POOHEAD189

Darkhearts: A Forgotten Realms RP

Amal awoke from very nice dreams, but they only annoyed him. It was merely another form of teasing. Still, the warm bed was immensely comforting. Something like that had been a luxury even when running the streets of calimport. There were many nights where he had to wait for a mark until the break of day, or sleep on a roof to not be found in an inn. As dangerous as the north was, at least no one of note was looking for him. Not here, anyway.

He fortunately woke up before he could be teased further, with Charynrae fully dressed. Amal was sluggish to get out of bed, almost emotionally attached to the comfort and warmth in this unforgiving northern clime. He made a small, breathy groan as he sat up, rubbing his neck.

"As much as I hate the idea of leaving, we need money more than sleep." He began tiredly, before he stretched his long arms. As he did so, he opened one eye and saw Charynrae crouching over the fire. Her back covering the spider image she had drawn, he didn't deign to look closer. "Breakfast, and then bounty board, yes?"

He slipped on some of the new clothes they had procured, a form fitting jerkin over a dark shirt, and brown leathers that fit his form snugly. As he strapped on his saber and dagger, he tossed Charynrae her weapon, smoothing his mane of dark hair unconsciously, as if he had someone to impress. Perhaps the provocative nature of the drow last night had a lasting effect on him, or perhaps not. Ibrandul only knew. What Amal knew was they needed money, and he did not know the layout or the notable rich of Bloodstone to plan a theft.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

There weren't enough of us to form squads, and the staff were likely to shoot each other rather than the enemy. I cautioned Gaspard to give the two most trustworthy lads autoguns, and stationed them on the far car with the blast hole, giving them ample cover and four meters of space a soldier would need to jump to cross. I had the frame of mind to tell them if anything vaguely round was thrown at them, they were to throw it back, and quickly.

With that primer completed, I requisitioned Lord Gaspard, Junior Officer Jonas, and his deputy he introduced as Lucius. I had let Lord Gaspard believe it was his idea, and gave him a wide birth with his double barrel. I was unsure of how effective he might be without tall grass and a pair of hounds, but I could ascertain he was familiar enough with the weapon not to be unsafe due to lack of handling. I ordered the officers to guard our flanks, and I took the left while Gaspard swept right.

"Bloody cold's unbearable." Lucius remarked, before Jonas smacked the back of his head, placing a finger against his own lips.

The noise, while unwelcome, did not give our positions away. It was clear as I suspected, save for the corpses of the passengers. The dining car has kept only a shadow of its former dignity, the last stretch of it looking relatively the same as it had hours previously, save for a few tossed items and a lack of lighting. I informed them the suites would be next, and to watch out for civilians. We kept the same pattern, and luckily, other than finding a frightened couple huddled in a suite, as well as a rich merchant who was miraculously still asleep in his bed, there was no incident. I was beginning to think the assassins had fled the scene, until we reached the car just outside the engine room.

"Negie hall" Jonas whispered to me as we prepared ourselves for entry. A strange name for a car. Evidently it was an art exhibit, and a bidding room for special occasions. I'd heard of it, and had planned on visiting it as Emmaline had a taste for Maxime Étienne's Neoclassical pieces. I checked the prime on my laspistol, however before I could enter, Jonas had apparently regained a spine. He bade me to wait with a gesture of his hand, hoisted the lascarbine he had taken from one of the assassin's I had killed, choosing it in lieu of his laspistol, and he opened the door without much preamble. I was close enough to the doorway to see the mirror behind the small amasec bar on the right side of the car, watching as the head of a man in a facemask turned. I couldn't even cry out before Jonas, slack jawed, was eviscerated by lasgun fire. He had barely raised his weapon, not even able to form the words to call for their disarmament. Lord Gaspard gave a rousing gasp at the sudden turn of events, and the now-deceased Junior Officer's deputy screamed, though to his credit he shoved his hand out of the door and fired wildly.

