POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Greenskin invasion!?" Sir Brenly ejaculated, reaching for what was a nonexistent sword at his side. When he found no blade, he became even grumpier. "The riders never told us that! They just said you might seen some."

"Oh aye, they're no strangers tae the land." Laird McDougal replied, crossing his hairy arms. "We've had Orcs and wee gobbos fer generations in the southern ends o' the isle. But sometimes they explode in number and ferocity, and even intelligence every few decades. I remember my gran told me aboot such a time back in their dey."

"Give me some good steel and a steed to ride and I'll fight the bastards." the Elder boasted, trying to raise himself up. Perhaps he was tall once, but age had shrunken him down considerably. "I am a Knight!"

"Night? But its dey," one of the Woad Raider interjected.

As the elder began to lecture the Albion-man on the ranking of Knight, Amal and Emmaline began to speak earnestly with Douglas and Laird McDougal. Apparently this clan had more contact than most with the Empire, and all of the other clans were even more primitive, lead by leaders called Chiefs rather than Lairds. He was still technically a chief himself, but insisted on Laird to better trade with the land across the channel. After a fair conversation where the Laird told them he would take them to the Truthsayer the next day, Emmaline pointed out that she was still barely wearing anything and she and Amal were very cold. McDougal gave them entry into one of two normal looking wooden cottages where southern merchants or mercenaries stayed when they arrived as guests.

Emmaline went over to start a fire in the fireplace with a quick spark of her magic, and once she finished she would see Amal hugging the wall of timber, glancing out into the village suspiciously. He even had an Albion-style dirk in his hand, though where he got it, it was impossible to say. He looked very much like how he was when she first met him, sly and dangerous to everyone around the woman except Emmaline herself. If anyone burst through the door just now, they would be dead within a moment through sheer muscle memory, borne of years on the harsh city streets of Al-Hiekk.

"Glad for the warmth, but I feel like I'm in one of those ships again." He breathed in Arabyan, knocking one hand on the wooden wall. He decided to turn it into a joke though, grinning at her. "Here's hoping we don't crash yes?"
@Penny

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

@Fetzen I guess it is somewhat different. Mael has always had a demon side whereas Etrigan is residing inside a Knight, Jason Blood.

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

@Fetzen I've been wondering, did you get the idea of Mael from Etrigan the Demon?

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅 & 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉

Harun found himself in the most unlikely of places. He stood amid a palace more opulent than anything he had ever seen in his life. He tried to keep himself from gaping, though he still looked around and stared in amazement at all of its glory. It was almost as beautiful to look upon as Lakshmi. The silk in his arms could buy four homes out in the poor quarter, and food enough to eat for weeks at that. He needed to find an oil lamp that would bring him even more wealth, and all of this hinged on a mysterious woman he'd made a deal with.

He sighed, coiling the silk around his arms a bit more to hide the stretching of his hands. He knew he needed to break someone's face like as not before this was over. He hoped that wasn't the case, but everyone around him was a potential enemy. Perhaps even his patron, if he was found out. Who knew if she would betray him?

He took her signal, and waited for the guards to escort her away before he made his move through the palace, going where Lakshmi indicated the lamp to be. The palace corridor was dimly lit, which made it easier for him to ease his way through. He was more of a ruffian than a thief, but he had picked pockets in his time. He almost felt this was entirely too easy, truth be told. A room framed with crimson curtains gaped open in front of him, and in he stepped as quietly as a ghost.

Torches kindled the room in light, surrounding a lavish and soft bed that stood upon a raised platform in the floor with steps leading down to the rest of the vast room. Pots and sculptures from across the wide world stood as tokens of the Khedive's wealth. However, upon the center on the lower portion of the room was a small oil lamp besides a great jewel of crimson majesty. Harun approached warily in a crouch, and his fingers wiggled as he considered taking the jewel instead.

No... no they had an agreement. He was going to take the lamp, even if the decision had him sweating and swallowing a dry throat. Nimbly, he plucked the lamp up. It was a strange, ancient piece. Dusty too. He rubbed it a bit, trying not to scuff it when a small polychromatic light burst forth from the mouth of the lamp. It seemed to 'pop' and then go still once again. Harun's eyes widened like he held an explosive device.

"What the fuck..." He breathed, but still he would keep his word. He placed it in his small sack and backed out of the room as quickly and quietly as he could...

