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  he state-of-affairs for E.N.D. seem to have declined over the past few years. Instead of their legendary black keep on the isle of Katall, their council has moved to the basement of Lord Ire’s mother’s house. She pours tea for everyone while Ire goes over some notes with his assistant, known as the Wailing; only Ire can understand his horrifying screams.This is not exactly what you had expected. Though most of the chairs are empty, four other senior members of the League are seated at the old wooden table. They look a bit worse for the wear; old, tired, and of declining health. “Ahem.” Ire clears his throat. “As you may know, after our recent ‘incidents’ involving those relentless do-gooder bastards, we are in a bit of a rebuilding phase. Our new frosh brothers,” He indicates towards the five of you. “...will be helping us rebuild our economy of connections and information.” The older four Leaguers make less than excited greetings towards you. “Yes, we are all very excited to have such aspiring young menaces on board, but lets get straight to business.” Ire slides over a portfolio of information. It is labeled ‘Stealing Kei’Ling.’ “Three hundred miles away in the mountains of Moel lies the town of Kei’Ling. Kei’Ling has made a murder selling the precious gems and metals found in their mines. We want a part, neh, all of this. Their current governor is on his deathbed, and four candidates await his passing so that they may contend and be elected into town office. One of them is our own. Your job is to ensure, by whatever means possible, that our candidate is elected and not anyone else. You’ll find profiles on each of them on the pages within.” “Oh and one more thing. Try not to kill ALL of them, we don’t want to raise too much suspicion.”   Tormas Bradley Local Hero Brave, but dim Highly respected amongst the middle and lower class Travels with a band of accomplished heroes and dungeon crawlers  Wodin Barker Heir of the current governor Young, naive, idealistic Heavy support from the nobility Rarely is seen without bodyguards  Mezalia Pento Descended from the original natives of the area Bright, cunning, resourceful Politics favor better conditions for the natives that the city has enslaved or displaced Spends a lot of time outside the town interfacing with the native tribesmen  Beldritch Thaust Our man for the job! Runs the trade union Has quite a few secrets we can’t have people finding out about Very little support outside of local merchants   he travel accommodations are less than stellar. A gypsy caravan smelling of goat and wet sock. A rickety boat narrowly dodging rocks as it careens through rapids. The town of Kei’ling is a welcome sight as you approach just as the day reaches sundown. You stand on a narrow dock leading into a river about 50 meters wide. The dock connects to a grassy bank and a small market where most salesman are starting to pack it in for the night. Wind whistles through the mountains and the smell of spices and cooked food lingers in your nose. The buildings here are of modest quality, homes and businesses alike. Loud voices and laughs echo outwards from a nearby tavern. The peak of the capitol building stands high above the others on the opposite side of town. What do you do? Rules:
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| # ? Jan 18, 2013 22:47 |
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| # ? May 22, 2013 13:56 |
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Axel Gulbrandsen a.k.a. BONEMETAL music "Are you shitheads just going to wait around here all day?" Axel took a swig of vodka, looking at the rest of his companions. "gently caress if I care about either of you two. I'm talking to the Dwarf and the Big fucker, yeah, the one with the other big loving axe. Are you guys just going to wait around with your thumbs up your asses like a couple of shitheads or are we going to do some poo poo for the league?" Axel's motorcycle revved itself a couple of times, quickly following by blaring the horn. "See? Even Melinda here is getting a little impatient. I'm going to head into town to see what the gently caress's going on, find a couple groupies, drink until my bones rot, and then gently caress the poo poo out of said groupies until I start seeing some dreams about the loving mission or I feel the gauntlet of some big loving war born soldier gripping around my brittle neck and beating the poo poo out of my body." Axel's motorcycle honked and did a wheelie. "I'll see you shitlords in town." And with that, the rockstar rode off into town like the hero that he was. Spending 10g on Bandages. 15g on Halfling Pipeleaf Heading into the local tavern to pre:
Arrrthritis fucked around with this message at Jan 18, 2013 around 23:41 |
| # ? Jan 18, 2013 23:38 |
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Name: Axel Gulbrandsen
Race: Undead
Class: Bard
Look: Flowing Hair, Hungover Eyes, Withered Body, Bony Skin
Alignment: CHAOTIC (Spur others to significant and unplanned decisive action.)
Stats
STR 12 (0)
DEX 13 (+1)
CON 16 (+2)
INT 9 (0
WIS 8 (-1)
CHA 16 (+2)
HP: 22
Armor: 1
Base damage: d6
Moves
The Grateful Undead- When you roll 10+ on Metal Hurlant, an ally of your choice takes +1 forward on their next attack
Arcane Art
Bardic Lore (The Dead and Undead)
Faithful Steed
You have a connection with a faithful steed. You can’t talk to it per se but it always acts as you wish it to. Name your faithful steed and choose a species:
horse, camel, elephant, wolf, tiger, lizard, A loving MOTORCYCLE
Choose 2:
Fast: Take +1 when you use your steed’s lightning speed to your advantage.
Vicious: Deal +2 Damage when you use your steed’s dangerous nature to your advantage.
If you obtain a new steed, it will take at least a week of training and developing a bond before you benefit from it being a Faithful Steed.
A Port in the Storm
Metal Hurlant-When you shout with great force or play a shattering note choose a target and roll+Con. ✴On a 10+ the target takes 1d10 damage and is deafened for a few minutes.
