POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"Well that's good news for me because I have been meaning to get a chance to fix the ship for awhile," Neil said, his mind now exploring the possibilities of working on the Highlander. Yes, mechs were his passion, but there was a class to fixing a starship that you couldn't match. He switched off the main power to let the ship slingshot toward the planet at the proper speed to gain the orbit velocity. To see the planet of Cylonieka with the lights dimmed was breathtaking.

It was a blue and green marbel, and Neil whistled. The oceans were vast. It was almost an ocean world, except for the innumerable archipelagos and a myriad of robust islands of mountains and forests. They looked to be the closest things to continents on world. Taya gasped at the sight, her hands clapping onto her mouth. "It's beautiful!" she said, before Lonney pipped in, detailing the planets basic aspects.

"Cylonieka. The surface is 89% water. The atmosphere is 76.01% nitrogen, 22.95% oxygen, 1.01% argon, 0.04% carbon dioxide, and small traces of other gases. Gravity is the galactic average. Main exports are seafood, Cyloniekan wine, textiles, and art. It has 4 moons. Vastus, Regonieda, Kulvor, and Rexus respectively."

"Military?" Junebug asked, and Neil listened more intently. He was interested too.

"The Island nations hold their own ground forces through fiefdom loyalty. They do not use the Corp organization, as they don't have sufficient landmass for such a large body of soldiers. They separate themselves intp separate divisions and, more rarely, regiments. They have advanced Anti-Air and Orbital defenses, and formidable navies. However, these are only in reference to the Island nations. The archipelagos are controlled by lesser militia or Paramilitary groups."

"Thieves and pirates," Indra spat, her full lips snarling in distaste. The planet grew larger on the display, and Neil suddenly realized the breadth of what the intrigue had to be like in such a divided world. Neil chuckled at Indra's words, though. "You act like it's a bad thing." He said, smirking. He turned the thrusters on for a moment to slow their descent, and within moments they were caught in the planet's orbit, taking a short time to float across the surface of the planet before they were above her home Island.

"Well, some commit acts with better style," She conceded, and then she gasped and pointed at the screen. "There!" She stood up and leaned forward, her large bosom pressed to Neil's shoulder, and suddenly his heart began to race as fast as it had when he'd been working on the mech, or last she smiled at him. She pointed at the screen. "There, see it? It's the one that looks like a crab from above. Do you see?"

Incredibly, Neil did see it, despite her long dark hair dangling in front of his eyes. "Yeah, but we need to stay in our seats for safety."

"Sorry," She said, and plopped down. "I got excited. I haven't been here in months."

"I'm excited too!" Taya said, and she and Indra began to talk about all they would do once they landed, Indra adding in the sights she wanted to show Neil and asking if she could watch him repair the ship. Neil had to pipe in. "We might want to add we have a Hexanagallion on the ship. He might be ugly, but he still counts. Let's tell your father's men not to shoot him."

"Oh, my father would probably want to hire him." Indra said, snorting. Neil could see the logic in it. Hex's made for incredible mercenaries and shock troops. Though Saxon was less...agreeable than most Hexanagallions. Sure, they weren't a race known for their happy-go-lucky attitudes, but Saxon worked alone, even away from others of his species. He was glad the Xenos wasn't in here now. He'd given up trying to squeeze into the cockpit corridor. "I'm certain he'll want to extort all of you to some extent, though he'll probably let up for you saving me." It was obvious she was exaggerating to a degree, but still something good to note. Neil placed in the codes Indra gave him, and phoned in the request.

As they lowered onto the planet surface, the world blew up in their vision until they could see nothing but ocean. Minutes passed as they slowly glided lower and lower until they passed a small mountain that scythed out of the surface of the ocean to reveal the sprawling palace of Indra's home.

Impressive spires of opulent design framed the location, with various circular pads to land on for any approaching ship. They could see their surface to air missiles lowering, having locked on only to be called off as the Highlander used the last of its power to lower and slowly land atop the highest landing bay of the Palace, unevenly clanking against the pristine surface as its module ran out of juice.

"Think they got bathrooms here?" Neil joked.
@Penny

The Elder Scrolls: Swords and Snobbery

Chapter 2

---

One Year Later

---

The land of Hammerfell is known for three things. Opulent wealth, vicious warriors, and heat the likes of which no one has ever dreamed. Markus had experienced the latter in spades, the former not at all, and he was about to see if it was true what they said about their fighters, for he found himself in a rather 'precarious position,' one blonde woman might have said. A woman he had known only for a brief time, but one that had saved his life, as he had hers.

