POOHEAD189

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Our blades rang, the sound of steel striking steel echoing off the walls as I pressed my advantage. My opponent was older, perhaps a bit slower, but had centuries of experience beyond my own. His defenses were refined, orderly, but growing weaker as I advanced. My pallasch drove into his abdomen, or I thought it had until he gave a parry so late I almost could not believe it, but that was his last trick. I grimaced in annoyance, our blades crossing like an X as I began to hammer down on him, attempting to make a pull cut. He redirected the sword, but only to put me in line with a downward cut that banged against his hilt. I sensed victory, tasted it. With a cry I hacked again at his exposed collarbone, knowing he had no way of defending. I laughed at my victory.

Inquisitor Kronus stepped into my cut and nearly sundered my chest cavity with a pommel strike. My blade had no strength left in it as spittle flew from my lips, vision blurring. I felt more than saw him disarm me, and with a shove I hit the padded ground. The sameter training vest broke the brunt of my fall, but I felt my pride plummeting as I saw Kronus standing over me, watching with his dual gaze. His left eye was stern, but very human, and even a bit of sympathy was laden in its depths. His augmented right eye, placed in by Lazarus himself, watched me with a cold, bleak judgement that only the emptiness of the void of space could match.

"How did I beat you?" He asked simply, speaking to me as if he were asking a dog why they wet the carpet or why a child lied to their parent when they knew full well the consequences of choosing the incorrectly. I collected myself as best I could, getting up quickly, doing my best not to sway.

"You pretended to tire," I surmised, wiping the sweat from my brow. "Drew me in and let me defeat myself."

"You are not a blunt instrument," Kronus said, turning and walking to the sword rack. Wiping the blunted blade with a cloth, he placed it on the rack and flexed his neck with a small twist of his head. I was thirsty, but Kronus had never brought water to our bouts. He rarely ate in front of anyone, and only recently had he allowed me the privilege of knowing just how he took his tea. His right hand flexed, the artificial neurons pumping hydrocarbon through his system instantaneously to grant his augmented limb function that could even surpass his flesh and blood arm. I should have known that arm would not have weakened. Why had I not seen that?

"No, sir." I said, standing erect now and at attention. I could show my disappointment or disdain openly, but I still arrayed myself well in his presence. I was merely seventeen, but I was treated as an adult as soon as I was granted the privilege of the mantle of interrogator. I was glad to be given the responsibilities, or at least the expectations, of a senior operative.

"Why do we do what we do, Drakos?" He asked me, turning to the mat again, though he did not deign to look at me.

"We, sir?"

"The Inquisition," he clarified.

"To protect the Imperium." I said at once.

"Vague answers do not give you partial credit." He reminded me, something of which I had been told often the last four years. He continued, stalking back and forth, a terrible gleam appearing in his remaining organic eye. "The Imperial Guard protects the Imperium. The Adeptus Astartes protects the Imperium. The Artbites, the Adeptus Sororitas, the Custodes themselves. The Imperium is not in need of another shield or warfront. We are not here to protect the Imperium. We are here to hunt."

"Hunt." I said, absorbing the word.

"The Daemon, the Xenos, the Heretic. Ours is not the battlefield. Ours is the shadows. The library. The Underhive. The corruption within the Governor's household. The Daemon summoning within the forests of the feral worlds. We are not blunt instruments. We are Inquisitors, Hadrian. And you cannot succeed as an Inquisitor unless you use your head."

---

"She was merely suffering under psychotomimetic-induced hallucinations from involuntary consumption of drugs," I said, reclining back in my chair in the offices sequestered within the crux between the lower and upper hives. Ortega looked at my without betraying any emotion, expression unreadable.

"And if they say that is insufficient?" Ortega asked. "Or if they wish for me to elaborate on that point?"

"Then you can tell them that is a tergiversation and the Inquisition is not in the position to allow such questioning in our endeavors."

