POOHEAD189

De Trop Disgrace: Warhammer Fantasy RP

Kasimir had been fairly certain he was going to die, for a lengthy stretch there. He did not think Eleanor was honest in all respects, but he did owe her for that, he begrudgingly had to tell himself. He felt the tension trickle out of him, and yet again he wished he had his sword with him. The weight was comforting and familiar, but it seemed to be occupied at the moment as 'evidence' so he would simply have to go without.

"Very well," Kasimir said, acquiescing. The men formed two columns around Kasimir and Eleanor, and marched them down the stairs and across the courtyard as men hustled forward to bring more news to the Graf. The palace was large, befitting a great city, but the inner nobility were far more curt in their dealings. Had this been altdorf, Kas would have expected to wait in the opulent lobby for some time, made to stand after a long day and night of socializing and nearly being killed twice. Thankfully, within minutes both he and the Brettonian were ushered into the lesser throne room of the Palace of Middenheim. The greater room was for services, knightings, honors, and holidays. The smaller one was more personal, for inquiries such as this. However, calling it 'small' was misleading. The inner sanctum was still larger than most sizeable residences in the city. A red carpet with purple hemlines stretched from the door to the stairs leading up to the robust chair. Marble statues of two wolves framed the entryway, and Ulrican mosiacs, armor stands, and depictions of battles against beastmen arrayed the walls between the stout pillars. Knights of the White Wolf stood with the Palace's elite soldiers, unmoving as if they were statues as well.

Boris Todbringer, Graf of Middenheim, the Grand Duke of Middenland, the Prince of Carroburg, known as the "Protector of the Drakwald," "Warden of the Middle Mountains" and "Beloved of Ulric" sat in his chair, staring at Kasimir and Eleanor as they were escorted into the room. His right eye was covered by a black patch, but his left eye gazed at them as an eagle might, penetrating and without mercy for those he deemed unworthy of it.

"Ever since I was given word you had walked under the great gates of Middenheim, I've heard scandal after story after complaint about you, boy." His powerful voice reverberated off the stone, yet he did not shout. Kasimir and Eleanor settled themselves a few strides from the foot of the stairway, gazing up at him as his voice carried. Boris narrowed his eye, gaze honing in on his estranged bastard. "One might have thought you would have learned the art of subtlety in Reikland. I am beginning to wonder why I sent you there at all, boy."

"I always imagined it was simply to get rid of me." Kasimir replied, as if he was bored of the lecture already. The men that had escorted them looked at Kasimir with a mixture of concern and outrage. Boris snorted.

"I had forgotten just how insolent you were." He said, as if he was weighing the option to order a late dinner or an execution.

Kasimir gazed up at him, a hardness in his eyes, as if they were fashioned out of steel. "Oh, I remembered exactly how insolent you are."

Hands went to sword sheathes as Graf Todbringer suddenly rose from his chair, one eye blazing. He looked like a wrathful spirit of Ulric, come to bring fire and sword to the world at large. But instead of ordering his men to attack or discipline his unruly bastard, he said one simple word: "Out!"

One of the palace guards approached, his greatsword still at his back. "But, my Graf-"

"I've never known you to need to hear an order twice, Hemmler." He said. "Out."

Men began to turn all at once, stepping out of their posts and exiting the throne room through the lobby. Hemmler glared at Kasimir before turning and leaving, obedient to his lord. Eleanor began to move away too, but Todbringer said: "Not you, girl."

When the doors closed with a resounding clang, Boris Todbringer stepped down from his throne, a threat of a smile on his lips. "You've still got the wolf in you." He said with a tone that held satisfaction in it, and he clapped Kasimir on the shoulder. The tension in the room dissipated like spring water in the summer time.

"I like to keep it hidden, but I take it out from time to time." Kasimir said, and for the first time, he seemed less rebellious and more like a son. Though it was still easy to see a small friction there, as if neither man knew if they should hug or not, or brush it off their first meeting in years so as not to appear weak.

"And who is this, your woman?" The Graf asked, nodding to Eleanor.

"No," Kasimir breathed, as if the very idea was humorous. "This is Dame Eleanor of Brettonia. She is...was, Oderick's lover. She is the one who found him as he was."

"Ah, my apologies fraulein. I imagine tonight must be intimidating to you." The Graf said with the smallest nod, before his eye fixed on Kasimir. "They tell me they found your sword there, bloodied. They say it is not possible for you to have done this, but they also say you slew Clauswitz in cold blood earlier as well. My spies tell me the latter is a lie, but I must ask about the former, boy. Dif you kill Oderick?"

