POOHEAD189

Roleplay advertising question...

You can DM people you might think would enjoy it, but always remember that no means no. That and you can advertise your roleplay thread ion the status bar.

Cinnabar Forever! (RCN)

Senior Lieutenant Kaiden Caladwarden was in a very unlikely position: Namely, he believed the Captain was being too harsh on Sabatine, or too lenient on him. He did not deign to try and see which he truly leaned toward further, but despite his desire to keep his military record as clean as his esteemed bloodline, he wasn't about to let his lineage keep him from getting his due. He watched Captain Micha watch Hickoring walk away, his visage both disdainful but thoughtful in a sense. Kaiden did not try to know the Captain's intentions. It wasn't his place to ask.

"Sir," The Prince said.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" He asked, tone a bit less confrontational. Kaiden would later curse himself for speaking out here, but his honor overrode his better judgement.

"Sir, I lead the expedition. Regardless of my ignorance, I insist I am to share in her punishment." He declared, already seeing the dismissal in the Captain's face. True he wasn't aware of the extent of the order he had previously given, but he knew that what they had been doing was against regulation and easily could be seen as insubordination.

"Lieutenant, that is admirable." Micha conceded. "But I have made up my mind. I still need a fresh Lieutenant to help me in other matte-"

"Fair warning sir, if you do not give me anchor watch, then I will perform an act that warrants it."

Captain Micha blinked as if struck. "Excuse me?" He asked, deathly quiet. He was about to approach Kaiden with all menace, until his spinelessness caught up to him. Kaiden took it as pragmatism, but Micha simply did not wish to get on this royal man's bad side, nor cause further problems for his crew. "Lieutenant, you're walking a fine line here. Very well, you're on anchor watch. But only for two weeks, and I want you and your fellow officer to still perform your regular duties with as much diligence as if you had just come back from leave, do you understand?"

"Yes sir, thank you sir." Kaiden replied, saluting with a will. He tried not to seem too pleased. He also realized the irony, not wanting his blood to give him special treatment, only to use the leverage it already gave him to give him his due. He'd leave whether it was right or wrong to the philosophers; or Bushman and Harwen. They'd discuss it until the system's star became a white dwarf. With that, he spun on his heels and was dismissed, marching out of the bridge and rubbing his temples, unable to understand why he was so fucking stupid sometimes.

He nearly ran into Tilda, who popped out of the side corridor in her business attire. A pencil skirt and a fashionable jacket over a cream white top. Where she kept all of her clothes, he had no idea.

"So, ready for dinner tonight?" She asked, smiling.

"About that..." He muttered. "I'm on Anchor Watch."
@Penny

Dogs of War: Old World Mercenaries

"Babe, you do whatever you want." The thief chuckled in his own language, smiling confidently. "I trust you to know more about what to say here than me, and even if someone takes it the wrong way, you know how sexy it is when we get into trouble."

The town was made of various smaller go-betweens all connected via one longer road, all leading to the Temple of Ulric. A barbaric structure of cone-like pillars surrounding it, there was a multi-layered roof with a towering, sloping spire at the highest point in the center. A statue of Wulfric and his wolf companions was at the center foreground on the dirt road. What was more notable were the three red haired northmen on their warhorses, decked in ornate plate armor and wearing wolf pelts. Two of them had warhammers in their strong hands and the third hefted a stout, long handled battleaxe. They spoke to each other in a barking manner, speaking riekspeil but in a gruff inflection Amal found hard to follow. He didn't really care to listen, halting in the road as wool covered men and women went about their daily lives around them. A cart passed the riders, with goods Amal certainly was curious about. The only concern in the whole town were two men loitering on the porch of one of the buildings, wearing brigandines, pistols and crossbows holstered. Bounty Hunters, likely. Amal didn't have a bounty on him, but his foreign look certainly made them curious. Emmaline just might have a price, but from what she said in Delberz it wouldn't be widespread if it even existed in the first place.

Amal decided to solve the problem now. He pointed at one of the bounty hunters, drawing his attention with a loud. "You! Yes, you herr person. Come here and speak to me!"

The other bounty hunter muttered a joke to his companion who shoved off and approached. A woman skittered away in fear of the man's grizzled appearance. He seemed a bit put off by Amal's darker skin, but he didn't make any disparaging comments at least.