"Somehow, I don't think the Grand Provost Marshall will appreciate that. But I suppose you would say he should get used to it."

"You must be psychic, you read my mind." I said. My eyes met Emmaline's. She wore her bodyglove, albeit after having it cleaned, her hair still in a bun. The following hours after the death of the Priest, a man who's prints we matched with a Cardinal Simon Philovong of the Ecclesiarchy. A rogue bishop who had taken his evangalism into the Segmentum Obscurus, evidently in a bid to seek out dissidents on Hydra Cordatus. That was all I could surmise from the autoseance and the prints Ortega was allowed to collect. Emmaline smiled, but kept quiet as Ortega sighed.

In the other room, Elektra was under armed guard, her hands shackled. After the death of her supposed master, she had been unresponsive save our directives to lead her out of the room and into custody. Emmaline insisted on Elektra being granted a second chance, and knowing she had seen the woman's experiences that led her down that path, I had acquiesced and told Ortega we were taking her, which was a difficult sell as the Grand Provost Marshall likely needed to pin the blame on someone living so there could be an execution and a trial, in that order of importance. Ortega wished for a strip of the scrolls as well, but I had denied that without prejudice and burned them all with promethium, utilizing an incinerator and Lazarus' keen eye to make certain every last scrap of it was decimated.

"Is there anything else, Arbites Ortega?" I asked patiently.

"Where are you going, then?" He asked, giving up with the whole situation. He turned on his vox and told his men to prepare the prisoner for extraction and release.

"Savaven," I said. "In the Quinrox Sound Sub-sector."

Ortega blinked. "I am surprised you would tell me, Inquisitor." He said.

I smiled. "I have no fear of the adeptus arbites, and even if there were traitors in your ranks, the planet is home to fourteen billion people. Good luck finding us."

Ortega grinned, and gave a salute. "Thank you, Inquisitor. And even you, Mamzel. Good luck and good hunting," He said, and turned to step out of the office. Once he was out, Emmaline closed the door. Lazarus whirred in binary, and his eyes shined red as he paced to a small desk and pulled out a small piece of cloth, from the robes of the deceased Simon Philovong.

"I retain my conclusion. There is a 98.7% this cloth was granted by the Ecclesiarchy on Avignor. But perhaps you should have remained silent rather than having lied to the arbites. He could be accused of lying for us, if the word gets out."

"I trust him to remain silent, and if he's not, or is made to speak, then our enemies will look for us elsewhere. Misdirection is the first step to any victory." I said. "Now, get your affairs in order. The Caledonia will depart in two days."

"Maybe then you can keep from falling apart," Emmaline quipped, and I shot her a look. She stuck her tongue out at me, but she winked and I softened. Somehow, despite the corruption of this Nagripp and Simon going into the upper echelons of the Ecclesiarchy, I felt it would turn out alright.

I was not correct, I would later find out.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I leaped over an emaciated flagellant, hitting the floor and putting three rounds from my autopistol into a screaming tribesman. Blood spurted and holes blossomed in his chest cavity and neck just before he collapsed. I was moving even before his face hit the floor, following in Emmaline's wake. I could feel her distress like ice shards plunging into the periphery of my mind. The electric wiring roiling out of the archway in the parody of a maw, I entered, stepping as carefully as I could. I needed to hurry, but in my state it would be almost impossible to pick myself up again without damaging myself internally, and as heroic as it would be, my agonizing death would help my team little.

I managed to enter the room just as Emmaline was knocked off her heels. Fortunately I was already running, and so I merely needed to redirect my feet to catch her before she fell into the skeletal remains of the bodies, catching her within my sword arm and aiming my pistol at the next brute, my next bullet punching through the augmetic eye and crumpling the near-human mongrel. My next rounds tore into two psykers, ending their servitude and sending their souls to the emperor's side. Emmaline looked up at me with her wide blue eyes, and I gave a tight smile.

