POOHEAD189

Discovery: A Broken Galaxy

could I be a stow away that has the skills to fill the role as master gunner?

Malleus Maleficarum: Tales of the Grim and Macabre

Will slept for half the day, having fallen asleep from the gentle words of Emmeralda. Vaguely he recalled a song that had played from her lips, and as they walked through Galenburg under the fading afternoon sun, he wondered if she had cast a spell on him. Either way, the sleep and the small bit of mutton they had managed to scrounge up had done him well. Emmeralda seemed healthy, though she looked rightly perturbed at the circumstances. She had a charming way of being both bubbly yet pragmatic in her manner.

The two went by Kolchester Tower, passing numerous patrols of goats, risking it only so they can hail a waterman by the River Valans. The water was rank from the smell of fish and sewage, and yet moving water seemed comforting somehow to the pair. Emmeralda kept herself hooded, and Will kept his hat on, never looking anyone in the eyes. A schilling got them to a crossing point two miles down river, and by that time, the sky was red with the last vestiges of a weary sun. They arrived at Plattertown, a smaller suburb of poorer folk, run by the merchantmen who preyed upon them and set up shops with everything from chocolate to callgirls. The place never truly slept, though it grew less lively once the night descended. Will had been here once, years back with his da and brothers, mostly to watch bear baiting after visiting a cobbler.

Predishi rugs were being rolled up by a vendor, and scented candles from across the Antribian Sea were being placed back in crates as sizzling meat could be smelled, intermingling with the cloying scents of perfumes from the ladies of the night in some gaudy building up the street. A few vagabonds with swords moved about, but their blades were shortened. Any sword seen by a guard that's over 9/10ths of a meter will be broken or confiscated.

"What is it?" Will asked, and Emmeralda's hand let go of his arm. She had been clutching it tightly.

"I just... hope my people are alright." She confessed. Will understood, Plattertown wasn't quite the carnival, but it was close enough to remind her of home, if a nomad could truly call any place home. "Some say the world is growing safer, but I say they don't see the world as it is. Sewell and his lot are worse than any king, and that bar is so high, I couldn't land it with a pole at hand."

She seemed lost in thought as they moved through the darkening streets, what few lamps there were unlit, as of yet, save for a few lights in the windows. Will answered by taking her hand in his, and she looked at him.

"If we live, I'll help you find out about your people." He promised, wondering what led him to do such a thing. "But one monster at a time, yeah?"

Malleus Maleficarum: Tales of the Grim and Macabre

Will felt oddly safe, at least for the moment. He let his hand run along the wall, but the candles in the room flared to life at once, Will seeing Emmeralda finishing a small movement of her hands. As if in a dance, she stepped into the shadows, disappearing into the darkness only to impossibly appear just beside him. Will flinched and nearly yelped in alarm, Emmeralda clearly amused at surprising him.

"Is this how you-" he began, but he nearly swooned, and her amusement turned to concern as she watched him nearly teeter over. She grabbed at his jerkin.

"When was the last you slept?" She asked, grabbing his chin and turning his head as if she had known him for longer than a mere day.

"Two days," he breathed. "But I don't think that's the problem."

He opened his cloak, and Emmeralda's eyes widened at the blood caked shirt. She gave a small squeak at the state of him. The gypsy ushered him over to a small, disheveled cot and bade him sit down. He did as he was told, and she pulled up a chair before she helped strip him of his shirt and cloak. Fortunately, while he had bled a fair amount, the cut wasn't deep. The way it looked, it appeared to be a cut from when they had first met, not the second time he had saved her. The thought had her attentive and gentle. She poured a small bit of alcohol she had stashed underneath the cot on his wound, and other than a small intake of breath, he didn't complain.

He took it from her gingerly when she was done, and took a swig of the whiskey as she dressed the wound and wrapped it up. Despite how tired he was, he felt his heart race a small bit faster as her soft hands slipped around him as she did her work.

"Thank you," he said, tiredly.

"Hush, you've saved my life twice. If I did not help, the evil eye would be upon me." Emmeralda said, but after a moment she raised an eyebrow and gave a deadpan: "Bit too late for that, actually."

Will burst out in laughter, but after a moment a spike of pain caused him to groaned achingly. "Oh lass, doon' maek me lauff." His accent prominent from how exhausted he was.

"Sorry," she confessed, though she giggled regardless. "So, who are you? Who are you, really?"