✴On a 7–9 you still damage your target, but it’s out of control: the GM will choose an additional target nearby.
GEAR
A Righteous, Haunted Axe
A Mighty Boot (1 Armor, 1 weight)
A Righteous, Haunted Axe (I can smash fools with it)
Halfling Pipeleafs (all 0 weight, +1 to parley when used)
A bottle of Vodka (6 uses)
A bottle of Gin (6 uses)
A bottle of Plump Helmet Ale (6 uses)
A shitload of
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Titus Draugr "... Well then." Titus is very bemused by his new companions. The skeleton in particular... They had bad stories about the undead back home, but this one seemed too much alive to be the shambling revenants of the stories. The Northman doesn't have any better ideas than what the skeleton offers at the moment. They don't have any information on where their targets are at the moment, and wandering around the village would attract undue attention. The Gods are quiet this time, too, and not offering any advice or guidance. Some journeys must be made alone. Also, alcohol sounded good. In fact, the alcohol was a much better idea. Titus turns to Torm, Raphael and Akar. These two were... less impressive. But they had been summoned, so perhaps they had some worth. "Come," he manages in broken Common. Gods, this language was awful. He hadn't had the chance to tell the League he'd had his application scribed by a slave. "We follow skeleton. Alcohol, maybe information, yes?" Without waiting, he sets off after the skeleton. 50g on a healing Potion. Heading to a tavern to drink, and maybe get information too. quote:
The Deleter fucked around with this message at Jan 19, 2013 around 15:17 |
| # ? Jan 19, 2013 00:11 |
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Torm Ironheart As Torm steps off the boat, he gives a knowing smile to the longing eyes of the ship's first mate. The handsome gypsy simply had not been prepared for the skills and charm of a master romantic like the dwarf, and had been swept off his feet. It had certainly made the long and otherwise boring trip far more pleasant, and the gypsy had been fascinating in his own right. Torm hoped he might see him again at least, a class to which not many belonged. Soon, he is meandering up the dock surveying his surroundings, this was no Verdania, with it's grand piazzas and soaring architecture, but it also wasn't the saddest town he'd ever been to. There was a sort of rustic charm to the place, and, hopefully, its inhabitants. He considers just wandering the town first, getting a feel for the rhythm of the place. The chance to leave his drabber companions in the dust for a while also held a certain appeal. He'd spent more than enough time with them during the caravan's travel here. He ponders those he's been teamed with while he walks. The illusionist was entertaining in his own way, the plans within plans and bluster had a certain charm to them. Not to mention that digging beneath all that to the man below would be an excellent diversion. Plus, there was talent there, and it never hurt to be on the good side of one like that. The necromancer was... well he just was, which was neither here nor there really. As to whether there was anything worth pursuing there, well the jury was still out. The skeleton, however, was, well for lack of a better word, boring. At least, he was for a connoisseur of romance like Torm. The dwarf wasn't some vapid groupie and he found the corpse's music to be all too similar to the one who played it, a "person" who wouldn't know what romance was if it bashed him in the head with a steel cudgel. The barbarian, though, there was a challenge, and a master of love and intrigue like Torm could hardly turn down a challenge such as the northman presented. To ensnare the man who wanted to rob the world of riches and pleasure into a web of earthly delight would be one of his greatest masterpieces. He would have to begin to work out that one eventually, such a rare feat would be celebrated in the poems of the worldly for centuries. After all that thought he decided to head to the tavern anyhow. The fact that taverns like it were the home of the adventuring set was what finally tipped the scales. When he'd heard about the four candidates, one had immediately jumped out, Tormas Bradley. It had been so long since he'd won the heart of a hero, and though occasionally a hard catch they were just so devoted once they were reeled in. It's why there were occasionally worth the effort. Plus, in the line of work he was now in, having a sturdy bodyguard like an ex-hero never hurt. 40g on 2 vials of Goldenroot. Heading to the tavern in search of a certain local hero. Medium-term, Torm's plan is to woo Tormas Bradley. quote:Bonds Valhawk posted:Torm Ironheart
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| # ? Jan 19, 2013 08:21 |
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As Raphael turns to the others, scrunching his nose at the smell of the docks, he could tell he had somehow misjudged the selection committee when he took over the League from the top. That they would select this group, surely a mistake was made... No!Ssurely the incompetence of a minion along the line was the cause for these... lowlifes to be part of his group of ne'er-do-wells. "I guess Fluffy will be eating well this week after-all," he mumbled under his breath, planning the suitable regime of torture for the guilty party to be undertaken once this heist was finished. He carefully regards the others using his genius to put them into his 'scheme archetypes:' The skeleton was far too chaotic to be used in any plan. He and his 'band' would surely cause more chaos than needed, though some chaos never hurt! Raphael would have to take care to use him in only the least stressful and most blunt situations. Though his seemingly wanton lust and need for pleasures of any kind could be useful as a carrot (though rather crude and unfortunately apt in shape for Raphael's taste). The Anti-Paladin seems to have a good grasp of basic tactics, warfare and leadership. He would do his part in the plan- but not much else. Treat him as he would any dumb henchman and the plan would work out smoothly. Though hopefully this particular lackey would know how to hit a Hmph, Raphael did not know what to think about the Necromancer-cum-Assassin. His services as an assassin were well regarded within the higher sect of evil-doers, and Raphael had purchased those services before to get less wholesome ingredients in the past. He could be counted upon to take out his targets and even do basic scheming and infiltration work. But the fact that the man was never able to become a spell-caster after so much effort spoke ill against him. Perhaps a bit of tutoring would be a good method of manipulation? Finally, the Lady Killer. Torm was a man after his own heart, and even