POOHEAD189

The Sinful Stars

Had he not grown up among the huge architecture of the aristocracy, he likely would have been feeling much how Ragnar was at the moment. The Vuldrok looked in awe at the roadway that looked too large to enter any earthwork save a mountain. The tunnel that led transports between the palace and the outer city looked vast enough for a starship to use as a runway. Orion sincerely hoped that was not apart of its intended use.

Huge fluorescent lights had powered on halfway through their trek within the concrete and steel tunnel, but it was so large that even the lights still didn't illuminate every corner; giving the road a bare minimum of lighting so as to help the transportation vehicles to travel easily. It was problem from some bureaucratic ruling that led to certain safety guidelines for men working directly under the Duke.

The two warriors ran on the emergency railway at the side of the road, laying low whenever there was a truck, which only happened twice. Halfway through, they found an iron grater they could break. To most men it would have ended there, but Ragnar and Orion had enough muscle power to break open something twice as thick.

It took them another two hours to slog through the sewers. It seemed endless, like purgatory that smelled of shit and raw wet. After thirty minutes, Orion felt as if he would suffocate from the wretched air, but he powered on until there was a ladder that descended as if from the very heavens of the Pancreator.

"I smell fresh air!" Ragnar cried in victory. He was silenced by Orion slugging him across the jaw. The barbarian tumbled into the sewage and spurted water out of his mouth, angrily growling until the Knight covered his lips.

"If the Duke or any of his servants hears a Vuldrok yelling below their feet, you'll ascend into execution, not fresh air understand?" He asked, grimly. Ragnar looked in his eyes and knew that if he had to, Orion would stick a knife in his throat to see that he did not make a noise. Vuldrok's were often boisterous, but Ragnar had generally been reserved. It seems their passion still resided in him, deep within.

Ragnar nodded, and Orion released him to step onto the stone platform. Ragnar sloshed out of the water as quietly as he could, and the two now stood under a beam of light that seemed all at once holy and damning. "We knock out who we can...we kill only who we must." Orion said, and he began to climb the ladder.

Thirty feet up, he pushed open the iron door and found his world flooded with breathable air as sweet as wine, and similar lighting to the tunnel. Only now there were dormant trucks and a few men in the distances on railings, busy with their own work in the Duke's hangar bay.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

To say Amal wasn't raised with understanding parents...or parents in general was an understatement. He was not good with dealing with his own inner problems, or perhaps he was too good. He'd turned all of his anger and abandonment issues toward greed, lust, and a thirst for danger. That might not be the healthiest way to go about it, but it had served him well.

Emmaline, on the other hand, hadn't quite gotten used to such a life. Yet she was likely more of a liar than even he. He could tell it took a lot to tell the truth, even to a stone abomination. Gingerly, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "You did well," He said in his accented Reikspiel.

Her fair skin seemed to glow for a brief moment, and there was a simmer to her eyes that could only be magically related. It faded quickly, and was nearly gone when she turned to him. Emmaline wouldn't feel as if there was any great change, but the winds of magic flowed slightly more robustly about her, as if the cup where she kept her magic was filling a hair faster than usual.

Amal, ignorant to the change, smiled. "You know, if we did not have other things to attend to first, I would kiss you. Let us save that for the end, eh?" He bumped her hip with his own playfully. It was a moment later that he noticed the fountains were now flowing once more, and he laughed triumphantly, heading toward the flowing water and sticking his head within, supping great gulps.

His head whipped out after he had his fill, thick waves of hair now matted. "Emmaline, come here and drink. I know how much you northerners are not used to lacking water for any length of time."

Once the two had refilled their stomachs and waterskins, Amal and likely his lady companion now felt like doing nothing but sitting for a few minutes. Luckily, Amal was pleasantly surprised when the carpet flowed into the temple and twirled around them with joy."

"Oh now he wants to fly," Emmaline smirked, squeezing the water out of her hair.

"I say it is good timing." Amal replied, crouching and clapping for the fabric to approach like it was a stray dog. It didn't need to be told twice and flew over to him like lightning, twirling about until the thief caught it in a hug. "Ah, my friend it is good to see you. Can you take us to the temple at the far end of the city?"
@Penny

The Sunday Group - Paranormal Detectives

(raises hand) So if I were to dust off an old character, it should be Manny rather than Caber my Ain Sidhe since we're all going to be human? Honestly I'll probably make a new character if we're to be human, but if I am allowed to be Caber I'll likely choose him. I will respect whatever decision you have :)

The Sunday Group - Paranormal Detectives

Once more into the breach, dear friends

The Sinful Stars

Orion and Ragnar, or more accurately, Orion made a difficult decision and deigned to keep away from the survivors of the battle. It could have been pure coincidence; perhaps an inner conspiracy that didn't reach the highest echelons of the Duchy. But seeing the woman he had recognized at court gave him a pit in his stomach, and he knew if he ever wanted to get Annika back alive, they needed to return to the Palace. But not as they were, or they would be taken back in chains.

