POOHEAD189

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

Markus would have followed her, but he was just as surprised at the use of the one power as the men that attacked. His horse reared up and waved its hooves about, and it was all the Borderlander could do to keep it from sending him falling off. He gripped the reins, and when they set down again, Markus's sword was out, flashing a deadly arc. It cut the paunchy swindlers snarling visages, and he cried out in pain and horror as he grasped at his ruined face.

There was never any gauruntee of surviving combat, even with the most favorable conditions. An army of ten thousand attacking an army of one hundred still had casualties. Markus turned his horse about to follow Lysabel, and as his steed bucked and began a forward gallop, one of the bandits with he polearm thrust his weapon at the guide's hip. Markus saw the weapon head arcing towards him and moved even as his attacker did, battering the stabbing weapon aside with his blade and slashing at the man. He did not hit flesh or cloth, but it caused his already frustrated assailant to leap back.

By that point, Markus was already passed the downed wagon and careening down the road to catch up with the Aes Sedai. He saw a missile nearly skewer her, but she had the luck of the light. Another arrow arced toward's Markus, and he felt the wind of the shaft as it narrowly avoided his face. He lowered himself and whipped the reins, his horse needing no encouragement to ride out of there with all speed. The forest path was not a straight shot, but it did not wind like some did, and soon the two of them had passed a corner and only heard the dull thudding of an arrow hitting a tree about ten spans behind them.

They rode another mile, Markus catching up to Lysabel. Idly, he felt something wet on his face, and he reached up and found blood on his fingers. He supposed somehow he had been cut, but it didn't look like a deep wound.

"Are you alright, Aes Sedai?" He asked her as they cantered forward. He wiped his long blade by the hem of his cloak and sheathed it. He had the weird idea to make a quip. "This doesn't make our safer road look much better, does it?"
@Penny

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Dammit.

I took a moment to collect myself, my face unreadable. It was hard even for me to know whether I felt anger, sorrow, or amusement, or whether I was impressed. A mixture of all was the most likely, and mechanically I lowered my gun, switched the safety on and idly tossed it onto the table. I turned on her, and I was angry for the merest moment. Not the righteous anger of an Ordo Malleus Inquisitor, but Hadrian Drakos with a cheeky peer. "You..." but it evaporated instantly, and I actually felt a smile trying to make its way onto my face. Yes, I could petition to do it again, but this was a lesson for me as well. Never get cocky or distracted, something I seemed to have a habit of doing around Emmaline.

"You win," I admitted, placing my hands on my hips and looking at her knowingly, even as she fluttered her lashes innocuously. If she started to gloat about being a better marksman, I was going to contest that, but she did play with the cards she had and won. I suppose it's worrisome she knew getting me flustered was in those cards. I crossed my arms and looked at her, eyebrow raised and a hint of a grin. "What would you ask of your Inquisitor?"

The fact I had come in here to train her and it turned into a win in a contest by her showed she was still capable, if nothing else.

Sails and Spells

Malcador did not think it would be 'smooth sailing' as they say from there, and the crotch shot conveyed the message all too well and reinforced his prior plan of being careful to not 'rock the boat.' He was also quickly running out of sailing puns to share with himself, as well. Once he regained his breath, he took a deep one and dived back under, knowing he'll feel that crotch kick for at least a few hours and probably the next day. Why did they always go for the nether regions when they were mad!?

Malcador did his best to keep out of the way of the ladies, that were swimming like mermaids he noticed, through the small tunnel, using the rocks as handholds to propel himself forward quickly. He was athletic, but these sailors were born for the water. Soon, the small group surfaced. The spell of water-breathing had just about run out, and holding his breath had been insurance. He would need to hold it again, likely, since he doubted they would let him cast a spell without cutting his throat.

Even having seen it before, Malcador was in awe of the glimmering treasure, sparkling like the light of creation. His dark eyes absorbed the light and it only seemed to enhance the depths of them. He could buy a fief with this gold, and use the jewels to hire a household guard for all of their lives! He swam past Runa, who's name by that point he was unsure of, and slowly climbed out of the pool, careful not to slip on the rocks. He still almost slipped, but caught himself before he was injured and smiled sheepishly.