I activated the rune of my pallasch and with a flourish of my blade, cut the door off its hinges. Gaspard had decided to make his own entrance, firing his large caliber rifle point blank into the wall between car, granting himself a more comfortable position to shoot. I only spared him a glance, the mirror ever in my vision, now the figures of two men reflected on its surface. I thumbed the burst-fire on my laspistol, having modified it for occasions that might call for it, and fired a volley at the mirror. Lasgun missiles were not entirely lasers, but they were mostly. A tech-priest of the mechanicus could give a three hour lecture on the minutia of it, but I was very aware a reflective surface would hold longer than a non-reflective one, and it could even bounce a lasbolt off itself before shattering. Unfortunately for the assassins, two of the missile ricocheted and burned into them. Their protective gear kept them alive, but it was enough for me to take as an opportunity to advance.

With a quick prayer for Emmaline and victory, I sprang through the gaping doorway. Evidently one of the- now four assailants I could see- had deigned to advance as well. I admit if it wasn't for his surprise, he would have gotten me, but we had ended up face to face, and my sword was already out. He pivoted and leaped to my left, turning his gun at me. But I cut him in two bloody pieces with a back cut of my sword, his lascarbine firing off three shots from his spasmed finger before hitting the floor. Raising my laspistol, I fired at the two assassin's now recovering from the ricochet, striking into their collarbones and joints, knowing my laspistol would be ineffective against their armored chests. The fourth assassin raised up, having my dead to rights, but to my surprise and good fortune, Gaspard was not a bad shot. His next two slugs caused the cloaked assailant's chest to erupt in blood and gore, a gurgle escaping his masked face as he fell to the floor, his lascarbine firing off, slicing through the small collection of priceless paintings still on the walls during downtime hours.

I decided not to leave it to chance, and charged the two wounded men, eviscerating them with three swift sweeps of the sword.

The deputy had stopped panicking by that point, but still held himself from entering the room. I knelt down, trying to find any identifying marks on the men, but I realized I would have to strip them to nothing to be certain, and we needed to get the train moving. With a sigh, I raised myself up.

"Poor lad." Lord Gaspard lamented, and I realized he truly was a trite remorseful. Maybe he was not such a snob, after all.

"Lucius, once we enter the engine room, I need you to return to the head of the train and inform Agiad." I remarked, thumbing the activation rune so the blood dissipated into nothingness. "Escort him back here. Guard him with your life."

Hello dere

Hello all, Athena here. I'm a 24 year old she/her (ew) from the Midwest US. I'm mostly a novice when it comes to literary roleplay, but I do a lot of casual writing. I write a lot of short stories, one offs, and otherwise short scenarios and go back and forth on adding to them when I feel in the mood. I enjoy a variety of genres, my favorites probably being High-Dark Fantasy (lots of magical elements, the setting oppressive and sad and full of terrible people) and Sci-Fi. I'm not only interested in those, but that's where my focus tends to be!

I like to focus a lot on interpersonal dynamics and character interaction over a broad overarching story. I live for interesting character relationships, dialogue, and tackling complex issues. I love when characters get philosophical, political and everything in between, even if those views don't necessarily reflect my own. I love interpersonal tensions and when characters disagree and fight, but I also like to have said characters grow and become closer for it.

I like out of character interactions too. Rather, I don't really mind it, but I like to keep it very separate from the actual roleplay. If I see OOC parentheses I'll probably say something and make a stink about it ^^’

I'm not entirely sure what all to put, but I look forward to joining the community :>

@bthena

welcome to the site!

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to keep myself calm as the grousing continued.

I had requisitioned the staff manager Peidmont, and the junior officer Jonas on the train had deigned to tag along, his superior unfortunately having been caught in the blast. Lord Gaspard, his coat half burned and his scarf missing, but otherwise unharmed, had joined us. As I had predicted, he did have military experience, but only as a logistics officer in the retinue of a colonel in what he described as the Goliad campaign, one I was not familiar with. The conductor, Agiad, was also present, and to my surprise he had the cog of the mechanicum on the breast of his shirt. Unfortunately, they had all begun to bicker as to the best course of action before I could get a word in edgewise.

"How many men do you have? A half a dozen? I have autoguns in my cache, let's arm up and hunt these bastards down for daring to impeded on the Emperor's servants!" Lord Gaspard demanded, looking for all the world like it was phantine hunt. I recognized the bravado in his eyes.

"My lord, these men aren't trained to use guns! They can barely breathe after that explosion," Peidmont protested. "I say we leave this to the security forces."