There was a pause as Will tried to figure out what to say.

"Names the same. I'm..." he took a deep breath, moving the fringe of his hair out of his eyes. "I was a soldier. I was a young man in the clans when the King called for us, and I spent six years in the war. I saw things that..." He turned and looked at her. "Dark things. I saw...corpses move. I heard trees whisper. I once saw a beast that shouldn't be real. And there I knew, I wasn't fighting one war. I was fighting many, and we all are, whether we know it or not. I left the isle after our defeat. The damn goats had won, and I traveled as a sailor and privateer, but I came back when village shaman told me of darkness spreading the isle where I lost me heart. A darkness that would be arriving in less than two days from now, and then three hags told me to find you." She watched him intently, having finished the bandages, though her hand still lingered on his skin.

"Couldn't tell if you were a part of the darkness, or a victim." He gave her a tired grin. "I think at this point, I know which."

Discovery: A Broken Galaxy

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

Yeah, there is room for another character. What were you thinking of playing as?

@Theyra

I... will get back to you on that

Discovery: A Broken Galaxy

I know it's about to be christmas eve, but after the holiday, is there room for another character?

Malleus Maleficarum: Tales of the Grim and Macabre

The journey had been uncomfortably long, and even considering the handholds and the neat underplanks to slip his feet into, Will thought he would let go and lose the warcarriage an hour ago. It was only, legitimately, through sheer for of will that helped him stay still and quiet for so long. It seemed an eternity, but finally, when the buttertub halted and he heard the rattling of chains and the heavy thuds of feet, he gently lowered himself to the ground, having snuck under the wagon and kept himself hugging its bottom for miles upon miles. He let his burning arms drop to the cobblestones, and he lay panting quietly as the woman was presented before the Viscount. Evidently it was a blackguard named Cranbon, a name he had never heard before, but then again he had only been back on the mainland just over a week.

Had he pulled this stunt at noon, he would have been seen and executed immediately. Luckily, even accounting for the moon, his dark cloak and similarly dark features helped him blend into the shadows of the courtyard as he slunk away, finding himself crouching behind barrels of unknown use, though they smelled strange, and watching the woman be led away into the confines of the fort.

He held no love for any men of the Grand Army, but as a soldier himself, he knew what it was like to be a small cog in a larger machine, and when the opportunity presented itself, he merely knocked out a watchman rather than killed him. He still had a small sense of honor, he often lied to himself. He knew it was beyond repair, but old habits, and values it seemed, died hard. He hastily donned the helmet and breastplate, and the baldric as well. He couldn't change apparel fully. He did not have the time or space. But it would do unless he was inspected closely, and he made his way into the fort, the oaken doors leading into a warmly lit but otherwise very spartan and stark stone architecture.

Within minutes, he understood why there were so many stories of the horrors of this place. Every hall, every room was built with chokepoints to keep a prisoner in rather than hold an enemy from without, and the claustrophobia of various rooms felt overwhelming. Impenitrable darkness and heavy doors reinforced with iron were almost every dozen feet. Luckily, a few men off duty let slip that a comely prison was placed on the far end of this very wing, in rooms with a bit more space. He hurried off into the darkness, before finally finding what he sought.

There was a corridor lit with torches, with cells of iron bars and loose piles of hay in various corners. Chains hung from the ceilings, that could be used to shackle a prisoner at a guard's convenience. Glassless gaps in the walls, also barred, let the moonlight stream in. It caught the glitter of green eyes watching him with contempt, the gypsy's body swathed in her multiple layers of clothing, before Will approached the cell and dramatically unburdened himself of his helmet. He saw her beautiful eyes blink in incredulity, before widening with recognition. She swiftly got to her feet, tumbled waves of black hair cascading off her shoulders bounced like liquid shadow as she approached the bars.

"How?..." She started, but Will placed a finger to his lips. This close, he could smell her breath, and her fingers curled around the bars as she whispered. "Your hair..."

"Don't see many Albanic men, aye?" He asked her softly, fishing for his assortment of lockpicks.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"The only one that you can trust, at this point." He said, but his eyes met hers, and his sense of urgency gave way for a moment. "Will... Will McTaggart. You?"

"Emmeralda." She said. He had begun to try and pick the lock, feeling the latches within fall and go rigid from a poor try.

"Beautiful name." He said. "Far better than William."