Taking a coin, he flicked it with a small gesture of his thumb. The gold coin spun in a blur before he caught it with a deft hand. Malcador had always had skillful fingers. One needed it to cast the more complicated spells, and it had served him well with the ladies. He motioned for them to come forward, giving a devil-may-care smile that could win the hearts of many a young maiden.

"Well, let's take what we can." He remarked pragmatically and hopefully in a way that sounded helpful. He was certainly trying to be, if so he wouldn't get kicked in the balls again. "I'm sure it'll take a few trips and I don't think we can fit some of the larger pieces through the tunnel and not drown, but I'll grab what I can and you can search me once we get to the other side. I'm not about to steal from you after we made a deal, after all."

Maverick Malediction

"This is absurd," Neil said, striding up to the big men with the poise of a man of authority. He had masqueraded as a courtier once at the Kalx Molaris Temple of Baelyr. Long story, he would tell it another time. As it was, he looked into the eyes of the man up front and held his gaze, and said nothing for so long it got extremely awkward for the Banian's, who looked away and back at Neil confused, and then looked away again. It was a power move they hadn't expected, and once they had lost momentum Neil spoke again. "My lady and I have traveled here half naked, bruised, and tired. Why would a necromancer come here in such ragged sha-DON'T INTERRUPT ME!"

The big man at the vanguard shrank back, eyebrow raised as if Neil were insane. "We did naut say anyving."

"Good, and you will not speak any further on this matter either. The Boyina is tired, and has been given leave by the gate captain to enter. Unless you want to fight here and now in Yigas' home I suggest you get out."

They looked less sure than they had been coming in, but their superstition, as plausible as it was, couldn't be deterred so readily. The one on his left pushed the front one to get him to regain his dignity, and stepped forward brusquely. He had the arms of a bear, and they were near as heavy. Neil could see his teeth gleam out of his beard, despite their yellowing.

"You haf no rights here, Suka!" He growled, and attempted to shove Neil out of his way. Neil lowered himself and lifted himself on the left of the man's arm, almost like he was running water morphing around the hard surface of a falling rock. He didn't attack the man though, merely sticking his leg out between the fellow's beefy legs so he tripped up, giving a grunt of surprise before he caught himself on the couch, his mouth hitting the back of the couch's wooden frame. Blood dribbled out of his mouth, and he shakily stood up.

Neil nor Calliope were in any condition to fight. Calliope less so, true. But Neil felt sore as hell and he was so hungry he doubted a punch from him would have anything beyond momentum behind it. Neil bluffed instead, taking out his knife and holding the blade against the neck of the burly man he had tripped, who had just started to rise. The men who had begun to move behind them stopped cold. The chilled iron bit at his neck, though it didn't draw blood. Honestly, it had not been sharped recently. He doubted it was effective beyond cutting bread or a quick stab. Either way, the bearish banian serf froze in the long gallery, tensed from the feel of the weapon.

"You are in the presence of Lady Grigori Dragoslava, daughter of the great boyar of Sebrovna and herald of the stars." He said, spouting complete bullshit. "You will afford her the respect of her station."

"Shust let Andrei goh," the third said. He had a loud gaptooth Neil could spot in the dead of night.

"We will leafe, but the priests vill vant to test har!" The man who was apparently Andrei warned.

"Then ve'll do it tomorrow, vhen I ahm ved and reested." Calliope said, betraying no emotion except a wintry disinterest in the whole affair. "Zere are streltsies just outside, and your town guard. I caun't go anyvhere or vlee, and even iff I do, you'll know my guilt. No leafe bevore I tell me mahn to keell you."

There was a long pause by all three, and gap-tooth said. "We'll go."

They left hesitantly, but they left all the same. Just as they marched down the stairs, Yiga appeared with hot soup of beef, potatoes, and vegetables, along with two mugs of beer. She looked at the departing men, and shook her head. Neil could not tell if she was embarrassed or worried. "Here, and I hop yor stay is vrestful."

Neil thanked her, and closed the door. He let out a long breath and opened his eyes wide to display his feelings of 'that was close' and walked over to set the food on the table in front of Calliope. She hadn't dressed yet except with a small towel, and it barely held her together. Somehow it made her look even better, and the land he had thought too cold was now a bit hot for his tastes. He took his mug and his soup and sat on the couch she was on, a few feet away.