"GET UP, you scum!" a rough voice ordered, drawing Markus out of his sleepless daze. The spellsword looked around the cramped waiting cell, seeing the other fighters in fear, some ritualistically scarring themselves to atone to their gods, as others simply seemed excited to shed the blood of others. Well, there was one thing Markus could say about the prisons in Hammerfell that was a stark contrast to those in Skyrim.

They weren't boring.

"Move! Move, you rats!" The jailer ordered, getting his goons to pick up any stubborn prisoners and whipping those who moved too slowly. "Get out there! The crowd awaits and they will get what they came to see! If you die with a clean sword, you'll not receive a burial. We'll feed you to the pigs!" The cries echoed into the weapons room as every man grabbed the weapon they felt most comfortable with. Markus was lucky his own sword was among the inventory, and he grabbed it before anyone else could.

Briefly, he wondered how he had gotten himself into this mess, but he remembered far too quickly. One of the local lords or satraps, or whatever they were called, had taken offense to him as a foreigner. True, Markus had not given the man a wide berth in the barroom and had killed two of his guards when they had tried to throw him out. He had never had a healthy trust in authority, and it had gotten him into this.

Now the lordlings father was outside now, watching the fighting pits and expecting to see the prisoners and slaves to fight their utmost best to survive. If Markus had heard correctly, they would not all be fighting one another at the same time. They'd be cordoned off to different fighting pits, killing one another or fighting animals to see who would make it to a second, final round, as even most winners died of their wounds before the last fight.

The shadows played off of Markus' rugged visage, the swordsman wrapping cloth around his forearms to help in case he needed to block without the use of his blade.

With their blades and weaponry handled, they were sectioned off and sent into different tunnels that snaked through the hard rock of the underground. Each had a guard behind them, dripping blood on their shoulders and holding a torch to guide their way towards the gate, though after a few steps it was easy to see. It was where the only light came from. As if on cue, the portcullis creaked open as Markus approached, and the crowd roared.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The Camel's hooves padded against the soft sand as they approached what Emmaline had spotted. She had fine eyes, Amal observed. It looked little more than an impression in the wall, though he could tell it was a door, being a thief accustomed to finding entrances and exits. The boulder at their back left looked like it was ever bursting out of the ground, and after a moment Amal noticed it wasn't the sand flowing that did it. It looked as if it had been speared into the ground many years ago, and the rock around the door having eroded by water or sandfall.

Speaking of, there was a small area in the rock to their right that seemed to perpetually leak a stream of sand. The small grains filtered into what looked to be a hole that led deep underground.

"Help me off," Emmaline said. Amal obliged, smirking at her curt manner as he eased her down to the ground. Amal hopped off with her, keeping the reins of the Camel close. They would be dead without the beast, or close to it. He reached into the straps on the saddle and pulled out the Shamshir he had taken, just in case. Emmaline meanwhile ran her hands over the strange doorway, trying to find a way to open it.

"This could be an old tomb," she reasoned.

"Or the bandits hideout, and it could be an unwitting trap." Amal replied, but he doubted it. There were no tracks leading here, and the bandits would likely have guards posted. Guiding the Camel, Amal approached the beautiful woman as she knelt down to take a handful of sand in her palm. She seemed to have deliberated a bit, before intoning words he had never heard before, waving her free hand above her outstretched palm as the sand began to gleam.

Taking in a deep breath, she blew upon her palm, and the grains of sand brushed into the stone. Suddenly, glyphs and runes, crimson as the sun flared. The Camel grunted and reared back as Amal watched in fear and awe as the likeness of a cobra surrounded the strange archaric writings. Even Emmaline seemed disturbed, and she hopped back to absent-mindedly clutch Amal's arm for a moment, though she never looked away from the door, as if daring it to harm her.

"What does it say?" She asked. Amal laughed, surprised. "You don't know? I thought you knew Arabyan."

"I do, that is not Arabyan." the blonde woman said. "Or not any I am familiar with."

Amal nodded, realizing his bravado at recognizing some of it while she didn't, caught him off guard. "I cannot read all of it, but when I was younger, my master had a mistress...She studied ancient scriptures of Nehekara, and I would see things she had read or written. She would perform these rituals..."

He shook his head, clearly trying to forget a morbid memory. The thief pointed at a symbol. "Asaph, Goddess of beauty, magic, and snakes." He said, and then he pointed at another two. "Tomb...Sanctuary..." His voice carried in the air as the wind suddenly died down, and suddenly both of them realized the sand that had been flowing had run out, and the stone doorway slid upwards as the rock foundations rumbled.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Now that he had some downtime, Neil decided to work on the hauler he had neglected for the past few weeks. He knew he had responsibilities to the Highlander and its crew, being first mate and the pilot and all. But mechs had always been a large part of his life and previous career. Something about him still called back to when he was a soldier and mech fighter, for the relatively brief amount of time it was.