Orion and Ragnar had turned north, following the rougher terrain and the curvature of the city, leaving behind the boneyard of lost vehicles. No doubt the military and whatever junkyard scrappers were around would soon arrive to claim the armor for themselves.

They traveled a few miles under the morning sun, keeping close to the factories that had popped up to their right and away from any roads that travelers might pass by. After an hour or two, the two men found refuge under what appeared to be an abandoned supply depot, likely evacuated from frequent Vuldrok attacks. The outside of it had shell marks from shrapnel, and it looked unclean and without maintenance for God knows how long.

Making their way up the loud, iron utility stairway, Ragnar and Orion found a smaller room where they could rest and keep their voices from carrying across the small compound. The barbarian looked even surlier and grim than usual, setting himself down in the corner and huffing. "So, we are to enter the Palace grounds when we don't know where the girl is or even if she is still alive?" He voiced aloud, showing just how ridiculous the plan was.

"Yes," Orion said, resting his head back against the wall, sitting across from the Vuldrok. "If you're too frightened to go, then I release you from my service." The statement was made with vitriol, and Ragnar was greatly offended at it. It meant either he was released and branded a coward, or he went and could not complain. Orion seemed apathetic at it, brooding over whether or not his confessor was still alive.

It irked him how much he cared about her safety. He felt if someone could read his thoughts, he would seem more like a worried puppy than the wolf he appeared. The thought of someone reading his mind only made him fret more, and with a growl he dispelled his thoughts and began to pray, asking for peace and tranquility to accept whatever life's reality was. Many good men had died today, and he was worried over one woman who might not even be dead.

"We go at night then?" Ragnar grumbled, and the Knight nodded.

"We go through the back tunnels." Orion said. "The Baron showed me a map of the city before I arrived here. It wasn't a blueprint of the palace, but there was marked transportation tunnels through the rear of the old city where the Palace sits. Likely there's little traffic, and even more likely there are sewers. We'll go into them and climb into the Duke's seat of power from below." It was the only plan he had. He prayed it worked.

"Sewers?" Ragnar echoed, scratching his scraggly beard. "What are those?"

"...Get some sleep. I'll take first watch."

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

Taya might have grown considerably, but she still clung to Neil when the twitching man's body fell heavily upon the entryway. Neil cloaked her eyes with his hand, turning her away. He was glad she didn't see the ruffians trampling over the body, surely ending the man's life by the way they callously stepped on his head and neck if he was not already slain. The pilot looked to Junebug, and his free hand went to the hilt of his revolver while he raised his brows questioningly.

She shook her head, and he followed his captain's lead. He wasn't intimidated himself, but it could still get messy if they remained. He almost wished he'd brought Saxon or the modified Hauler.

"You know the drill, fill 'em up!" a thug cried, waving his mug in the air as if he was rallying troops to battle. The others cheered and prattled on to one another in a blur of uproarious noise. In a minute, they had spread around the tavern and perched where they liked, which seemed very much to Neil as if the three of them were being surrounded. A quick look told him many eyes were on them, now that they all had drinks in their cups.

Out of the crowd stepped a lean man, sporting a close cropped goatee and hair of dark curls. He had on a predatory, vengeful look to him even as he smiled. His eyes measured Neil for a moment, and then traveled down Taya to climb up Sayeeda, and he drained the last of his mug with one last swig. "I have never seen you before." The simple statement seemed to heighten the tension, not lower it, and the other men had quieted down.

"We just flew in." Neil said nonchalantly.

"Why would you come here?" He asked abruptly, trying to throw them off by cutting straight to the point. His eyes snapped to the Captain when she answered with. "Not that it's your business, but we heard there was work to be had. Mercenary, smuggler...anything that pays. Name a job and we've likely done it before." Their gazes clashed, and the fellow soon realized she wouldn't back down from a staring match.

"Well, in order to work here you need to prove your worth." He said, receiving another mug full of beer without even having to ask. There was an accent to him Neil couldn't pinpoint. He had a sun darkened complexion, but it looked suitably uglier than Sayeeda's caramel color, at least to Neil's sensibilities. Around them, the men easily had their hands on their weapons, or free in case anything broke out. "What have you to offer, hmmm?"

Neil chuckled. "No offense, but we'd like to speak to someone with authority if we're going to talk business." The man clearly didn't like Neil's wide smile, and he suddenly reached for his knife. His hand was halfway up to present it before Neil's gun was out of its holster, aimed just at his heart. All around them men had drawn their guns, and most impressively, Junebug hadn't moved an inch. She just stood there, arms crossed and unamused.