"Good thing we have nothing to worry about tomorrow..." Neil started as she began to eat, and then he looked at her quizzically. "We have nothing to worry about right?"

"Depends on the test. I'm not a necromancer but..." He wiped a bit of her mouth with her fingers. "If they find what I'm good at, I doubt they'll be happy."

"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we uh...tomorrow." Neil deadpanned.

"Why are you still here?" She asked Neil suddenly. Neil put his spoon down and looked at her. She looked at him, and if he didn't know any better, he would have called it suspicious. She continued. "You didn't have to defend me, you could have just thrown me to the wolves. Why are you sitting here and fretting over tomorrow? You can just eat and go find fortune. I am currently a liability and so far you've had little gain."

Neil cleared his throat and crossed his arms as if he were about to impart some great wisdom. "I'm a fucking idiot." He said lightly, shamelessly. He smiled at her, and it was clear he was smiling at his own manner. He held an open hand out, placing his off-hand's finger on his other hand's fingers as he counted. "Look, I like danger, hot women, and dangerous hot women. Secondly, you're the only person I know in almost four hundred leagues, and thirdly... So far I've died for you, kept you from dying, I've been your guard, your thief, your pack mule, and I've bought you two dinners. If you think I'm going anywhere before you pay up somehow you're more insane than I am."

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

"We can just make seven days if we ride hard round the city and don't stop while we eat." Markus said. It sounded dreadful to the Aes Sedai, he imagined, and he wasn't relishing it either. Markus had barely had a full day's rest where he slept soundly just before the road to Barinse, if how a log 'rested' could be called such. Such was his life, days without sustenance and catching up when he could like a predator searching for days to find food.

"I really think we should-" She began, but her to amazement he cut her off.

"We are not going into the blight, Lysabel Sedai." Markus replied firmly. He realized as he said it that what he just did was brave but terribly foolish when dealing with an Aes Sedai. She did not completely have the ageless look he was told they had. Rather she looked like a girl with flowers in her hair, dancing as all the men look at her. But even so, she had the authority of her station and the personality to boot. Perhaps he had said it too harsh where sweeter words might have changed her mind, but the fish were out of the net now.

"You are my guide, sir, not my commander." She snapped, using a tone that played as a warning. He swore she made 'sir' sound like 'boy'. "Your own commander bade you aid me in my endeavor, and you are going to guide me where I see fit and how I see fit. If you are the enemy of the dark, then prove it and show me the way as quickly and efficiently as possible!"

They stared at one another for a couple of heartbeats. It was hard to tell what either of them were thinking. Markus, for his part, knew she had him. He wasn't afraid to die like some men, but he didn't want to waste his life either. If this was worth it, then he would. But... well, if an Aes Sedai said it was worth it, then who was he to argue?

"In the blight, flowers can kill, and leaves maim. A bite from an insect could spell your doom, Lysabel Sedai. And those are the least of your worries. It's not even wise to burn wood in the blight. So if we enter there, you will do exactly as I say, when I say it. No arguments. No rebuttals. Do you understand?" He asked her, and it was clear he was not speaking of any wounded pride. He seemed nervous, like someone who had just been told the rain this year would not yield the crop needed to live.

He waited for her response, and then he would turn west towards terrible danger.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

"Do you think your shoulder can handle all five shots?" I asked her, only letting the smallest hint of smugness enter my voice. I walked over to the table and picked up a semi-automatic auto gun. Checked its magazine, reloaded, cocked the hammer, and took a far too casual stance as I walked up and stood five meters behind the firing line. I took less than a second to aim and fired. The gun roared, a bright flash erupted from its muzzle.

A hole an inch to the right of center mass materialized on one of the targets. It was a smooth, capable shot from someone firing weapons for over half of his life and practicing twice a week when he was not too busy with his duties. Yes, I was a better swordsman than marksmen, but these targets were close in my estimation. The closest they could be while still accurately applying the practice of ranged fire. I put the gun down and stepped back, gesturing for her to take her next turn. I tried to remain impassive, but the look she gave me caused me to smile, which just incriminated me more.

She took the shotgun, examined it for a moment, and blew a fringe of her golden hair out of her eyes before taking her position and aiming down the center and doing as I had instructed. Seconds passed by, and she fired, her shotgun punching a hole through a target. It was two inches below bullseye, though it was hard to tell from the shredding of the target by her gun.