mind! Infiltration and manipulation being specialties of an illusionist, he could see the usefulness and sheer delight in using other methods of manipulation to undergo similar schemes. There is much he could learn from the Psionicist, and also much he could teach about more in-depth planning and preparation. "Well, "Gentlemen," it seems we have a task in head of us. Surely the first step will be gaining a stronghold within the area that is a bit less... conspicuous than an inn containing lustful undead and giant barbarians, hmm?" he began as he glared daggers at his obvious targets. "Master Blake? Please get my accoutrements that means baggage, "bard" and meet me at the tavern the others are headed to. I shall send you out later after we make our plans." This conversation finished for the moment, Raphael saunters off to get a quick look of the various types of housing that could be rented out and areas of worse repute, in which services could be bought. He would end up at the same tavern as the others. Buying another Healing Potion for my 50c. quote:
pre:HP: 18/18 Damage: d6 3/3 ammo Armor: 1 Str: 8 (-1) Dex: 13 (+1) Con: 12 (+0) Int: 16 (+2) Wis: 9 (+0) Cha: 15 (+1) Slaan posted:
Slaan fucked around with this message at Jan 19, 2013 around 11:29 |
| # ? Jan 19, 2013 11:19 |
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Raphael finds services typical to a mid-sized town (check the Equipment list). The town is very clean and on first look doesn't appear to have any shadier parts, even the lowliest homes seems to be in good shape and would be of excellent value in a larger city. Clearly Kei'ling is a prosperous place. Raphael takes note of a For Rent sign on one of the quieter streets (this could be had for 45-Charisma per week), the house seems of ample size to rest and make plans for the days to come. The tavern, named Milkman, is crowded and jovial, smelling of cooked meats, spilled wine, and man-sweat. The patrons are of a wide-variety, about sixty total, mostly men. There are merchants, lone adventurers, entertainers, even a few wealthier individuals. It is a simple layout, a large open room with a bar and kitchen running along the one side, and a small stage at the far end where a group is setting up for a show. Multi-colored light pours through from a stained glass window meant to capture the setting sun as it lowers across the valley. Parking his ride outside, Axel's motorcycle sends a few horses into fits; one breaks its rope and runs off wildly towards the riverbank and disappears into a copse of pines. Inside, Titus and Axel's appearance draws immediate attention, the bar dulling to a quiet whisper briefly before returning to its prior roar. Raphael, Torm, and Akar slink in without drawing much attention. You do not notice any of the four candidates after a quick scan of the patrons. What do you do? Titus Have you ever traveled to the mountains of Moel before? Axel How do you usually respond to people's reactions to your hideousness? Raphael The League assigned no clear leader for your little group, how do you feel about this? Torm Does your mind ever get a little frazzled in crowded locations like this? Akar Any organs on your list currently? What is your current project?
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| # ? Jan 19, 2013 19:56 |
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Axel Gulbrandsen "What a loving relief!" Axel takes one last swig of some fruity rear end Amaretto he found on the corpse of an elf. The bottle emptied, and the alcohol passing through his skull and pouring onto the floor, Axel smashes the base against the wall before discarding the head and walking on over to the tavern's bar. "That's right, stare all you want. You fucks are in the presence of a BONA-FIDE celebrity. That's right, it's me, your lord, your savior, your king, your GOD. BONEMETAL. I'm taking autographs if you're willing to pay. Anyone who wants to talk to any of my band mates can shove their thumbs right up their asses, because this fucker is here to do one thing, and one thing only; Get as loving drunk as he can, and break a few skulls in the process." Axel looks around the room, completely oblivious that the rest of the members of E.N.D. followed him here. "Barkeep. Get me a bottle of that plump helmet poo poo you keep on you. And get me a bottle of the best loving gin you've got. And you know what? I'm feeling mighty loving generous today. If you tell me who around here is looking to earn some quick coin I won't rock your motherfucking face off." Axel strums a quick power chord on his guitar, drawing the ire and attention of everyone within the Inn. "And if any of you fucks are interested in filing a complaint, you could voice your opinion to our human resources department located RIGHT HERE" With his two middle fingers, Axel points towards his own crotch. A classy man, that. Axel loves to be recognized everywhere he goes. It's part of being a famous rockstar, after all.
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| # ? Jan 19, 2013 20:14 |
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wrl posted:What do you do? Moel. A cursed name. Titus hadn't been there, but he had heard tales. Men coming back from journeys there with their hair bleached white, prematurely old. Daggers and blades of an unknown make, carved in a stone black as night with a shine like glass. Talk of things that lurked in the shadows. Things with no souls. Vampires, perhaps, or worse than vampires. Men spoke of the place in whispers, and they would not invoke the name, not even as a curse on their worst enemies. He had asked Niflheimr what lay in those trecharous mountains. They hadn't answered him. Focus. You are a long way from home. No time to dwell on the past. Titus doesn't care for the people here. There's nobody here that could stop him from doing what he wanted. But hurling his weight around would be a terrible idea. There was the mission, and although it would be nice to meet the "local hero" and show him the error of his ways, finding his whereabouts would require more subtlety. Luckily, he was with people who were more adept at such things. And then Axel does the complete opposite of subtlety. Oh, well, as long as they were not looking at him. "One moment, please," he says to his companions in Common, and retreats to a corner of the tavern, where he can have a good view of the bar. Angles of attack, angles of retreat. The wall creaks a little as he leans on it. This was a good tavern. Tables looked solid. Good shields - or bludgeons. "Gods," he whispers to himself, "can you hear me? I am far from home amongst people I do not trust. Who here is my enemy? Who here is an enemy of evil?" It felt weird to say that word. Evil. But he was a member of the League of E.N.D. now, so perhaps he was. Interesting.
