POOHEAD189

Tales of Tamriel

Landstriders couldn't appreciate just how highly the Saxhleel prized well cooked meat. As Kris tossed the slab of ham to the hound, Dax grabbed the line of smoked beef with his scaled hand to keep it steady. Even at such scalding temperatures, he held it firm (but only for a moment) as he plucked off a stout chunk of beef to be consumed. Argonians were more like Men and Mer than they would likely admit, but there were still oddities in their anatomy. Kris would see the 14 ounces of beef be devoured in merely two bites, the lumps of meat bulging in the hunter's throat.

As they moved into the next selection of rooms, Dax made sure to keep his tail free of the ground. The scraping of it loud to his and his new companion's ears, even if the hound and the slumbering boor paid no mind. Up the stairs into the dining room, if Daixanos had hairs on his skin they would have stood on end. There was something about lavish wealth that was distasteful to him, and being in the belly of the Dunmer beast had him on a wary alert.

"A sound plan," He murmured, his reptilian face unable to show if he was kidding.

Truth be told, he wasn't. In the wilderness, you did what you could, with what you could. If this was the best they could do, then it would do. He turned his gaze at Kris, a bloodletting simmering behind his eyes. He gripped the haft of his axe, the broad head silently moving to bear in front of him, only the glint from the light of a distant window giving any indication they were there. "Are you prepared?" He asked, sounding disturbingly human when he spoke quietly.

Once he received her nod, he moved in two parts. First, his yellowed eyes switched from her to the door, and then he moved. His gait was much like what one would imagine the large flightless birds of Akivir would adopt when chasing after prey. He impressively made it halfway across the reception foyer before someone spotted him. The dunmer woman pointed, unable to voice a warning so frightened and bewildered was she.

The next patrolman saw him next, and then he saw the table and the ceiling in whirring succession after his head had been cut from his shoulders. Daixanos shouldered the flopping corpse out of the way to topple, and he felt the crack of lightning behind him as Kris let loose a spell, the scent of ozone materializing on his tongue. The Argonian only felt it but a second, his gait was even more suited for the stairway. Another guard rushed down the spiraling steps. He had enough time to draw his blade before he was tossed end over end behind Daixanos. Kris would make it the stairs to see a dunmer tumbling down it, and she let him pass before ascending.

The second floor was made of curiously carved timber and ebon steel. Bits of the metal work flowed into cresting waves along the pillars and ceilings, giving a sinister air to the inset laden architecture. The antechamber had four of the dunmer soldiers, two of them who were just getting up from a curious board game with bone peices, and the other two standing at the ready, though they didn't seem to expect a sudden rush by ones like Daixanos and Kris.

Dax was good but he wasn't skilled enough to confidently beat four trained soldiers, particularly not in their element. Instead he didn't think of a stratagem bar playing the predator, placing all of his strength in a frenzied rush at the first guard. The Dunmer, trying to shake off his shock at Dax's appearance, made a draw cut with the unsheathing of his curved sword. Scales were parted from Dax's snout, but it didn't save the Dunmer from having the side of his breastplate chopped into, the metal thinner at his flanks.

Behind them in the next hallway were a small number of opulent offices that held the same decorum, where ledgers and papers of ownership were likely stashed. At the tail end of the hall was Vorn, who spilled his blood red wine at the sight of one of the soldiers brutally murdered not ten paces away. The Dunmer he had been toasting with drew back, aghast. "To arms! An uprising!" He called, drawing a serrated dagger from his ornate sheath.
@Penny

The Sunday Group - Paranormal Detectives

I might actually have the time to join, if there is still room that is.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The lich's cackle reached even the ears of the normal men fighting above, but it only served to dishearten them as the Undead tide began to turn the fortunes of the battle. Knights and Men-at-arms grouped together in small islands of resistance among the slaughter of the less disciplined and lesser equipped troops. Ghouls, skeletons, zombies, and aberrations made of sewn corpses wielding crude cleavers waded among the once bolstered peasantry, carving every man and woman up they could find.

Renard's blessed longsword still stemmed the tide of the onslaught, and any man who could make it to his side did so. But it seemed now that it only delayed the inevitable, with these newly risen monstrosities and their Enchantress now suddenly missing; dead for all they knew. And now an insane laughter, the one that had haunted the hills of the Aquitaine for months on end was now so close they could hear it reverberating off of their shields.

"Reste ferme!" Renard called, his sword igniting in light as he summoned what power he could. His chainmail hauberk and knightly helm gleamed silver, the man the envy of any Knightly pretender in the Empire. Brettonia was the land of gallantry and the grail, and he was valor in living form. Unfortunately for the Undead, Renard was not the only empowered being that had been set loose upon them. Ulric would not be denied, and the desperate men saw glimpses of a wolf-like shape amid the Lich's horde. A shadow of a presence among them.