"No, I like it. Good, strong name." She said with a rough imitation of his accent, and he smiled even before he saw her grin. Will silently cursed himself. He was not supposed to be finding a rapport with her. She could be in league with whatever the hell was arriving in just two days time, for all intents and purposes. Yet somehow...he knew she was not. The hags never mentioned such a thing, either. It was hard, and he was new to this entire thing.

"Who's there?" A rough voice called, and a wan light appeared at the end of the corridor. Emmeralda gasped, and a guardsman stepped into the corridor, eyes peeled.

The corridor was empty. He walked over to Emmeralda, who was now lounging against the iron bars. He glared at her, the torch in his hand hot as he approached. "Get back to the floor, witch." He told her, and when he reached for her, she danced away and stuck her tongue out. He gave her a lewd gesture, and sneered. "I don't know what they intend for you, but it's less than you deserve. Your kind sucks at the Protectorate's throat like a leech."

"Trust me, little mush, you and your protectorate simply couldn't handle a woman like me. Why else would I be in these chains?"

He growled, and took out the keys. Whatever he was going to do to her, it would not be pleasant.

Above him, Will hung precariously upside down from one of the dangling chains, holding his breath. He watched both like a hawk, and thought Emmeralda was quite clever for not even daring to look up, and to keep the man's attention on her. As soon as he spied the keys, he found his chance. Will let his feet, once planted on the ceiling, swing downwards and strike the man full in the face like an iron ball. He felt teeth break and bones shatter, and the torch dropped as a gurgle sounded from the fallen guard. Will hit the floor with an athleticism that had Emmeralda whisper 'Kushti!' appreciatively, though he didn't know what that meant, exactly. As Will gathered up the keys, Emmeralda rushed to the door, eager to be out of these bars.

"Do you have a plan to get out of here?" She asked.

"Yes," he said, opening the door. She tried to squeeze past him, but he stopped her with an upraised hand. "Through the window."

She raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the small opening. "Excuse me?"

He lifted a small vial of liquid from his pocket. "It leads outside, yes?" He asked her, closing the door behind them. Striding over the moonlit stones, he wiped some mud off his face from the journey to the fort, and uncorked the vial carefully. Slowly, he dabbed green liquid onto the bars, and used straw the coat the entirety of the iron with it. Even as the straw moved, the iron began to erode before their eyes. "Alchemical acid. Now if only we..."

He turned and looked at her, considering.

"What?" She asked.

"You go first. I want to make sure yer, um..." She looked at him expectantly. He sighed, exasperated. "Ye got huge chebs and a rump that can swallow a man whole, I want to make sure ye can fit top an' bottom!"

Her jaw dropped, but footsteps drew both their attention away, along with a distant exchange of words. Emmeralda gathered her skirts, not having time to process whether she should be flattered or offended. "Let's find out."

With a few shoves from Will, they were out in the countryside beyond the road before anyone knew what had happened.

Malleus Maleficarum: Tales of the Grim and Macabre

The leviathan skull crashed around the man and woman, splintering wood, the serrated teeth nearly scything through their skin had they not both clung together in surprising urgency. Beyond the danger, Will was intently aware of how nice her lush form felt against his, but he shoved that thought aside as they both looked up, making certain the jawbone was not toppling one way or another. Satisfied, they were about to pull apart from each other, unfamiliar as they were to one another, before there was a shout and a crash. The scattered gypsies had left the doorway unguarded, and out of the light stepped two goats, with their pig iron breastplates and haughty eyes. One was bearded, and the other had a mustache that looked like a scruffy rodent clinging to his upper lip.

Each held a sword out, but the bearded one sported a pistol cocked and ready. Will reflexively pulled the gypsy woman tighter in an embrace to cover her with his body as he raised his own pistol. By all accounts, the Grand Army soldier and the mercenary raised at the same time. The gypsy woman's eyes widened, and she ducked behind Will's shoulder like a mouse scurrying under a hole. What happened next was so quick, it wasn't until hours later that Will could fully appreciate it.

Will's pistol ignited a split second sooner, striking the armsman in the chest. However, he hit the thickest area of the breastplate, and so it protected the man from harm. However, the pistol ball ricocheted and pierced the temple of his companion in the same brutal instant, and simultaneously the force of Will's shot staggered the arsman. His own shot went wild as a result, missing Will's head by scant inches. As the mustachioed guard fell to the floor, blood spurting from his skull, the other guardsman was bewildered as whisps of smoke lazily wafted between he and the two ne'er-do-wells.

