POOHEAD189

Scum & Villainy: Black Market Runners

Everyone ok with me beginning the mission tonight?

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The brutes lugged up the hill, shouldering past saplings that broke apart at their bulk. Some Orcs halted to chop at trees they bumped into, angered the beechwoods would dare impede its charge toward potential enemies. A large 'WAAAGH' was still being screamed even as the men and woman at the center of the circle prepared themselves. The greenskins that had made it past the stones paid the strange rocks no mind. They leaped with their stubby legs and swung wildly with their arms; simian in proportion and nearly as thick as Amal's waist.

Sir Brenly wasn't as young as he once was, but he kept the Orc on him at a distance, ducking under a burly swing and hacking at its leg. It howled but seemed undaunted, advancing and nearly taking the Knight's head had his shield not lifted, though the brute's cleaver-like sword nearly chopped through the crude protection. Sir Brenly cried out with "For the Lady!" and ran the thing through the stomach, spilling its guts onto the brightly green grass. Even then it didn't die immediately, stupidly dropping its axe and trying to put its innards back into its stomach before it collapsed.

"These things die hard!" Amal pipped in, leaping over an orc's low swing and subsequently ducking under a second Orc's stab. The rogue had never seen a greenskin before, much less fought one. He'd heard tale of tribes in the southern jungles and the badlands, but nothing that told him they would keep fighting after having an arm chopped off. He twisted his body and lifted his leg just in time to keep it from being hacked off by a wild axe swing, staying one step ahead of both Orcs and cutting them were applicable. The truth was he could do this all day, but if he became surrounded, he wasn't perfect. There was also Emmaline and the others to think about.

Gerard was being ignored, at least for the moment. It looked like the Orcs only really wanted to fight people who could fight back, though it was doubtful they would let him live once the others were taken care of. Whether by proximity or kinship, Douglas kept an Orc at bay, guarding Gerard as best he could. His spear moved like the swipes of a great hunting cat, taking the Orc in the chest before driving it through its thick neck. The thing coughed up blood and stumbled forward, trying to overwhelm Douglas and kill him with it. Douglas easily leaped back and ran it through again, only to get a boot in the back and sent stumbling as another Orc waded into the fray.

The group was getting desperate, barely holding off the first wave of greenskins and being unable to finish them all before the next wave rolled in, screaming their bestial cries with morbid excitement. As Amal cut down one of the Orcs that had been trying to butcher him, the second Orc swung and cut into Amal's bag. The contents, mostly food as the gold was stashed in another fold of the cloth, fell onto the ground along with the rolled up carpet. The sentient rub 'popped' in excitement before it had even hit the ground, vibrating as if pulsed by lightning. Emmaline's vision could see it was glowing with magical strength, likely from the stone circle they found themselves in.

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

After much pressing from Douglas and Sir Brenly, Amal had not butchered Gerard yet. Their interference was needed, as Amal had already taken three of his fingers by the time they had halted him. He would have made good on his threat about Gerard's tongue, but he needed the man to speak. Amal wiped his dirk against the cool morning tufts of grass. Douglas was almost sweating, looking at Gerard's figure in the fetal position, shaking his shaggy heard.

"This is no' good. I thought ye were jus' bluster. If Gerard's father finds out there'll be a blood fued. They don't take kindly tae men hurtin' their own." He told Amal, causing Sir Brenly to sigh. The Knight had heard such feuds before in Brettonia all too often.

"Do you think I care?" Amal asked coldly, still watching Gerard crying on the ground; a soft pool of blood seeping into the soft earth. "I've angered a demi-god, dark elves, and teeming hordes of rat-men. Gerard's kin will need to get in a long line if they think my head is theirs." Had Emmaline not been lost, he would have been smiling viciously.

"I'll kill ye, bastard!" Gerard wheezed, rage mixing with fear when he looked up at the dangerous Arabyan. The sun had just began to peek over the horizon, giving the air a grey palour. The air was thick and wet with fog, and Amal wondered if this was all a long game by Settra or even Nagash himself to curse him for any transgressions he might have given either in Araby. It was just when he decided he would cut out another finger that he heard an all-too familiar "oof!" Amal snapped immediately, head raised like a hound on the hunt.