"What can I help you with?" He asked. The way he spoke might almost sound helpful if the sarcasm wasn't dripping.

"Do you have any work?"

The bounty hunter went from hardset to confused in the matter of moments. "...W-Work?"

"Yes, me and my companion here are bounty hunters looking for a good score." Amal made his face seem thoughtful, almost tired as if they had just come back from a harrowing ordeal. In a way they had. A knife was in the thief's hand so fast it seemed a trick of sorcery, causing the fellow to blink and take a step back in surprise. Amal spun the knife easily, as if handling it was an idle way to pass the time. "Heard any leads?"

"Do you think if I had work I'd tell you?" He growled and turned around, clearly embarrassed at being afraid of the knife trick. "Piss off."

"Hey, at least tell us the way to Marienburg!" Amal cried after him, but the hunter had already disappeared into the crowd. Even his companion was gone. Behind him Emmaline giggled, knowing Amal diffused what might have been a problematic situation later. The shadows grew longer, darkening Amal's clothing as he sighed. Turning to Emmaline, he shrugged. "Well, at least you appreciate my charm."
@Penny

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The curtains were pulled, Neil taking a deep breath and stepping in. The floor was wooden paneled, half draped in carpets with a various mix of designs. The walls were half laquered by a specialist who had likely been shot before he could finish, considering there were three bullet holes near a partially finished piece of the wall. Curtains covered the far side of the room's corner, but Stinger wasn't there like she had been last time. Instead she sat on the comfortable couch he took to be her perch, deceptively dainty shoulders outstretched, her arms resting atop the back of the couch. There was something about a woman's narrow shoulders that men found appealing, likely the biological equivalent of a woman enjoying the strength and breadth of a man's. Neil had to appreciate the view, even moreso when he found a gangly man in goggles was finishing up a tattoo on her left shoulder. Opposite of him was a mutant fanning her with a torn bit of plasteel from an overturned military ground vehicle from some unknown intervention in the past.

"Yo, we need to talk." Neil said. The two around her seemed bewildered he spoke to her in such a manner, but she merely turned her head, eyes peeking through the coy wave of her dark hair. She smirked, her full lips curved into a predatory smile. She let out a 'tch' to the tattoo artist. He scurried off like the rat he epitomized, passing Neil and clutching his 'tools' with him. The mutant followed, pushing past Neil by shouldering him. Neil grinned, somehow getting a sick kick at anyone who was unnecessarily hostile towards him. No wonder he got into so much trouble back on Fotus.

"Sit down, scuttler." She offered him; commanded him he felt.

She patted the seat beside him, but he pretended not to notice, sitting across from her. The ruined coffee table both polished and roughed up through various wear and tear. She grabbed a bottle of some dark liquid on the tabletop and took a swig of it, never taking her eyes off him. The bottle firmly in her lips as she practically inhaled the rest of the drink, likely suggesting what else she might do with her lips by the glint in her dark eyes. When she finished, she wiped her mouth and let out a herculean burp that shook Neil's ears. Somehow she reminded him of Junebug in a fashion in multiple ways, though in a lot of ways he saw how dissimilar they were.

"So, what can I do for you?" The mob leader said, splaying her hands out to hear him. Her hands rested on the back of the couch once more, her heroic bosom thrust out, shapely legs crossed. "Your captain's not here, I see. Or the little girl. I was planning on getting you alone, but not in this circumstance."

"Oh you mean your twelve dead guys?"

"Uh huh."

"I saw it happen-"

"Let me guess..." She said, sardonically. "You and your team didn't lose a member but all of my men died miraculously in a freak attack from my long time rivals?"

"Are you saying you wouldn't believe that if that's what I said?"

"I'm saying I don't lose twelve men and not kill someone." Stinger remarked, and with the look in her eyes he fully expected her to be able to kill him. Whether it was a gun hidden in the couch or from sheer will. Neil still acted casual as she continued. "You're hot, but that won't save you if you can't convince me that whatever you're here for is worth my while. Maybe I'll kill your team and make you my bitch before killing you, that'll settle things."