"Hence the importance of firearm accuracy without tricks," I teased with a raised eyebrow, referring to our bet in my first attempt at teaching her the value of target practice. She gave a dazzling smile, and I could have kissed her if we did not have another acro-flagellant bearing down on us. I aimed and fired, but my autogun was empty. Cursing, I pushed Emmaline to the wall and ignited my powersword, the blade roaring to life as I brought it in line to skewer the murderous zealot. It tore through the former-man like ripping through wet paper, but its weight still hit me. I cried out more pitifully than I would have liked when I felt the pressure of his entire upper half hitting my torso.

"Hadrian!" Emmaline cried as I grimaced, gripping my abdomen and stubbornly keeping to my feet. She ran to my aid, but I shrugged off her hands and gave her a look. One of trust and command in equal measure. I hastily reloaded by autogun, squaring my jaw.

"Kill the psykers and that bastard in the center." I told her, having surmised the plot swiftly enough, stumbling off to the left and using the energy weapon to scythe a path through the bodies, bones melting at every swing. The autogun's muzzle flashed and more rounds ripped into trapped psykers as the priest at the center began to yell, his voice rising in volume, the words spilling out of him as if drawn by some eldritch power.

Lazarus had picked his way through the bodies with his extra limbs, spidering over tables and chairs and thick wiring as he approached the center of the room. He braced himself against a pillar and fired his weapon again, the trans-uranic arquebus detonating his immediate surroundings and punching through two caged psykers, rending steel and leaving a blue flame in its wake.

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

Alpha Centauri had been colonized and terraformed during humanity's golden age, back when they still had the means to terraform entire planets and could deploy machines that would not immediately turn on their creators. Back when earth was the center of an expanding empire and the men serving under the alliance of earth nations were paid well and fought and explored with complete dedication to the ascension of humanity. The civil wars that followed had made it a second sol, in support of the loyalists, giving it more than a mere symbolic importance and signifying it as the banking capital, where the old money solidified. However, the invasion by the Hexanagallions had not been kind to Sol's sister system. The planet Bucephalus, known originally as Proxima Centauri B, had been photon bombed and knocked off its axis, destroying its verdant ecosystem and ruining its atmosphere. It's small moon had been shattered, and now the lifeless husk of a planet floated out of the habitable zone, caught between the three stellar bodies of the system in an endless loop of nights that lasted months and days that took years to complete.

The banking and casinos, luckily, had mostly conducted their businesses in stations surrounding the planets. They now mostly hovered in orbit of Proxima Centauri, still in Bucephalus's old orbit. It was practically an asteroid field of stations and loose planetary debris, all collectively known as the Golden Girdle, or simply the 'Girdle.'

"I haven't been here in awhile," Neil said to himself quietly.

Cygi popped up in front of him. "Owe money here, do ye?" She asked, her pirate garb still on.

Neil snorted. "Hey, just because I have a bounty doesn't mean I cause trouble everywhere I go. Only a lot of places, but no here I'm clean. S'far as I know, at least. As for money, I do feel responsible for the kitchen so I can probably scrounge up some credits here at the dice tables. That or I can get some prize money from the rekker ring."

"The what?" Jocasta asked, the ship now in automated flight as the Dragonfly pulled into the shield of the Alpha Acropolis, one of the larger stations that still clutched a bit of old Bucephalos as its base.

"They got mech fights here. They're not big mechs, and the money isn't as profitable as it used to be, but it's still pretty popular. I could give it a go... that or we can steal some cash."

The Dragonfly passed through the phaser shields, keeping the breathable atomsphere in the hanger but allowing ships to pass through freely. The Dragonfly barely made a sound as it landed, pressurized air streaming out as the bulkhead door slid open. Neil practically bounded out of the ship, Jocasta racing behind him just in case he was going to disappear, but when she leaped out, she saw him admiring the ship instead. He gave a low whistle, ducking down to peek at its sleek underbelly.