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| # ? Jan 19, 2013 20:58 |
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The bartender slides Axel a malty grog at the cost of a coin. He likes Axel's style. "Well a lot of folk are trying to clear out the south mines, the KLM Company is paying a couple hundreds to figure out what is going on down there. Good luck beating Tormas to the punch though..." Titus, the good here is so thick you can smell it. Everyone is so naive and weak. Your senses are drawn in particular to a man not 20 feet from you. He is old and grizzled, missing an arm and an eye. Clearly battle hardened, but as ignorantly good as they come. It makes you ill.
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| # ? Jan 19, 2013 23:37 |
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wrl posted:Titus, the good here is so thick you can smell it. Everyone is so naive and weak. Your senses are drawn in particular to a man not 20 feet from you. He is old and grizzled, missing an arm and an eye. Clearly battle hardened, but as ignorantly good as they come. It makes you ill. Urgh. Of course. Good people in the shade of a mountain of horror. No doubt they attributed their good lives to their morals and their community spirit, and not the whims of fate. At least they appeared to be competent warriors, the one redeeming factor in all of this. If only their mission was to test these whelps in steel and blood - he'd be more than happy to oblige. Titus pushes himself from the wall and walks over to Raphael. He seemed the most intellegent of the group, and thus probably the best person to make quick decisions for the group. He keeps one eye on the old warrior, in case things go... wrong. "Over there. Old warrior. May know where hero is. Could be good to ask."
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| # ? Jan 20, 2013 14:43 |
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Rafael Waiting at the bar after his walk through the town, Raphael thought over potential plans to buy the house For Rent and put in place deadly, and not deadly but hilarious, traps and pitfalls for any that may come to attack the League. Perhaps a trap which would open up a spike pit on under those who entered without speaking the correct phrase, backwards and forwards; but if they didn't also hop on their left leg twice, perhaps a shower of manure or rubber chickens? "Perhaps I would forget to tell my colleagues about that part of it," he laughed to himself. But then he noticed the Barbarian come towards him and speak of a potential knowledge source nearby. "I see, thank you for pointing him out to me. I rely on those such as yourself to pick out those others expert in your craft. Your valeur is acknowleged, my good warrior. Perhaps you could attract the attention of our colleague Torm as well? His gifts may be useful. Now then, if you will excuse me? Blake, go to the bar tender and demand to know where my mulled wine is; he brought this "mule wine" bovine piss. Get me a replacement post-haste, but also tell the bartender to bring another bottle over to the table over there," he pointed at the old warrior. "I will be speaking with him shortly. Now, chop chop "Master" or it will be the whip again!" Making a gesture to Titus to watch his back just in case, he walked over to the man. "Good evening, sir. May I buy you a drink? You seem to be knowledgeable of this area and I am in need of good company. For, you see, I need to purchase the services of an adventurer or three, (gnolls you know?). I believe you may know of a, Mister Bradley, I believe who leads such a band?" Sitting down at the man's table he attempts to act friendly while sizing up the competition. Who is this man, and who is his master, real or otherwise? Discern Realities, 2d6: 8 [2d6=6, 2] Who is really in control here? quote:The League assigned no clear leader for your little group, how do you feel about this? Hmph, obviously I misjudged when I selected the committee. Wait, no, that would mean that my genius isn't infallible! Either a minion of mine has been incompetent, and will shortly be fed to the raging hyenas in my zoo, or I am more devious than I thought. Both, of course. You see, I knew my minion would be incompetent in selecting the committee, but I knew in what ways his incompetence would show. He would pick a committee that would not notice my sheer genius and charisma. But, that played into my plans, for I both hid my full genius from the League (illusionists are masters of disguise, in case you did not pick up my obvious hints), and knew they would play up the supposed charisma of the others. In a group like this one a mixture of attitudes is key, you see. Mostly for my purposes. It is so much easier to sneak into a heavily guarded vault when a raging Tyrannosaur is assaulting the guards; in this case, a heavily armed barbarian backed up by an evil band of musicians. They tend to attract attention to themselves, so that I, myself (and I assume the assassin and womanizer), can do my more stealthy activities in relative peace. And well, a bit of chaos is expected in any plan, so might as well as be your chaos. And as a second stroke of genius, I know the pride of my 'allies.' They would surely balk from taking orders from a man of my physique, no matter how plainly superior I am, the simpletons. So, by working subtle strings I can more easily get my way! Slaan fucked around with this message at Jan 20, 2013 around 15:32 |
| # ? Jan 20, 2013 15:30 |
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Axel Gulbrandsen "KLM COMPANY?" Axel takes a great big drink of the malty grog given to him. "That money should be mine! Tell me all about this Tormas fucker. Where is he? What the gently caress does a metal head such as myself gotta do to split an even share, fifty fifty? Don't you loving hold out on me, tender, because you can bet your rear end that all of that money will be spent on booze until you either run the gently caress out or decide that 'drinking isn't good for a man at my age.' And you don't want to know what happens when you pick the second option."