He turned some music on with the room stereo. He'd rigged up a music system in the Highlander, personalized to play different songs in different rooms so as not annoy Sayeeda and Taya when Neil wanted to rock on. He was still a bit bemused that this music was archaic to them, as they had just arrived on Fotus in recent years. But that was how the universe worked, he guessed.

You weren't supposed to drink copious amounts of alcohol in the R.I.P., but he still had a frosty drink out as he worked. Shirtless, he worked on the left arm rig, making sure the steel was welded correctly. Sparks bounced across his arms as he tightened the coils by melting a bit of the steel. He still had to add the main power core, and he could definitely equip some more accesories. The jump stabilizers needed some heavy work too, but otherwise it was a workable machine. Honestly he could move and fight with it now, as it had its own power core. But the engine wasn't enough for what Neil had planned.

Turning, he dropped the welder to pick up a wire realignment tool before he noticed Indra was in the room with him. He was glad he was slightly buzzed, or he might have tripped over something in surprise. "Code 001" he said, and the music shut off immediately. Indra held her dainty hands up apologetically.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to stop you." She said, sitting on one of the barrels. It was annoying how beautiful she was. She somehow became even more attractive when she smiled.

"I don't mind an audience, but do you need something?" Neil wondered, wiping the oil off his hands with a cloth. "Most people don't like my music." he grinned.

"It's...not bad, honestly. There's a certain melancholy to it. I've never heard of it before." She confessed as he put his shirt on. He might be a helpless scoundrel, but she was royalty. "What do you call it?"

"It's grunge," he told her. "And did you need something?"

"No," she said, though she seemed to be holding something in. The woman stood up. "It was either here or in the cargo area where the...alien lurks. He looks at me as if he wants to eat me, and I think he does. Plus I like watching people work. Particularly on specialized things like...whatever this is."

"Well, I am happy to know I'm only the second worst thing on the ship," He said, clearly joking. She laughed. Neil had worked on the hauler enough for now. He reached into his bag and pulled out a deck he hadn't used in awhile, holding it up to Indra.

"Wanna play cards?" he asked.

"Cards? I've never-..."

"I figured, but it's easy. I promise." He said.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

More bandits streamed in from the hills, swords in the air as they screamed into the night. It was difficult to decipher where the arrows came from in the darkness, but a lone arrow still scythed by every few seconds despite the raiders now in the midst of attacking the caravan in melee. Amal grabbed a rope from the cart, uncoiling it until he had about 10 feet of rope to play with. He was a passable swordsman, and he was no slouch to combat, but he had never had formal training. In the middle of a maelstrom of swordsmen when he had naught but his dagger? He trusted his wiles and his agility.

Tying the end of the rope in a thick, mace-like knot, he twirled it above his head, standing atop the cart as the scene unfolded before him. Like a viper, he lashed out at a swordsman with his back turned. The weighted head of the rope coiling about his neck, Amal yanking the rope back and ripping the bandit off his feet. The man gagged and clawed at the rope as he was dragged behind the cart for Amal to finish him with a quick dagger thrust.

A cry from the north had him raise his head, and he watched in surprise and horror as Emmaline performed what had to be sorcery! It seemed she hadn't told him everything. Not that he blamed her, being a liar himself. Watching, she hit the ground with an 'oof' and dust lifted into the air, nearly obscuring the dervish with a shamshir running at Emmaline from behind. Amal leaped, sand flying as he landed behind Emmaline. He grabbed her arms and yanked her back as the shamshir struck the ground she had been on not a moment before.

"Worm!" the bandit snarled.

"Dead man," Amal promised, stepping over Emmaline. He nearly lost his innards as the man cut across Amal's midsection, but the nimble thief shifted his hips to dodge, ducking the next swing and stepping forward into the third to disembowel the bandit. By the way he jerked, Emmaline could see Amal's cuts were not clean and quick, probably on purpose. He dropped his shamshir into the sand, and fell unmoving into death.

Amal knelt down to pick up the sword, weighing it in his hands. "I would offer this one to you, but I see you have one." He observed with a dark humor. Behind him, the bandits were cutting through all but the guardsmen, who wouldn't last much longer. The screaming daughter of the merchant was dragged back into the waiting loins of the hungry bandits, and another trader was beheaded without ceremony, the head flying into the dirt.