"I never actually got a chance to see the outside of her. She's gorgeous," he marveled.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I briefly activated my power sword's energy core, the blood marring the blade evaporating instantly before my eyes. I shut it off, but did not sheathe it. Something told me I would have more use of it soon. Clara bit off the end of her bandage and finished tying it up, hefting her lascarbine with an iron will writ on her face. Lazarus seemed perturbed by their surroundings, but otherwise unharmed. Ortega watched the zealot with open suspicion, but made no move to strike her.

"Lead on," I ordered her, retrieving my autopistol from its holster. I felt a sharp stab in my side, but I gave no indication I felt a thing. There would be plenty of time for fretting later.

Elektra nodded with tear laden eyes, all but running out of the room to better fulfill what she likely thought was her act of redemption. I am not a priest, but the Inquisition is the left hand of the Emperor and one cannot be in the Ordo Malleus without some knowledge of sacred texts and rites. I was not comfortable being placed in the shoes of one who speaks for the Emperor himself, but I was not unused to such treatment, and in an extremely convoluted way, Elektra was not entirely incorrect.

We followed her brusquely, hurrying through a short corridor and passing a door bedecked with reliquary fetishes and scripture etched in blood. The zealot stepped through and shrieked as if she had been shocked, but no one else complained as they passed, finding we had entered a small lobby leading to a stairwell made of plascrete and adorned with crudely wrought symbols of the emperor made in stone and placed to frame the stairs on every level we passed.

"How many of these followers are there in the main hall?" Ortega asked as we reached the correct floor. Elektra turned to me, eyes pleading. I nodded my consent, and she turned to Ortega, placing a hand on Emmaline's arm for what I imagined was support.

"Dozens, though they might not all be present. I don't know if the master is there, either." She lamented cryptically, looking away as if ashamed. Ortega racked his shotgun again in preparation as Emmaline inquired about who this master was. But Elektra would simply shake her head and mumble, unable or unwilling to speak. Emmaline glanced my way helplessly, and I knew well enough that Elektra's mind was already fragile enough. Delving deeper could break her, and I was not yet prepared to kill a woman who had renounced the ways of the ruinous powers.

"Ortega, Clara, take point. Shoot anyone who does not look like a civilian, and quell anyone who does. I go in next. Emma, behind me. Lazarus, once we sweep in, find the roots of the station and pluck them. We need this cut immediately." I said. "Elektra, stay with Emmaline. I don't want you caught in the confusion."

"Right boss," Clara said, stepping to the left of the door, eyes peeled. Ortega joined her, signaling readiness. She nodded, and he waited for my go before he went. The big arbites raised his weapon, and blew the handle off the door with a well placed 10 gauge shell. The door lazily began to open before his foot sent it all but flying off its hinges. As he pulled back the forestock, Clara was already moving in. Her lascarbine cracked, superheated beams of red scythed into the room. I saw figures turning in surprise and falling, scorch marks erupting on their barely clad forms and one even lost a forearm, the lasbolt hitting him just at the joint of elbow. Ortega barreled through as Clara rolled to the left, gunning down three zealots with five slugs. I followed in after, giving a quick survey of the room that lasted less than a second.

There was a central table festooned with wiring and candles, a great collection of scrolls piled at its center. Skinny, used men and women in rags operated various consoles, or had been before they had run for cover. Dead PDF guards occasionally littered the floor, and the room along with its subsequent hallways swarmed with zealots. I stepped forward, igniting my power sword as a zealot wielding two long butcher knives leaped over its fallen companion and bore down on Ortega before he could rack another round in. My sword cut through him from abdomen to collarbone in a backhanded stroke. He fell with a cry to the emperor on his lips.

The irony was not lost on me.

"Lazarus, find the signal before they can utilize it!"

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

I had admittedly been worried about Camilla. She had followed me as if drunk, but she had collapsed onto the bed and spent the rest of the afternoon asleep once I had procured a room, until she awoke just after midnight. I had decided to check her, divining what I could about her and making my prayers to holy Sigmar, seeking guidance on her health once I had finished with the physical inspection. She seemed fine, though I could not help feel somewhat sour about something. Guy Du Ponce was one thing, but I did not know what sort of things he had envisioned about Camilla and it troubled me.