"Gods above..." Will remarked breathlessly, and the beautiful woman poked her head up once more. Her eyes flicked to Will, who glanced at her in turn. "You always this lucky?" She shrugged in answer. "Right," he said, as what gypsy men there were tackled the remaining goat, wresting his sword and trying to overwhelm him.

"What now?" She asked, greater worries spilling into her mind.

"Come with me if you want to live," He said, taking her by the hand. Either because she believed his story, or felt she had little choice, she did not fight him as he led her past the tussling men into the festival proper. She gasped at the sight, and even Will was surprised at the pandemonium that had erupted during their brief meeting within. A multitude of squads of the Grand Army tore down banners and festive decorations, burning shops and putting anyone who resisted to the sword. It was like stepping into the very heart of a riot.

"Pomana Priskasa!" She exclaimed under her breath. "What do they want?"

"If I had to guess, you." He said, but realized how callous that was. He was unsure how much she truly knew, or if she even was an instrument of the darkness. But until he knew, he wouldn't treat her as such. "But don't blame yourself fully, the bastards were looking for a reason." He pulled her to the south, through the back 'streets' which were simply a hodgepodge collection of crates, tents, and makeshift shelters behind the booths and lines of shops. Men and women scrambled, a plump woman rushed across their path with two clucking chickens under each arm, but a few more carnival-dwellers were cleaning bloody knives or loading flintlocks as the violence escalated. Will passed by a knickknack shop just to get blocked by a trio of goats, one pulling his blade out of the back of a merchant who had the audacity to protest their demand for his expulsion.

"You! Stop right there!" The leading one demanded, but they could tell by the way Will moved he was not going to comply. Two men who had experienced enough fights did not need to be informed of intent. Will's sword met his blade in a flash of sparks, the other two men trying to maneuver themselves over crates and an overturned chair to get around them. The gypsy woman produced a plump tomato from her bodice and struck the right one square in the face, causing him to sputter and gag, and Will finished off the first man, piercing him in the throat before turning to handle the leftmost one.

In the tussle, Will and the woman got separated.

As Will had to sidestep a thrust, someone grabbed the gypsy from behind. With impressive alacrity, she slipped out of her shawl and danced away. The goat groaned in annoyance and threw the piece of fabric to the ground, only to see the woman had another shawl on her shoulders as if by magic. In her tanned hands, she held a jingling purse of coins, a lowland family crest etched upon it.

The soldier gave a start, then felt for his own purse as realization dawned on him. "You!" He growled, unsheathing his sword. "We'll add thievery to your many crimes, witch."

"You're the one who smells so poorly it's a crime," she replied, pinching her nose with her free hand and retching. Her smile bloomed upon her face swiftly, however. "And I'm not the one who can't pay their bail." She teased smugly. As the man advanced on her, she blinked, patting herself just above her chest as if she was about to belch. As he was right atop her, she couldn't hold it any longer, and a gout of flame burst out of her mouth from seemingly no source. The soldier screamed in fright, the loose hairs beneath his helm now alight. Will dispatched his opponent with a counter riposte, getting a bad cut on his calf for the trouble. At the edge of his vision, he did a double take in amazement as the gypsy woman spun, lifting her shawl to obscure their assorted vision for the briefest moment, before the fabric finished its spinning and fell to the ground, the woman having simply vanished.

"'Ave I goon dafty?" Will muttered incredulously, his accent spilling out in full at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Somewhere beyond, there was an immense whistling, accompanied by a booming. Sparks and lights ignited from somewhere to the north, someone having evidently set off the collective fireworks. The goats around them cried out "find the gypsy woman!," and as a few turned in his direction, they found he had already begun to retreat in the madhouse of a crowd. Will kept himself moving, desperately searching for the woman. Carnival goers shoulder past him, wild eyed and screaming. If he had lost her, this was all for naught! As he stepped past a mob of strong men throwing shorter fellows aside, he saw a goat pulling a small, crying child from a weeping mother, an unconscious man in similar garb on the floor. Memories flashed in his mind, and before he could convince himself otherwise, he leaped in the midst of them and pommeled the guard in face with his sword, shattering his nose and sending him to the floor. The little girl, pigtails matted, ran to her mother who caught her in an embrace.