"You've got spirit, I'll give you that." The menacing ruffian said, putting his knife back in place.
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The spaceport was both rustic but industrialized. High tech towers and beacons beamed into the sky, nearly as slim as poles whilst the buildings around them were usually one, maybe two stories tall and made of clay or local sandstone. The climate wasn't nearly as arid as Hahn, but the planet wasn't necessarily bountiful in water or foliage either, giving the air a distinct smell of dust and dry heat and the air shimmered from the local sun's rays.

The crew found refuge in a large cantina a few miles away from the landing area, a small ball of neon light emitting multiple colors out into the sun drenched streets.

"No better place to find info." Neil said, and Taya and Junebug followed his lead. Of course, Junebug was savvy in a number of subject and she was no slouch when it came to criminal activities. It was something Neil used to do as a business, however, and at the moment they needed underhanded money. Well, anytime would be great but it seemed most money here was made through means that was illegal in the wider Imperium.

The music inside was bouncing and catchy, and four Xenos with horned heads and mouths split horizontally rather than vertically played on strange instruments on a small stage in the back. The three of them got a small table near the center of the sitting area, calling for drinks and making a guessing game of what alcoholic beverage constituted as bearable in this backwater nowhere of a planet. Meanwhile, Neil spend the majority of his time looking around to see if there were any signs of someone who might have information. A telling look, a gang sigil, or someone with a surly disposition who glanced at just the correct times.

It was to his surprise when a small group of settlers in the back waved him over when his eyes met one of them. They were maybe slightly older than him, around Junebug's age in brown coats and caps to keep the elements out of their hair, along with goggles on their foreheads. Neil looked to Junebug, then got to his feet and made his way over to them.

"Hey buddy, looks like you could use some money." One of them said, slurping up a noodled dish into his mouth, and the others watched Neil expectantly.

"Yeah I can. Looks like you fellas have a job if I'm not mistaken." He grinned.

"You are mistaken. We're not wanting your skills, we want something else."

"What's that?"

"Your women" he said, and Neil's grin disappeared. He lowered his brow, not entirely certain if they were making a joke. He placed his thumbs in his pockets, leaning nonchalantly on his back leg. "You want me to sell you my little sister and my girlfriend? Is that something that happens here often?" The former might not be by blood and the latter might be a new development, but he wasn't lying either.

"No, doesn't happen here more than much anywhere else. We'd treat 'em right, though if that's what you're worried on." A second said, and suddenly an idea popped into Neil's head. One he didn't need to convince himself much on. After a brief pause where he smiled, the pilot suddenly placed his hands under their table and threw it end over end atop one of them men, spilling their food and drinks in a myriad of cries.

One of them regained his feet, sputtering soup out of his mouth. "What the fuck did you do that for!?" He screamed, and the other two suddenly placed their hands on their holsters. All the cantina was silent, and the men suddenly realized Neil was also armed. Soup and beer dripping from their hair and coats, their pause was short lived when they decided three against one was good odds. Neil felt the same.

Before their guns cleared their holsters, Neil gunned all three of them down in display of impressive gunmanship. Junebug and Taya would have seen a bouncer approaching him from behind, only to suddenly walk away after he killed the three settlers. The fourth crawled out from under the table, and upon seeing his dead friends, he ran out of the cantina with flailing hands. Neil blew the smoke out of his gun, and made his way back to the table.

"Neil what the heck was that for!?" Taya whispered, worried.

"Well, if we can't get contacts, let's have the contacts notice us instead." He replied, and took a big sip from his mug. "Hey, this shit aint bad."
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The snapping of buttons and the crank of the throttle was audible over the thrum of the engines. It did Neil well to hear the Highlander purring as if it was brand new and straight off the hangar. He didn't necessarily like duping someone as innocent as Indra, but he had to admit conning paid off. Hell, the alternative would be worse. You could have told her you didn't love her. "Yeah yeah, and then where would you be?" He breathed, setting up the RIP jump.

"Progress calculated. Course set-" Lonney began, but Neil cut him off. "I see it."

The display was framed by 2 red lines reaching a horizon point at the center, indicating how far they needed to travel before they reached the first R.I.P. jump. Taya looked satisfied, but the moment she looked away from the monitor to view Neil, she took a double take. He hadn't been wearing those when he came in. "Neil, where were you hiding those glasses?"

Neil adjusted the sunglasses on his face. "Don't worry about it." He told her, before his voice grew overly loud. "Everyone strapped in!?"

Taya checked her waist, but Junebug had already made certain both women were buckled up and ready. One look was all Neil needed, and he punched it. "Good enough for me!" He said, and the ship lurched. The artificial gravity withing having a difficult time keeping up with the vessel's speed for a split second, before it adjusted and settled once again. On the monitor, the red lining was increasingly narrowing until they reached the horizon line, and rather than lurching, there was an intense feeling that was somewhere between nauseating, having an eardrum rupturing, and having your heart fly out of your mouth.

