POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil whistled when Junebug discharged the ACR-18 for the first time. That device was a thing of unrivaled beauty, and Sayeeda wielded it like she was born to use it. It might not be the usual submachine gun, but it looked perfectly balanced for the type of fighting they were used to. The Pilot hefted the Grenade Launcher over one shoulder in a cavalier fashion as he motioned the lead scientist over with a wave of his hand. "Make sure you send the schematics to my holonet pad so I can make sure I have the correct instructions for the rounds."

"You'll make the bullets?" He asked, looking at Junebug and Taya. "I thought you were the Pilot."

"I'm a man of many skills, you'll find out. Now please, the schematics?" He asked, and the scientist suddenly realized once more that this was the future prince. He nodded and went off to retrieve them. As he did so, Neil examined the Grenade Launcher. It was different than the standard gas propelled models. It looked electromagnetically charged, which meant it could fire projectiles at a rate that gave them almost no arc unless realigned by a small switch on the side, like a secondary safety. The weapon itself was cobalt black, made from a FiberIron material native to this quadrant of the galaxy.

"Yo!" Neil called, and a technician approached. "This thing is made for firing Ion rounds isn't it?"

"Good eye. It's a multipurpose weapon. You can even put solid slugs in there. It's something we've been working on for awhile, though it took a backseat to the ACR-18."

"Neat-o. I'd ask to shoot it but I kind of want to be surprised." The Pilot said. He placed the strap of the weapon across his chest, settling it comfortably across his back. "I think I'd like some target practice though. Put up a few mannequins at about...say 25 yards? Make it six in a row." He said, and Neil took out his high caliber revolver, opening the chamber and loading it with practiced ease.

"With that relic of a gun?" The technician blurted out. "How does it even work?"

Neil took no offense, he just smirked. "It's simple. The basic idea of the gun is to cock the hammer back, line up a new cartridge in between the hammer and the barrel and then release the hammer by pulling a trigger. Once you pull the trigger, the spring throws the hammer forward so it hits the primer. The primer explodes, igniting the propellant, which drives the bullet down the barrel. Easy and deadly. Now stack up the targets."

The technicians did so, lining up the Mannequins with a press of a button each, and Neil stepped up to the firing line. "Scuse me," he said to his teammates and holstered his gun. Taya looked between Neil and the targets uneasily when nothing happened. "Should I...count?"

"Oh yeah, sorry I assumed there was a countdown. Go ahead."

"Alright...ready? 3...2...1...fire!" Taya cried, waving a small bandana. What happened next wasn't unprecedented, but still impressively fast as Neil drew his firearm and unloaded every shell as he fanned the hammer in what amounted to barely over a second, hitting four of the targets at center mass and a fifth one in the groin area. He slacked on the last shot and missed, only scraping it with the bullet."

Taya cheered, and the Technicians seemed impressed. Neil grinned. "They call me quick-draw because I can uh, cuz I have a q-..quick draw...?" The awkward moment was interrupted when the scientist finally returned, huffing and puffing inside of his suit. "Your royalness, I got the schematics and sent it to your holopad as you requested."

"Thanks bitch."
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Needless to say, Neil found that he simply had to go with Sayeeda and Taya to check out her new weapon. Being alone with Indra and her parents was not something he was comfortable with at the moment, and so the scene shifted to the three of them down three levels below the crest of the mountain, under the Palace proper.

They were in a steel, utilitarian hall with blast doors being the only entrance and exit from the entire facility. It seemed the royal family had an interest in being innovative when it came to defense and warcraft. There was a long glass window, three inches thick. Within were vast hydraulic systems placing battle mechs and smaller spacecraft together as engineers welded steel and refitted various power units and weapons systems.

The unit of guardsmen leading them guided the group past the long hall into the next, smaller one toward the end of the corridor. Entering, the room was outfitted with overlapping layers of wall set into 'floors' with weapons fitted over each of them. In the center was a man dressed in a labcoat, though his face and head were hidden behind his protective headgear and goggles.