Jonas clutched his collar, not wishing to appear cowardly but breaking out in a cold sweat. Lucky for him, I was the only one not nervous or blood drunk enough to notice. "I've only my deputy here. The rest of my men are in the back of the train-"

"If they're even still alive." The conductor responded, his lanky face haggard from working long hours. I imagined the explosion occurred on the tail end of his shift, and if he had been off duty he might have been immolated along with two score of the passengers and staff that had been caught in the blast. He had even had the wherewithall to check the engine room after he had come out to see my dispatching of the assassins.

"We outnumber them-" Gaspard declared.

"How do you know that?" Peidmont asked, too angered and afraid to use the required honorific.

"-And even if we do not, we have a duty to the Emperor to see them dead!" the lord snarled, the short man trying to loom over the taller but skinnier civilian. Despite his youth and height, Peidmont cowed.

"What do you think, Admiral?" Jonas asked pointedly in my direction. The lights flickered, but held strong.

"The Admiral is only experienced in naval engagements," Gaspard rasped, my victory over him in Gothic still fresh in his mind, despite the far more serious atmosphere we found ourselves in. Like most aristocrats, his flawed ego bade him to take command here to nurse his wounded pride. I was unwilling to give my true identity yet, but he might leave me with little choice.

"Lord Deckard is the only one who seems to have made good on 'death to the enemies of mankind' ideal." Agiad reminded them, indicating me.

Truth be told, I was not entirely dissatisfied with the group of them rambling over one another. It had given myself a brief moment to think. However, it seemed my dispatching of the three assailants minutes before had reentered their minds, and they all looked at me with a resurgent respect. Everyone save Gaspard was expectant, while the lord allowed himself a rueful look. I ignored him, the others growing more attentive with my momentary silence.

"I could not help but notice we have stopped." I said to them. It brought confused glances, but to his credit, Peidmont's face brightened first.

"There was only one bomb, right?" He asked, turning to Agiad.

"Yes, the terminal only showcased external damage in two cars, each from the same explosion." The conductor responded, his mind whirring. I decided to help out, we did not have time for twenty questions.

"I assume this train has more than one engine, considering cargo haulers have six cars or less, and with stringent weight limits. I also noticed the lights were out after the the blast." I reminded them, and regarded the conductor. "How is this train powered?"

"Um, all the Luxury Locomotives on the planet have a mixture of electro-promethium engines. This one has three. One in the front, one in the center, and the other at the very back." Agiad explained, thinking out loud. "But we would either need to lose a lot of weight, or I would need to get all three engines moving. Tractive friction can keep it moving, usually, but in the mountains we need the torque from the engines. But there was no way they could have sabotaged all three engines, or at least the engine up front. I was the only one up here when it happened, no one got into the engine room. But I got it running right quick, after."

"Disabling one wouldn't have stopped us so completely, either. I imagine they used a haywire weapon." I said.

"A what?" Jonas asked, frustrated by consistently being out of his depth. Agiad and Gaspard blanched, however.

"But that would mean-!"

A clear ring erupted to the group's left. Peidmont near wet himself, thinking it another explosion. A familiar voice that uplifted my heart sprung out of the audio centre. "Admiral Deckard, your wife is on line one, Admiral Deckard line one." I reached for the telespeak, much to the dismay of the others who no doubt thought it a trap. I held up a finger. "Excuse me gentlemen, I must take this," flipped the switch for line 1, placed the device near my ear.

"This is Admiral Deckard," I said.

"Throne, I'm glad you're alright." Emmaline said, her voice like the finest damassian wine.

"Touch and go for a moment there. Are you safe?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said, not needing to explain she was not in our room. Either way, it was a weight off my shoulders. "I'm at the rear of the train, none the worse for wear."

"Good to hear. Now that I know that, I can ask..." I began casually, before lowering the pitch of my voice. "what are you wearing?", and she giggled.

"The same thing, which I know you like."

"I do," I agreed, smiling at the others. They looked expectant or disturbed, at both me and the situation. "Hang tight, we'll be there soon."

"Wait, I have some news..."

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

Quintus was positively bored, his big arms crossed and his hips cocked casually. He had been prepared to wade into the cage and have to grapple or beat Cho into submission, but this was nothing but a forlorn request. Granted, he had heard it hundreds of times, and from people who were crying, slobbering for mercy. This was relatively tame by comparison.