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

Most wizards would tell you they were just on the cusp of a major discovery; of revealing the secrets of the universe! Edgar knew that feeling more than most, and he was still flummoxed and disappointed when Mael's calling all but ripped him out of his mystically induced vision and into midgard once again. The rumbling beneath him and the pressurized change in the ventilation gave the air a strange scent he didn't quite like. Mael also seemed to be the cause of the interruption of his incognizable reverie.

Edgar pinched the bridge of his large nose, trying to drown out the white noise of the plane and another, far louder sound. He cleared his throat. "Mael, do tell your inner demon to be silent or I'll dispell it to Hades." Edgar warned matter-of-fact. He had the means to do it, though not on hand to be quite frank. Still, the beast was so loud he was surprised mundane mortals couldn't hear it. He looked to the old woman sitting next to him, asleep with her eyes covered. He doubted anyone would hear or care enough to retain what he said, though he wouldn't exactly spill any secrets to cause an uproar anyway.

"A game?" He echoed, stroking his beard idly. "I only know games of the sort your like would never have perceived, but I suppose I could make one up." The wizard said it whimsically, as if the very creation of the game was a game in and of itself. The wizard smiled after deliberating a moment, knowing just what game would be fun to play and likely dominate in.

"What's say we play a game of riddles, Mael. A friendly contest. We each give one another a riddle, and the first person to miss their guess is the loser. Does this sound acceptable to you? I shall start..." He took a sip of his Dr. Pepper, the crisp taste sliding down his gullet nicely. "Here is a rather easy one to start us off, my french fellow. What has three feet, but can be the size of a front lawn?"

Of course, the answer was 'yard'. He didn't wish to end the game in one turn, but he often wondered about the wordplay of modern men. He himself was a master of linguistics, and one could not cast spells without being at least somewhat competent with the turning of phrases. Contrary to most literary scholars who worship the man, Tolkien himself got the game of riddles in the Hobbit from Edgar, though when he knew the man he was rather impressed with his philology. After waiting a few moments, he wondered if he should have established a time limit for the game as well.

Hider

Edgar reveals he can hear Mael's demon, and he begins a game of riddles

(This has been retired)

@Tune@Bazmund@The Ghost Note@dhawan
If you guys think this is a rape fantasy, you clearly have never been in the 1x1 interest check forum. Anyway, even if that were the case, you should contact a mod rather than make fun of someone in their own thread. If you're not interested in a roleplay, then don't post in the interest check.

Thread closed.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The three of them were escorted northeast out of the forest bog and passed a land of fens, finding ground along encroaching low hills where rocks dotted the ground ubiquitously. Amal was so used to sand, it was difficult for him to tell one green from another, but after a long time of riding he found to his susprise they were on a beaten trail leading up into the hills, where another wooded area grew. Across their path they passed a cairn of piled stones, with a strange magical symbol writ in blood on its face.

"Are those the waystones?" Brenly asked, on his haunches at the sight of it.

"Noo, these are th' restin' places of oor dead." The lead woad raider answered. "The waystones are no' close to ar village, but we live behind the line of one. I cannae tell ye moor. Ahm no' supposed tae know such things. The truthsayers are the ones we speak tae."

A fog had fallen over them once more and behind them Amal could hear rain, but it soon disappeared to his relief. It didn't seem to be chasing them, or it seemed to have been but gave up once they passed the cairns. The thought was not pleasing to him, as if the very rain had a mind of its own. He still felt some relief, as he couldn't handle such cold much longer. He couldn't understand how these men, if they truly were men, could ride upon a horse shirtless among such chill and wet.

A palisade wall of well carved timber rose before them over the next rise, the fog giving way to reveal the large village that lay across a rough, green plateau amid the rolling landscape. Gnarled trees clung together in copses without and within the wall and a small moat had been dug around the entire perimeter save the entrance walkway. The lead rider barked a command in his tongue, raising his spear and the two large timber doors swung open for the scouts.

"If the stones keep giants out, why do you build walls?" Amal asked. It was a sensible question but truthfully he never did like being enclosed in anywhere.

"They keep th' giants oot aye. But no' the greenskins, or other clans fer tha' matter, ye ken?" The horseman in front of him said.