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| # ? Jan 20, 2013 17:19 |
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Torm Ironheartwrl posted:Torm As Torm surveys the room he drinks the atmosphere, some psychics have trouble in crowded places like this, they always tend to be the intense academic type, in short bores. But for Torm a master or romance and intrigue a crowded and living room makes him feel alive. Riding the ebb and flow of such places so ripe with possibility is second nature to him, so if anything his power is sharper. Now at some place drab and downtrodden like a funeral there's less wave to ride, but as long as the place is alive with energy so is Torm. He sees the Illusionist start to pester a patron for information at the bar and decides to show him how it's really done. Grabbing two drinks from the barkeep, Torm slides up to the booth of a lone adventurer. He slides one of the drinks over and gives his winningest smile, one that melts even the coldest heart. "I saw you all alone over here, and I thought you might like a drink... and maybe some company." As he pushes over the mug his hand brushes the adventurer's, almost as though on purpose, but in such a way as to be written off as accident if one were inclined to favor that outcome. Then he takes his drink in hand, gives a mock toast, "May fortune find you," and takes a sip. As he looks over his drink, a lovely concoction he learned of from Jorn combining rum, lime, and a few other ingredients, he carefully studies the man before him with his eyes and his mind. Discern Realities: 2d6+2 11
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| # ? Jan 20, 2013 22:24 |
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Reference stuff NPC roster: The League of E.N.D. Lord Ire Lord Ire's mother The Wailing The Governor Candidates: Tormas Bradley Wodin Barker Beldritch Thaust Mezalia Pento Previous governor Stennick The Milkman Barkeep Innkeep - currently besotted with Torm Drik - one-eyed, one-armed veteran Aral - won over by Torm, did some dirty work for Thaust Tormas Bradley's band Libe - second in command. Cascti - Cascti's not from around here and carries two swords. Lars - Lars is an ugly bastard, covered in scars. He has spiked gauntlets and a mace. Ulfrecht - Ulfrecht is about muscle. He has a two-handed axe. Krem - currently unconscious thanks to Axel, along with his brother Erk Erk - also unconscious Paup - Paup is more of a stealthy, sneaky type. Clever fingers and has a bow. Druw - Druw appears to be the cook for the band and carries a club. Bren - Seems like some tree-sniffing tracker. Has a bow and throwing knives. Sipt - Sipt has been lounging the whole time and has several lengths of spear with him. Realtors Anton - poisoned by Raphael; blackmailed for continuing doses of antidote More to be added as needed. Experience tally: Raphael Maliki 1 xp Axel/BONEMETAL Torm Ironheart Atissi 1 xp Long ASCII Floorplan: pre:Front/First -------------/--------- l l Kit- l l Dining / chen l l l l l-----/-----/----/----- l l l l Salon l Storage l l / / Side exit l l l l s l l---------------------- Second Floor ----------------------- l / l l l Bed l / l closet l------------ l---- l l l l l Master / l l bath l l l l l------------ / l l l s l---- l Bed / / l closet l---------------------- Dungeon- A master never reveals his plans... Akar Nehreav So, killing all the prospective governor candidates is frowned upon.. but if they sent me, there's a distinct possibility of at least one going under, I think. In any case, this job is off to a roaring start. Literally so in the case of Axel - er, BONEMETAL. There's really no need to worry about distractions when the undead rocker is around. Raphael is already working the crowd, I suspect. That is, if he doesn't already have some kind of network in place. I remember when I took that contract from him - he kept dropping hints that if I didn't take care of the job promptly, someone else would be doing so. I never spotted Raphael's other man though - so he was either very good, or never existed. I suspect he can't help himself from playing mind games like that. But Titus Draugr, I think you know where you stand with a beast of a man like that. I am pleased he is around, especially in case this job gets blown. I have a feeling that a mob of torch-bearing peasants would be so much wheat before his armor and axe. Torm Ironheart, I do not understand. That one hungers for companionship in the same way that I grow restless if I'm not making progress on my research. And where I see sacks of blood and organs, he sees the webs of emotions and needs.. If any of them should fall during the mission it would be a shame for such fine sinews (Titus), minds (Torm and Raphael), or unusual physiologies (Bonemetal) to go to waste. In any case, it's time to put my own skills to work. People are always surprised that I don't spend all of my time skulking about silently in the shadows. But people remember a surly skulker - a man who does not mind being seen sticks out far less. First, I'm going to get a feel for the wealthy individuals spending their evening at the Milkman. Do they get along, or do they have their differences? And certainly the wealthy in town will have some ties to our potential governors.. Discern Realities: 2d6-1 7 - What should I be on the lookout for? Akar Any organs on your list currently? What is your current project? The current project is to map the nerves of the hand and to understand if there is a functional difference between nerve tissue found throughout the body, or in different species. Accordingly, intact nerves would be a major coup, but fingers and forearms will certainly serve for the early stages of this research. quote:Bonds  Akar Nehreav, aspiring necromancer (reflavored Assassin ) Look: Calm eyes, drab grey clothes, leather gloves, thin body Alignment: Evil: Perform an assassination for purely selfish reasons Race: Human: When performing assassinations in public areas, it is harder for witnesses to identify you pre:Stats: Str: 12 (+0) Dex: 17 (+2) Con: 13 (+1) Int: 15 (+1) Wis: 8 (-1) Cha: 9 (+0) Damage: d6 Health: 19 (6+Con) Armor: 1 pre:Stats: Str: 12 (+0) Dex: 17 (+2) Con: 13 (+1) Int: 15 (+1) Wis: 8 (-1) Cha: 9 (+0) Damage: d6 Health: 19 (6+Con) Look: Calm eyes, drab grey clothes, leather gloves, thin body Alignment: Evil: Perform