The rare camel riding bandit chased down those who tried to flee into the desert. All but one, who saw that among Amal and Emmaline, three of his comrades had lost their lives. His head was covered by a dark turban, and his unclad upperbody was herculean. Amal looked at his shamshir, then to his dagger, wondering what to do as the man rode towards them. Perhaps wait for Emmaline to obliterate him with a spell? No, he couldn't count on it.

Oh.

The Camel brayed and loped forward, nearly at the speed of an Arabnyan horse. It was too bad Amal picked up the head of the trader and chucked it at the dark mamluk, striking him in the face. He flipped backwards, off the beast which suddenly slowed. The thief sprinted to the side where the Camel trotted to, grabbing its reins with a snort and a huff. He grinned and gave a hand to Emmaline, helping her up atop the hump before he vaulted up behind her.

"Get them!"

"I will take your tongue!"

The world now far taller to both of them, Amal slapped the reins and sent the camel gallopping towards the hills, north of where the bandits originated. They needed to make good speed, but the other camel riders were busy and with luck they would lose them. Emmaline looked back as the last vestiges of the caravan was cut down. "Ugh, why do they always wish to cut out your tongue?" She asked.

Amal gave her a wink as she looked to him. "I cannot speak for the rest of Araby, but they often wish for my tongue out of jealousy." He remarked with a suggestive eyebrow.
@Penny

The Sunday Group - Paranormal Detectives

@POOHEAD189
although that must be like rp #50 we are doing together :P

@Penny

*hides all of our RPs behind a closet about to burst* I don't know WHAT you mean

The Sunday Group - Paranormal Detectives

Does this mean I still have a shot, coach?

Into the Shadow

As Iseldis moved, Roland did as well. He sorely wished he had his sword, or this would have been little to deal with. But even with the Draugr's back turned, he found he only had a small amount of his stamina to use with his considerable strength. He hit the Draugr with a backfist to the head, sending the undead stumbling.

If it was hurt, it gave no real sign and turned, eyes glowing with an unknown power. It opened its toothless maw and struck with its notched sword, Roland leaping back from the slash. With a desperation, he flung himself forward a moment later behind the following swing, hitting the Draugr with his weight and sending both to the ground.

There was an otherwordly strength to the deceptively flimsy limbs, but even considering it, Roland was heavier and stronger. He managed to wrest the sword away to clatter onto the stone floor, and he grabbed the Draugr's head to twist it off. The dead thing held Roland's arms, keeping him from finishing the job. Roland growled, sending more power through his limbs to finish this quickly. The Draugr wouldn't tire like he would.

He suddenly moved his knee, pinning one of the arms beneath it and twisting the Draugr head, the skull ripping off with a swift jerk. The body moved slower now, but it was still alive. Roland silenced its unlife forever by taking its own sword and stabbing into its chest where a living heart might reside.

He hated to admit it, but after that one fight he almost had no fight left in him. He had briefly seen light flashing across the doorway, knowing Iseldis had used her powers. He needed to suck it up and remain battle ready. Breathing heavily and turning to see Iseldis looking over to him. He gave a small laugh, happy they made it through this first obstacle. "I don't know by what divine reasoning we're here," he said as Iseldis steadied herself. "But I'm glad its with you."

He didn't know what prompted the Squire to say it, but he found he was telling the truth. He used the sword as a cane for a moment to push himself off the ground, and he held out his hand to help her up. "Let's get the hell out of here. Together."

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Yes, lets." Amal replied.

It took them an hour or so to make it to the northern gate of the city, arriving just in time for the noonday Caravan to embark. It wasn't the most common thing for two travelers on foot to accompany one of the spice caravans, but it wasn't rare by any stretch either. Amal remembered when he was younger, when the mad Sultan Ibn Alfar had poisoned the water supply to a portion of the city to punish them for their transgressions. He had watched from the walls as hundreds of people had left the city in a great migration, the vultures encircling them before they had even left the horizon line.

They approached as a man with charred skin and a contrasting white beard tossed woven bags onto a cart, working contentedly before it was time to go. He had merely four left to stack on as the trumpet blared from the gate, signalling it was time to embark. Amal knelt down beside the trader, picking up the heavy sacks with more ease than the older man, helping him pack as the first merchants stepped onto the road.

"Thank you, my friend." The trader said, his smile warm from the help. "Is a fine day for travel, yes?"

"Yes yes," Amal agreed. "We were looking to travel with your troupe today. You could bear two more bodies?"

The trader lifted himself up and squinted at Emmaline, her hood covering all but her chin. She was just a cloaked woman with a bag that jingled and clacked as she stood, waiting for him to speak. "Yes, I do not mind..." he said finally. "You and your...?"

"My wife." Amal explained, sliding between them. "She has had a rough night. The sun hurts her eyes."

