POOHEAD189

Into the Shadow

The trek had been long since they had made their leave from the township. But luckily, they had actively done their best to keep quiet and move silently, granting one another looks every now and then and signalling which way they should go, so there were no uncomfortable silences. Simply silence. Iseldis looked radiant during the day, but somehow under the moonlight night, she was even a more enchanting sight to see. She seemed taller and stronger, and more graceful.

What's more, through the thickets and trees of the night, he found they worked well together. That, coupled with how well they had gotten along earlier, he felt they could be friends once the mission was completed...provided they both survived. His hand was never far from his blade hilt, and he had to agree with her assessment. Despite their best efforts, he felt unease throughout their nightly journey, and it wasn't from his companion.

"The dead walk these lands," he said back softly. This time he did place his hand on the hilt of his blade. "Whatever evil stirs these creatures likely has a presence that pervades all." The two halted for a moment, a fog having slowly drifted onto the scene before them. It only reached their waists, and did not obscure their vision much, truth be told. But it still caused a chill to run up Roland's spine. He smiled though, glancing at Iseldis. "That doesn't mean they know we're coming. Only that we know they're here."

A gust of wind picked up, drawing Roland's hard gaze and whipping his hair ever so gently. It was as if the crypt beyond the tree line was inviting them...or warding them off. And indeed they could see the silhouettes of the gravestones beyond the trees, perhaps two dozen paces away. Roland felt he had to be seeing things, for some of the gravestones moved. No...

"Draugr." he said, drawing his sword finally.

Into The Dark: Tales of Maroleth

She just had a Bday, so give her some time to adjust to being a grandma (who is still 6 years younger than me)

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil groaned, opening his eyes slowly. He was beyond glad that making it home wasn't a dream. The softness of the bed and the aching of his muscles showed he was back in the Highlander. And then the memories flied back into his head. The news about Sven, and the woman that was so gorgeous she couldn't be fully organic came back to him.

"Well, it's just like Sven to throw unexpected curveballs my way." he said. He rubbed his forehead when he slipped out of the bed. "Just don't hit on this woman. Doesn't matter that Junebug hasn't talked to you since you acted like a gradeschooler. Just fucking be cool, you can fix the Highlander and get everyone back to space. Maybe take a vacation after..."

He pulled his pants up, slipping a belt around his slim waist. Grabbing a button up, he flipped it to loosen the fabric up before slipping his arms through it. Opening the door without buttoning the shirt up, he stepped through. The corridor was empty, and he made his day down into the cargo bay to find any loose equipment he might have. "You've earned a vacation, right?" he asked himself aloud, his voice still husky from sleep.

"I think we both have," the angelic voice behind him said.

Neil nearly jumped out of his skin, the white shock taking hold for a moment before he caught himself. Indra looked embarrassed at her having startled him, placing her hands on her mouth. Neil had a hand on his chest when he looked aty her.

"I'm sorry" she said softly.

"No, no problem." He told her, regaining his composure. Just don't look at her. Also get yourself some water before you go downstairs to the Cargo bay. "You're good, I just woke up. It's ok." he told her, holding his hands up and smiling. He needed to treat her gently. She had just left sex slavery, after all. He couldn't imagine what that was like, particularly with the fat old Pasha he shot. Not to mention she had been on the run since Neil had released her.

"Just, make yourself at home-" he told her.

"People keep telling me that, I just want to help...if I can."

Neil hesitated. "Sure...um, do you know where the Cargo bay is? Ok it's down this hall and down the stairs. Get me some water and meet me down there with it. After being in the desert for over a standard week I still need some, please."

She nodded her head, lush waves of hair bouncing and she turned. Neil immediately looked away so as not to look at her ass as she did so, and he went downstairs to the Cargo bay where the scraps and the HMU-350 was located, along with a molting Saxon. Neil immediately let out a comical 'ugh' as soon as he saw the Hexanagallion. Armor off and curled upright, he looked like a Xenos Obelisk Statue that somehow was still covered in moisture. All of the appeal or terror of his armored form was gone. Not that his sleek, dark reptillian skin didn't look particularly menacing in a horrific sort of way. But he was now unresponsive, and Neil knew he would be for another day likely.

He shook his head and walked over to the scraps, looking for energy nodes and refurbished rehibilitater tubes. He didn't exactly have a 5 star plan, but he only had two options. One, he could somehow send a message to Indra's father's planet physically, and that would require sending an item through the R.I.P. which was perhaps possible, as it would require less power than the ship. Or two, he can try to send the message itself through timespace, which was...not possible to modern science but hey he was a dreamer. What he needed now was a piece of equipment that could be launched, and the node to power it.

Neil jumped out of his skin a second time in ten minutes when Indra screamed, glass shattering when she dropped the water.

"WHOA!" Neil cried, spinning at her.