an assassination for purely selfish reasons Race: Human: When performing assassinations in public areas, it is harder for witnesses to identify you Starting Moves Death Dealer Whenever you successfully attack a target, you may gain 1 Mark. All Marks are lost when danger is no longer present. Marks may be spent one-for-one on the following: -Make a deadly strike that ignores armor -perfectly parry an attack, taking no damage -instantly dispatch a humanoid target that has a third or less of its maximum hitpoints. -Grant +1 forward to any ally attacking your targets The World is My Weapon You are always considered to be armed, and any weapon with the hand quality can always be concealed on your person with no chance of discovery. Unblinking Eye When you take time to research a target, name the person you wish to learn about and ask the GM these questions. When acting on the answers you and your allies take +1 forward. -When are they vulnerable? -Who are their allies? Who would pay to see them dead? -What is the greatest obstacle I would have to overcome to reach them? One With the Crowd When you attempt to mask your presence in a group of people, the environment, or any advantageous surroundings whether in danger or not, roll +INT. On a 10+ pick 3, on a 7-9 pick 1. -The target doesn’t feel like they are being watched or followed -There isn’t any undue attention brought upon you by someone or something else -You don’t lose something or someone important -You heal 1d4 damage Advanced move Always An Out Something about your luck supersedes even the best casing of a location. There is often a fortunate way out, hiding place, or way to lie low to keep you from death’s cold grasp. Equipment Max load: 9+Str = 9 (* The Assassin class didn't have equipment listed, so I looked at the Thief.) - Leather Armor (1 armor, 1 weight) - Rapier (Close, precise 1 weight) - 3 throwing daggers (near, thrown, 0 weight) - Adventuring gear (1 weight) Total weight carried: 3 weight Armor: 1 Sionak fucked around with this message at Apr 4, 2013 around 18:37 |
| # ? Jan 21, 2013 22:11 |
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Titus Draugr "... Of course." Hah. Like hell he was taking this scrawny man's orders. He was obliged to work with the others in his party, but he would never bow to them. Not to this soft, flabby, useless fool, only good at giving orders and being waited on hand and foot. No, instead, he would show this thing, this creature, the meaning of strife and hardship. Perhaps then he Also, Torm was otherwise occupied. He would not appreciate being disturbed in his... work. Titus would join the others in drinking and socialising, but he has a slight problem. No money. The Burnt Blade had very little use for wealth in coin - physical supplies, like meat, drink and weapons, were much more valuable. Therefore, when he'd recieved his pittance from the League, he'd immediately brought a healing salve from a gypsy on the caravan. And whilst it was prudent to have such a thing, perhaps he should have been more prudent with his funds. No matter. There were other ways. Singling out a nervous looking barmaid behind the counter, Titus stomps over and looms, eyes leering from behind his helmet and voice growling. "You. Bring me beer. NOW." Intimidate barmaid: 2d6+1 7
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| # ? Jan 23, 2013 00:31 |
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Raphael The old man takes a swig of beer. He doesn't answer immediately, peering at Raphael intently with his remaining eye. Despite the man's age, his gaze does not waver at all, and you have the uncomfortable sensation that he is sizing you up as well. "I thank you for the drink." he finally says. "You remind me of someone.. no matter, though. When you're as old as I am, everyone looks familiar! And I was in the town guard long enough to know most all the faces around here. My name's Drik." Drik takes another swig. "Tormas is out now, true. Last I heard, he was headed for the south mines - really, wherever is most dangerous, that's where you'll find Tormas." Though gruff, you can't miss the note of respect in the old man's voice. "Some of his band are probably still in town if you need to talk to him urgently." You can tell - Drik thinks he is his own master, but he is actually a slave to his duty and his town. He has put the town's welfare before his own and would do so again. Also: does Master Blake speak on his own or is any speech the result of your illusions? Axel The bartender is briefly distracted by the appearance of Raphael's golem shuffling up, demanding finer wine. The bartender looks irritated, then mutters something about wasting the good wine with too many spices, and sends it back to the table with another cup full of mulled wine. "Right, Tormas. Like I said, he headed to the south mines. Workers have been disappearing. No one really knows what's going on there so he declared that he could take care of it. Lots of people think it's the natives acting up, but who knows what lives down in those mines?" The bartender thinks for a moment, then starts to fill another mug of beer for Axel. Clearly, he has worked out that more coin for the skeleton could translate to more money being spent on beer. "You want the money, I guess you'd have to get in there before Tormas and his team clear everything out. Of course, if you could beat him to the punch, you might get a little extra." At the small stage, a group of performers are finishing their set-up and testing their instruments. Mostly lutes from the sound of it. What do you think of their efforts? Titus The barmaid steps back involuntarily, squeaking slightly. "Of, of course sir!" But when she returns, there is just the one beer and it is more pale than you expected. She keeps the tray in front of her, like a shield. "Will sir be paying now or sharing a tab with his .. associates?" she asks, glancing back at Bonemetal. Are there taverns where you come from? What are they like? Torm This adventurer of yours seems to be a bit down on his luck. You can tell from the way he accepts the drink that it's not his first of the day. "That's good of you." the adventurer responds. "Certainly fortune's had trouble finding me before. Let me tell you, not all those jobs are what they're cracked up to be. But first, what brings you here, friend?" Of