POOHEAD189

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Yes, let's," Amal said, trying to make himself sound even more foreign than he already did speaking riekspeil. The handsome thief was never a good rider (in certain ways) but he managed to keep his horse from cantering off into the woods, doing his best not to curse in Arabyan whenever the horse did something unexpected.

He felt better now that they had dismounted, even if that still kept them on level ground with their soon-to-be-pursuers. He tried to carry himself with a detached air, but seeing Emmaline stepping over gnarled branches had him holding his hand out to her. When she took it, he would help her over whatever marred their path like a gentleman, not a care in the world on his face, save for his companion and lover. Emmaline suddenly tripped, Amal catching her easily.

"What are we doing?" She whispered to him, and he understood her trip was merely a way to speak to him.

"Trust me." He breathed, giving her a wry smile.

"No tracks as of yet, herr Baba." Vandershute said lightly, though anyone with sense could hear a forecoming pronouncement in his voice. Amal shrugged casually, turning back to continue walking, not even deigning to look at the guards as the small troupe traversed the woods. As it were, the group passed by a pretty, stone dotted creek and the forest grew thicker about them until their path was blocked by a murky pond that fed into a small tributary, likely leading to the riek itself a dozen or so miles away. After half an hour of walking, Vandershute halted them and turned around, clearly bored of this entire fiasco.

"I think we've gone far enough." He said, raising a hand with a finger pointedly gesturing in a circle through the air. His men-at-arms clearly had been drilled enough to know that meant they should draw their swords and level their spears. Emmaline clung to Amal, and before she could cast any magic or make any claims, Amal clamped his hand over her mouth, tossing a stone from the creek up and down with his other hand. Adolf Vandershute continued. "It seems you just delight in trying my patience. Do you have any last words?"

Amal tossed the rock into the pool lazily, like he was bored of the entire walk.

"I do." Amal proclaimed easily as the men circled Emmaline and he. "Are all northmen this ugly, or did we get the shit end of the stick?"

Emmaline and Amal had a very clear, conside view of the pond waters barely sending a ripple as a long, mutated arm. It's muscled form as thick a man's torso, snaked out of the murk of the pond and raised over one of the men like an otherwordly cobra. It was almost difficult to watch, but it was what Amal had planned on all along. Meanwhile, Adolf Vandershute's eyes blazed in anger, though a wicked almost-smile creased across his face, his mustache spreading like a plague. "You vile sun baked dog...you have no sense of self preservation, I take it. Much like the rest of your heathen kind-"

His insult was stopped short by a slosh of the water. The others turned and saw a man missing from their ranks, the water now quieting once again eerily. Moments later, a helmet and sword floated to the top of the water, as if the guard had simply been plucked from their very reality.

"Rolf?" One of the fellows called, just as Amal slowly backed away with Emmaline. The cry from the man grew more urgent, likely worrying on a friend. "Rolf!?"

The pond exploded with foul water and fallen reeds, sending the men scattering to the ground and soaking Adolf in the entirety of his stately dress. He coughed out swamp water, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief hurriedly, clearly his vision to bear witness to the River Troll looming over him, Rolf's legs sticking out of its gullet. Amal covered Emmaline's eyes and continued to back away, a look of 'let's not stick around' on his face as the men screamed and scrambled to get their fallen weapons. The troll swallowed rolf's other half like some freakish toad, not noticing when a solder embedded his spear into the thing's belly. It answered with a rumble from its throat that was subsequently followed by acidic bile launching out of the thing's maw, melting two men on the spot.

Now dozens of feet away, Amal picked Emmaline up off her feet, crouched low as he snuck her away.

"How did you..." She asked.