"Hold on," Neil laughed, holding his hands up. "What is with all this hostility? Look, I didn't kill your team. And I'll do you one better...I and my team are prepared to make an attack on the spiders. We know where they keep some of their drugs, and we're going to raid it with your go ahead. If you want to join us, feel free, but we interrogated a spider before we killed him. Not only that but-"

"You," She said menacingly. "are not off the hook. But..." Her words turned husky. "Maybe we can work something out, if the prize is big enough. But that is a big if, scuttler. We can discuss your debt to me after we take the drug house. You and your team are going to be on-call, as it were, to attack when I say with my team, within eyesight of me at all times. If you get off your leash, I'll sic my other dogs on you. If you're good, I'll see to it you live, along with a fair amount of pay. Deal?"

She leaned forward, holding her hand out to shake. He thought for a moment, and realized he had no choice. He held his hand out to shake. She took it, and with surprisingly strength she yanked him across the table and grabbed him by the neck, nose to nose.

"Don't fuck up." She warned, hot breath on his face. Her fingers clenched on his jaw, opening it involuntarily as she kissed him, hungrily and thoroughly. Neil did his best not to kiss back, and he stumbled away when she pushed him off. Pointing at the curtain, she dismissed him and plopped down on the couch again. "Now scuttle off and tell your crew my terms. If they don't agree, you're all dead."
@Penny

Cinnabar Forever! (RCN)

It all happened too fast to properly think about. The two men, armed with assault rifles, were lazily smoking and lost in their thoughts, one muttering a joke of some kind the other barely heard. The mood changed a moment later when the recall plate went off, and Kaiden's normally reserved, even deboniar look turned into befuddlement. Within eyesight of the normally distracted men, he met their eyes and thanked God his weapon was shorter and more nimble. It took less than a second before he let off two shots into the first man's chest, turning to the other but realizing he had his weapon up. On instinct he leaped behind one of the mansion's support pillars.

Instantly bits of plaster and stone flew as bullets punched into Kaiden's position, narrowly missing the crouching prince. He could feel the heat of the projectiles, worryingly enough. The noble grasped a fallen shard of glass, scooting to the otherside of the pillar and slowly sliding it out to see the man's aim. Eerily, the bullets had stopped flying. On the glass he saw Otis having tackled the kidnapper, still bound and gagged, but having knocked the rifle out of the fellow's hands.

Kaiden tossed the glass and scrambled to his feet, pistol out and arms extended. Another man he hadn't seen before ran in, intent on the prisoner trying to wrestle his captor. Kaiden felled him with two shots that bodied him before spinning, punching a bullet through the other assailant's brain before he could slit Otis's throat with another shard of glass. Kaiden still felt his heartbeat in his ears, too stunned to realize Sabatine was safe. He hurried to Otis and got to a knee, cutting his bonds with the shard of glass and taking the gag out of his mouth. The midshipman wheezed, coughing up blood from a split lip.

"Damn good to see you sir." He said hoarsely.

"Head downstairs, I need to find the Lieutenan-" He began before Sabatine stepped into view, unhurt. Kaiden breathed a sigh of relief, curtly nodding. "Let's get the fuck out of here. Help me with him." He ordered, taking one of Otis's arms and letting Sabatine take the other. They had less than a minute before this place was swarming with the other half of the posted guardsman. Hopefully they didn't think to look in the basement for pursuit. Kaiden nearly dropped Otis when he knelt down to pick up an assault rifle, having holstered his pistol. Otis held onto his shoulder as he checked the magazine and reinserted it, satisfied and keeping it on hand in case they needed something with a bit more power.

"I didn't think anyone was coming after me." Otis croaked, clearing his throat.

"Don't talk." Kaiden whispered, more worried on the trail of sound than anything else. Otis seemed to not have been permanently damaged. "You can regale us on being kidnapped when we're out of here."
@Penny

The Pavonis Campaign - Warhammer 40000

The guardsman sighed, hefting his lasgun as the cold commissar turned and lead their two man team. The day was turning into a real shitshow, and he and the commissar looked to be walking into a meat grinder. Somehow, he didn't feel disillusioned following her, likely because she had proven she wasn't a stranger to a firefight at least. Still, if it was he and another guardsman they could vote on matters or agree on what worked best for the both of them. As it stood his best chance of doing that was sneaking off or shooting her in the back, but he knew the former was unlikely and the latter would never happen. Connors was a lot of things, but he wasn't a traitor. In the parking deck, the odd ground car was parked. He briefly wondered if they should commandeer one, but that would likely give them too much undue attention unless they had a clear way back to the capital. Maybe they could make for the mountains and take the long way round, but he hadn't exactly packed any survival gear.