"Ah, I see our guests have arrived." He said in a peculiar accent, his voice modulated through some kind of breathing aparatus, and he seemed to move his hands as if using them for secondary expression, lifting them up in surprise. "So, who is this lovely-" and he traced the outline of the gun with one gloved hand. "weapon for? We will need a small DNA sample from their blood to place in the weapon's feed to grant the third action of the gun. Once we complete that, you may test fire it if you'd like at our experimental range."

One of the guards turned and nearly jumped back, pointing his rifle at Neil. "Hey! Put that down!" he ordered, and the others suddenly noticed the Pilot was holding a high-tech Grenade Launcher, retrofitted with a 3x scope and 8 chambers for varying types of grenades. Neil looked from the gun to the guards. "Hey whoa, this isn't loaded. I just had to admire it."
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The feed showed the island in its entirety. One thousand, two hundred and sixty seven square miles of dense jungle and rocky crags amid the Cylonieka ocean, about one hour hard flight with sublight engines to the west. From the look of the highlander, it seemed like they had already fixed up much of it. Neil had been surprised when he had infiltrated in there this morning, but much of the outer damage and the power couplings had been repaired. They could potentially fly out tomorrow, if the hanger mechanics and Neil still worked on it.

"So no pressure," Neil said at the Admiral's foreboding words on his use as a man, diffusing the sudden grimness of the situation. Indra couldn't help but smile and Taya gave a lopsided one as well, familiar with Neil's way but ever amused by it. "What's one more dangerous situation among inlaws?" The Pilot patted Gredorius on the back briskly, as if they'd known one another for years. "Right pops?"

"Don't call me that."

"Got it." He replied, giving him the finger guns. To the casual viewer or the normal friend, people would believe he's just being himself. Stretching the limit of what was acceptable and being charming as he did it. But past that, he was actually taken off guard and trying to hide it. Not by the mission. He had been telling the truth. Dangerous situations was something he wasn't too afraid of anymore. It was Junebug. The way she looked at him confirmed that it wasn't simply a one night stand, which of course was what he wanted. But while he danced like a monkey for Indra's family, his captain gave him these looks which was torturous. Even now, she had a way of seeing into his head. While he joked he saw a smile curve on her lips as her eyes bore into his, and somehow he felt like he was the one staring.

"Neil?" Taya asked with concern, and the Pilot snapped out of it blinking. He looked around at the others and they were all watching him curiously. Except Gredorious and Gabriella who were whispering among themselves, likely over another matter.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"I was joking. I was asking if you were planning on spending the night in the Highlander again." She echoed, and rewinding it he did recall her asking that in the back of his head. Now it wasn't a joke, something awkward since he'd been zoned out earlier. Neil chuckled. "Hey, you know me. I eat, sleep, and sweat starship oil. Anyway, sir? Er... Gredorious?" He tapped the man on the shoulder, and he turned back, mustache edged like a blade and eyes just as sharp.

"What are we dealing with here. Can we get some more details?" He inquired.

Clearing his throat, the officer gave a small nod as if to acquiesce to being interrupted this time, as it was pertinent information. "Javier Pradec was an intelligence officer. He had the codes to some of our armament stations and when he defected, a number of small arms and two notable missile platforms went missing. You can expect them to be armed with such devices."

"Plasma weaponry?" Neil asked, and Junebug crossed her arms in agreement at the apprehension in his voice. Gredorious looked between the two. "About two dozen plasma based pistols, but much of it was slug and lasrifle equipment. Though he could have acquired other weaponry through different means. As you might surmise, those who buy and sell on the galactic blackmarket are not subject to the tariffs we are."

"How many hostiles?" The Captain asked, placing both hands on the display.