The man laughed. "She must be a foreign woman," he joked. "The sun never sleeps in Araby."

---

Amal juggled the balls one of the travelers had given him on a dare. So far, even with the cart bumping along the desert road, Amal had kept track with the five. He seemed entirely in a joking mood now that they were out of Lashiek, the city now gone from their sight, disappearing behind the heat haze of the winding path. Amal's smile and bright eyes made him seem far less dangerous than Emmaline would know him to be, and as he finished his trick, each ball fell into his awaiting hand, the hand simultaneously tossing them back to one of the women watching.

Amal and Emmaline shared the wagon with an older man, who looked to be the trader's brother, so alike were they in appearance, and two women, likely his daughter and wife. It was lucky there was room, as there were only a handful of wagons on the road. The rest of the goods were being transported atop Camels, the lumbering beasts bobbing up and down in their strange, two step fashion.

The next day was much the same, though Amal and Emmaline kept to themselves moreso than the previous, as they had begun to ask questions on who they were and why they sought to travel to Copher.

On this day they walked. Thirty miles away from Lashiek, with another seventy to go before they reached Copher.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil pointed at the Captain. "Exactly," he said, and hopped off the crate he had taken to sitting on, making his way over to the anti-grav machine. He knelt down and made sure everything was self contained and fully functioning. He tapped the four number code into the base module he'd placed on it. The power couplings seemed stable. Good.

Taya knelt beside him as Neil worked, looking over his shoulder. "Neil, are you sure this is going to work?" she asked, watching like a prey animal. Neil nodded. "Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't endanger all of our lives if I wasn't sure this was going to work. I'm just checking the power."

She looked wholly unconvinced, and he noticed it. He placed his wrench down and held his hands up. "Look, I realize I am an idiot." He said. "But I'm also a smart guy." Neil did his best not to listen to how ludicrously stupid his own words were, and he let Taya figure out how to take that as he picked the wrench up and continued working. Everything looked perfect. It was the sixth time he had checked so he didn't doubt it, but they were in the belly of the beast.

Taya walked up and hugged Indra, the stunning woman nervous but attempting to console the younger girl. Taya looked at Junebug. "You were always the best Captain."

Neil dropped his wrench again. "Look, there's always going to be risks but- y- OK fine! Let's go back to Hahn! That sounds like a good idea right!?" Neil stood up, his hand in the air dramatically. "There's only the planet-wide search of Indra and likely ourselves now, with rampant slavery and dervishes who we've fucked over. Let's just stay there! Sure I'll just detatch the ship and fly on back in. It's not like we'll be completely out of fuel by then. No biggie!"

Taya grumbled, realizing she was being a bit presumptuous on this being a hair-brained Neil scheme. Briefly, she wondered if she was simply taking after Indra's worry. She felt somewhat attached to the woman, her being the link to a life she had left behind. The girl took a breath, and realized that her team had made it through everything before. She had never heard of a R.I.P. jump being performed this way, but it was apart of their job, right?

Even Indra seemed less enthused about going back to Hahn than taking the deep dive into the void of hyperspace. She cringed at the very notion they go back to the planet. "We're with you. I'm just not used to...all of this."

Saxon entered the room, now fully encased in his armor. His massive three toed feet stamped into the Xarconian ground, and he looked around at each of them. His eyes fell on Indra. "Who is this one?" he growled. The woman blanched. Neil just shot back with "She's our next payoff, so try not to eat her." He turned away from Saxon and made a cutting motion with his hand, shaking his head and mouthing reassurances to Indra.

"Very well..." the Xenos said, cleary not understanding it was a joke. Which was more worrying, likely. "How long was I in hibernation?" Saxon rumbled.

"Five days," Junebug said. "But you woke up at the right time."

It was difficult to tell, but it looked as if Saxon was grinning. Neil didn't know if it was from Junebug's approval or him thinking of the violence he had inflicted once he had awoken. The pilot still had a hint of jealousy over the proclamation he might be attracted to her, but he knew it was just his head messing with him. At least in this instance. Saxon would choose the 'joys' of bloodshed over a mate any day of the week.

Something shifted in the air. The crew felt it, and despite their being reassured, Taya and Indra looked nervous. Junebug glanced up, calling the AI. "Lonney, are we about to enter the R.I.P?" she asked.

"No Captain." Lonney said, which prompted her to ask why there was that strange shift. Neil blinked, realizing what it was. "Lonney, are we in the R.I.P.?"

"Yes."

"Fuck yes!" Neil said, pumping his arm. "We didn't even feel it!" The sensation of being hurled through the alternate dimension only gave them a slight shutter. They were smoothly going on their destination.
@Penny