POOHEAD189

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"Oh I don't doubt that. I know what it's like to want to get your hands on something." She said, biting her lip and giving a look at Neil for the briefest of moments. Junebug had been looking away at that moment, thankfully. He didn't want her to shoot their employer, but it still didn't solve the small problem. Had he not met Junebug, this girl was definitely his type. Dark and dangerous. But now that Sayeeda was his girlfriend, her look made him more than just slightly uncomfortable.

Maybe he was overthinking it, though. It was a quick look and she might simply have been playing a joke on him. Stinger continued without skipping a beat. "So, as much as I'd like to take your word on your skills, I'll need proof you're trustworthy to get a job done. I'm sure you can understand my hesitance."

"Of course!" Taya said, fingers interlocked and attentive. Neil gave her a sideeyed glance, noting she looked like she was at a normal job interview rather than looking for a likely illegal hire from a thuggish warlord.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Junebug said, crossing her arms. Neil looked about the room to make sure there were plenty of exits in case worst turned to worse. Luckily it seemed everything was fine, with every gang member looking vaguely in their direction or outside the myriad of breakable windows they could jump out of if need be. Stinger chuckled darkly.

"I can tell we're going to get along." Her sonorously seductive voice reminiscent of the squeeze of a python. Every word wove you tighter into her point of view if one wasn't careful. Likely how she managed to rise to the top, though Neil noted she had scars to prove she could fight with the rest of them. "I have a shipment of stock that needs escorting through Kraggr Pass ten clicks west of here. Get that to its destination safely and I'll consider you hired."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

Amal was hauled up as the Captain laughed, who himself held Emmaline's hand to help her be hoisted up. The thief might not have been able to pull off that sort of maneuver had he not had sufficient food or rest the night before. He had been 'running on fumes' as the Dwarfs say, though he had no idea of the origin of the saying. Soaked on certain sections of their clothes, Amal removed his coat and placed it on Emmaline to keep her wet chest out of the view of the other sailors.

"It was our fault. I'm simply glad my companion woke up on time." He said slyly and kissed her cheek. Amal shifted and got to his feet, removing his hat and blinking at the sun, trying to see the weather. A habit since the shipwreck, but at the moment there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

"I'm glad you had such quick feet!" Captain Walhem chuckled, and he ushered them to follow him. The ship looked similar in proportion to the El Cargador, but with a decidedly different style. The build was thicker and there was more steel along the ship's frame, but the majority of it was very much laminated wood, built for speed. On deck, most of the men were busy at work, hauling ropes and mopping the floors under the morning sun. The heat had already begun to fall upon them.

Amal had never seen so many northerners in one place. Luckily they were all too busy at their work to notice his ethnicity or Emmaline's sex, if problems regarding either were ever to come up. He truly hoped not. He'd have to explain to the Captain why he slit someone's throat and tossed them overboard. Perhaps if he did it at the dead of night...

"Two floors below, three doors on the left you'll find your quarters. Here's the key. Lunch will be served in a few hours, and I suspect, Manaan willing, we'll be in Marienburg in ten days or less." The Captain explained, boasting at the end there. He saw Amal and Emmaline's looks of astonishment, and the man grabbed at his girthy suspenders, grinning. "Aye, got into a trade deal with the stunted folk of Karak Azul. We're using a motor to keep this ship going, though sails are still up. It mostly just keeps us flowing even against the wind. Weather won't be a problem for this ship unless we capsize."

The two looked at one another with concern. "Well, that is good to fear- I mean hear!" Emmaline declared.
@Penny

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

@Jarl Coolgruuf I've said too much

@Fetzen I like the new avatar

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

Edgar had learned long ago not to take most young people to heart in terms of their attitude. He remember when he was their age back in the early 1800s. So vibrant and full of wonder and energy, and not a small amount of backtalk. Strange how time changes you, mentally and physically. He finished his coffee cup and took his leave, setting the cup in the sink before heading out towards the hallway and into his office.

Inside, there was a strange multisection desk that made a half circle where he set his various work peices and books of study. Behind that was a dias atop a small raised platform for ritual readings, and to no one's surprise the walls were covered in bookshelves filled with books from across humanity. Here he kept his most prudent items for combat or scrying, or anything that might aid in investigatory work. He liked to keep things on hand. The teleportation stone could only do so much so frequently after all.

Within his carry on bag he grabbed seven tomes, two of which he had written himself. Alongside them was his Shillelagh, slipping into the bag and somehow going beyond the fabric's dimensional diameters. Closing it up, he opened a drawer and placed on his hide travel belt, strapping on a wondrous mixture of items that could easily be disguised from the genuine public with a simple spell. Potions and alchemical supplies mostly.