"No," Kasimir replied.

"Hrm," Boris said simply, pursing his lips and nodding. It was hard to tell where his lips ended and his great red beard began. "Very well. Good. Now to you..." He stepped passed Kasimir and stood before Eleanor. Even at such a late hour, he wore his colors over a sturdy breastplate, as if he was on campaign for war. His gaze bore into her eyes. "Speak girl and speak true. Tell me exactly what happened when you entered the rooms. You've nothing to fear from me, fraulein. Not unless you lie."

The Sunday Group - Seeds and Harvests

I am ready and waiting for another post so I can have a good buffer between my last post and the next one.

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

"Calimport. That is a bloody city too, though gambling does not always end in that. But it can."

Amal spoke with a fond smile on his face, as if to ask 'what can one do?' He gave a shrug and began to walk toward the establishment Charynrae indicated, letting her follow in his wake so he could grab what attention they might garner. It was a good thing she was slight of stature. An orc would be harder to conceal, and even a duergar would have its troubles. Drow were also much more nicer to look at, he decided. More interesting company too, though Amal had heard a strange tale of a Duergar assassin before. He would be interested in sharing a pint with that one, too.

"Calimport is far to the south. Maybe one day you'll see it. I'm sure I won't be as hunted in say, ten years." He said offhanded, and the two stepped into the common room.

It was fairly spacious, with men and women from all over Faerun carousing and conversing, drinking and laughing. To the left was a small section to sit down, but to the right, against the wall they had just walked into, was the bar, and further right was a larger room with more tables. Amal supposed it was a sturdy place, being built under the stone of the great wall guarding Vaasa.

"Excuse me sirs, but we'll need to confiscate your weapons." A broad fellow in a dark surcoast said, brown beard ensconcing his strong jaw. He looked congenial, but there was a hardness behind his eyes that showed he was not unused to forcing the issues. Amal pursed his lips and nodded, relinquishing his daggers and his saber. When he placed them in the hand of the fellow, the bouncer marveled at the make. "Magical?"

"No, but well forged. Keep an eye on them for me. Oh, and my chultan friend is quite shy. He'll hand his over, however." Amal remarked, turning back to give Charynrae a subtle wink. The island of Chult was even further south than Calimshan, and the men there were of even darker skin than Amal. He seriously doubted any Chultan had ever been so far north, not within decades, at least. Charynrae could extend her hand at least, and she would not be incriminated by the man if he thought she was from the steaming jungles in that far off land. Though if her eyes were seen, that was another story.

"Do you serve any arak here?" Amal asked to keep the man moderately distracted.

"Arak?"

"A drink from my homeland."

"I doubt it, stranger." The bouncer remarked, rubbing his thinning head of hair. "But we've got good mead, beer, ale, and a nice stout."

De Trop Disgrace: Warhammer Fantasy RP

"If you touch me, one of us will die." Kasimir warned the closest guard, and he gave the man a look so hard, the armsman faltered. The men behind him egged him on, but Kasimir simply raised his hands to show he was not armed. Men and women, some in night gowns or in varying states of undress popped out of doors and hallways, all watching with fascination or confusion.

"You will need to come with us." One of the men said. Kasimir instead pointed at another guardsman, one he recognized.

"You there, you saw me leave my sword in my room as your captain bade me. Is that not the truth?" He said, and barked: "Speak!"

"It is," the guardsman said. He had a wide face and dark hair, looking somewhat unsure of himself, yet he seemed without ambition at the moment. "Herr Reinhardt left his sword in his room. It...It would have been hard for him to come back and then go after Sir Oderick. And the Graf's bastard stayed late at the party as well. It seems less than likely."

"Unlikely, but not impossible." A gruffer, more surly guard remarked. He seemed on the edge of just apprehending Kasimir, and the bastard would like to not have to make good on his promise. He looked around to see if any of his old acquaintences were near, but unmercifully there was no one he recognized. He felt bile gurgling from his throat at the thought, but he pulled himself together and stepped back, indicating the lady Eleanor.

"Ask her what she saw." He said simply, remaining as placid as possible. "If the lady Eleanor claims I did this, or that she believes I was close enough at hand, then I will go with you quietly."