He also understood the, say, enjoyment of cruelty. The power one felt. It was the same power one felt when they won a competition, or proved someone wrong in an argument, or was vindicated in anger. Only more satisfying. However, he typically felt it mostly keenly in combat. Here, it was a bit unappetizing. What he wanted now was to make it back, and once again, get paid.

He gave a deadpan glance at Jor'eth, before regarding Cho. "How about this, Ty. You give us no problems, make no run for it, and your little Ur bot won't be harmed." He offered. As long as his credits were guaranteed, he was happy. The leverage just made it more likely.

Hello everyone!

@Lovely Poison Lovely to meet you (pun intended). Welcome to the site!

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

Even without hearing her remarks under her breath, I knew there was the highest probability that she would not listen. However, us fighting would not serve in my duties, and using my authority as her superior would not likely have stopped her either. The best I could hope for would be to solve this quickly before she received damage, or to at least draw fire from her. Unfortunately, our most potent weapons were locked within the safe. It was foolish to trust a compartment with an electronic lock. I had to make do with a smaller laspistol I had kept on my person, and my modified pallasch was stored in the closet, something I nabbed on my way out of the door.

Stepping into the dim hall of the car, decked in military honors with a handgun in my life and my sword in my right, I looked every inch a lieutenant of Ultramar.

The first thing I noticed was the cold. Unsurprisingly, there had been a massive breach somewhere, and judging by the wind it was further up the fore. There was screaming ahead, the wail of grief and fear. I stalked ahead, stepping lightly so as not to make a sound. Outside the elongated windows, snow flurries banked across my vision. A pottery of flowers had crashed to the floor, and a red light flared around the corner. I stepped into the lounge area, and to my surprise I saw the emergency hatch had been opened, chairs strewn and four well dressed corpses on the floor. At the far end of the car was a gaping hole the size of a large ground car. Even from here, I saw the innards of the next car, its tail ending have ruptured from the extend of the blast, that had evidently occurred upstairs.

I smelled the putrid scent of piss tinged with gasoline. Ammonium nitrate and fuel oil? An emulsion explosion.

A standard, if exceptionally powerful concoction. Whoever did this was either local, or they did not want to use something more foreign to tip off authorities. Quickly I went to the open doorway, making certain the coast was clear. The wind whipped in my face, drowning out any sounds I might have picked up. I grimaced, and pulled the heavy door shut.

"Freeze, grox shit!"

I slowly turned, presented with three coachmen and two security officers aiming their laspistols with shaky hands. I held myself for a moment, before one of the securitymen recognized me, and bade his fellow lower his pistol. "Admiral, forgive us. It's not saf-"

"My good man, I have fought the enemies of mankind from the Segmentum to Obscura." I said, honest to the word. I used my pallasch for emphasis, indicating the back of the car. "There was a dining car upstairs. Check for survivors."

"Sir, with respect. We have to advise you to return to your suite."

Glass shattered, three dark figures in armored bodygloves and winter gear kicked through the windows behind the employees of the train. They hit the ground in practiced rolls and opened fire with their lascarbines. The coachmen did not even have time to scream before they were killed, all five slaughtered in two beats of the heart. I fired thrice as I evaded, being given a split second warning before the unfortunate coachmen. The Emperor was with me, my second shot taking one of the assailants in the face, burning through his mask like a scythe through wheat. He fell without a word, but the other two turned to fire. I leaped behind a fallen table, superheated air igniting around my position. I slid to the opposite end of the table on my back, firing through the gap between the curvature of the table and the floor. I hit the rightmost man twice in the chest, but I could not be sure he was dead as he fell back. The other had disappeared. I scrambled to my feet as he came around the corner, and with a snap kick he knocked my laspistol out of my hand. Realigning his carbine, I activated the rune on my pallasch and cut his weapon from stock to barrel. As the lasgun was split in two, he had the frame of mind to duck under my accompanying thrust, but he could only backpedal so quickly, and I opened his stomach with a bakchanded cut, entrails spilling onto the upholstery carpet. He fell to his knees, desperately trying to put his organs back into his stomach as his body began to fail.