"WHAT is that?" she asked, pointing at Saxon.

"Oh..." Neil sighed with relief. "Oh don't worry, he's just a big asshole. Well...not physically. I mean I'm sure he has one but still..."
@Penny

The Elder Scrolls: Swords and Snobbery

His eyes opened. Even with their dark coloring, the moon outside lit them up like a demon's eyes. Terrible yet entrancing simultaneously. He rose up in front of her, moving the fringe out of his face. There was the makings of a small beard on his chin and upper lip, though at the moment it simply looked like shadow. Perhaps in a few days it might become a goatee. He gave a smile that showed his teeth. "Now we escape." he told her, the words coming out as if he had already slit the guard's throats himself.

"Stay close to me." He whispered, and headed out of the jail cell, holding her hand gently until they were in the hallway, his mind purely on their surroundings.

Men loudly cursed and yelled as the wolf apparently had one of the men's hands in its mouth, snarling and yanking. Swords were drawn and the telltale footpadding of the wolf running out of the doors was evident. Markus pressed against the stone wall and took a breath, before stepping out into the main hall of the prison to see one guard, alone and spreading his hands over the desk at the front of the corridor, searching for something.

"Hey," Markus said casually, grabbing his attention after already being a mere four paces from him. The man's eyes widened. "Looking for the keys? We found a few back that way."

The guard's hesitation was all Markus needed, and as he drew out his sword, the rakish man sprang, grabbing the man's drawing arm and keeping the sword in its hilt, before allowing it to be yanked out. He kicked the guard's leg, sending it in an awkward angle and subsequently disarmed him with a well timed elbow strike and quick hands. The guard was felled after he was pummeled by the hilt of his own sword.

Despite the fact he was armed, Markus didn't want this blade. He tossed it on the ground and approached the weapon's rack, finding a bastard sword that he greeted like an old friend. The door open, cool air flowed into the prison. A kiss of freedom. After he holstered the weapon to his belt, Markus gave Raelynn a look. "We need to make it to the walls before they get back."

Damned to the Depths

@Penny

Damned to the Depths

Hours later...

---

Her rump was nearly as sore as her head. The flagstones beneath her, while well carved, had a sandpaper-like texture that chafed even through her trousers. The room was dim, but still somehow too bright for her eyes. The only source of light was down the left hall; a single flame flickering in the distance, mocking her with its dancing. Next, she could feel her hands were pins and needles and stretched above her head. Chains tightly bound upon them and keeping them up.

But the truly horrifying feeling, was when she tried to summon her magics. The telltale sign of her senses awakening, the tingling and the euphoria of the magic in the air...gone. It was as if she had been entirely severed from the weave of magic in the universe, and all now had less hope. One who used magic often felt its presence like a second skin, and without it, it was hard to feel the taste of life for a short while. Or so the stories say.

An open door down the hall, as well as a myriad of footsteps announced the arrival of the multitude of scarred men that came to see their latest and most prized catch. At the fore was a large man, with proud shoulders and a gnarled, albeit charming nose. A red cloak cloth wrapped around his head to form a kufiya, and at his waist was a massive shamshir.

"The sorceress...awake I see." he said in broken northern. His eyes drifted up to her arms, and a broad grin stretched across his face. "Your cufflinks work I see. Not that I am surprised. They were made to cage the Djinn. You will find no spark of your witchery here."

The man turned to a shorter, more portly servant in a similar headdress, though he wore tan robes befitting of a master servant or chamberlain.

"Place her in the dancer garb, and bring her to my throne room." he told him. "Make sure she isn't roughed up too much. I like them pretty."

Damned to the Depths

The wind whipping, his fringe moving slightly before his eyes, Markus never lost focus on the western ship. Behind him, the men began to push the cannons up the small rocky paths they had attempted to clear, using carefully tied and well placed ropes and leverage to help guide them up into position. So far there was no activity save the western ship lazily guiding through the channels. Markus made a small grunt. "That's odd." he said, and he handed Calliope the brass telescope.

Calliope gave him a raised eyebrow at his statement, but took the telescope as she was bid.

The ship was a cog, one of the less expensive transport options for merchants and traders to haul cargo and goods across the Sea of Swords. It was slower than almost any other ship save a dingy (though of course it was still far faster than land travel), but it could hold quite a good bit of cargo. The biggest problem with Cogs were that they were only sea worthy to a limited capacity. A cog crossing the entirety of the Sea of Swords was a dangerous proposition, and even if it could be done, it was almost never attempted. Yet here was a cog of northern make, somehow right by the Arad Luin coast. It didn't seem right. He voiced his suspicions aloud to her as she looked.