At the edge of the clear, having tripped over an ornately carved rock was Emmaline, golden hair scattered and body covered in miniature cuts and blades of grass. Amal's heart suddenly thumped, and he knew it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Emm!" He called happily, not spending any time dawdling as Sir Brenly might say. He sprinted over to her, expertly dropping to his knees to slid up and scoop her up in his arms. "Emm..." he murmured far more gently, slipping his fingers under her blonde hair to whisk it out of her eyes. He next spoke in Arabyan. "My love, are you hurt?" The thief did not care about the cold on his own skin. He immediately covered her in his jacket. He saw her glance at the ground, before meeting his eyes.

"It's not silk sheets, but it'll do."

Amal smiled fiercely.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

The next few hours were a blur to Amal. His heart pounded and his head burned from fear and worry. The thief didn't remember putting on clothing, but somehow he was both closed and armed with a leaf shaped blade. He leaped over gnarled roots and tore past thickets, with no thought to his skin being cut and pricked at. All he knew was that Emmaline had been taken. The thief had found two droplets of blood on the floor and Emmaline missing when he returned, as well as muddied tracks leading in from the back of the house. He vowed he would gut the man who dared touch his woman.

Sir Brenly trailed behind him, mustache covered in leaves and his northman outfit much more accommadating to his stature compared to the incongruous way Amal wore the wool garb he'd been given. Sir Brenly had insisted upon joining Amal, even after the Arabyan refused the aid of the village or chief, not trusting any of the islanders at the current moment (save Douglas, who offered to track). He did not say that to the Laird, as he truly didn't expect that the people of the village had decided to kidnap her together. But he worked better alone, or with a smaller retinue.

Douglas McCabe, his red hair wild and his mustache even thicker than Brenly's stalked through the woods as if born to it. He likely was, in all due reality. He bore his spear before him, having lent Sir Brenly his hide shield and bearded axe. He followed the big man's tracks easily, guiding Amal and Brenly deeper and deeper into the woodlands, passing glens and moors in what seemed to be an almost erratic way to travel.

"Whoever gnabbed yer lassie is a complete fool." Douglas marveled, shaking his head at the latest sign of passing. They were getting very close, Amal knew. Just another hour and they'd be on them. "It's probably Gerard, that bastard."

"He'll be dead soon." Amal uttered, sending a chill through the other men's spines. He had such a will to kill, it was almost tangible. Sir Brenly patted the thief's back, calming him somewhat. The Knight had been through many campaigns and various situations like this one, it was good to have him around.

"Aye, like as not from Orcs. We've passed a doozen Greenskin tracks the las' mile." He said. "But we're gainin', I sey. Just another few-"

There was a rumble in the brush across the small glade they now found themselves in, and out stepped Gerard. The great man looked angry and frustrated, grumbling until he noticed he stood before three people he more or less knew. All four men looked at one another, confused. There was a brief pause where no one moved until Gerard went for his club. His hand made it to his lower stomach when Amal's thrown dirk impaled it to his belly. His face reddened in pain and he whined like a dog as Amal approached, his leaf shaped blade now pressed to his throat.

"If you don't tell me where she is, I will take your tongue, and follow with your fingers. Your penis will be last." He promised.
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Well for now, let us just enjoy the night." Amal whispered, and he pulled her closer to kiss her again. There was something about holding Emmaline in his arms and kissing her that thrilled him, even so soon after making love. The two lovers snuggled and kissed atop the mound of cushions for another undetermined amount of time before nature called. A less pleasurable but still very relevant side of nature, causing Amal to untangle himself from his girlfriend. "I'll be right back." he told her, only for her to give him a look. "I said I will be one moment! I must have chugged the flagon a bit too much before we had our fun. Hold on, my love."

The tanned thief stood up, making his way over to the door, naked. There was only two ways out of the house, and since the night was dark and the torches were lit far off he didn't see the harm in taking a leak out in front. Amal opened the door, only to hear a 'thwump' and a scattering of things. His keen eyes caught four women gaping at him.

"Och! Sorry we er, we 'eard some noises that well..." the lead one gulped, looking to the others. "Goodbye!"

They scrambled away like starved dogs, and Amal shook his head with a smirk. At Emmaline's curious call, he called back to her. "Just a few lost villagers," he said to her. Were they really that curious, and had they been watching? He glanced back at Emmaline, her naked curves evident and her chest thrust out as she stretched. You know, Amal could not blame them on second thought. It was very nippy out so he closed the door just for a moment so he could go and finish his business.

