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Current Welcome back Naril!
18 hrs ago
Tragically I've given up wine for Lent
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1 day ago
What people really want in interest checks are a draconian list of rules and veiled threats about ghosting
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2 days ago
Orks hands down. No one is happier about accidents
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13 days ago
I once had a dream about a face entirely composed of human teeth. *sweats profusely*
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Bio

Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.

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Jocasta sat up suddenly as she realized Beren was awake. Her hand unconsciously drifted to her stomach and she yanked them away guiltily. Once she had reached Iskura she had gone directly to the Mayor to deliver the letter. That worthy had been grateful for word from his southern counterpart, grateful enough to pay them, allow them to stay in his manor and to send for a physician. The doctor, an unbelievably ancient man with thick horn rimmed glasses had examined Beren for nearly a half an hour, poking and prodding at him without finding any fault beyond ‘exhaustion’. Exhaustion he told her, could be easily cured with bed rest and a bland diet, and was beneath the notice of so esteemed a personage as himself. With Beren in bed Jocasta had retired to clean herself up. It was only then that she had found it. The glyph appeared like a tattoo circling her belly button and dropping down over both hips in a series of sinuous lines and arcane symbols. She hadn’t had time to decode it as yet, but its meaning was plain. She was bound to the demonic entity that she had accidently summoned. It had power over her and could reach into the world through her. It might even have its claws in her soul. The thought made her shiver. Nothing she had ever heard about bargains with demons ended with ‘and then she lived happily ever after.’ Perhaps if she had been brave like Beren, or smart enough to flee before the thing attacked, things might be different.



“We… we managed to get away,” Jocasta told him, somewhat unnecessarily. “I was able to use the sarong to get us out of there, even though I admit it was a bit of a longshot.” None of that was technically untrue, though she felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach as she said it.

“Your wounds weren’t as bad as they seemed, I was able to use a healing charm to fix the worst of it, and the mayor was kind enough to provide us with a doctor, he gave you a potion which took care of the rest,” she told him. The potion had been a simple tonic and about as magical as a shovelful of dirt, but there seemed no reason to stress that at this juncture.

“He says you will be ok, so long as you rest,” she finished in a rush.

The sorceress trembled visibly as the door ground open. Beyond the portal was a large chamber that all but dripped with greenery. Its human origins were clear, in the center stood a column carved with strange mythological scenes which showed men in archaic armor speaking with strange creatures with many arms. In early panels they traded and exchanged knowledge, but as the column rose the panels became increasingly violent. Bas-relief axes split strange heads, and many armed figures used odd wavy knives to strike down their opponents. A stair wound four times around the tapering monolith before reaching its point, from which shone a jewel of clear silver moonlight. If the frieze told a coherent story, it was lost in the odd vegetation that obscured nearly every inch of stonework. Pale green moss grew on the column, across the floor of the chamber grew trees with soft purple leaves with opalescent bark. Fruits hung from their branches, deep black but oily looking and reflective. The soft buzz of unfamiliar insects polluted the night. The trees grew so thickly and the ropey intestine like vines which linked them hung in such profusion, that the walls of the chamber were all but invisible, save for the arabesque windows through which the light of the nearly full moon shone. Around these stone wrought openings the vegetation glowed with more than moonlight, seeming to pulse and throb with an internal phosphorescence which faded a few feet beyond the reach of the light.



“What magic is this,” Amal breathed as he stepped across the threshold. Sythemis stood frozen beneath the door arch, her mouth slightly agog. The first sign of true shock she had thus far shown.

“Come on woman, it was you who told me we must hurry,” Amal hissed. His words seemed to snap her back to reality and she stepped through in his wake, her face filled with an eager hunger that any man would die to see on the face of a courtesan. They moved across the moss, brushing passed the strange foliage. Each touch seemed to puff perfume into the air, an odd scent like cinnamon on the verge of burning, or the desert before a storm.