The group cantered into the rustic village, an utterly alien place to Amal but something somewhat like what Emmaline might have seen before in poor Imperial villages. Children played or clung to their mother's skirts as the women walked along with baskets on their heads filled with fruit or vegetables. Some women chatted among themselves and their husbands or brothers chopped wood or fixed roofs that looked in disrepair. Looking further, it did differ from the Empire manner in a plethora of ways. Various stones were dotted about, and they along with the sides of homes had weird symbols of nature and trees, entwined in a way where Amal couldn't tell where the symbol began or ended. Very few homes were made of timber in any fashion that resembled your average house. Most homes were low huts of stone, their roofs skinned branches and hay and clay mixed together. Warriors similar to the horsemen watched them warily, armed with stone clubs and spears with heads of brittle iron.

The villagers watched with open curiosity and some didn't hide their distrust. Amal had never seen so many pale people. Perhaps that was what happened when there was little to no sun, or maybe it was because of how wet the land was. Either way, they seemed even more fascinated with him. He hoped they didn't see his skin as a sorcerous sign of corruption. A few women of red and blonde hair boldly admired him, smiling slyly and smoothing their wool skirts.

A flap was shoved away from a hut across the center of town and out strode a large man, red bearded and adorned with a strange skirt-robe of red, green, and brown colors. Behind his back, a massive axe was strapped to him. He had a bulbous nose that grew even wider when he scrutinized the newcomers, who had just dismounted with the riders.

"Laird Mcdougal..." A rider said.

"Who 'ave ye brought 'ere Douglas? Ye do remember we're in the midst of a bloody invasion, aye!?"
@Penny

The Elder Scrolls: Eye of the Hurricane

Pu Karanthi

Name: Pu Karanthi
Race: Redguard
Age: 23
Birthsign: Steed
Family Origins: Rihad

Appearance:
Pu is a tall younger fellow, with kind brown eyes that can adopt a sharp, deadliness when he gets angered. His shoulders are broad and his legs are long, with strong hands and a trim physique. He has a simple way of dress in the form of long, loose trousers beneath a red sash belt tied about his slim waist. A sleeveless linen shirt covers his torso, however when it rains he's not above wearing his hide jacket he carries in his pack. Pu moves easily and agilely, with a confidence that belies his experiences in surviving dangerous situations. On his left ear, a silver stud gleams in the sunlight, and both of his wrists have bronze hoop bracelets with the signs of Akatosh on them.

---

Personality: Pu has simple tastes. Good food, nice drink, and a soft place to sleep are good enough for him. Truth be told, he is somewhat lost in his life. Without his family to look after, he's trying to decide what he wants for himself. He's always had a strong work ethic, but recently he's had a restlessness that takes hold of him. Never in his early life did he think he would make it to the fabled land of Valenwood. Pu tries to keep a lid on his competitive streak, but he usually won't back down on a challenge, likely because he's had to do everything for himself most of his life where most other people haven't. Deep in his soul, he does long for adventure and riches, but not to impress anyone. More to feel fulfilled himself at what he's currently doing.

---

History: Pu grew up on a small manorial home outside of Rihad, born the oldest sibling of three. His great grandfather was granted the land for reward for service to the state in a time of war. Pu's father was a yeoman who farmed the land with his brother and his wife before they had children. When Pu was of age he began to work again as well, and he traveled with his father to Rihad and even Skaven to sell his goods far and wide. Pu's uncle was a well known sellsword, and he promised Pu's mother he would never teach Pu the sword at her insistence. So instead he taught Pu how to use his walking staff in self defense, and he gave him an iron dagger as well.

When he was eight years old, his two younger sisters were born, named Ajra and Bilne. They were inquisitive youngsters and trouble makers much like their older brother was, and he loved them above all else. Life continued as one might expect for the next few years as the sisters grew into children and Pu was growing into a young man.

One day, there was news of a band of marauders from the north moving south, ransacking small villages and towns in their wake. His father went to meet with King Blubamka of Rihad to ask if the King would send troops to protect the surrounding villages. The King offered for his family to take refuge in the city, but Pu's father grew angry, as he knew without the farm his family would have no means to survive. He argued with the King, and the King had him executed in a political sleight-of-hand and announced Pu's father was the leader of one of the many gangs in the city, as the King was trying to quell the crime wave wounding Rihad.

With no word from his father, his family was caught unawares as the ransackers attacked and burned the farm. Pu watched his mother be run through with a sword, and ran to get his sisters to safety. He took them both in his strong arms and took one of the family horses, narrowly escaping the bandits and riding hard east until he made it to Cyrodiil. There he found a Temple of Akatosh that they found refuge in, where the priests offered to raise his sisters. He took the priest's offer and then took to the road to find what remained of their farm and what happened to his father.