course, you can see past the surface level of intoxication in this man's mind. His surface thoughts are this: Who's this little fellow, come to have a laugh at old Aral? Oh, but he brought a beer and - such manners! He seems a good sort after all. Don't scare him away! - The adventurer is useful to you - you can already tell he feels that he's been ill-used by someone and is looking for any pretense to tell the story. He's already grateful for the drink and the attention. There are a few others within the bar who might also be receptive. - You should be on the lookout for some of the wealthy individuals present here - you can feel their attention on you, lightly touching your awareness. At least one is definitely intrigued by you, but such men are not used to hearing "no". - The tavern appears to be quite chipper in all respects, where the patrons are speaking freely. Yet you can hear in the murmur of conversation that there are subjects being avoided. It feels like politics, but things aren't in the open yet. The patrons are trying to work out where their neighbors and competitors stand when it comes to the next governor - but subtly. Sionak fucked around with this message at Feb 1, 2013 around 22:31 |
| # ? Feb 1, 2013 20:42 |
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Axel "Yeah, right. Beat Tormas and his gang to the punch. What a loving riot. You think a rockstar like me is equipped to do some heavy adventuring against someone like that?" Axel wails on his guitar, letting loose the screams of the dead within the room for only a quick second. "What's this Tormas guy's party like? Do you think he's the type that would need a damned rockstar in his ranks to help him with the rear end kicking and shred some of his enemies to death?" Growing impatient with the barkeep, and the scene in general, Axel finishes his beer and lets out a shout. "Oh gently caress THIS" In an almost temper-tantrum like state, he marches off to his motorcycle to head to the mines and talk Tormas into the awesome power of metal. Axel believes that all non-metal music is nothing but trash. If he didn't have better things to do, he would have shredded their lutes to pieces Arrrthritis fucked around with this message at Feb 1, 2013 around 23:25 |
| # ? Feb 1, 2013 23:18 |
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Torm Ironheart "This and that," Torm says with practiced ease, "But enough about such boring things, why don't you tell me your story, I get the impression it's quite a tale." Torm sounds genuinely interested, something he's mastered from long practice. Want to hear this guy's story. See if I can subtly get the location of Tormas out of him while I'm at it.
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| # ? Feb 1, 2013 23:39 |
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Sionak posted:Titus "Tab." Hmph. Titus snatches the beer and places it on the bar top, fingers moving to his helmet. He shifts his helm a little higher, exposing a thin beard and a mouth slashed upwards by an ugly scar along the right side of his face, and takes a long draught. Bah. Horse piss. Weak, flimsy beer for weak and flimsy people. Back home, beer burnt like fire and warmed you for hours after you drank it. Then again, what did he expect from a weak people, comfortable in their riches? Besides, exacting retribution in such a foul, good-hearted place would be a short-lived pleasure before he became maggot fodder. The anger of Axel storming out draws his attention. Hmph. Either the revenant had finally had enough of this hovel, or it had found something important. Would have been nice if he'd imparted such information to his fellows. Titus glances at Torm and Raphael, but they seemed disinclined to do something about it. As usual, he would be doing the hard work. He drains his own beer in a long, messy swig, and then slams the empty flagon on the bar with a belch before replacing his helmet and standing up, turning to Raphael. "You. Weakling. You pay for my beer. I pay back later." With that, he sets off after Axel, with a loathing glance back at the grizzled old warrior. Hm, what could have been. The average tavern in the North consists mostly of someone's living room - or their whole house, if they live in a one-room shack as is common - and whatever incredibly dangerous alcohol they could acquire or brew up. More populated or richer settlements often contain the more traditional sort of tavern, but those are few and far between. Naturally, Titus preffered to get his drinks from raids, or as a tithe from the fearful peasants in exchange for not being mown down.
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| # ? Feb 2, 2013 02:53 |
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Master Blake's voice is both illusion and not. I have implanted within the golem the voice-box of an imp which the golem can use for its speech. But, as Blake is useful for infiltration purposes many-a-time, I am also able to layer on small spells within le grand masque to distort the voice to whatever relevant pitch I want, from shrieking maidens (to lure foolish 'heros' into traps) to demonic entities (to scare les merdes out of minions, quite risible!). "Ah, and what kind of band does Tormas run that it is capable of clearing out an infested mine all by itself? Surely it has several wizards and the strongest warriors of the region? It would surely be able to fix my gnoll problem! Though I worry about the cost." Looking up as the Northmen yelled at Raphael, he muttered under his breath, "speaking of costs. Perhaps I could provide a service to the town or to Tormas himself? I believe I shall go ask these warriors not brought with Tormas to the mines. I thank you for the information my good man!" Raphael got up and walked over to the Bartender to toss down the small pittance of coinage for himself and the barbarian, before finding Torm. "It seems that the two ne'er-do-wells attracted to this fine establishment have left us here alone. They seem capable- at least- of not dying encore, hahaha! But I have found a band here-abouts in town that might help us with our problem. I believe I shall finish my drink and talk to them at their house in town. Is there anything you wish to impart or acquire before I leave?" Since you are in charge for the moment, does that mean Akar doesn't exist temporarily?