And it troubled me that I was troubled.

Again, I questioned myself on why I was here, but watching her sleep made me realize I would have traded this for the long road to the capital of Reikland, even if I had rewards awaiting me when I was received there. Just like the other night, I felt like she was like a painting. Even if she did snore like an ox. In the meantime I grabbed something to eat, and left her a plate of ham, cheese, and chopped tomatoes and celery. My own plate I devoured very quickly and almost literally inhaled the water pitcher. And then I had asked the staff about a bowl of their coldest water to be brought to the room and went out to see what news I could find in the meanwhile. Once back in the room, I unwrapped my bandaged hand and gingerly placed it within the cool liquid, seething at the sudden rush of sensation. But after a moment it felt better. Even I slept a bit, after that, though I woke up before she had aroused.

When she awoke she seemed much the same. Perhaps slightly more vibrant from the rest, which was a high bar because I had thought her vivacious in body and spirit beforehand. She even looked a year or two younger, oddly enough. I told her what I knew and made a few jests, but then she apologized.

This might be difficult to imagine, but I could count the times someone has apologized to me on one hand in the entirety of my life, and it certainly was never from someone like Camilla. It made me feel sentimental, which was annoying. This woman really was throwing me into a lot of emotions and bad decisions recently.

"I believe what you meant to say was 'thank you,' I remarked wryly, but my face softened and I gave her a much warmer look than even I intended. "But either way, you're quite welcome."

"So, why did you come back?" Camilla asked, looking at me curiously. She twirled a small wave of her hair in her finger. "Not for me, right?"

"No," I laughed. "No, of course not. I'm interested in the gold, and admittedly I love the weather here, the sea air agrees with me, plus I can't stand that blathering captain..." We both shared a smile. "But, you know, now that I am here..." I lifted myself off the chair, took her hand in mine and kissed the back of it. "It would be my delight to stick together. Just a smart move, of course."

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I make it a point to be honest in these briefings, and I will not change that policy here. Emmaline tells me that I had secured a cable-line from my belt to the antennae and had rappelled her down safely, whilst the others followed on the same line. Lazarus had purportedly climbed down on his spindly mechanical limbs like a great spider, using the grafted steel and flaws in the material to cling to. I cannot recall that, truthfully. All I remember is the pain.

If you haven't been shot and then hastily placed into surgery before surviving an aerial crash, I can confirm it feels like hell. I felt a wetness around my abdomen, but I did not bother to check, and I assured Emmaline I was alright, once my vision refocused and I could see more than a red haze.

Once my eyes could see well enough, the first sight I was privvy to was a young aritocrat with an illegal chem-inhaler, gazing at me with hopelessness in his eyes. His glasses were ill-balanced on his nose, and he seemed to take my bloodshot look as a sign of hostility. The acne-ridden youth threw the chem-inhaler into the air and ran back across the steel decking of the landing into a pair of double doors. I looked and saw other youths hastily following, dropping or tossing spraycans they had been using to vandalize the side of the hive with crude drawings depicint Saint Allesia in coitus with some unknown Ecclesiarch. I checked my auspex as I inquired on where exactly we had landed.

"We have arrived at the broadcasting hub for the entire hive of Gravemire, inquisitor." Lazarus said as we began to move forward, wading through the forest of antennae on the path towards the doors. "However, I deduce the displays that monitor the activities broadcasted will be inside."

I unholstered my gun, the sparking valkyrie above us making a sudden rending of metal as it plummeted the last thirty meters to the floor. Black smoke choked the air and plumed like a beacon into the sky as we departed, and another small explosion buffeted the air.