Once he exited the room, he met up with the others waiting for the cab. Anyone with any magical competency could see him decked out as a wizard of old; regal and proud and ready to conjure and dispell demons. But to any passerby, he was a humble homeless elder, who had not showered in a week and like as not eaten since then either.

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

It's actually pretty simple to fly with guns and ammunition seeing as guns don't shoot themselves and bullets don't go off if shaken around. It's not TNT.

Each gun must be unloaded, no rounds chambered, and any detachable magazines must be removed from the gun. All guns must be stored in locked, hard-sided containers. Rifle cases need 2 locks (1 for either end of the case). Ammo is limited to 11 pounds and must be .75 caliber or smaller as well as in cases specifically designed to hold ammo. No loose ammo or in magazines or clips.

@Jarl Coolgruuf

Hey uh, I need some help crossing the border. Can you hook a guy up or...?

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

It was a strange but fruitful visit with the captain, which he felt he dressed appropriately for. It hadn't taken Amal to find a good outfit, and it was somewhat similiar to Emmaline's though with a different feel to it. Ever the bandit, Amal had not seen to wear any sort of bright colors now they were back in some form of civilization. His belt was now made of leather, and he donned a dark coat that sat atop a white linen shirt. His pants were slightly baggier than Emmaline's and more bland in color, though a crimson bandana was tied around his head to keep his thick, dark hair out of his eyes. The final item, a wide brimmed hunter's hat fit snugly atop his head.

The Captain was an Imperial, known as Captain Walhem. His eyes and hair were nearly as bright as Emmaline's though there was flecks of grey from age and travel. He didn't judge Amal by his manner or accent, and after some conversation confessed that he was friends with Captain Diego by a flippant comment on a certain sailing story he had been delighted to tell the thied. Amal told him of the ship's fate and the Captain's passing, and though it brought a stormcloud over the man's features, he thanked Amal and told him as far as he was concerned he and his companion would be welcome on his ship free of charge.

This had brought a skip in Amal's step, leaping onto the docks and striding passed the fish sellers and cargomen hauling frieght off newly docked ship. A few roads further into the city and he passed by the marketplace where a weaponsmith was selling his wares. Amal reached into the bag and looked at the pistol he had taken off of the Empire man back on the El Cargador. Perhaps purchasing some powder would be of some use as well.

Minutes passed and he had a pawned infantry officer's saber at his belt, with 20 pistol balls and powder neatly tucked into a newly bought leather pouch that fit snug on his new belt.

He found a mirror at the edge of the street and strutted up to it, looking himself up and down. He looked very much the same, but somehow far different as well. No longer was he the street rat of Al-Hiekk, but Amal the adventurer! Who did some thieving on the side, granted. It was then he spotted Emmaline, and made his way over to her, calling to her.

He saw her give a flourish, and he watched and tried to do the same in response. He hadn't the flair she had, but he was a quick study and didn't embarrass himself. They smiled to one another, and Amal gave a wink. "By the way, we're getting a free trip on the Destrier."

Emmaline blinked. "How did you manage that?"

He placed his hand on the small of her back and shrugged. "I have my ways. So, do we have a room or are we to sleep on the grass again? If it's the latter, I think I will go steal a blanket. We're running out of that fool's money."
@Penny

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

How does Clive get all the guns he might want to take with him through airport controls?

@Fetzen

After 9/11, you gotta check your stuff and it'll be examined and WELL out of reach until you land. They might actually charged extra too.

I've never brought a gun on a plane. I've only brought a combat ready sword and that was me flying home from a convention!

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The town was very much a second home to Amal, at least in certain aspects. He had grown up in a port city, and though there was a massive reduction in dry heat and inland sand dunes, it had the same feeling as Al-Hiekk. The sense in the air that there was a potential for violence, but most people quelled their barbaric tendencies to make some coin and survive the harsh nature of the lands further inland.

Amal flicked the gold florin expertly and caught it as they walked. Above the street were rafters where colorful plumed birds squawked and screamed. Some imitated the speech patterns of the men below, spouting out daily calls like "Get your fish here!" As the two walked, they first discussed what they wished to eat. Amal settled for a nice potato with all the trimmings, and he was surprised there was bacon available on the continent that, he should have guessed, was Lustria.

Striding around the corner of the market, the docks were around 100 meters away. A small man with a monocle, wearing a handsome suit nearly bumped into Amal, who lithely leapt out of the fellow's way. He shook his curly haired head as if Amal have given an affront by even being near him.

"I say dear fellow, excuse me. It's no good being rude. I say yes, I wouldn't be having such troubles had my retainers not been eaten by those savage beasts of the jungle! Dear goodness me, this last is primitive beyond measure. Hm yes mm, n-now excuse me I must make my way to the Destrier." He declared.