No matter the answer, Kasimir would fight this. He knew the truth, even if everyone else seemed too stupid to see he was being framed. But he would at least allow himself to be manhandled and taken away in chains for the time being if the only witness condemned him. He would not necessarily blame the guards, after that. However, he probably would curse the Brettonian unto death. Ulric worked in strange ways, leaving his fate to this woman.

The men turned to the golden haired woman, a few looking just on the edge of violence, but they awaited their word, though out of a sense of chivalry or simple logic, it was hard to say.

Pax Astra

As the ion thrusters flared to life, Tiber released the locking level on the aft-turret. It was an old fashioned, rudimentary turret made for local planetary forces, but Tiber preferred it that way, in a strange conceit. The steel and oil made him feel as if he was fighting with his grandfather on the Xolidan campaign, where the planet had been so war ravaged, it took twenty years of terraforming to make the world sustainable for colonization again. The wheel was gas powered, and as Tiber activated it he heard the hydraulics kick in, swiveling the gun. The mount was push-button and moved by battery power, and it gave the gun an extreme range of view, despite the primitive technology.

As the ground fell away, the MAR flashed. Two objects half a kilometer to the west approached rapidly.

"Faex," Tiber cursed. He balled his hand into a fist and struck the back of the assault boat thrice, and then twice, indicating they were being pursued. A red indicator blinked just above him, affirming Sabatine received the message. They began to bank to the left, drawing their path over the sparsely wooded foothills and leaving the town and the valley in inhabited off to the south. It was then he got a good look at what pursued them.

They were API2's, autonomous pursuit interceptor drones, meant as safeguards against enemy assaults. Ideally, they would be used to harass fleeing enemies after a failed attack, driving the weakened foe away before they had a chance to lick their wounds. In the event a raid was successful, they would be used to track a foe back to whence they came from. But considering they made no secret of their approach, stealth was not a prerogative for their programming in this situation. They were robust, nearly as large as the soldier's vehicle, with two plasma guns mounted on a small column hanging below the main 'body,' giving it the look of a metallic hornet displaying its stinger threateningly.

Tiber got a lock on the drone at the fore, flipping the safety off and pulling on the trigger. 12.7mm rounds roared out of the turret, every twenty shells releasing a green tracer. The first API2 went down swiftly, more out of luck than anything. Tiber's well aimed volley hit it center mass, detonating the small engine and sending it flying into the bush, streaming flames. The next veered to the right, flipping end over it as it careened for their position. Moments later, wet green projectiles chased them, narrowly missing their assault car. Tiber switched tactics, aiming the gun to the right and just above the drone, but its algorithm realigned it, spinning it counterclockwise.

Fortunately, Tiber had dealt with these before.

As it performed its pre-generated maneuver, Tiber swiveled his gun and realigned the mount, placing the drone at the center of his reticle. He pulled the trigger again, bullets streaking past the API2, nicking it in the side. It wavered in the air, trying to keep itself upright. Tiber did not give it a chance, and even as it fired at him defiantly, he ended its flight with another burst from the mounted gun, sending it below as nothing but a memory.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Galt soaked in as much knowledge as he could, simply happy to be eating while the discussion was occurring. In some ways, this made him feel more aristocratic than he had ever felt. Eating fine food whilst learning things beyond his scope, as if he was attending a prestigious university. Of course, he would have been found wanting at times. There were occasions he was so focused on the excellently prepared food, he lost the track of the conversation. However, Galt was quick witted and he always managed to find a snag to pull back into, as he had done many a night with a grapple hook back before his life had turned upside down.

When one was a thief, they had the opportunity to learn many nifty things. Like how to scale a wall, pick a lock, how to lie, how to appear and disappear at a moments notice. But economics and manufacturing were foreign concepts, and the only logistics a thief needed to know was how to get stolen goods from point A to B. Somehow he doubted he would have much to add to any discussion, so he mostly stayed quiet and did his best to listen. It gave him further respect for Silke, however, and he thought he could not think more highly of her. Gods, she had a lot in her head when someone was willing to ask. He decided to keep a few things in his mind to inquire about later, just as much to learn as to show her he had been listening.

As the dinner wound down, Galt was having similar thoughts of Silke's sleep. He gave Vincent a subtle nod. "I shall turn in as well after this. I think we can all profit on some sleep." He said, though his eyes widened at the sight of the delectable cake. He greedily ate his, whilst still maintaining what manners he had been taught. It was an art form in and of itself, he thought. There were so little sweets available to the common class, he had forgotten how lovely they could be. Eating quickly while keeping his composure had seemed impossible, at first, but now he felt he had the trick of it. The fork, held just so, allowed one to savor the taste while still, seemingly idly, picking up the rest of the meal. As long as he did not stuff his mouth immediately, it was fine.