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

I had spent some time in Tilean villas during my stay at Pavona, mostly to entertain nobles or fair contessas with a bit of singing or knowledge of the empire, or regaling them with battles of ancient history. I even knew a small bit of the Elven tongue which I admittedly embellished so as to gain some favor with the local aristocracy. There are at least a dozen courtiers in Pavona now that speak a bastardized form of Elvish that any native born from Ulthuan would spear on the spot if they heard the crude and babbling faux-tongue of their sacred language. Anything to get some women and some gold, in my eyes, and might I add, in that order. And it was good hands-on experience, pardon the pun.

There were villas located in the pastoral lands surrounding the city states called Villa Rusticaes, with miles of land allocated for the growing of cash crops and luxury goods for the wealthy landowner to pick at their leisure, viticulture being quite popular. The more common, city based villas were Villa Urbanae, small estates cordoned off by lush hedges and small gardens in the cities, often used as sumptuous homes for the politician on the go who couldn't afford the time to leave the walls of the city. I had found the ladder in this case, and I was hit with a wave of deju vu as I scaled the wall and slid through the hedges, something I had done more than once in my days at the university. At then as now, it was to look for a beautiful woman. I suppose I was not much different these days.

Stepping in, I found the estate was made in the Martius style. A courtyard decked with potted plants from far off lands, hugged by a multiple columns holding a curved arch at the back of the small square in the style of the old tilean theaters. The second floor had an open hall that served as a roofed balcony overlooking the stone-floored yard, with chairs and oil lamps ready to host a party. All of this was fairly typical. What wasn't typical was the vast majority of the imperial gold in a cart at the very center, guarded by four men.

I froze. I knew they had seen me, at least initially. Then I looked closer, and saw not only had they not moved, but they were either asleep or dead, positioned there by some unknown player.

"Monsieur!" I heard, nearly ripping my soul from my body. I flinched in fright and my eyes shot up to the second floor balcony. I saw the smiling face of Guy Du Ponce there, bedecked in chainmail armor and handsome surcoat. His sword at his belt and eyes off-putting in their cheer. "What in the name of ze Lady are you doing here? I had thought you had left with your Imperial friends! It pleases me to see you are well."

He began to walk across the expanse of the aisle until he reached the stairs leading down.

"It pleases me to see you are well too," I said, my mind racing. "And evidently very rich."

"Well, I did not have your luck, you see. I could not escape in time, so I had to make eh, certain alliances, no? I have been tasked with guarding the treasure. But, you did not tell me why you decided to come back." He reminded me, stepping down the last step and approaching me, as if to embrace me in his casual gladness. He seemed perfectly aware of the bodies, or unconcerned his men were still as statues.

"You know how it is, a woman gets you under her spell and a man does crazy things." I said, and Guy huffed a very sincere laugh, looking into my eyes and shaking his head. For a moment, I thought he was about to tell me a terrible truth, something gnawing at his soul. But a heartbeat later, he merely said:

"You have no idea how right you are, my friend," and before I could gauge the meaning of his swords, he threw a punch at my face. His fist was decked in mail and I was notably unarmored, but luckily it was only a glancing blow. I staggered and dropped my staff, bracing myself on the gold cart. When next my eyes whipped back at him, he was already slashing at my neck with his sword to finish me. I yelped and threw myself on the ground, his longsword biting into the wooden panel of the cart. He yanked at the blade, but pulled it out a second too slow. I tackled him from below, trying to flip him over. He struck my back with the pommel of his sword, but I did not stop my grappling until his feet were in the air and he crashed onto the stones heavily.

Taking my staff, I spun it and brought it down, hitting the knight on the side of the helm. The blow either dazed him or killed him, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that Camilla had to be here. He had no reason to think of me as the enemy unless he had what I was after. Sure, he could have the gold and wish for me to keep permanent silence, but a Brettonian knew the importance of chivalry, and as strange as it sounded, I was in the middle of a chivalrous act. I looked past him at the gold, admired its beauty for a moment, and then cursed and turned back to run inside. I did not pay much attention to the decor. It was typical of most villas, paintings, windows, couches one could lounge or make love on. Instead I threw open every door I could, finding naught but papers and cabinets of food. I grabbed an apple and devoured it as I ran upstairs, having momentarily forgetting how hungry I was.