"You were sleeping when we flew into town." He told her, his smile turning into a fierce grin. "I saw a few trolls south of Delbertz. I knew if we got in their path, one would show up. Now I vote we go to the next town."
@Penny

The Pavonis Campaign - Warhammer 40000

Chunks of masonry the size of their ground car's wheels rained from above, crunching into the pavement on in a cacophony of noise that merely served as a backdrop to the droning sound of cries and the rat-at-at of gunfire. Debris and dust swallowed the square in an apocalyptic swirl of despair. A wave of roaring triumph echoed from somewhere to their north, Zeb unable to comprehend more than that to his shocked sensibilities. His body was hanging by his car straps, ears ringing and the coppery taste of blood on his tongue. He wanted nothing more than to fall into nerveless oblivion, but he was too stubborn for that. As reality came rushing back, he started to cough violently, his lungs filled with smoke and soot. Blindly he groped for his strap's lock, undoing it after a moment and falling heavily onto the pavement.

He saw the Commissar just getting her bearings, firing her bolt pistol as her long blonde hair billowed even as it was covered in tiny debris from the explosion. Had she been anyone else, he would have barked at her to stop shooting. As far as he knew, no arbites within a hundred meters was alive to aid them and her bolt pistol drew attention to their isolated position in an ever increasing sea of enemies. But with a will he quelled that act of cowardice and insubordination, grabbing his lasgun and rolling into the cover of the fallen car. In his position on his back, he saw a final chunk of masonry falling rapidly toward them. He kicked out at Katiya on instinct, shoving her to the left of the car as the debris hit the ground between them like a cannon ball from an industrial world. It was near the size of one too.

"Ma'am," he croaked to her in acknowledgement. He groaned and got to his feet as quickly as he could, looking down the sights of his weapon from behind the fallen car. He half expected her to execute him for daring to shove her, but when he heard her bolt pistol discharging and he wasn't dead, he thanked the Emperor. Along his lasgun's barrel, a rebel ran screaming out of the dust with a live grenade. Zeb didn't hesitate, his Triplex Pattern Lasgun making a 'crack' as it superheated the air and sent the focalized laser into the rebel's screaming face, punching a clean hole through the heretic's skull even as it cauterized the wound. The body fell heavily and the grenade rolled out of his dead hand, blowing up the next man to run out in almost comical timing. Zeb didn't have time to appreciate the hilarity as autogun fire began to riddle their position, a round hitting Zeb in the upper chest and driving him on his ass. Groping for the hole, he was relieved to realize his flak jacket had kept it from reaching him. A small group of rebels assailed their position from the right, hiding behind the remnants of a large stone fountain.

Suddenly wind hit Zeb and Katiya in the back as another concussive force reached them, the roaring sound following suit not a second later. Zeb hit his jaw on the door of the ground car, cursing ferociously. The guardsman turned and saw another plume of smoke rising from behind them. Flames leaped into the air, and for a moment he was afraid the rebels had bombed the capital itself. It was when one lone Chimera roamed into view from the smoke did Zeb realize they had attempted to block off any reinforcements from the capital. Luckily a Hellhound had made it past before their bomb had detonated, the massive vehicle's treds rolling loudly as it neared their position, its two autocannons swiveling and unleashing a torrent of slugs at the crowd of rebels sweeping into the square, but it's main weapon didn't fire until it rolled very close to them. A stream of liquid prometheum launched out of its inferno-gun cannon, melting the rebels behind the fountain within two agonizing heartbeats. Zeb could feel the heat from twenty meters away as if he was five feet from an open flame.

A missile streaked out of the crowd, leaving a trail of smoke as it whirled past the chimera harmlessly. The autocannons roared in response, and Zeb knew even if the Chimera didn't get destroyed, the crowd was about to fling whatever explosive they had at it, and at them.

"Orders ma'am!? We need to reposition!" He yelled over the chaotic tumult, switching to burst fire and discharging into the crowd at anyone who got close.
@Penny

The Blackwood

Hider

Rolled a 7. Charm resisted

The woman leaned her broom on the wooden wall of the house, setting it aside so she could better face the two newcomers. Crossing her arms under her chest, she gave them a scrutinizing gaze. Dark hair tied in a loose bun, she seemed equally as applicable as a disapproving school teacher as the waitress or tavern keeper she evidently was.