"Get out of here!" Will cried at them, and as they did so, his sharp eyes caught a familiar sight across the street. He noticed green eyes gazing at him from underneath a cowl, watching him with uncertainty in her gaze. She stood beside an abandoned stall, lingering as if deciding something. The woman! He was about to try and wade through the street, but iron hands sprang out from behind the stall! She squealed, but more men swarmed her, one man going so far as placing a knife to her throat as another tore the cowl off to reveal her exotic heritage and raven hair. Before she could scream, they gagged her with a cloth, and the crowd surged as Will tried to reach them, only to be too late. They were gone five heartbeats before he could reach them.

"Bastards!" He yelled in frustration. He cursed himself, cursed the devil, and cursed the bloody regime. The only saving grace was that he had a good idea of where they would take her. However, it made him no more comfortable to have that knowledge. Not many left that place whole...

Malleus Maleficarum: Tales of the Grim and Macabre

Will shrugged one of the bouncers hands off his shoulder, stepping into the room. It was unintentional, but later he would recount the moment had a melodramatic flair to it, unshaven and rakish in his wide brimmed hat and jabbokwool cloak, here to rescue a woman from some unknown darkness. At that second, however, he simply wished to be out of there as soon as possible.

"It is not I with the great need," he said. A cursory glance giving him a quick scan of the room. The atmosphere was warm and mystifying, almost delphic. Bobbles and ornaments drew the eye, and shadows concealed the corners of the room and much of the walls, like as not hiding more thugs or at least ways of quick escape for the two women. The leviathen skull, for one, looked authentic. As an ex-sailor himself, he appreciated it more than he would have expected.

"You come on behalf of another," she remarked cryptically, her hands caressing the air as she bade him forward. "Have a seat stranger, and tell me what it is you truly seek."

Will glanced behind him, before eyeing the older woman who watched him with undisguised suspicion. He sat down slowly, keeping his cloak and left hand free from his right hip in case he needed to draw his sword. As he had walked through the crowd minutes before, there had been a tension in the air. Like a truth about to be spoken that would shatter someone worldview in seconds. He did not know why, but he felt as if speed was what was needed here, and yet he could not abduct her. Amongst the arcane and exotic paraphernalia, there was endless tricks they could pull on him.

"I seek a woman." He said simply. "With eyes like emeralds, and hair as dark as night."

"...very few have such a combination," she said, eyes peering at him from under her cowl. He could tell his attempt to hide his accent would be wasted on her.

"And if I said I was looking for you?" Will replied, staring back into her eyes with his own. The light would show his iris's were midnight blue, as dark as the bottom of the sea.

"Well, we only just met..." Her words were more nonchalant now, without irritation, but obviously not expecting the directness of Will's words. "As it stands, whatever you want will cost you."

"You're not the only one with a crystal ball, and from what I saw in that den on Wyvern street..." He let the words trail off, resolving something in hid mind. "You and I are leaving here, together. Now."

"You speak in velleity, sir..." the woman began diplomatically, if a bit huffy. However, she was interrupted by the older woman.

"That is enough! You've granted no coin or question beyond your desires for the madam. Begone from this place!" She demanded, having had enough. Will felt more than heard the footstep behind him, and when a hand reached for his shoulder, he rose more swiftly than one might have expected, and elbowed the gypsy bouncer in the neck in one, smooth motion. The tough stumbled back, eyes wide as he tried to breathe. A hiss of steel cut the air, and Will spun, cloak billowing in an arc, shielding him as a knife was caught in its folds. He did not know if it was the older woman or the one he came for that had thrown it, but it had nearly struck his heart. Out of the silhouette of his falling cloak, a pistol appeared, cocked and ready. The two women had gotten to their feet, but the aimed barrel froze them in their tracks. His other hand had unsheathed his sword, its point keeping two other bouncers with cudgels at bay from the door.

"You think you can leave alive after that little display?" The older wench asked, arrogantly.

"In three days, a darkness will arrive on these shores. It's searching for her!" His words were accusatory, aimed directly at Emmeralda. It stopped any reply in its tracks, at least for the moment. "If that crystal ball is worth anything, use it and look! If I'm lying, then you can bloody kill me."

Forgotten Sands: A Divine Journey into the Unknown

pssst, I hid the last oopsie in the character tab

{ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀɪʟ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ & ᴛᴇᴀʀꜱ }

Might take me a day or two, but I'll whip something up soon (if it's still available)