I ignored him, making my way to the prone form of the third man, glancing down the corridor to make sure I was not about be flanked. The second cost me. In that single moment, the wounded man had bitten down on a device that made an audible crunch, and I watched as his eyes clouded over and his body began to jerk, blood and foam erupting from his gaping mouth.

Cursing, I glanced upwards, before looking to the other car. Across the gap, a score of meters from my position, various other workmen were watching me with awe and fear, along with who I assumed was the conductor. I saluted with my sword, and made my way to their position.

We needed to get the electricity back, and rescue efforts needed to be organized.

The Enemy Beyond: Warhammer 40,000 Inquisitor RP

I inclined my head, receiving my glass of raenka with gladness. I'd not have such a luxury in months.

The game of Gothic set before me was at a stalemate. Lord Gaspard's dauntless had finally been dispatched, despite his deft maneuvering the past four turns. The old warhorse nursed his second gorsk white-gyn, somehow still being able to play after imbibing a glass not half an hour ago. Across from him, High Councilor Felix was toying with his ostentatious mustache, plotting over his sword frigates and savoring the moment. Both had been outwardly forlorn but inwardly pleased when I had resigned after my initial two bouts. Gothic was an obtuse game, but it was addicting. I did not like to keep my full attention on it when Emmaline was on the warpath, though I soon came to realize she could handle herself well enough on the playing field. His drink of choice was Old-Foiz, befitting a bureaucrat wishing to appear like a wizened academic.

"Would you care to make your move, Mrs Deckard?" Lazaro quipped as Emmaline tapped a manicured finger to her chin.

"Lady Deckard," she corrected as she reached forward to make her play. "-and forgive me my contemplation. I have forgotten how quickly you are reputed to finish things."

I gave myself the luxury of a small smirk at the quip, growing rather bored of the gothic game. They had a riveting round, but the weakness of the game was a slow, meticulous middle play. I lifted my glass, catching the oblong reflection in my eye. Instead of Emmaline's golden head, I saw a pair of eyes; a coachman in the standard red regalia. It was only for a moment, but there was something in his hand. By the way his fingers curled, I could surmise the next few seconds. My glance flickered to Gaspard, and casually I reached for the leather bound menu I was granted.

"I am famished!" I declared, lifting the menu high like a battle standard. A psi dart struck it not a moment later, and I quickly lowered the menu, subtly removing the diminutive missile and sliding it in my coat pocket. I raised an eyebrow, appearing dissatisfied with the slow service. A few eyes were drawn my eye, but I made of show of paying them no mind. I fixed my tie, as if I were about to do something strenuous.

"My good man, supper is only in another half an hour. Surely you can wait," High Count Vidar stipulated. Emmaline grinned, a facade to showcase her attention entirely on the game.

"Do not change the subject, my lord. You have enough to worry over, I dare say." She remarked with satisfaction, placing a card on the table with an audible snap to garner attention. My hand ran along her neck for a brief moment, a move that could be read a dozen different ways, and I stepped into the left hall leading to the tail end of the Montleo Car. Past the bar, through the small cordoned off veils, I saw the fleeting glimpse of the assailant. He stopped before I entered the last chamber of the car, the attendant hurrying to the lift that would lead him to the next floor. He pressed the button and looked over his right shoulder. I came in from the left, stepping in as the door opened.

The man, a middle aged, nondescript fellow with a sheen to his light wrinkles, almost jumped. He knew if he didn't step in as well, that would look suspicious, and I gave him a kind smile to disarm his concerns. He sighed, and entered with me. As the doors closed, I turned to him, letting the dart slide out of my pocket, presenting it to his horrified face. "I believe this is yours."

A blade appeared in his hand as swiftly as I plucked out the psi-dart. He thrust at my spleen as I thought he would. Easier to conceal the wound in my jacket, and he could then block the door and choke me out at his leisure. Unfortunately, his plan did not bear fruit. I disrupted the thrust with my right and placed the dart beneath his chin with my left. His face went white.

"You don't appear to be aware, but I am currently on a sort of honeymoon." I informed him. "You will tell me who you are working for so I can solve this quickly..."