It came out of the trees without so much as a whisper of air to precede it. A vast black shape that arched through the air in eerie silence. It struck Sythemis and sent her crashing into the undergrowth with a flash of claws and a spray of blood. It landed and rounded on Amal, quick as a serpent. It was a vast black catlike beast, with membraneous flesh stretched between its forepaws and its mid section. Its face was a mass of scar tissue where six eyes had been gouged or burned with hot irons. Its four nostrils projected far forward like the snout of a vole and then quivered and flexed with fine hairs. Blind it might be, but it could clearly sense its surroundings by more than natural means. The thing was the size of a small bear for all the lethal stealth with which it moved. Blood dripped from its forepaws as it opened its mouth, revealing four rows of needle sharp teeth, none of which quite aligned with the others. Letting out a soundless roar that Amal felt in his stomach, it launched itself towards the thief, its jaw hyperextending.
I slowly let up on the emotional baffle I was holding on the Thunder Warrior. It's mind was not human in the conventional sense, even less so than an astartes although I was yet to encounter those particular servants of the Emperor. The rage and confusion of the Thunder Warrior was understandable, if monstrous and dangerous, the psychic backwash however was less so. In the Thunder Warriors mind I saw the Emperor. Not the Emperor as the god I had always thought of him as but as a man, a mighty man certainly, but no more divine I was. It was a shocking revelation to be sure, but not one I had time to unpack right at that moment. Those few moments of contact would have profound repercussions for my own belief and my relationship with the Ordos, but that remained in the future.

"Let's go," Hadrian said and lead the way out of the strange chamber. I briefly considered trying to free the archaic ecclesiarch but dismissed the notion. I felt like I was in enough spiritual peril as it was. No doubt if we prevailed the Ordos would take care of the rest. We ascended via sloping ramps, steps apparently not being part of the xenos architectural style. Almost at once we came across bodies. Most were our men, some pierced through by impossibly sharp bayonets, one unfortunate was severed neatly in half from crown to crotch, apparently having materialized half inside a wall. I could feel the psychic tug of what was going on above, a queasy sort of discomfort as someone picked at the edges of the Immaterium. The greenish veins of the structure were beginning to take on a purplish undertone which made my skin crawl.

"There is someone..." I began, sensing a presence ahead of us, but before anyone could act a PDF trooper leaped from cover and aimed his lasgun at us. He froze in place at the sight of the Thunder Warrior, his lip quivering and his finger frozen on the trigger.

"He is with us," Hadrian called, though whether he was addressing the guardsman or the superhuman I wasn't sure.

"Sir," the PDF trooper replied, he attempted to sling his rifle but made a mess of it, giving up and going for a patrol carry.

"Follow and provide rearguard," Hadrian directed, grabbing the man by the jacket and shoving him back past the Thunder Warrior and myself. We found a half dozen more troopers as we climbed, four of them Imperial guard who had been in the last stages of bludgeoning on of the metal men to scrap when we had arised. The sergeant, a grizzled man with a cigar between his teeth and a glowing augmented eye turned to watch us approach.

"Emperor's balls, what the frak is that?" he demanded when the Thunder Warrior strode into view. The golden armored warrior drew himself up, somehow becoming even more intimidating.

"I am Lucius Raj," the creature rumbled as though declaring he were the tide.

"Good to know," the sergeant replied in an offhanded tone, though I could see that the tip of his cigar was quivering.
<Snipped quote by Penny>

You should play Penn!


No time doll, I just like to lurk because I love US!
Misty stares out at them for a minute then slams the door. Grace steps through the Door.
Jocasta's mouth worked in mute shock for a moment as she stared at Beren's bleeding body. Her hands trembled in shock as she quivered between the desire to reach for a weapon and the desire to try to do something for Beren. He had seemed so invincible, her mind couldn't quite reconcile the fact that he now lay broken on the floor.

"Well?" the Outsider prompted, tapping its oddly sharp fingernails impatiently.

"Yes! Yes! Save him!" Jocasta blurted, finally managing to scramble down and press her hand to the wound, blood seeping between her fingers with alarming rapidity.

"My help isn't free mortal," the Outsider cautioned, "I will extract a price."

"Whatever," Jocasta snapped, "I'll do whatever it is, just save him!"

The demon thing reached out and touched Jocasta on the stomach. A sickly white light blasted out from its fingertips and Jocasta felt a searing pain burning in her chest as though liquid fire were being pumped into it. She staggered back, choking back bile. Light poured from her eyes, and mouth, it shone from beneath her fingernails. Somehow the light was poluting, like swimming through slime.

"Now, use your puny mortal magic," the outsider instructed.

"H..how, I don't know any healing magic," she protested. The Outsider scoffed.