"So, you two are out of money, but you'd rather pay for a room?" She remarked, letting the logic speak for itself. After letting the words sit for awhile, she smiled. The elf behind them sang happily, his tune fading into a more soft melody. "I wasn't lying when I said the inn was full. We've had a lot of travelers recently. I cleaned the barn myself. It does not smell, nor are there any animals in there. You've probably seen all the cattle on your way in. They sleep close to town. We tend not to get any wolf problems here, thankfully."

Smoothing a fringe of her hair out of her sharp eyes, she continued. "We do have some problems with goblins, however. Yes I know, very classically problematic. But they've been making racket up in the western area of the valley and a hunter has gone missing. If you look into it, the mayor will probably give you a reward with anything concrete."

A portly man stepped out of the side door beside the inn, carrying a small cauldron of steaming water. He poured it onto the small side street, glancing Arden's way before he completely did a double take, having heard the woman. "Val?" He called. He wore an apron over a stained wool shirt and breeches. "You didn't tell these newcomers we had a spot did you?"

"No! Go back inside Horace!" She called.

"_{Get out of here!}" They heard Horace yell at the elven minstrel across the street. The elf giggled and danced away into an alleyway. "_{Fucking bard!}"

Valarie rolled her eyes, letting Horace go back inside before she continued. "Look, let me take you to the barn and get you your blankets. I'll grab some food, provided you can pay for it. Tomorrow you can help the town." She declared, as if she were a mother speaking to extra rowdy friends of her children. "Is that good or do you have any other requests? I'm sure the mayor will let you stay with him."

Clearly she was kidding.
@Tortoise@Fetzen

The Sinful Stars

"I am Orion Pentecost." He declared himself to the outriders, and even wet and ragged he looked a born cavalier. His announcement kept Ragnar from fully hefting his axe threateningly. Barbarian or not, he was sworn to serve Orion and follow his example. "I am scion of house Hawkwood and a Questing Knight of the Realm. I am nephew to Baron Clement of Gwynneth, servant of Duke William Rochfort of the same."

Filenia peeked through her cowl at Orion, appraising him at that announcement. The sun gleamed on his wet head of hair, making him seem brilliant even whilst being beaten and tired. Orion did not even gesture to his troupe behind him. "These are my courtiers and companions. We've been shipwrecked on your world as we made our way to Nowhere on a pilgrimage. You've a choice, sir. You can leave us to our fates here or allow us to take refuge with you, for we have little money."

"If you are who you say you are, show us proof." The leader spake, tossing his reins a bit so his steed would toss its head challengingly. He was young and dashing, but obviously used to being the one to spew out titles. Orion tore a bit of his cloak off his hard left pectoral, revealing his armor and Hawkwood crest, made of gilded steel and brass to denote his status. It shined in the sun brightly.

"I see...well, you may accompany us." The Outrider said, using one syllable too many on 'accompany.' "I am Cleto, a nephew myself to Duke Placedo. I suspect he will wish to you aid you. I doubt he would harm someone of House Hawkwood. He wishes for your houses favor." His eyes ran over the others, still suspicious despite the proof. None of the others have yet to speak. "Favor is currency on Aragon, you will find. Come."

He turned his horse, controlling the beast skillfully. His men behind him followed suit. Orion knew they hadn't the room to let any of them ride with them, so he was satisfied when they simply walked at a slow canter.

"I've forgotten you have so many titles." Annika whispered playfully.

"I don't need to use them often." Orion whispered back, the barest hint of a smile on his face. In typical Hawkwood fashion, it was gone a moment later and he watched his surroundings, wary as always. "Let's hope it doesn't lead us to a dungeon."

"I predict a warm welcome." Annika intoned, making a sign with her hands that was either meaningfully arcane or nonsense meant to supplicate those who watched to calm them (or pull his leg). Orion couldn't tell sometimes.