Once he ate his fill and the group gave what could be considered closing remarks, Galt made sure to dab his cheek in case there was any topping beside his lips, before he stood up. He helped Silke to her feet, insisting she follow suit with a look and an extended hand, so she could get some rest. "I think we have much to sleep on, after the lecture," he joked.

If Silke complied, Galt would turn to Vincent. "Would you be so kind as to help me find my room after I walk Silke to hers? I've only had the privilege of being in your home a short time and I don't want to assume on any direction."

He would have preferred to ask a Silke's father or a servant, but he doubted the Lord of the house was up to escorting anyone, and no servants were in the room at the current moment. At least he and Vincent had shared a few hours together today in weapon's training. He was actually looking forward to the next session. He would still rather run from a fight than stand his ground, but the martial arts were not boring.

"They do try to act modest, but this is a sizeable manor." Lord Byrne remarked, finishing up his cake before granted the table a sly smile. "Do go with them, Vincent. Not that I think any untoward would happen, but you would be useful if nothing else."

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"Well, I'd say your hot pilot boyfriend approves." Neil said, placing his hands on his hips and gazing around the comfortable room. The carpet was well cleaned, and even the ceiling fan seemed like it had been dusted recently. A smile crept onto his face as he looked around the room, oddly interested in Junebug's life before she had been thrust into her self-inflicted baptism by fire. It was a bit neater than his room on Fortus, if his old room was even the same. Damn, he hadn't thought about it in awhile.

"I mean, I wouldn't want to live here, but it's a nice place all things considered. It's a bit too quaint for me, even before I was in the military. But then again, I was a bit more of a delinquent than you." He gave her a grin that showed his teeth.

Normally when they were alone, he would enact 'getting into his superior's pants' protocol, but honestly the locale was so...plain, and her family so swell, he almost felt like it was kicking a wounded kitten. The accompanying stomps of Madge's little feet banging on the hallway floor also made him feel more trepidation. Yeah, maybe later.

"So, you ok here or do you feel like going out? You can show me your favorite hangouts from way back when. You had to have some place that served a good milkshake or something," Neil said, wondering what a small town on the planet would look like, or a city for that matter. It's true Terran architecture was often uniform on idyllic planets, but there was always something new if one knew where to look. "Unless you have some outstanding parking tickets or some jealous ex boyfriends I should know about."

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"Taya and I can head back to the Highlander if..."

"Nonsense!" Her mother exclaimed while her father simultaneously spouted. "We have plenty of room!"

Neil held his hands up as if to go 'alright alright!' but in truth he was smiling. It was just beginning to dawn on him how strange it was meeting Junebug's family, now that the surprise had worn off. He would never change her no matter what, but he wondered how she had gotten such a different temperament than everyone else. Then again, Neil was the black sheep of his family too, in a sense. His sisters were far better behave than him, and neither of his parents had encouraged him (too much) to be the way he turned out.

"Have you killed people too?" Madge asked, pointing at Neil with supreme confidence.

"Margaret!" Miranda called, her eyes blazing. It looked like Madge had finally caught the hint from the look, and she sunk down into her chair and pouted, crossing her arms.

"It's alright," Neil assured Miranda and Tomaz, though a look from Miranda showed he misread the situation. She was not mad that Madge was annoying him, except out of principal. She was mostly wanting to spare her daughter the details of anything morbid. Unfortunately, the entirety of the table except Junebug were looking his way. Sayeeda plucked a grape from the fruit bowl and chewed as if she hadn't a care in the world.

"I was a soldier for awhile, so I've seen some action. But I mostly fly nowadays." He said flippantly. Taya sipped some water gingerly, hoping no one asked her any pressing questions. Neil sympathized.

"Foot soldier? No wonder she likes you." Her father said.

"Mech division, actually." He professed, drawing some curious looks. It was rare to find actual mecha pilots in the galaxy. They were mostly used for spec ops, unless one was on a planet where the equipment was readily available, like Fortus. He cleared his throat. "But I did do some ground work. Now I'm just a pilot and engineer. I fix, I fly, I follow orders...mostly." Neil winked.

"Orders?" Her mother asked.

"Yeah, Sayeeda's the captain." Neil replied, pointing at Junebug.