The first oak door upstairs I opened, I dropped my half eaten apple and saw Camilla. The woman had collapsed by the side of the bed, blood caking her neck and hand.

"Sigmar no," I said, the words erupting from my throat before I realized what I said. I hurried over to her and dropped my staff, gently cradling her head so it could lay on my lap, examining her. I wiped away the blood, momentarily relieved that her throat had not been slit. "Camilla? Camilla, wake up! If you die right here I will be livid as hell, mark me! Camilla!" I shook her gently, a hint of desperation in my voice.

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

I wish I could appreciate the tilean architecture, but slinking through the streets and trying to remain away from the eyes of battling Condottieri was enough to keep my mind occupied. That and my constant questioning of my sanity. I had everything I ever wanted awaiting me back in Altdorf, and yet I was here, turning back around every other street as men actively sought or butchered one another. More than once did I think I would have to defend myself in fear of my life, but always I managed to step back into the shadows or keep myself just beyond a guardsman's reach. Luckily, I was a man of many talents, and one of my best talents was running away.

After I made my way out of a particularly blood soaked alley, I found myself on the main thoroughfaire, the sun bright in my eyes. I blinked and turned east, where the light wasn't so blinding, and made my way there, passing over well maintained bushes and flowers in the center of the street. I climbed over a small white wall, believing I was heading for a less popular way back to the palace.

A familiar horse whinnied as my feet hit the ground, apparently startling the beast. It stood tethered under an elaborate walkway, next to an old style villa a small ways up the hill. It was brettonian gelding, and I recalled seeing the same horse tethered up just the day before and recognized it as Guy Du Ponce's steed. That was very curious, I found. Perhaps the brettonian had decided to hide out here as the violence died down. I felt he might be a useful ally in trying to locate Camilla, so I climbed up the small tiled street on the hill. And yet as I approached, I felt the same elusive feeling as I had just this morning.

Something did not feel right, I decided.

Ah, yes. Follow your instincts. That served you well just an hour ago.

Shut up, you love tilea. And tilean women, particularly.

I went back and forth in that manner for another minute, but regardless I made my way up the street. However, I decided not to knock on the front door. Perhaps a back entrance would be more appropriate, just in case my instincts weren't wrong. I was quite good at games of chance, after all. Even when I wasn't cheating...

Death's Edge: A Warhammer Story

The Imperials made it out of the city once the sun had arched across the sky, the heat pressing down on them and identifying the time as mid-afternoon. A few streaks of clouds were scattered amongst the great blue expanse, but otherwise it was clear like the sea. I had yet to eat all day and he felt it in his stomach. Captain Muller and his men had to slay a few stragglers attempting to harass them, but the gates had been unmanned and the entirety of the troupe had all but stumbled out of the front gates, the road before them empty save for a few men with donkeys escaping the city with haste, almost on the horizon now.

"Heinrich! Headcount!" The Captain bellowed with a roar, and I felt they now looked quite the sight. Standing just at the spot they had occupied yesterday before they had traipsed into the city with high hopes and endless possibilities. Now they were run out like whipped dogs. Even knowing the intricacies of the context, it was somewhat embarrassing.

"Thirty four men sir, not including you, the chamberlain, and the priest." Corporal Heinrich called, saluting. Good man, Heinrich. Hell of a card player. But it was then I realized.

"My, that was harrowing. I suppose we should try again next season?" Chamberlain Shultz asked, huffing. He coughed from the dust in the air.

"We'll send an army next time. This insult cannot stand," The Captain growled, glaring at the city as if the very stone itself had insulted his mother. "We haven't even our supplies or gift of gold. We'll have to forage and gather what we can with what little we have. Maybe in a day or two we can find some manner of shelter."