Deify

Goddess of helping me nuke spambots

The Sinful Stars

Orion's head throbbed, but he didn't let it show. The back and forth of the intensity and lack of pressure had hit him like a mace, not to mention the subsequent crash landing. He felt the escape pod tipping, his foot sinking into the depths before he took it off and stood steadily on the reef. He might have been wary of beasts in the water had it been murky, but it was beautiful and clear as day. Colorful fish and strange, shelled squid-like creatures swam lazily, coming back after the huge disturbance had scared them off. He even saw a large, serpentine reptile. Fully twice as large as a man with needle teeth, it seemed to pay them little heed as it traveled past them in search of smaller prey. He hoped it wasn't a baby.

Orion was the last on the raft, the others wet and shaken but otherwise unhurt. Ragnar's hands were scraped and bloodied, but most of the grime and crimson had been washed away by the seawater. Logan Christopher seemed to hold no illusions save even darker ones than their current situation. He was a man that saw dangers lurking where none were. Such men often defeated themselves in the end, Orion Pentecost thought to himself.

"The beaches are lovely," Orion replied to Annika, pushing a fallen fringe of his hair out of his eyes as he pushed the raft off the reef. "If I had to guess we're on Aragon." He had known much of the flight plan, expecting the ship to pass by the system on the way to Nowhere. The last reports of the world were of invasion by the Kurgan Caliphate. It didn't look like the world was under seige, but then again they were likely far from any battle for civilization. "But I could be wrong."

"This is Aragon." The servant woman confirmed, and now the sun was upon her, Orion saw she was a raven haired woman of classical beauty, even garbed in such rags. She seemed more confident now as well, though that could easily be because she was no longer on a crashing ship. Whereas Orion was aware of her beauty, Logan and Ragnar were captivated by it. She continued, pulling back a wave of her cascading hair, revealing emerald eyes. "We are likely in the Placido Ocean Islands. A few days sailing north and we'll likely find the nearest spaceport at Princess Isabella's Province."

"You're a native of the world?" Logan asked, clearly wishing for her attention with such an obvious question.

"Yes." She admitted, though she bit her lip, hesitant to speak without any vageries. "I grew up on Aragon, but I left it a year ago, stolen by raiders. I was... trying to get back home."

"How? The transport ship was passing Aragon."

"It was..." She murmured. Orion understood after taking a moment to absorb her words.

"You crashed the ship." Orion said, causing everyone's gaze to whip in her direction. She looked around, stuck between fear and the bravado of telling them off.

"Yes!" She admitted. Her next words were venomous. "I had to make it home. I had to get away from that greedy pigshit of a man! I have had to endure utter humiliation at multiple people's hands the past year. I would have done anything to make it back home..." The fires of her confession died down, and she bowed her head. "I didn't wish to harm any of you. I am sorry."

Orion looked at Annika, and then back at the woman. "Well, we've a confessor if you need penitence. For now let's make it to land. We can discuss matters later."

"There should be a village with accommodations close, if we're where I believe we are." She replied, as if the very notion was her attempt at paying them back so they would not seek to harm her. Ragnar and Logan smiled brightly, at both her and the idea of finding something to sleep on or ale to drink.

"What's your name?" Orion asked her.

She raised her head, looking him in the eyes like a Queen might answer a fellow monarch at negotiation. "I am Filenia."
@Penny

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

I have no idea what I'm doing but I'm excited none the less.

The Sinful Stars

Orion had a very clear view of the planet from where he stood, and most people would have found that to be quite alarming considering that it was before a section of the wall had bent apart from where it had been welded, looking almost like it was bending akin to paper when one didn't have another bookmark handy. Orion ducked down, the 'wind' if the atmospheric pressure could be labeled as such shot through the room like a lance. Everyone's ears suddenly popped noisily as the transport continued to hurtle into the atmosphere.

"That's the first good idea you've had Logan!" Orion cried over the ripping and roaring of the machine being picked apart.