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

This almost felt like a whirlwind to Neil, he wondered how concussed Sayeeda must feel. The landscape was trully idyllic, the temperature modestly warm, and the flowery scent of the outer gardens refreshing. He fancied he might have even smelled it prior, as if they had bottled up the smell and put a light fragrance in the air car. Neil knew Sayeeda was the center of attention, but somehow he felt put on the spot in some measure. He had been 'the boyfriend' before, and often times that brought more glares than happy smiles, and on this occasion, somehow he almost missed the scowls. At least then he could share Junebug's opinion, but now he felt stuck between being fancied over like an object to being secretly scrutinized.

Of course the pilot didn't show it. He smiled with Taya and gave quiet chuckles, and he did not expect her mother to compliment him so highly, nor given the title of 'master' by her father.

Well, there were worse problems to have.

"Ah, yeah. Well Junebug-" Neil started, but saw the look of incredulity twist her father's face. "Sorry, Sayeeda and I met a few years ago on Hodierna, in the Volantis system."

"Junebug?" Her mother piped in, shimmying her way to the table to move aside a small assortment of papers and a plate that looked unused but ill fitting for a dinner. "Sayeeda, do you go by another name?"

"Just a call sign for the business. We work in logistics." Neil explained with perfect nonchalance. "We take contracts, haul goods across the galaxy. It's safe, but the days are long."

Neil was surprised he did not hear Taya laugh at the half-lie.

"She always did want to play the soldier," Miranda said, not deigning to look up as she helped her mother clear the table. Neil noticed Sayeeda cast a look at her sister, but he decided not to notice the atmosphere in the room shift slightly. Miranda's husband placed his hands on her shoulders, whispering something about their daughter to her. She nodded and spoke back softly.

"So that's how you two met? Well you're a small crew, don't mind me saying. Sayeeda could always pull her weight though." Ibram said, beaming with pride. He was clearly pleased she was home, and Neil could tell at least he would be a safe haven from anything that might explode on this visit. "And you two just hit it off?"

Neil laughed, draping an arm over the back of a chair as he reminisced. Everyone always marveled at his easy manner and charming, addicting smile. Luckily it came easily, and her father gave a knowing chuckle. Farah looked fascinated, however. "Oh did she put you through the ringer? I can't imagine her with...well, let's just say it's a surprise to see you." She breathed pleasantly.

"Can I help?" Taya offered, her hands out to take a plate. Miranda pushed past her, shaking her head and giving a dismissive 'no thank you.'

"I had my eye on her for awhile, but she played hard to get," Neil explained in what was perhaps the most concise retelling of the first year of their partnership in the entire galaxy. Sayeeda's mother seemed like she was placing a marker in the folder of her mind to ask Neil more about it later, in private. Neil was making a mental note to never be caught alone at the exact moment. He gave a shrug. "Luckily she realized how much of a catch I was and the rest is history."

Grim Galaxy: Shots and Chances

"How did she know we were here?" Neil asked Taya in a whisper, cloaking his mouth with his hand.

Before Taya could answer, Sayeeda's mother brushed past the guards and hugged her daughter. Junebug reciprocated, albeit mechanically. Neil bit his lip so as not to laugh. He could tell he was going to have some fun on this trip, even though Junebug was going to likely hate it. He had some small sympathy for her, at least.

"We got the notification you were en route. Your father had it so whenever you flashed your ID with the security, we would be notified." She said, and then noticed Neil and Taya blink at that. She gave a smile. "If you know my daughter, you know how flighty and secretive she can be. But she won't slip by us that easily."

"She's just so impetuous." Neil said with a certainty only a gossip could have, shaking his head and giving a 'tsk tsk tsk' with his tongue. Junebug shot him a glare, and he decided not to lay it on too thick. To alleve the situation he decided to save her, raising his hand to shake, hoping her mother would take the bait. She finally let Junebug out of the embrace and shook Neil's hand gingerly.

"Are you friends of hers?" She asked, smoothing some loose hairs out of her eyes, fitting it back into her fashionable bun.

"Er, yes. Friends and business partners. I'm Neil Edwards, pilot, and this is Taya-"

"Medical officer." Taya pipped in, smiling politely.

Security approached, SMK2 assault rifles held in their hands. Even with their face helms, it was plain to everyone their patience was running thin. The man at check-in had evidently called them to reel Junebug's overzealous mother back in. When the one on the left spoke, his voice was amplified by a vox. "You can't stand around here. Move along please."