"Where's Camilla?" I asked, spinning round. I wasn't a large man, but I was taller than the average imperial and couldn't see her anywhere in the small gathering of troops. "Did anyone see her get shot or taken?"

"No sir, none..." Heinrich said, unsure of what could have happened.

"She was nothing but a tilean rat," Muller said, glancing at the gate and turning back to the road. "This city is a sewer. She just slunk back in. You needn't worry about it. We must tend our own."

Anger rose in me like a bubbling volcano. The bastard had always been rude to me, but never had it gotten to him like this. Perhaps because those other than himself that he belittled were his men he needed to keep discipline over, but I was effected this time quite profusely. I would not let that go unanswered. "She was a good woman, who helped rescue the chamberlain and saved my life. I'll hear no disrespect, Muller."

I did not even bother to call him captain. His eyes blazed at me for the insult, but the chamberlain stepped between us.

"My lads, please. We are safe now, yes? Let us go back and make our reports." He said, and then turned to me with a smile. "You saved my life, herr priest. Once I am back I will give a recommendation that you make bishop, and my support for whatever your endeavor is, my good man!"

That brought a dazzling change in my thoughts for a moment. The chamberlain granting me his patronage? No one could have asked for a higher backing save from the Emperor himself! This was too monumental for me to really appreciate at the time, but I was aware of the vastness of the potential. I could even be granted leave to join the Colleges of Magic, or study in the highest academies of sciences in Altdorf, or Medicine in far off Araby! Gold, power, and position were in my future if I merely stayed the course.

"Aye," Captain Muller had to agree, albeit begrudgingly. "You saved the chamberlain and kept your word. You have my respect, priest. I never thought I would say this, but thank you. Let the woman go and let's start our journey back, eh? After the reports are written, we can put this whole thing behind us."

They all turned to leave. The men began to grab what packs they had set down, grumbling but moving all the same. I felt them moving forward like a tide being pulled back into the ocean, running all at once around me. But like a rock, I only felt the sand slipping away.

I did not move. I could not move, I found. Even when I willed my foot to lift up, it did not step forward. That was curious. Why not?

I glanced back at the open maw of the gate, and I saw Camilla's face before my eyes. The glimpse of her from the wall just behind me, the tripping in the street, the dancing and dinner and kissing by the moonlight. The night of fervent love-making and this day of survival and violence contrasted by her quick wit and beauty. And now she had gone back into the city where most of the officials wanted her dead or worse. But did I really care? More than a potential future? More than a cozy life back in the north? Only a fool would. I could get a dozen women if I wanted to, and I had only known her a day! I could not care this bloody much, even at the cost of her life! Right!?

Fuck, perhaps I did.

When next they turned around, I was already long gone, having run yet again into the belly of Remas to find Camilla. Damn her, but I could not leave her to get caught.

Bodacious Bounties: Bounty Hunter AU

Neil opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His eyes squinted, and then he blinked as he came to terms with what was occurring. "So... hold on, just because the government is offering my bounty doesn't mean I owe you the bounty! You aint turned me in yet. Plus I took care of those bounty hunters." He poked his chest with his thumb, puffing it out. "I'm tryna be fair here! But yeah, I did cause a fire. It was that or be taken to their ship."

He did legitimately feel a bit bad about that, though she was making it difficult not to at least stun her and negotiate with her in the cell. The kitchen damage was a sound debt, however. "But that's fair, I owe you that, and I can work that off in... uh..."

Neil squatted, resting the modified rifle on his knees and counting with his fingers, mumbling to himself as he started calculating how long it would take to pay back that amount with a job like the one he had before he was skyrocketed off Hyperion 3. Maybe he could be a bounty hunter too? Or he could steal the money. He heard there was a big casino in Proxima Centauri. Did Charlie still work there? Man, he had not seen him in forever. He wondered if he could rig some dice games for him?