"Unknown. Three dozen men followed him from here, so I would estimate fifty or more. Now is that all?"
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

While Amal wouldn't exactly trade company, if he was alone he felt he might have a better chance of escaping. However, that was usually every thief's thoughts when in any group. He found even if he could, he wasn't going to leave her for a reason he chalked up to 'honor among thieves.' He himself had to back from the window as the bronze men closed off the escape route, and he backed up to stand just beside Emmaline, the blonde woman flanking his right as the soldiers moved in.

Within seconds, the two lowlifes were surrounded by gleaming brass scimitars, poised like spikes to keep them rooted. It was a common enough occurrence for Amal, but not from automatons! For what it was worth, he kept his cool. One had to in the strange streets of Arabyan cities. At Emmaline's words, Amal replied with "I was going to ask you the same thing, truth be told." and he backed up one more step, his foot brushing one of the many towering cabinets that lined the walls. He glanced at it with a raised eyebrow, but his concentration was taken as an odd noise took his attention.

It was clapping, and the door past the two dozen guardian soldiers opened without anyone having to push it. From within stepped a frail looking stick of a man with a contrasting air of powerful superiority. His eyes were piercing with a malign edge to them, and despite the fragile form and the barest wisp of a goatee on his unimpressive face, Emmaline's magesight would light up. It was clear this man was, if nothing else, more powerful than her lecherous old master.

"And who have we caught in our web today, hmmm?" He asked thoughtfully, though there was a menace to his voice. He had the look of a spider about. Even his fingers idly tapping along his chin seemed like moving spider legs. "Did you enter my humble domicile by accident or design? I suppose it doesn't matter. You have used one of my devices without my consent, and you have damaged a promising if foolish apprentice. But perhaps you might have your uses to me?"

Amal leaned over to whisper to the shorter woman. "He likes talking doesn't he?"

There was a thunderous roar, and suddenly the man was cloaked in power and rising higher and higher, growing taller it seemed without changing his physical form. "DO NOT INTERRUPT OR I WILL TAKE YOUR TONGUE. YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF SUHAYL TAHIR AND I SHALL NOT BE DENIED." The air in the tower whipped like wind, and Amal held on to his looser cloth wraps to keep them from flying off of his neck and chest.

The man reduced in size and grandeur, but the danger was still present. With a short breath, he continued. "Now, as I was saying...you seem to have an over abundance of curiosity. It just so happens I am in need of people of that nature..." His smile was evil and wide, and Amal knew indentured servitude when he saw it. It was one thing to be enslaved in the market, it was another to be under the thrall of a sorcerer.

Amal prostrated himself before the man and his soldiers, dutifully giving praise in Arabyan as if the man were a God. Taken aback, Suhayl seemed please. "Aha, smart man. Yes, rise! Rise, so we may speak of grander things."

Amal did as he was bid, rising to his feet, foot brushing the cabinet again. Amal raised a finger as Suhayl's mouth opened. "Master Tahir, may I ask a question before we speak in full?" he inquired politely. Impatience clear on the frail man's face, he acquiesced. "Yes what is it?"

Amal elbowed the cabinet again, and a vial fell into his awaiting hand. "What does this do?" He quipped, and the taut muscles in his athletic frame sped the bottle toward the lines of the soldiers, hitting center mass. As the glass struck the bronze, green liquid heavily splashed across the metal as if searching for things to latch onto, and when exposed to the air it burst into blue flames that ate the bronze like it was dry leaves. Emmaline gasped and Amal had to agree. That was far better than he expected.

The menace and power of Suhayl Tahir's voice was gone, replaced with a shrill scream as he tried to escape whatever alchemical concoction was in the vial. A bit of it splashed as Amal and Emmaline's feet, and the cutthroat sweeped Emmaline off the floor to keep it from touching it. "I think it's a fine time to leave, don't you?" he asked amid the cries of lamentation from Suhayl at his soldiers melting.

