POOHEAD189

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

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Kayden took a moment to process everything that subsequently occurred, and it left him a bit perplexed.

The bandits fell back in good order. Or, they fell back because of the students' and teachers' good order. Everyone he saw had kept their head and made a good account. Even Kellen who seemed particularly nervous had performed admirably. Everyone had, save for Isolde. The poor student seemed stricken with doubt and fear, which was normal for someone who had never seen combat before. He didn't blame her. He just felt a bit bad on her account. So far their group hadn't needed all hands on deck with the bandits being dispatched left and right. Michail even got Isolde and a few of the others and advanced in their 'territory.' Kayden had to admit he a felt a bit put off that he hadn't been indicated to join, but the feeling was lost when he heard and felt something new happening. An energy permeating them began to grow and grow, mounting into some unknown outcome with a foul purpose. This was the cause of the explosion?

"Why the hell would someone just...blow something up with magic!?" He asked aloud. There were far more useful ways to dispatch opponents or send fear into someone's heart. It even lacked creativity, though he supposed it was effective to use on large groups of enemies in a closed group, which they unfortunately were right at this moment. Swiftly he cast his gaze across the battlefield and the ruined buildings of the village to catch a glimpse of any mage that hid within, but so far he saw nothing of the sort.

Instead, he did notice a large group of the bandits wheeling 'round the group to attack from the rear to flank them, using the terrain and ramshakle lodgings to try and remain hidden, particularly while the students and teachers' eyes were cast ahead. The Prince might not have been sent ahead with the vanguard, but he would make sure he would die before any of these cowards stabbed one of his classmates in the back!

Kayden calmed himself, willing his eyes to avert from the sneaking bandits so as to let them come closer with a false sense of security. He even decided to cross his arms and whistle idly, a bit too innocently but the bandits seemed not to pay that any mind. He could now almost hear the soft pad of their boots as they slunk across the group. He waited more; waited until he felt it was almost too late to turn around, and once he did he saw the five of them just four paces away, eyes widened at their position suddenly being discovered.

The five cutthroats ran at him, trying to overwhelm him with surprise and numbers. But Kayden was quick with his blade and drew it out before they reached him.

"For Adrestia!" He cried, leaping into their midst to their astonishment, the bold and insane act causing them to fumble a bit with their weapons as his sword moved in a blur, desperately cutting any limb and body part it could find. The Prince's cry was to garner the notice of his allies as well, in case he should fall (or more realistically, so they could help!). "For Adrestia and House Hresvelg!"

His blade caught the short, stabbing sword of a bandit and knocked it wide, and Kayden punched the bandit with a closed fist to send him reeling. His backhand swipe blinded another as it slashed over their eyes, the blood on the tip of his blade both old and new as it smeared across another arm. Briefly he felt something bite his stomach, but he couldn't stop now or be cut down! One bandit screamed in fear and hatred, grasping at their eyes as another tried to keep the pressure on a stomach wound. Kayden couldn't hold out for much longer, attempting to backpedal, fully aware he was losing his edge.

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

How big are the chances of someone who has next to zero idea about the rules (yet) to be able to participate in this ? :)

_{Has seen a distinct status post.}

@Fetzen

You have just described me and I am doing fine, my friend :)

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

The crack of Neil's rifle resounded only after the slugs had torn through two of the Spider gangmembers, leaving exit wounds you could slip your fist through without fear of bloodying your hand. To his right, Sayeeda had vaulted over a dismantled car and disptached two others, though Neil didn't see the gritty details of what transpired. He only saw her walk out and blow a bit of hair out of her eyes. He noticed she would need to put it in a bun soon. It would probably be a good look for her if she let it continue to grow.

"Rearguard is down." She said conversationally. They weren't far from one another, but it was still more expedient to use comms than to draw attention to themselves. A few stray gunshots weren't likely to draw attention, but unknown voices were a different story.