One of the columns of Knights fought against a sweeping tide of zombies and ghouls, men being torn down by talons as their fellows hacked the monsters to pieces. "Pour Moi~" The lead Knight called, only to be overwhelmed by nearly a dozen ghouls mere moments later. He kicked and stabbed, but the ghouls bloodied his torso, their long claws piercing the mail in less padded areas.

A hard hacking and an undeniably powerful force suddenly brought respite to the Knight, and when he gazed through his crucifix helm he beheld a strange...thing. A sculpted man, somehow part wolf and yet unmistakably as noble as Renard the Grail Knight. "Qui êtes vous!" the Knight asked, aghast.

Broken and decrepit ghoul parts were strewn across the grass, all torn apart by the newcomer who sensed something no one else did. Moments later, his twitching ears proved true when a great mound of earth suddenly erupted from just beyond the line of men. A grotesque skull of what looked to be some draconic beast, smaller than a true dragon but still massive in size.

It's bones were like a cage that encased writhing earth. To the men's horror, one of the peasants found themselves caught in the earth, the monster having risen just below where the man had been standing. He was caught up to his hips, and the wild look in his eyes showed there was something within that frightened him beyond reason. He let out a cry of help as some unseen force pulled him deeper into the monster's wet earthy ribcage, only for his calls to be suddenly silenced as his head was lost within the mass of soil and worms.

Cyrdic had only a limited knowledge of Brettonian, but he recalled how they said 'retreat' and the word was shouted a multitude of times as they gave ground to the draconic nightmare. Cyrdic did not give ground, and his Ulrican sword suddenly materialized in his hands, as if it had heeded its master's call.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil knew that was horseshit. Nobody was perfect, but he knew his Captain better than that. She had never let anything halt her progress from work before. If he had been a new addition to the crew he wouldn't have noticed anything, but by this point they had gone through hell and highwater. He wouldn't press any issue though. Now was not the time, and they didn't get this right then they would likely feel an eternity of torture within a singularity in the depths of space.

Not a fun time.

The pilot grabbed another byronian steel ring and lowered it carefully into the pod. The jury rigged metal appendage he had on his arm hissed softly as it curled. Neil wasn't a weak guy, but this was far too important for vanity to take over judgement, and he probably needed it regardless. Junebug certainly didn't. Her arms and back muscles were as hard and defined as the metal crates and metal rings they were needing to move.

"The hardest part will be getting the quantum wave to act accordingly. This won't take much longer," he said, referring to actually creating the system itself. For emphasis he stacked another ring into its proper place, closing it up with a smaller lever that opened the port for the next one. "and after that it'll take me...woo thirty minutes maybe? If we got the right lenses. Did we manage to get a few yet?"

"I sent Taya to get some. She should be back soon." Sayeeda replied.

Neil gave her a look. Junebug caught it when she handed him the next ring. "What? She might be young but she has her uses." It said something that even while arguing, they worked as if they weren't speaking at all. They'd been a team now for almost longer than Neil had been off-world. Neil caught the ring and spoke. "I'm not saying she doesn't! I just don't like the most defenseless one of us out there, talking to backwater traders!"

"Calm down," she barked. "I told her not to take her cowl off."

---

So far, so good, Taya thought to herself. Her vision poking out of the heavily wrapped scarf that shrouded her face, the cowl hanging loosely over her head. She shuffled along, having been given directions by an elderly chap she would assume was probably one of the least backstabbing people in the small town, and made her way to Zephyr Street where the specialized traders dwelled and sold their wares.

Three gentlemen she could only describe as 'thugs' stood on the far side of the other street as she rounded the corner, with a plethora of other rundown folk who looked they could use a bath sooner than a crafted item. She couldn't imagine living in such squalor. Even when food ran short on the Highlander, she still got to sleep in her own bed. She suspected that was because she had come from old money. Not for the first time did she wonder on the fate of her father and her world. It ate at her sometimes, though apart of her had already accepted they would likely be dead by now.

She had felt uneasy approaching the junkers, and she realized it wasn't because of their rough nature or the intimidating men milling about. She was uneasy because they reminded her of Sven. Men wearing naught but rags yet still likely enough rigged firepower to detonate the street if need be, with gravely voices and various parts of their anatomy likely artificial. Still, she needed to do her part and stepped past a man looking at an out-of-date power converter.

"Excuse me," Taya said to a bearded, gap toothed fellow with mechanical spider legs strapped (or perhaps infused in) to his back. He leaned over a table that looked far too flimsy to be holding the amount of metallic junk and gadgets it was. Taya made sure her shoulders were squared. "Do you have a C-34 3X5 Lens for sale? I need four of them, if you have that in your stock." There was a small pause, and she realized she might sound very foreign, so she added. "And make it snappy, you fuck."

If Neil or Sayeeda were around, she didn't know if they would be proud or if they would laugh their butts off. But she had to add something! The man leaned in, one of his spider legs piercing the table to stabilize him as he leaned over. "You don't sound like any dervish I know. What do you need these for, little one? They're hard to come by."