"You have no need of your petty incantations, simply will it to be done, if your will is strong enough you will accomplish it. If not, I have no need of you as my servant." Trying not to think of what 'my servant' might mean. Jocasta placed both hands on Beren and shouted, pouring all her fear and terror into the scream. To her utter amazement, the wounds knitted closed. Not all at once, but over several nauseating seconds, even the spilled blood seemed to be attempting to flow back into Beren's veins before the congealing tissue blocked its ingress. Beren took a shuddering breath but didn't open his eyes. The creature chuckled.

"It is a shame to part you so soon, but you will return with me to my realm. A foolish bargain mortal," the creature laughed. Jocasta gripped Beren with one hand and her sarong with the other.

"You think your puny mortal arts are a match for me?" it scoffed. Jocasta grinned bloodlessly, then forced the last ounce of demonic magic into the sarong and she and Beren vanished in a cloud of slightly sulforus smoke.

_____

It was cold when Jocasta came to. Beren was laying atop her, still unconcious, though she could feel his heart beating against her. Beyond his hair she could see a star field, which was a good sign because she had only a vauge hope of reaching the surface when she had overcharged her sarong.

"Not as much fun when you land in my lap," she complained, straining to shove Beren off her. Eventually she managed to shift him and sit up. She was in a snow bank beside a road. In the distant lights glittered from beyond a pallisade and she could smell woodsmoke on the air. Someone let out a startled shout and a horse neighed. Jocasta turned her head to see an old man with a one horse cart filled with firewood.

"Where in the Evergod's Grace did you come from?" he demanded querellously, a long white beard bristling. He had a wrinkled face with a bulbous nose and a battered blue hat with a broad brim. Jocasta touched her stomach which still burned.

"You know, I can't really remember the name of the town," she admitted.

"Is your friend ok?" the old man asked as his eyes shifted to Beren and narrowing in concern.

"I don't really know," Jocasta said, standing up and trying to drag Beren to his feet. He gave a pained grown.

"You are just a font of information," the old man said as he climbed down and came over to them. He hoisted Beren up and peeled back on of his eyelids.

"Well we better get him inside before he freezes to death," the old man opined, and helped Jocasta drag him to the cart. Sweating and heaving they managed to get Beren into an uncomfortable position in the back of the wagon.

"Welcome to Iskura," the old man said as he got back on the bench of the wagon. Jocasta climbed up beside him and sagged exhausted against the chair. The old man clucked and snapped his reigns and the old draft horse began to clatter over the icy road towards the gate.

Bump
I think I am down to one current RP partner, so I am entertaining picking up another RP!

Please DM me if you are interested. And don't feel constrained to my plots- I am happy to consider more than what I have listed here. If you have a burning desire for a story you haven't found an appropriate partner for, but think I could be a good fit, let me know! The most important thing to me really is communication and someone who will stick around past the first few posts.

Much love to Penny and Kymera if they see this!


I see you girl! <3


I stared in shock as the gold armored figure ripped into the scarabs, sending metal flying in all directions. Screaming with rage the armored warrior charged across the room and grabbed the tomb spyder by one of its forelegs. He drew back a vast metal fist and drove it into the side of the creature. It drew back its hand and struck again and again, dishing in plates with the sound like a pneumatic hammer on hull platting. With a roar of victory he plunged his fist through its armor and grabbed a hold of its inards, ripping out a handfull of sparking green cables. The spyder spasmed wildly and then collapsed to the floor. The warrior grabbed the things head in both hands and wrenched violently. The head came free in an explosion of green fire that flickered and arced across the armor. For a few seconds I could see the giant's skeleton through the armor. The green light died and the giant stepped clear, smoke coiling up from his golden armor.

"Holy Throne," I breathed in shock. My mind was screaming 'astartes'. I had never seen one in the flesh, but they were a frequent enough subject of sculpture and painting that I could tell this wasn't one of the Emperor's Chosen. It swiviled its head to look at me and I backed up rapidly, my guts clenching. The monster took a step towards me, flexing its fingers.

"We are servants of the Emperor!" Hadrian shouted. The brute paused, head swiviling to Hadrian. I got the impression it was surveying the Imperial iconography on his equipment. I probed at him with my mind, shoving all the images of the Emperor I could think of at the thing.
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