Grunting, he let go of Emmaline with his left arm while his right arm still held her off the ground, and he picked up a fallen soldier's arm with the blue fire still burning along its stump. He lifted it up with gusto and turned, painting a door in the stone wall, liquid fire seeping into the rock of the tower and disintegrating its integrity. He dropped the bronze arm, and covering Emmaline's head with his free arm, he kicked the stone twice, thrice, and then shoulder rushed it. A near perfect door was pressed out of its place in the wall to fall heavily onto the ground, evidently crushing an unfortunate slaver who's recent purchase looked positively dumbfounded.

Amal gave a very curt bow. "You are welcome my friend," to the thrall, before running into the alleyway and flee into the twists and curves of the city.
@Penny

Burn-out and Hiatuses

Best thing you could do is be honest.

"Hey, I've been pretty overwhelmed recently. Just stuff going on in my life and I'm finding it difficult to concentrate on the roleplay. I'll need some time/need to back out for now. I'm sorry but it's what I need at the moment."

Into the Shadow

Roland and the Draugr crashed through a wooden cellar door, the two locked in combat. Damn! If he was well rested he could overpower the thing, fueled by dark magics though it was. But as he was at the moment, he could only just roll atop the thing to put its arms in a lock. His masters at the Chapter had taught him unarmed combat, but fighting Draugr were a bit different. They didn't tap out or give up over the pain, and so he had to break the thing's arm.

With a snap, he dragged the limb off and tossed it aside, He had dropped the Draugr sword, so he felt around on the floor and found a rock, gripping it tightly to bash the Draugr's head in with five hits, each more savage and powerful than the last. He did it until the ethereal blue faded from the abberitions eyes, and the body went limp. His arms felt like lead and his mind swam from the exertion, but he made sure it was done.

Once the thing died, he fell over. The wails from the other room and within the barracks filled the halls, but he didn't feel like moving much. He almost couldn't for a moment, his body shutting down briefly, with all he could do being clenching his teeth. But he knew he needed to move, and with a grunting will he stood up. At first he felt he would fall over, but he caught himself. Blue eyes floated in the darkness just beyond his vision.

He realized that he hadn't heard Iseldis in awhile. He knew that wherever she was, she wasn't close. Had she left him? No, she wasn't the type of person to do that. He trusted her, and not for the first time did he wonder why that came so easily to him. He knew she wasn't killed either, somehow...

Pushing off the broken door, or what was left of it, he stumbled further into the chamber he was in to find a broken sarcophagus. At first he flinched, thinking it was merely another Draugr place of rest. He blinked, hacking up dust. But gradually, he realized from a small light streaming above that it wasn't. There was a skeleton within, but he sensed no malign influence in it. Instead, squinting as the small light seemed so bright to his night vision, he approached and realized he found something. Something that called to him.

A sword. A blade with twin lions carved into the hilt, and a pale moon-lit glow that permeated the steel.
@Luminosity

Into the Shadow

The squire, though he would never think it himself, stood tall and stalwart as the restless dead began to stir. Truth be told, he was pessimistic and a tad scared, though the fear had lessened from exposure. The sword in his hands felt heavy, but he held it aloft like a greatsword of old, nonetheless. "Go," he told her in a breath, nodding. A coarse wail echoed through the walls as one Draugr's head peaked up to watch them. "I will hold them."

As the girl squeezed through, he helped her by pushing against her shoes with his hands, and once she was across he turned again and held his sword up in a guard. Truth be told, this was a win win for him. If she could find a way to open the door, then they could both likely escape with their lives. If not, at least she wasn't surrounded by Draugr. He heard her rump hit the floor a moment later, and when he was satisfied she was on the other side, he took a step forward.

There was nothing like a good offense to be a good defense, and he wasn't going to let these Draugr have the first hits on him. Among the ruined catacombs, the Squire hacked down with the heavy, blunted blade and cracked open a Draugr skull with two hits. He was lucky this one didn't have an iron helm. The others that stirred did however, and one was already on its feet. Within, Iseldis would be able to hear his boots scratching across the dust on the floor as he moved and pivoted, and a clang of cold metal echoed across the halls as Roland blocked a swing.