"Destrier?" Amal mouthed.

"Yes, I do say. The ship that will take me out of this Sigmar-forsaken place!"

"Where is the Destrier going?" Emmaline pipped in.

"Nordland, though it will make a stop at Marienburg I do believe." He said, seemingly confused on why he had stopped to speak to them. It seemed Asaph's compulsion enchantments still held strong on Emmaline. That or, this old fellow was a very talkative chap. "It leaves on the morrow if you care to join. Yes yes, goodbye!" He waddled away, and after a moment of silence the two laughed. "Well, it seems our luck is turning around." The Arabyan said.

"Now for us to get some new clothes," The blonde woman added, pulling at the threads of her garment with a distaste. "And then after that a room."

Amal perked up immediately.
@Penny

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

I'll get in a reply before friday!

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The tunnel still had some faint light which gave them just enough to see by. Amal wasn't certain if it was from the lightning back where they had come from or a light source up ahead. All he was certain of was that Emmaline had managed to outsteal him, producing two torcs before his eyes. He shook his head. "You amazing northern woman." He marveled and kissed her so thoroughly she dropped the torcs onto the ground, her leg popping behind her.

They couldn't stay where they were though, and unless they wanted to go back into a cave-in or worse, angry Skaven, they needed to move forward. Amal picked up the torcs and placed them in the back with the dagger and the now rolled up carpet. They really needed to find a way to get more mileage on it, Amal thought.

"Follow me and keep your head low," Amal whispered to his companion, and she produced a very soft light in her hands just in case things went completely dark. Amal nodded and turned, leading the way into the darkness. He had the short sword and dagger in hand, moving almost like a desert sidewinder as he crept along the cramped, newly made passageway. Crushed rock mixed with dust and jagged stones that had stayed upright from the imperfect design of the skaven contraption's drill.

"Where do you think this leads?" Emmaline whispered after close to an hour of skulking. What Amal found strange was that the tunnel had led into a more natural cavern that moved (if he had to guess) southward. It was larger than the tunnel and it smelled of rat, but so far no skaven as of yet. Not even a squeak or a whimper. Like as not what army was here had all gone straight for the Lizardman Temple City. Lot of good that did them.

"Hopefully some place where I can steal from someone more pompous and civilized." He said, indicating her to follow him after a quick look around. There were some smaller holes leading upwards and downwards, but Amal sensed following the main 'road' would work best. Soon he even felt a small flow of air on his face, and it sped his heart to hope there was an exit. "Do you smell that?" He asked her. He answered before she could. "Humid air..."

A faint screech was heard in the distance behind them. The sorceress jumped but Amal clamped her mouth shut with his hand before she could scream, letting her calm down for a moment. "It seems some rats have picked up our trail." The thief said, his voice filled with such calm deathliness and trepidation that it would have made anyone's skin crawl had they not been used to him. The cries and chitters of the rats did not seem to be made of any large number, which still did not bode well for them. It could be a 6 to 1 fight and they could be wielding the strange green weaponry they had seen in the city.

Minutes sped by and the cavern curved upwards as the two fled, growing smaller and smaller until Amal felt very frightened that it would be too minescule for either to fit through. But it was just large enough to squeeze out of one at a time. Amal motioned for Emmaline to go, the moonlight above them serving as a beacon of hope. The screeches were terrible close now and one could even hear their claws scraping along the cavern floor.

"You first." She said.

"Do you trust me?" He asked her, holding his hand out. It was a strange question, coming from a thief who had done many deplorable things before her eyes. But oddly enough, he had a trustworthiness beyond any man in her life previously, and she took his hand. He smiled, and helped her climb up. Her arms reached out, the rocky hole hugging her hips. Amal pressed against her feet, her body popping up out of the hole and she flopped on the ground.

She found she was on a grassy hill among a copse of jungle trees, overlooking a port town that wafted with smoke beside the sea. Smaller frigates and caravels bobbed within the harbor, and it surprised her so much she almost forgot Amal below. A bag filled with their provisions was tossed through the opening, nearly smacking her in the face. Scrambling to the hole, she reached down to help him up. Her hand extended into the darkness, and was grabbed by a tiny clawed hand.

Suddenly a skaven's head poked out, its nose twitching as it looked at her. It opened its mouth, but rather than making a sound, blood seeped out and it slumped back down into the hole. Scrambling and yips followed until at last Amal's hands burst through the small opening, grabbing the sides and yanking his cut and dirtied body out with a will. Another skaven attempted to ascend, but at that moment the sun peeped over the horizon and quelled its bravado, sending it back into the darkness below.

"Another vacation sounds good." Amal groaned.
@Penny