Things progressed similarly to that, my shots hitting bullseyes or very near to it, and Emmaline not quite matching my ease of aim whilst simultaneously still accruing a point for the scoreboard.

Her fifth shot was her worst, but only by the grace of the God Emperor did three pellets of her shot hit into the target. If I missed entirely, she would win. If I hit anywhere near where I was supposed to, I would take the day.

"Hmmm, what do I want from you?" I asked her playfully. "I'd need to think about it..."

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

They spent an two hours in the city, Markus bartering with peddlars and merchants for dried foods and fruits. Lysabel helped him in negotiations with her Aes Sedai diplomacy, but Markus had to keep her from grabbing certain foods she found delectable. They needed to go as light and efficiently as possible. They spoke little to one another between vendors except about the city in general and various landmarks. Lysabel had not explore Barsine much in her stay, but she had studied plenty of maps in her time here and knew where to go by the streets with a keen memory.

Once they were done, Markus and she found themselves at the gate again. Multiple waterskins and foodstuffs, cots and tents, flint, tinder, and an extra two knives, along with miscellaneous items to survive the border country.

"Ready to go?" Markus asked the Aes Sedai. He still couldn't believe he was serving as a guide for one, but he supposed it was a story to tell the grand children years from now. Even in times of peace, Aes Sedai and warriors had work to do. She gave a nod of her head, and he felt she looked very much like a queen acquiescing to his request. Markus kicked his stallion into a trot, and she followed for a few spans before she spoke up.

"We're going the wrong way." She reminded him.

"These lands have impassable gulleys and hills. We're go west, yes, but the road only goes to the east for now, unless we want to step into the true blight as a shortcut." Markus explained, guiding his horse with a casual flick of his wrist. He seemed born in the saddle.

"Have you ever been before?" She asked. He knew she meant the blight. He turned in the saddle and looked at her, his eyes severe.

"Yes," he said. "But never far. No one goes in far and lives."

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

The watchtower of Faltamilde was a burly fortress keep situated on a great hillock that oversaw countless miles in every direction. Markus had climbed the tower many times, and he fancied he could even see the Mountains of Mist four hundred miles away, if the skies were clear in springtime. He was not here to sight-see this time, nor did he feel like he would for a long time if what his commander was telling him was to be believed.

"Commander Ogdar, I am not the man for this. Please, send Fuldin, Haukdorn, light! Even Ingmak!" Markus begged fervently. He wasn't normally this impassioned over an order. In fact, he usually followed orders without a word, and if he ever had something to say, he was listened to for that fact. But Ogdar wasn't hearing it. Some of the Old Guard called him Ogdar One-Eye rather than commander. The old soldier had the use of both of his eyes, but a trolloc had cut at one and left a mild scar, and he was known for his single-minded stubbornness. He only had the focus for "one eye's worth" now, though no one said that to his face. He had forty years of service under his belt, and half of that was as commanding officer.

The squat, muscled warrior hit the arm of his chair, threatening to break it. Markus could see the white of his teeth past his grey beard as he spoke. "Question me again, boy, and you'll not live to regret it! Never have you been so bloody obstinate, don't start now!" He roared in a tone that could shatter stone if it dared stand before him in defiance. Markus watched him, and he felt all eyes of the guard on he or the commander, probably so they could claim that they were there when an experience Outrider was sentenced to stable duty for three months. "The Aes Sedai requests a guide, and since you're the one that felt that small band you found so frightening, you're going to serve the lady. You'll report back to me when she sees fit to release you."

"When must I leave?" Was all the swordsman could ask, defeated. Only the white of his knuckles betrayed his remaining feelings, gripping his sword hilt tightly.

"First light. And when you get back, if you get back and pleased the lady, you'll get a promotion. It's been a long time coming, but keep your lips closed and your eyes open. And clean yourself up." Commander Ogdar said, and he laughed when he saw Markus's expression. "Cut that beard and put on a new cloak, and get a clean uniform. Take a bath while you're at it. I'll get Myltoh to draw you one. You'll be entertaining an Aes Sedai and maybe someone more important. Use that Flenbraik charm."