He was gone for three years, having buried his mother and found out the truth of his father's disappearance. Returning to the temple, he stayed there with them for another few years, farming for the priests and helping them around the temple until one day his uncle came to visit, having tracked them down. His uncle asked him if he would like to accompany with him on the road for a job in Eleswyr fighting against a contingent of Thalmor. He did so, and found himself in the life of a mercenary for another two years until he took the road northward, feeling tired of that kind of life. He bid his uncle farewell and decided to go and find what he could from traveling, his soul and mind lost. He was a man without a home and a scattered family.

He now finds himself in Valenwood, trapped by dangers and finding himself thrust into an adventure he didn't expect.

Biggest Regret: Not going with his father into Rihad that faithful day.

Character Name ‘s Goal:

• Finding his lot in life.
• Making a name for himself.
• The thrill of adventure.

---

Skills:

Expert:

• Two-handed Blunt (Staff Fighting)

Adept:

• Alchemy
• Pickpocketing
• Athletics

Novice:

• Acrobatics
• Marksman
• Unarmed

Equipment:

• Quarterstaff
• Akatosh Necklace
• Lore Tomes on Talos, Akatosh, and Ysgramor
• Rucksack with a water skin and some jerky, and most importantly, a fair sum of gold.

Misc. Possessions:

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The night was uneventful and dark. Only a small, flickering light in the corner of the large ramshackle room sputtered on occasionally. Neil lay beside Junebug, staring into the black ceiling. It was an odd thing, being a pilot he was used to the vacuum of space. But beneath 100 tones of steel and dirt, he felt very peculiar and unsafe. Junebug's strong arm wrapping around him in her sleep made him feel a bit better though, and soon he drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

The next day was quick, to say the least. Neil, Junebug, and Taya ate a quick meal of what seemed to be watery oats before they made it topside as quietly as they could to avoid anyone seeing the secret home Magdalena and her family had. She let them know a few people knew of its location, but bringing attention to it wasn't the best idea and so they climbed out into the morning sun. The butt of the car faced toward a rundown, abandoned steel mill and a few broken down mechs. Once they got around the pile of scrap around the car, they saw the town was far different than what they left last night.

It bustled with hovercarts being pulled by strange two legged lizards; there were merchantmen discussing business in the streets and waving papers, haggling to their hearts content; women with closely laced bodices sashayed across the street. If Neil didn't know much better he would have thought last night had been some weird dream. But a closer look gave him the impression that was a fool's idea. Loitering around the inn and saloons, and a card house were men with tattoos of scorpions and spiders. Some men wore the insignias on their scarves.

"The saloon looks like it has some cigars," Neil said with a sly catch to his voice. He wasn't one to indulge often, but a cigar sounded fine for the morning.

"Do we have time for that?" Taya asked, squinting against the sun with her hand over her eyes. Neil turned back to her and grinned his usual grin, shrugging.

"I'm just getting a cigar. Don't worry about it." He said. He wasn't sure what time limit they were on anyway. Stinger would call them when she needed them, and they had all day to go and see Ungol. "Besides, we could use some fun every once in awhile. Why am I always the one that needs to cut loos-"

A gun cocked behind him, and then three more followed suit. He turned, mildly curious to see four men, or more accurately, three men and a man with scales like a snake, aiming ion pistols at him. Neil raised an eyebrow. They were usually used against machines, but they could fry an unarmored man just the same. Much like using a flare gun at point blank range. Either way it'll get the job done quickly and brutally.

"Any of you boys got a light?"

"You were the ones that went with the Scorpions last night weren'tcha?" The scaly man asked. He had frills for ears and whatever alien he was, his people had long gotten rid of useless things like lips or fully formed noses. Instead it looked like his whole face was shoved out by a particularly hard punch from behind. After blinking, Neil saw past the shine of the sun that they had a Spider insignia on their scarves. "You're going to tell us exactly what you did that for..."
@Penny

I'm typin here

Eyyyyyy, Tony Pajamas here.

Been hearing around the block there's some fine cats around, had to have a look for myself. I heard you gots some nice threads full of potential and broads. Lookin' like a spiffy place to set up ah uh...operation if ya know what'm sayin'. I gots what you need. Good grammar, nice sentences, and a tommy gun loaded with emojis. Don't cross me or nothin' or you'll end up six feet under Miami bay wearin' concrete shoes.

@Tony Pajamas

*Wonders if he should put out a hit on him*