"It's a rarity, I assure you!" Sister Annika yelled, trying to remain composed as the group of them hurtled like a missile towards the planet. She took Orion's offered hand and he pulled her closer to him at the back of the room, near the corridor of the cargo chamber. The next room over was the most stable part of the ship, Orion figured. Even if they couldn't make it to the escape pod, that was the place to be.

Ragnar clawed at ground, grabbing both tiles and table legs as he tried and yanked himself closer to them. Logan Christopher had already snaked his way over there, screaming in Orion's ear.

"The escape pod!" He screamed, pointing across the way. Orion nodded, turning toward the entryway to it. The pilot of the transport had managed to grab his mistress or servant, whoever the woman was, and was even then trying to sneak away into it, leaving the crew to die. When he saw Orion's gaze, he ushered the girl on. Orion couldn't hear what he said exactly but it seemed more like a slave driver giving an order rather than a lover or a husband.

The pilot whipped out a pistol and leveled it at Orion and Sister Annika, only to have the gun suddenly ripped from his grasp. Orion didn't ask if Annika did it, though the way she smiled he suspected as such. He smirked knowingly, and suddenly leaped at the pilot, the man trying to hide amongst the torn wiring of the ruined ship to escape. Orion grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and grabbing his pelvic region, he lifted the man over his head.

"No! Sir Knight you canno-"

Ragnar poked his head through the door just in time to gasp and duck as the man was flung by him. The pressure was so great, his body halted midway down the hallway and was sucked out into the room the companions had just occupied, flying into the atmosphere to die alone.

Ragnar laughed heartily, entering the corridor and closing the door behind him. Orion pushed Annika into the escape pod with the mysterious servant woman, and both Logan and Ragnar entered next. Just as Orion leaped in, the steel door Ragnar closed had been ripped off its hinges, and they were launched into the atmosphere of this new world, being flung to Pancreator knew where.
@Penny

The Blackwood

No, I never noticed that. Sometimes I just get busy and don't check. pardon me.

@Gunther

Since you're a good friend, I'll let you stick to the RP. Just let me know if you'll be gone for more than a week or two if you can :)

The Blackwood

Wēlanandaz was not a born salesman, at the best of times. His smithing, though matched by none save other elders of his brethren, was his true strength. Despite the gruffness of his presentation, it was clear all three aristocrats, even the sweaty, pompous Bertram was taken aback by its superb craftsmanship. Though the fat man seemed too annoyed to give any flattery at the moment. Valence and Nathan though openly appraised the work, the former stroking what wispy facial hair he had.

"Utterly fascinating." the young aristocrat Nathan remarked, and he stepped between the two others almost rudely to take Emilio's hand and give it a shake. "You had my curiosity sir, but now you have my attention. I suspect you've had a long journey. You and your companion obviously want to set up shop here in the refuge, eh? Well, I tell you what." He seemed confident, as if he either had resources to spare or simply felt they would get no better deal. "Give my orders for the next three months a ten percent discount and I'll grant you the most spacious area to do business on."

"How do we know they didn't just steal it?" Bertram muttered, too quietly to be heard unless Emilio or Wēlanandaz had particularly keen ears at that moment. He was referring to the Dwarven helm present of course. More loudly he stated. "Perhaps we can do business with you. I don't suppose you'll need any more raw iron will you? I can provide that if you wish."

"I can provide that at a quarter of the cost of what Bertram here would demand." Valence said, smiling like a vulture, much to Bertram's chagrin. "Worry not, I intend to peruse and see if you're worth buying from. Maybe after young Nathan here has his orders granted I'll spend some of my wealth on you, but as of now I have some...supplies I no longer need and I don't see why I shan't melt them down to be used for your profit, provided you are open to negotiation on a discount on all items you make from my materials?"

"What say you, sir and master Dwarf? Would you do business with the likes of us frontier barons?" Nathan asked.
@Tony Pajamas@Jb

Hider

You can roll to try and hear Bertram, but of course you can roll for whatever you want for that matter.