"I said hurry up! You don't want to make me late, for my master is an unforgiving one. He will kill me and then you, and use you for parts in his war machine. Here are the credits if you wish for them." she said, her petite hand sliding out of her robes to showcase her datapad with a few thousand credits, slightly more than they likely needed but she did not want to be found wanting in the money department.

The man wasn't cowed, but after a moment, he did realize that whatever her business was, it was best not to get involved, and he called for one of his Xenos to fetch the right lenses. Taya's smile was so bright one could almost see a light behind her scarf as she made her way back to the Highlander, lenses procured.
@Penny

Into the Shadow

Pain filled every nerve and orifice on his body as the lightning engulfed him. He felt as if he was being literally unmade, before he lost all thought and time and fell into an abyss of darkness. He didn't know how long he would be out, or that he was even still alive until he heard a familiar voice in the distance. A voice he had grown to associate as a friend, and it was pleasant even in distress. But the urgency jolted him almost as powerfully as the dark lightning.

He groaned, his body stirring behind Iseldis. "What?" he asked tiredly, trying to regain his faculties and his mind. The barest shake of the webbing that bound them followed as Iseldis continued to speak, and it helped to jostle him awake. "Iseldis? What happened?" Briefly he tried to move his arms, and when they wouldn't budge, he increased the pressure and the webbing bulged, but didn't break. In fact, he felt even if he was at full strength, it wouldn't break.

"Damn," he breathed, and after a moment he hung his head. All of the past few days filled his mind, seeing everything she and he had tried to do to escape this lunatic. He didn't know why the Dark Elf wanted them dead other than petty vengeance on the surface world, and granted if he could kill her, he would have. But that was just it. He had tried. He suddenly felt as Iseldis did however long ago it was in the cavern.

He had failed.

"I wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry..." he said. Even as the words escaped his lips, he realized that they weren't helpful. But he couldn't help it. He didn't think they could escape the situation they were in. He only prayed to his Gods for a quick death, which judging by their still being alive, was not likely.

He needed to make sure his companion escaped at least. "Iseldis," he whispered. His hands were bound behind his back, and he dearly hoped hers were as well. This might work. Even in the dark of the lone, gods forsaken cavern they were in, he could still feel the dagger hidden behind his back. "There's a blade at the base of my back. A small one...grab for it. Grab for it and free yourself. You need to run back to the surface. You're quicker than I am, and the witch is likely too tired of dealing with us to chase after you again. Just cut yourself free and warn the city. They need to be told of this Dark Elf's existence."
@Luminosity

Another spirit and human type roleplay

@Elite Gamer from one christian to another, I dont recall Jesus saying "thou shalt harrass others." Im giving you a soft ban until the other mods and I can look through this more thoroughly, as I am at work.

D&D 5E: Dungeon of the Mad Mage

I apologize that it's taken so long for me to reply. Things have been extremely busy on my end :(

Into the Shadow

Roland collected himself as best he could, regaining his senses in what seemed like an eternity. He blinked, his vision still hazy. He had to move. He needed to move. He felt for his sword, but he couldn't find it. The webbing that had gripped him has slid off his sword and gauntlet. Briefly, he tried to yank out the sword from the webbing, but he didn't have the time.

He noticed that the Dark Elf was busy gloating, chittering to Iseldis in her wicked voice that carried like a foul smell. Roland gave a quiet growl, growing not only tired physically but emotionally. He had never felt such an urge to end something else's life before. If he could take her out, he knew that the world would be better for it, and more importantly, Iseldis could be saved. Roland surged to his feet.

Savagely, quickly, Roland rushed at the witch. So busy was she in her monologue of torture that she didn't notice until he was already on top of her. Her spider-like legs gave her an advantage, and so he attacked her humanoid body. "You think humans are frail?" he asked her as his muscled arms wrapped around her neck, squeezing the air out of it. "By Eruvar, I will break you like a twig!" He roared and squeezed tighter, his biceps bulging as she began to thrash.

It was clear she was not used to being out of control of a situation, her eyes were wild and her arachnid legs kicked and tapped upon the stone. Roland was almost hopeful that this was going to work. That he would emerge the hero, and that all would turn out well. But as she thrashed, she raised her hands and a shadow substance appeared in her hands like a dagger. With desperate strength, she stabbed his arm and he cried out, feeling the hideous shadow inside him for but a second. He let go, hitting the ground.

The Dark Elf, her windpipe now free, hacked and coughed. If Roland didn't know any better, he would have thought she was embarrassed at being so helpless, even for a moment. "You wretched maggot!" she seethed, her horrible gaze falling upon him and black lightning crackling at her finger tips. The last thing he felt before he lost consciousness was a thousand thousand shards of shadow piercing his body.
@Luminosity