Neil grinned, reloading his gun. Not that he wasn't going to use it for his next trick. He reshouldered the strap on it and pulled aside his grenade launcher, the familiar weight of the loaded weapon somehow intensely satisfying in his hands. Neil saw Sayeeda give him a movement signal, something she had begun to teach him a few months previously. He wasn't 'fluent' if that was the word, yet. But he knew she meant to go further right, and Neil already knew his next position. He passed by a few scrap heaps of burning metal, vaguely aware they were aircars that had exploded. Likely from explicit detonation. The pilot made it to a rudimentary dumpster and climbed atop it, before vaulting onto the roof of a outerlying, boldly placed home. It was still a good distance from his position to the fence that guarded the Scorpion base, but he had used grenade launchers enough to know if something was too far to be out of effective range. It was right in the sweet spot.

He only caught another glimpse of Junebug's lithe form slinking through the dark, until she was completely out of sight. He got comfortable, placing a foot on the edge of the roof and resting his grenade launcher against his shoulder, leveling its scope with his eye. He waited, watching the night flash with gunshots and laser beams, accompanied by muffled shouts of curses and threats. He almost started to idly whistle, but he received his captain's "in position" not a moment too soon.

"Show time, babe." He told her on comm. It was the last thing she'd hear of him before there was a brief silence, followed by the destruction of vast swathes of the scorpion fence, along with dozens and dozens of wounded and dead spiders at their vulnerable rear. Shrapnel and flame whipped out and cut through tendons and sprayed blood along their comrades. Neil felt somewhat guilty about the PDST he was causing for some, but it was swiftly lost by the beautiful spouts of flame and destruction he had caused.

This time he did whistle. Appreciatively.

The Pavonis Campaign - Warhammer 40000

Zebulon was entirely at a loss at what to do. It was common knowledge that guardsmen tended to be woefully unprepared for the various horrors they faced in the galaxy, even among the guards themselves. Their field manual was used for toilet paper or wadding of different sorts, more often than not. However, he had faced Orks and traitors before, and now cultists in the streets. What he never thought he would have to deal with was speaking amongst high ranking imperial officials, a commissar, and a planetary governess who apparently adored him. It made him a tad apprehensive, which likely amused both of the women in his present company, likely for different reasons.

What COULD they do, without wholesale opening fire on the populace and letting the Emperor save his own? He guessed any inquisitor or someone in the administratum would suggest it, regardless of loss of life. He had to learn the hard way when he left his home that the Imperium was a 'big picture' sort of state.

As the 'council' of the planet was debating amongst themselves, Zebulon was lost in thought and mostly ignored until the governess called upon him to speak.

"Corporal, you have been awfully quiet." She commented, watching him.

The general barked a laugh, unable to help himself. "Because he's not allowed to speak unless spoken to."

"Well, I am speaking to him." She shot back, her tone now cold and firm. "And he may speak freely here. If these cultists overrun the palace, we'll all be dead, rank or no."

"Which is why we should kill them all!" The general growled, trying and failing to appear intimidating. The governess, attractive though she was, was much better at the game than he and rose out of her seat.

"I said I was speaking to the corporal," she warned, her tiredness and agitation evident in her voice, making it clear her next warning wasn't an idle threat. "Speak again out of turn and you will be forcefully ejected from the palace grounds, general."

That made the man button his lip begrudgingly, and all eyes turned to Zeb. He swallowed and cleared his throat, speaking his mind with a question first.

"Do we know how the rebels coordinated their movements?" He asked. The governess waved her hand so the general may speak. He acted as if he didn't notice the permission.

"No, if we knew that we would have stopped them." He sighed. "Besides, they're a mindless rabble."

"So all voxx channels are secure?"

"Well...As far as we know." He replied, likely unsure himself but confident his subordinates had already checked.

"Are you telling me you are uncertain?" The governess asked, venomously.

"I have not been briefed on it!"