The two passed the vast deck and halted at the archway leading out. A toll booth and a broken sign on a swivel were the only signs anyone had been through the last few days. A large street surrounded by huge buildings at least 20 stories high lay before them, but as far as they knew it was all quiet. Quickly the two half crouched, half ran across the street into another parking deck, the building above used by the Departmento Munitorum. Not exactly defensible in a seige, but a good place to hold up and hide if the Commissar felt it necessary.

"It's weird fighting in civilization." He thought outloud as he followed her, glancing behind him to make sure no one pursued. "On Lorn, we had to face the Orks and the heretics in abandoned factories and snow covered complexes. I'm just not used to killing on long-standing Imperial soil."

It made him feel less a soldier and more of a murderer, he realized. Even if the rebels would kill him in a heartbeat were they to get the better of him, they were just disabused Imperial citizens. He knew it in his mind, but he had to shake that notion. On Lorn he had seen heretical flagellants; men with skin peeled and iron hooks and rods embedded in their skin. All of them had once been normal Imperial citizens, before they let corruption taint them. What separated them from these rebels, who had forsaken the Imperium of Man?

He reached behind his back, unbuttoning his sheath and pulling out his combat knife. A bevel and a screwed in area to set the knife onto his lasgun was fit on neatly not a second later. He didn't know why, but putting the bayonet on made him feel a bit more secure.
"Is this your first command? ...Ma'am?"
@Penny

The Blackwood

@Duck No worries, as you can tell it's a little slow. Just post when you get the chance :)

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

I changed my mind. I will be a noble for the Black Eagles.

The Sinful Stars

Seeing the small estate from afar was one thing, but being within its walls was an entirely different experience for Orion. He found the architecture interesting, warm in color and carved to depict great heroes of old Aragon mixed with heathen folk gods and common farm animals in various activities. Luckily nonsexual activities. The sweeping scope and flair reminded him of Al-Marik or even Kurgan architecture in a fashion. No wonder the Duke wished for Hawkwood favor. There was no real prevalent problem with racism among the various humans in the known worlds, but anything foreign or foreign 'enough' was deemed closer to heresy than faithful purity.

The place was small and though the courtiers and servants were a farcry from Orion's dear uncle's estate, they still filled the inner palace walls with activity, carrying baskets of food and materials across the ashlar floor, a woman carrying freshly cleaned sheets up the forebuilding. Down the central stairway came the Duke, though not in the way Orion expected. The man was olive skinned, with dark curls now tinged with grey, as was his beard. Robes of red and yellow wrapped his form in the fashion of a local monarch. Oddly, he was carried on a small throne, and upon closer inspection Orion saw he was missing a leg. Orion was glad to see it didn't marr his personality or cheer.

"Welcome, my friends." The duke made a grand, sweeping gesture, as if to claim that all that was his was theirs as well. He studied each of them carefully, a glint of age and intelligence behind his smiling visage. "Welcome, weary travelers. I pains me to hear of your trials and tribulations upon your pilgrim road. You must be famished and understandably tired."

"That we are, my Lord." Orion replied, bowing in polite submission to the master of the house. In contrast, Ragnar spat on the ground idly. Not out of animosity, he merely had something in his mouth. Logan gave a less courtly but equally submissive bow, unused to such things.

The pleasantries lasted for far too long in Orion's eyes, but eventually they were allowed into the great hall. Sturdy trusses made of local stone, the bases carved as charging horses filled the vast room as half a dozen servants walked to and fro with food for dinner, though that was some hours away yet. The castellan or steward of the house greeted them at the foyer of the great chamber. He had a smile some might find pleasant and others might find a bit too menacing with his sharp facial hair.

"Welcome. I am Aldego Shazrin, a servant of the Duke. I am here to take you to your wing of the estate. Please, follow me."

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

@Obscene Symphony I am attempting to decide tonight since I finally have some free time. Probably a commoner, but I am not sure what country as of yet