As the lift opened on the second floor, I stepped out wearing a red vest and the square cap of a coachman, my jacket draped over my arm like a towel. They would find the assassin in the emergency hatch, ready to confess everything once dinner began. My will saw to that. The tinkling of glass and the angelic laughter of high class courtesans filled the air, along with the smoke of lho-leaf. I stepped into the gentlemen's club, for the lonely, rich men without companions and who lacked the shame to try and apply the old fashioned way. A black dressed vixen with red lips sauntered past me to plant herself on the lap of a local planetary tycoon. I used her sultry movements to give myself an excuse to glance across the room, and I found my quarry almost instantly.

Two emerald rings on fat fingers, a plumage of coiling tendrils snaked across his neck that flexed when he gave a sharkish grin. A mercantile prince, Yerhax of Panagor. Groping the rump of one of his paid girls, who tossed a pair of dice into the center of the table. Cheers rose and he chuckled, whispering to a conspirator with a bionic eye, not doubt used to great effect. I placed a quiet hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but leaned in as I knelt down to his level.

"Trouble downstairs with target." I whispered.

He went frigid, and I motioned for him to follow. He gave a few platitudes to the surrounding table, and growled at one opponent, pointing a burly finger. "Ferhold will keep my spot. Wait for me."

I escorted him to the back, and he led the way into a private chamber. I noticed the plasteel on the wall, sounding proofing the room. Suddenly the portly man shoved me against the wall, his eyes blazing as the thick wires wriggled. "FOOL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING SPEAKING TO ME IN PUBLIC OF THIS!?"

"Forgive me." I said, before I planted my knee in his stomach. His eyes bulged, but he tried to throw his weight on me again. By that point his grip had slackened. I cut his arm down with a shove of both hands, and as he lurched forward, his neck ran into my elbow. He wheezed and hacked a cough as the coils desperately pumped oxygen to compensate. My palm met his nose, and my foot kicked his leg out from under him. Yerhax fell to the floor like Emmaline after a bender, sprawled onto the ground.

"Lord Gaspard's sanctions are a risky move. I'm impressed." I admitted, taking the cap off and removing the vest. Carefully I unfolded my jacket, slipping it back onto my frame, unblemished. "If only he used that sort of cunning at Gothic, I might be more entertained."

Yerhax tried to raise his head up, perplexed. As if the first time, he noticed I was not his man. The aristocrats often had that conceit. I found the flimsiest of disguises could fool them for long lengths of time, with the right words. "Who are you?"

"Luckily, he did me a favor." I continued, straightening the suit and pulling my sleeves. There was a smidge of blood on my knuckle. I wiped it on his jacket, and brushed some dust off my shoe. "I've been watching you for some time. A panagor tycoon on this planet? Your dealings with the underworld are not as well hidden as you'd like to think. Fortunately, that is not my expertise. Unfortunately, you tried to ruin my vacation. Within the hour, you'll be in arbites custody."

I grabbed his head of hair and smashed his face onto the floor, knocking him out cold.

One minute later, I sat back down at my chair, silently admiring how little the Gothic game had moved. I leaned my head to Emmaline, clearing my throat. "One simply cannot find good help these days, darling." I lamented, rolling my eyes. "Anyway, when's dinner?"

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

"Why would we? We don't pay anyone to keep you sedated." Quintus replied lazily, referring to Molly's remark. Truth be told, he felt pretty relaxed, despite the claxons of the bounty and Molly's insatiable erraticism. After a successful hunt, heading back to get paid was almost better than getting paid. The hard part was over with, and the taxes and fees didn't drain half your paycheck. You were simply heading back, and the opportunities limitless and for the next day.

That were his usual thoughts, and even all of his nonesense couldn't ruin the ride back entirely. But even before the request by Jor'eth, he figured he outta go and check out what Cho-Tyrek's problem was. If there was something wrong with him, it paid to check, and if he needed to be sedated, Quintus would rather do that himself that trust someone else to. He unwound his muscled arms and took his feet off the back of the seat in front of him.

"Quite astute, Joe." He quipped easily, stretching for a brief moment. He patted his left foreleg to make sure the knife was still in there, and then he hopped up. The merc then placed a big hand on Jor'eth's shoulder. "Do me a favor. If he makes a sudden move, just get as far out of my way as you can."

Scum and Villainy - Plentiful Bounty

will give an update within 24 hrs!