He heard a shadow of a growl behind him, and an undead lifted out of a tomb at his back and grabbed his arms, holding him as the other wound up for another swing. He could feel air from the noise, colder than ice upon the back of his neck. He cried out and yanked, using his powerful body to twist out of the Draugr's grasp. He took an arm with him and ducked the next swing, skewering the one in front of him. Backing up, his next slash hit the one in the tomb across the cheek, knocking its decrepit head off.

"By Eruvar, you will not find victory here," He whispered to the Draugr that still approached.
@Luminosity

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil had been cleaned up in a fashion he could only describe as 'military' with how quick and precise it had been. Thirty minutes after he had been tossed into the bathing room with the groomers, he was out with clean hair, a fine shave, new cloths (a handsome indigo vest with a V opening at its center over a blue shirt with matching pants) and with only a hint of the scent of starship grease still permeating his being. It was a hard scent to get rid of in anytime under 24 hours, but it smelled like him so he didn't mind.

He, along with an escort of the same squadron that had found him among the ships, was marched to the banquet hall. No doubt for protection, but also to make sure he didn't disappear again likely. Once there, the guards had a very satisfying time ushering him forward before they all but pushed him into the room. He nearly bowled over Indra, who caught him. "Oh! You look wonderful!" she said with barely supressed glee. The room they were in was a stately chamber, small for the palace but twice as big as any moderately wealthy citizen's living room, with three elongated feasting tables and servitor androids moving about, setting down cups and plates in perfect order.

Among the androids were his crew, along with Indra's family. Saxon was nowhere to be found, but he supposed none of the chairs could fit him in this place. He also didn't mind over much. Saxon was a cunning beast, but still very much a beast in many ways. He didn't understand keeping his mandibles shut much of the time if information was drawn out of him casually. Of course there were also a few officials and unknown captains and dignitaries in the crowd, grabbing their food from the hotbar. Indra looped her arm around his and led him to the table on the left, having him sit across from his crew.

Neil and Junebug's eyes met for a brief, suspenseful moment before they looked away did their best not to make any more eye contact. "Hey uh, shouldn't I be up to get my food?" he asked.

"Don't worry, the droid will get it for you. Just tell it what you want." The young aristocrat said. "Some people simply go up there because they're indecisive." She cleared her throat as a servitor glided by. "Unit 347, get me two quardek sausages and some revlon ribs. Oh, and eggs please." The order was made with a dazzling smile, and it even looked like the droid with no face or soul to speak of beamed. It's midsection blinked red and off it zoomed. Taya clapped.

"I love these! My father never trusted servitors on Fornax." She confessed.

"No one should, after the God wars." Indra's father said, turning back from his conversation with a dignitary. "We only use them for menial tasks such as this. No weapons are automated on this planet. Now do eat up. We have much to discuss and you need a full stomach to appreciate what we must speak of."

"I've been wanting to know," Indra's mother said, looking at Junebug. "How was your night, Captain? Were the rooms accommadating?"

Indra nodded, curious. "Yes, how did you sleep?"

Neil decided it was time for him to make his order so he didn't have to listen overmuch of the current conversation, but he knew he'd hear it anyway.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Amal blinked, seeing the apprentice sorcerer go down harder than if he had stabbed him. Silence ensued in the chamber for a brief moment, until Amal leaned over the downed man and said. "Well, that's one way to end the conversation." He nudged him with a foot just to be certain he wasn't getting up again. "As the northern merchants say, he was a...er, 'pompous chap' eh?"

From the outside, it looked like the tower stood four or five stories high, and he had no desire to explore it himself. Well...that was a lie. There were many riches to be found in a sorcerer's tower. However, they had more than enough gold and for once, he let caution override curiosity. At least overbearing curiosity. He wasn't above searching the room at least...