Behind them, Halvar's roar at the deckhands and the grunts of the work showed they were still at it, though likely making good progress. Markus double checked the trajectory and distance between here and just past the cog, and judged this was as fine a spot as any to place the guns. They were well within range, and their 12 pounders from this height would devastate all but the largest flagships. That and no one would have a good vantage point to fire back at them.

There was something else that tugged at Markus' mind, however. Something off... Some lost detail that made him uneasy, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It was this lost detail that Calliope saw through the telescope as the image came into focus. The Cog seemed ordinary enough, with all the furnishings one would expect. The white sails covered most of the deck, keeping much of the crew concealed. But it wasn't the ship or the sails that she noticed, but the waves beneath the Cog.

There were no ripples from the ship's wake.

Swiftly, Calliope cast her magesight, and the entire ship lit up brighter than the sun. The beautiful sorceress nearly dropped the telescope in shock. "Illusion!" she all but screamed, realizing their folly a fraction too late. One of the men's grunts from behind sounded suspiciously painful, and as Markus felt his stomach sink when he opened up his own magesight at the ship, Calliope turned in time to see one of the men near the edge of the drop had been skewered with a falchion, and had been pulled off to fall to his death by a Corsair that had replaced him.

Hard, ragged men of the Blood Axes pulled themselves over the lip of the crevice, having hauled themselves up on hooks silently over the jagged mountainside, behind an outcropping of rocks. "Avast! To arms!" Markus called, unsheathing his sword in a fierce motion and casting a fireball at the nearest group of Blood Axes, incinerating the front two and sending the other two screaming to their deaths. The fire display caught his men's attention, and Halvar and the rest took up what arms they had, though they hadn't expected an engagement and only had belt knives.

The melee was brutal but short, with the new crew members being mostly deckhands and unused to combat. Halvar tossed a few Corsairs over the edge and kept a trio of wicked looking pirates at bay with a waving knife. The center man without a left arm, but the way his right arm coiled and slid through the air with his scimitar showed he was perhaps the deadliest one, grinning terribly. Markus whirled, ducking and dodging and riposting, slaying a striking brown skinned pirate with a well timed thrust. Not five seconds had passed before Calliope felt an immense shock from behind her head. The thick bun of hair on her head likely cushioning the blow just enough to keep her skull from cracking open.

The pirates had surrounded them, the leanest and most wiry of them having climbed from the steeper flank of their position. Without being able to pause and regain her sense, she was grabbed from behind, her hair yanked back and a knife to her throat. She could feel cold steel nipping at her skin, parting it teasingly.

"Drop thay wehpawns!" a voice cried by her ear. The way the world spun and her head ached, it was entirely too loud. She felt his grip on her tighten, and the knife drew blood. "Drop an' we spahe your crew! Refuse and die!!!" There was just enough competence in his crazed voice to beggar some kind of truth, and after only hesitating twice, Markus obliged, his sword clanging to the stone of the mountain. The rest of the surviving men followed suit, and before Calliope's world went black, she would see someone striking Markus from behind with the hilt of their sword.

Into the Shadow

For his part, Roland wished he could have done more to help people like Iseldis could. In his heart of hearts he knew he likely never would be able to, no matter how hard he trained or prayed. But he had come to terms with it years ago, and he did what he could. While his companion healed some of the townsfolk, Roland took aside a few of the men, who seemed eager to see what he had to say. They lead him around the hillock of the town and he told them the best places to dig and collect lumber, so they could make the settlement a bit more defensible. It was lucky Roland and Isledis had come when they did, and they wouldn't always be around.

That night, the feast was in full swing and despite himself, Roland relaxed and enjoyed the food. He waited a bit to get his share, because he recalled as a child that his mom always got onto him for taking more food than he should whenever there was a feast, so he had learned to wait and let others get their share first. Once he sat down (with a chair having been saved for him by Iseldis, though if it was her choice or the villagers, he didn't know), he caught the tail end of the Draugr conversation.

He sat up straighter when he heard the topic, the soldier in him ready to face any challenge. Blackglass...he had never heard of the place before, but if there was more Druagr to slay, he would be for it. Having seen them move earlier, he felt he was more prepared to face them now. Hopefully this time ending their local threat for good. He might have been a bit out of his element in front of all of the villagers, but that was because he had always been the servat...the squire. Never the hero.

He couldn't help but smile when Iseldis spoke. "I'm ready when you are," he told her earnestly. He'd eat heavily, but with his metabolism, he needed the energy. A quick pint and some water with it, and he was a work horse again. He supposed he also didn't feel too full because he'd hardly eaten the entire day beforehand, but hey.

When the feast was finished, the townsfolk they had been speaking to offered their hands to shake. Roland had stood up, preparing to bow, but after a moment decided to give a handshake back with a strong grip. He wasn't serving a Lord, he was helping new friends.

Favourite historical country

I love Britain for it's history, but you go over there now and it's just Chavs and people screamin'