Markus all but gaped. Not reallt at the order to get cleaned up. He wasn't a brute. But he was surprised Commander Ogdar had heard of his escapades before he made Outrider. When he was on ground patrol before he made the leap to the Dh'aeir'whod, the 'Flenbraik Charm' had been an inside joke amongst a few of his friends. Apparently the tavern girls had taken a fancy to him, looking past a few of his friends to him when he hadn't even given them the time of day. He never did understand why.

Markus could do nothing but salute, and make his way out of the officer's meeting room to get ready with a loathesome tiredness.

---

It had been a week since he had first lain eyes on Lysabel Sedai, and now he found her again awaiting him at the northern gate of Barsine. Markus's horse cantered forward in a controlled fashion, rider and horse moving with one mind and spirit. Markus wore a brown jerkin and a black cloak he kept unhooded. He had shaven and even had a small margin of his hair trimmed, showing his fine chin and dark eyes that seemed both cold and striking, and a nose that tied his face together into a daring look. He rode astride an approaching cart that a peddlar drove, giving a smile of crooked teeth to Markus and a tip of his hat to Lysabel as she sent his team of two donkeys past the gates into the city. The multitudes of travelers moved to and from the road, and the light woods outside seemed a small shield to the great blight beyond to Markus's eyes.

"Lysabel Sedai," Markus said with a polite albeit brusque nod. Aes Sedai or not, she hadn't been dishonest nor overly haughty so far. She deserved at least some respect. "Do we wait for anyone else? Is your big friend joining us?"

WoT: The Dark One's Own Luck.

Markus did not know why he was following her, but clearly she felt it important, and he had come this far. He also did not want to make an enemy of an Aes Sedai or anyone associated with one, and so he followed her through the streets and entered the Choir Tree. He had never been in the building, but the Outrider had seen it from afar a few times. It was nice and lively. Next time Markus was in Barsine he might come here rather than his usual haunts.

The comment about the warder flummoxed him and had almost had him bark a warning at the inn keeper. You might as well have called him one of the loudly extravagant Tuatha'an and he would have had a similar incredulous reaction. He was so nonplussed he found himself whisked into a room awaiting tea before he knew it. Women had a way of making you do something before you even realized it. A pretty girl had a power few things could match, his older brother had always told him. But she was an Aes Sedai, and he wasn't going to fall for anything. She sat like for all the world she was in control of Barsine and its affairs. He wondered yet again why he was here. He truly did not want to offend, but damn, she was not taking a hint.

Markus was just turning around when what he could only describe as a monster stepped into his field of view. He was so wide and burly that he filled the borderlander's vision, and Markus himself wasn't the smallest man in Jaradime. Markus didn't hear the chuckle or the even the words. He heard speech, which some Trollocs were able to give. He heard the thing's breathing. He had heard all he needed to hear.

"No!" Lysabel cried with surprising authority, despite the clear despair in her voice. Markus had drawn his long knife so quickly, the Ogier, for indeed he would find out that was the creature, had barely blinked before his waistcoat had been pierced. Markus would have pierced him with the blade to the hilt if she had not cried out. Her voice alone stopped him, if only for it reminded him of someone else, long and far away. The Ogier, he supposed, looked down at him aghast.

Markus pulled the blade back slowly, and Lysabel let out a sigh of relief when she saw no blood on the steel tip. The rugged borderlander looked at her, and then at...Kadal. The Outrider felt two parts ashamed and three parts annoyed at this whole affair. Why wouldn't she bloody warn him of that? He walked passed Kadal and into the common room without another word, intent on leaving Barsine then and there. A big hand fell on his shoulder with surprising gentleness, and Markus turned to regard the new creature.

"No harm done, friend. Please, come sit." Kadal bade him. He gave an expression Markus guessed was a comforting smile.

A long moment rolled by them, and with clear apprehension, and to escape the wide-eyed onlookers of the inn who had heard the scream from within the tea room, Markus turned around and walked back into the room and let Kadal close the door to join them. The two males sat down, the borderlander unsure of how to proceed. The Ogier cleared his throat, and it sounded like a heavily laden cart rolling down hill.

"As I was saying, I am Kadal, son of Mavaam." He said once more.

"I am Markus. It's fortunate we can meet," was the Outrider's response, considering what Lysabel Sedai had said not an hour ago about the symbols on the Trolloc's arm. He still had the appendage tightly wound up, lumped on the floor.
@Penny