"See to it you are," Zeb interrupted, immediately regretting the tone he gave the man who could ruin his life a dozen times over in a thought. "These are mostly mindless rabble, but there must be some sort of intelligence behind it. Even Orks have a rough heirarchy. Speaking of which, my time on Lorn IV did show me that killing the leader generally solved a problem as well. If we can take out whatever communications they have and kill whoever leads them, it might not decimate the threat but it will reduce it significantly. At that point, I think we can go on the offensive."

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

Caber dropped nimbly to the deserted concrete street as if he had merely done a skip and a hop from the river across town. He idly rolled the foresleeve of his shirt past his wrists and slid a wave of his dark locks out of his eyes. Before him was a large puddle of sewage within the crack of the broken road on 3rd street. The fae merely took a step and somehow he ended up across it as dry as a log of firewood. That was not strange to the magical being. The range rovers and what he sensed within the Oakenshield was a bit more concerning.

Many didn't know about the dive, but it had quickly become one of Caber's most beloved spots to find a drink. Nestled between the bosom of 3rd street, to the right of an office building and left of a store that sold adult toys. Oakenshield had exquisite lagers, vodka, and mead. Tall stools for any and everyone to use at whichever stilted table they found. Some were small enough for two and others large enough for six or more if the group got creative. At the very back was a stage for dancing or singing. Sometimes a lucky, indie band would be booked to perform. Often on weekday nights, the keeper of the bar would simply turn the radio on. His name was Robert Oats, but most just called him Barley. An oaf, but a good man and a regular fountain of information. He owed the man for a number of things, not least of which was the rumor of a certain black dog roaming 1st street naught a year ago. Caber didn't divulge the significance, but it was one of the last vengeful spirits that still lurked within the city from the wave of London immigrants Caber had sailed over with. The beast would have sniffed him out and attacked him, or killed others and leave behind the residual celtic essence some might stamp upon Caber. He de-summoned the thing in short order and sent it back across the pond.

As Caber approached the open door of the Oakenshield, he heard the Doobie Brother's blaring their ironically named 'Jesus is Just Alright' over the speakers. The 70's of the last century had been endlessly amusing for the Fae, even with all of the human contradictions and blunders that went with it. He smiled widely and stepped into the bar, though if one looked closely he gave the room a wide sweep with his eyes, far more curious than he was letting on with his expression. The small foyer hall led to the always-open door of the bar. There a few larger tables, lower to the ground, were for larger groups and for people looking for full meals. It was further from the music as well. Posters and pictures of musicians that had visited the bar over the last fifty years plastered the walls next to plaques of wisdom and poems from days of yore. Barley had a liking for older things, which Caber certainly appreciated.

Barley couldn't compete with more pleasant company, however. To his disappointment, he saw no delectable women within. But he did see many faces he had never seen before. The majority of the patrons were rough, square jawed, and apparently big fans of denim.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing he noticed about them or the Oakenshield this night...

Summary

Caber muses on the bar, on his debt to Barley, and his lack of enthusiasm when he sees these mortals

Staff update

Thank you for being apart of the team, Stormy Storm. We love you <3

Ban the Person above you

Banned for not thinking they're fun to speak to.

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

Oddly enough, I got 1 and 6. So 7!

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

Caber has been carefully watching a group of humans, tied not by blood but by creed called the Ordo Exilium. They consider themselves modern knights, though Caber never had too much respect for real knights, much less these men. They're monster hunters and would-be demon slayers. Most of them were inducted due to the unexplained or disbelieved death or kidnapping of a family member by a supernatural entity. They're not the best at their jobs, but they can handle mundane monsters and certain abberations with the poultices and mixtures they concoct, and the special silver or salt filled bullets they use. Recently they've been sneaking around downtown, and Caber has suspicions they're going to disrupt some demon black market soul dealing and spirits that just wish to be left alone.

The Black of Night - Urban Shadows

@Penny I think I'll go with the pattern and say 'night.' Variety is always good^^