It only lasted for but a moment, and for those used to it like Neil and Junebug, it wasn't nearly as bad as someone who had not experienced RIP nearly as muck like Taya, or for those who were not fully expecting it at the moment like Saxon likely. Soon the monitor was all silver streaks and black lines, in a maelstrom of various light dull colors as they traversed the alternate dimension. Every now and then, something would wash over the screen like a wave at sea.

"Any idea where this might take us?" Taya asked through closed eyes, her small body shaking from the exertion of the jump. Neil unbuckled and handed her some water from the side compartment.

"Wherever it is, it's close to the outer galaxy. We're already pretty far out, which is a double edged sword. Less law but more dangerous, generally."
@Penny

The Sinful Stars

Orion knew that Ragnar was likely right, but that seemed impossible. In fact the whole debacle seemed impossible. Orion and his courtiers, if they could be called that, had commandeered the engineers and troops right from under the Duke's nose, much less anyone else who would likely be even less informed. How the hell did anyone other than Vuldrok's ransack the armored column? And even if it were Vuldrok's, this wasn't there style. He found no traces of any of the telltale axe wounds or even corpses of the barbarians.

The burn wounds upon the men's eyes were very much witchcraft, or perhaps some alien weapon he had never heard of. Witchcraft was the most likely culprit, so it was what they were going to go off of for now. Damn! If his Confessor had died, the Baron would be furious. That coupled with what will likely be considered a 'coup' of the Duke's forces and his name will be besmirched forever. Not only that, but the sister had grown on him. He found he was as worried, if not more worried over her well-being as he was his honor.

As he and Ragnar continued to pick their way through the debris and steel of the legion of vehicles, he marveled there were only a handful that had seemed to be damaged or keeled over. Passing by one such vehicle, he heard a haggard, weak cough that brought both his and Ragnar's attention. The Knight and Vuldrok shared a look before they knelt down to listen, and after a few moments they heard it again. It came from under the flipped truck.

Orion motioned for Ragnar to take the back end of the vehicle, and the two men readied themselves and moved in unison. The Knight's cabled muscles with Ragnar's brute strength were enough to send the truck over to the left to stand on its side, before rolling it upright. Underneath, there was a soldier that was covered in soot and oil, eyes squinting at the risen sun as he looked around. "Where am I?" He whispered hoarsely.

"You're in the remains of the armored column-" Orion began, before Ragnar grunted. "We'll be asking the questions, little man."

Orion shot him a warning look, and obediently Ragnar stepped back. The Knight knelt down to help the man up, and after a second to reorient himself, it dawned on him. "You're commander Pentecost." He said.

"What happened here?" Orion asked.
@Penny

The Sinful Stars

It had all happened so fast.

It wasn't so much of a charge as a wave when the Vuldrok's broke through the treeline. Axes and lasweaponry, mixed in with more primitive yet highly effective gunpowder armaments waved about and fired at the defender's direction. Orion had held the men back until the barbarians were at the maximum effective range, and then he ordered for them to fire. What few cannons and artillery batteries the Duke's forces had opened fire and blew chunks out of the earth, spitting body parts and blood across the now broken ground. They were followed by the rifle fire from the rooftops, which in turn were drowned out by the massive volley of pistol and shotgun blasts tearing through the Vuldrocks until all became a massive, bloody melee.

Orion stood at the vanguard, his senses battle-hardened and used to the cacophony of warfare. Every stroke at him was riposted and every gunshot his way was blocked or taken in a graze. He punched a Vuldrock's face so hard he shattered his teeth, and clove his comrade's arm off with a mighty swing of his sword. He was glad for the smaller, individual commanders that controlled their platoons, as they concentrated fire on what small vehicles the Vuldrock's utilized, along with where their army was thickest in numbers. It was so consuming to Orion, that when the battle was over and the Vuldrocks retreated...when his army was in tatters but ultimately victorious...he realized no cavalry had come.

The Knight was on his knees amid a pile of slaughtered bodies, and miles around him there were perhaps a hundred living souls still alive. Everyone else had been turned into a corpse. He could barely lift his hand to feel his cut face, and he didn't know who's blood was upon his shoulders and chest armor. Was Sergeant Burnside alive? He didn't know. He couldn't begin to think on what to do now, other than he needed to know what happened to Annika.

Out of the darkened shadows of the early morn, Ragnar appeared. His axe and furs smeared with gore, but he seemed alive if nothing else. The Vuldrock strode up to Orion, and the Knight didn't know if the Vuldrock was there to strike a killing blow or aid him. His question was answered when the barbarian offered his hand to help him up.

"We need to find my confessor." Orion growled.
@Penny