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), his delectable companion had already appraised the various desks and tables of the room before she had halted at a dias erected at the northern edge of the circular chamber, raised atop a three step platform, with symbols of a great eye along its woodwork. Her dainty hands raised as she gazed at the dias, whispering to herself. She looked as if she was trying to decide which candy she wished to take from a tradesman's shop.

With a gasp of delight, she ran one finger along the center eye, and its brass lining began to glow. Quickly, she pulled out the map and placed it atop the dias, and as it began to glow, Amal decided he would be at his most useful if he was watching the exits for any potential intruders. Taking out his knife, he crept to the window and looked, opening the drapes lightly with his blade. He could no longer see the two ruffians, and the slave auction was nearing its end.

He heard a squeal, and he could not tell whether it was from fright or delight and he spun to Emmaline, muscles tensed.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Neil recalled times when he had been late for work when he really needed the job, and he even remembered a few times back in primary school when he had been late to a particular class he was failing. He recalled being late to family events, dates, he even remembered a time when he had woken in bed next to someone who's husband had arrived back home unexpectedly early. But when Taya knocked on the door and Junebug went to try and distract her, he had never put pants on quicker in his life.

He wished his shirt wasn't ripped, but thinking back on how it got ripped, he didn't regret it necessarily but he'd need to come up with a reason why he had no shirt on. He stepped out onto Junebug's balcony, and used his strong hands and flexible body to scale the parapet and slide down the pillars that held it up. As soon as his boots hit the ground, he heard voices and saw the elaborate hats of two guards approaching from a set of outside stairs. He sprinted into the bushes and dived, hitting the dirt in a roll and laying suddenly still as they passed.

"Let's try to the hanger," he breathed, getting to his feet and making his way down the low rise mountain the palace sat atop, hanging on to roots and branches as he swung like a primate until he reached one of the higher rocky beaches. The strange reptilian birds of the planet floated above him in the wind, chirping their strange frills as they circled the water for schools of fish. Neil let them do their thing as he waded back into a small edge of the forest, lurking along until he found himself on the outskirts of the lower hanger.

Briefly he wondered how he could get in, before he decided to look below it, as it was erected atop the decline in the earth with pillars of steel keeping it erect. Sure enough, he found a ladder and a hatch that led into the structure, and he climbed up and made his way into the bay, where only a few mechanics milled about. Glancing back and forth, he wondered why Gredorius and the island needed such advanced air to orbit fighters, but as soon as he saw the Highlander, the question left his head.

"Thank the Gods," he breathed.

The next person that stumbled upon him found him covered in oil under the Highlander's power unit, sweat beading down his skin. He was glad there wasn't any hickeys to speak of. Once he was identified, minutes passed before a full squadron of guardsmen and Indra along with her mother made their way into the Hanger, wide eyed disbelief when they saw his face. "Neil!!!" Indra screamed, running to him. Her mother seemed exasperated, but clearly happy her daughter's husband to be was safe.

Neil held his hands out as Indra went for a hug, being the first of a long line of excuses not to touch him. "Whoa whoa, I've been working babe, I got all this shit on me."

"Where...why didn't you come back to your room? We asked where you were on the speakers, we've been looking all over for you!" She tried to suck in air but she continued to ramble on how he could have not heard anything and he realized he didn't have any real excuse. "Look, it's hard to hear anything from in the Starship, ok? I'm sorry," he said. "I was just so relieved to have the materials to fix it, I wanted to get into it right away."

Usually to someone he was royally fucking over, he'd feel guilty, and he did indeed feel some guilt doing this to Indra. But last night had been incredible and he wasn't about to fuck that up. Briefly he wondered if Junebug felt the same, or if it was a one night stand but he pushed those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time, particularly with Indra and her mother eyeing him up. "Well dear," he mother said at last. "At least he has a work ethic like your father. Now let's get him cleaned up. It's time for breakfast."
@Penny