but he had never met his traveling companion. He was only told he would know them when he saw them, and so the young soldier stomped through the muddied gravel, traversing the outskirts of the walls. He'd been at the stables, speaking to one of the horsemasters to see if he could purchase a good steed, but no such luck.

It was a dreary day to set off on the road. He had been trained from the age of seven winters old to fight and ride, and to rough the elements. But even he felt there were some days best spent inside with a fine drink and a roaring fire. This was his lot in life, however. If he wished to serve faithfully, he needed to perform this last mission. Truthfully he was honored to have been chosen. An opportunity to rise through the ranks like this didn't come often.

Cresting the hill, he found himself in sight of the gate. He took a deep breath and removed his hood to reveal a heroic, handsome face. Tough, but still fresh with youth. His brown eyes drank in the dim light of the overcast day around him, as if they were pits of depth to be explored if one was deemed worthy. A fire danced in them, glimmering with the passion of duty and righting wrongs. Truly a Knight in all but title.
@Luminosity

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

@Stormflyx@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@The Fated Fallen@IcePezz@Mortarion
Well this never happened before. But everyone except one person has missed the deadline without explanation.

You know, if people are tired of the RP, we could end it or go on hiatus for awhile and see how we feel. I'm not threatening anything, it's just a consideration.