"Allah, I am not certain what I did to please you. But in the matter of a companion, you did not disappoint." He said into the night air.

The Elder Scrolls: Eye of the Hurricane

*is a well behaved boi*

Scum & Villainy: Black Market Runners

That was so malevolently pragmatic, I wish there was a "oh no" emoji button because I would have pressed it. @Penny

Scum & Villainy: Black Market Runners

"A name? You haven't been listenin' have you?" Skrivver challenges, looking at you with a suspicious gaze. He shakes his head. "Schill told you his name and where to go. He's Marco Gaebril, and when you land you go to the bottom section of the station. Wherever the guards aren't? That's where he'll be. But you need to leave now or you'll lose your window. You got here just when you needed to get here and now you need to fucking leave when we need you to fucking leave get it!?"

It was clear Skrivver didn't have the most meticulous specifics in mind, but following the directions and the proper excuses and you would make through it easily. He tugs at his belt and yanks it up as if to make himself look taller.

Once in the ship, it's clear the Stardancer has little to no modifications done to it. Rico finds the cockpit in no time, not waiting for an invitation before he takes his seat at the helm and begins arcing the power up, awaken the ship with an advanced thrum from within. Despite the bruises on his face, he seems to have kept his anger and nerve. "While it's probably true Skrivver intends to pay you a bit of pocket money, if you're planning on fucking him and just steal the ship let me know. I'd love to imagine his face if you go down that route."

---

I couldn't find a Stardancer map. But you can safely know there are

• Cockpit
• Cargo bay
• Leisure area
• 4 small sleeping quarters
• Engine room
• Pressurized connecting pods for connecting to other ships
• Access corridors to each of these chambers

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:

The Hyborian Chronicles: Of Sword and Sorcery

"Silence dogs!" Khaseem Bai spat, raising his fist. Were he to swing it down the order would be met to execute them both on the spot. "If you do not wish to wander the desert without eyes or tongues then you will speak when I permit it! Do not be so foolish as to think you are so valuable as not to maim." He grimaced a moment further like a tiger that watches a receding bear. His devil-may-care manner returned once silence reigned once again. "You will both lead at spear point. Have I any inkling that you will betray me, if we cannot kill you we will seal you within the tomb, understand?"

Abelard and Anya did not immediately answer, though he took that as an acquiesce to his command and he grinned as a snarling lion. "Good. Now priest, lead the way into the tomb with the northern bitch close to your heels."

The thieves watched expectantly as the two regarded one another, and they turned to the ancient Acheron structure. Abelard approached it warily, eyeing the opening. He looked at Khaseem Bai, holding his hands together as if to beg forgiveness. "My staff?" He bade. "To better serve your desire of entering. I will give it back once I open the hole."

The bandit lord measured him and nodded. One of the Stygian Giants tossed Abelard his staff, which he caught promptly and placed on the ground. There was an audible 'thud' when it touched the sand, as if the staff weighed far, far more than it conceivably could. Anya could perceive a tingle of power emanating from the rod, and through the top jewel the sunlight poured through and struck the Acheron opening through the center. As the light penetrated into the strange slit, the stone began to move with a deliberate slowness that shoved great rends of sand in the earth around it.

"He has done it." One of the bandits muttered.

"No, I have not." Abelard answered boldly, and all eyes turned to him with sudden incredulity. He smiled calmly, with a certain satisfaction to him. "I opened it, but in an incorrect manner."

"What!?" Khaseem Bai snarled, confused. His curiosity would be sated in moments when the door, now gaping wide like a vast wound, spewed forth three unknown shadow beasts from within. Demons, Abelard knew them to be. Shaped like apes and as dark as the blackest night and as even larger than the Stygian Giants. He had foreseen their presence and purposefully awoke them. He placed his hand on Anya's shoulder, the sunlight still within his staff as the beasts moved quicker than any horse, loping over and attacking the band of cutthroats. Men screeched and pissed themselves as huge arms of abyssal matter wrapped about them and consumed their bodies and souls utterly.

"The sun will banish them before long." Abelard whispered, eyeing the now unguarded door to the Acheron ruin. "Grab your sword and follow me!"
@Penny