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| # ? Feb 2, 2013 07:23 |
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Torm Ironheart "I'll be right back, and you can keep telling me your fascinating story." Torm stands for a moment and pulls Raphael aside so he can speak to him privately, "I'll keep poking around here for a bit longer. If the skeleton does find Tormas try and prevent him from draining all the life out of him. I'd like to make a go at him, it never hurts to have some muscle around, and I'm sure one such as you might find some use or at least enjoyment out of a besotted ex-hero. Plus, perhaps you might enjoy studying my methods?" Torm gives a predatory smile. Done with Rapael he once more takes his seat with Aral, "Now, where were we... As yes, your story, keep going it's quite the yarn." Torm would like dibs on Tormas, it's been a while since he's had an honest to god hero fall for him, and I'd like to pick him up as a retainer down the road.
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| # ? Feb 2, 2013 07:42 |
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Raphael "Oh yes, I do so enjoy manipulating silly little 'heros' to be cannon fodder. I shall send Blake to tell our more... direct companions not to get too, forceful, shall we say?" He sent a mental command to the golem to catch up to the others and deliver a quick message; luckily the golem is tireless or otherwise it would not catch up to the skeleton's motorcycle! "My dear Axel, our good ally Torm has asked for the chance to manipulate the good Hero. Perhaps you can try to lure him to a meeting on prepared ground? He would be useful as a 'goodly' front for us." With the conversation finished, Raphael left to scope out the adventuring band's home base. Slaan fucked around with this message at Feb 2, 2013 around 08:01 |
| # ? Feb 2, 2013 07:58 |
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On Akar: let's just assume he's slunk off somewhere else for the moment. The Milkman The bartender wipes away a think trickle of blood from his ear, shrugs, and finishes the beer himself after Axel storms out. Somewhat relieved by the lack of competition, the lute players launch into their string-y song, making it harder to hear the murmured conversations. Axel and Titus The mines (as just about anyone in town can tell you) are about an hour's brisk walk from town. On a motorcycle? No problem, call it twenty minutes. It probably would've been even less without Raphael's golem bugging you. When you get to the mines.. well, they're not that impressive from the surface. There's only a couple holes cut into the mountainside, with some disused machinery lying around outside. There appear to be a group of about twenty workers camped down the road. Closer to the mine, there are three more elaborate tents, with about ten men and women sharpening weapons, checking weird gear, and drinking. You recognize the often scruffy, opportunistic types here - adventurers. Torm Aral smiles, his relief at your return obvious. "Oh, thank you sir. No one else really wants to hear the story. Tell me, have you ever heard of Beldritch Thaust? I wish I never had.." Despite his querulous tone, he glances around to see who's sitting at the nearby tables. "A year's pay for a few hours sneaky work, he tells me. More like a beating and hardly any pay at all.." If you're still scanning his mind: Thaust hired him to spy on the other governor candidates. Having some skeletons in his own closet, Thaust assumed everyone else did as well. The fellow started with Tormas, who didn't take kindly to people going through his things. Raphael The house is yours for the price listed (45-charisma per week). The location seems good, and the neighbors don't seem too noisy - though in such an idyllic burg such as this, who can know for sure? Are you going to be furnishing it right away? If you like, you can draw up a floormap - it's optional, though. Sionak fucked around with this message at Feb 3, 2013 around 00:22 |
| # ? Feb 2, 2013 22:35 |
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Axel Gulbrandsen "Right, here's the plan, droogs" Axel looks back to his guitar, and notices Titus sitting on the back of his motorcycle. "Holy gently caress mun, like, how'd you get here? Were you riding on this bad boy the whole time? Jesus christ mun, gimme some warning next time!" Axel readies his guitar "poo poo, were you riding on this when I did that wheelie? loving christ, mun, that's some pretty hardcore stuff innit. You've got some serious balls of steel." Axel turns to face the road, and skids off course in order to prevent his motorcycle from crashing into one of the adventurer's tents. Looking at Titus, and then towards his guitar, he calmly explains "Alright, stick to the plan, got it? No funny stuff, and they should be eating out of our fingertips like that." Axel mimicks the snapping motion with his fingers, unable to produce a pleasant sound due to his lack of flesh. Turning to face the large crowd of adventurers, Axel starts to shred on his guitar. "How's it going, fuckheads and fuckettes!" Axel lets forth an abyssal chord towards everyone in the vicinity. "You probably already know this, but I am The, that's right, THE BONEMETAL. Me band and me bouncer, and meself, o' course, we're looking for that gently caress ya'll call Tormas. Ye know the kind, where there's a big fuckin' dragon or monster plaguing a town, such as this one, and some big badass hero, like Tormas, comes outta th' fukkin woodwork and tears the guy to pieces. Simple stuff, but gently caress if I can't get enough inspiration to get a fukkin' buzz." Axel lets loose another wail on his guitar, and waits for the response from the audience. So long as he got some kind of reaction from the adventurer's group, they should be able to find out where this Tormas gently caress was headed. And maybe he'd deliver him to Torm as that big guy said he should. He'd try to, at least, those adventuring fucks always get themselves killed.
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| # ? Feb 3, 2013 00:13 |
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Torm Ironheart "I can't say I've heard of this man who hired you. Anyhow, it sounds like you've been ill-used." Torm, already sitting next to Aral places a hand atop his, and gave the man a tender smile. "Why don't we go someplace private, so you can tell me the whole story. I don't have a room yet, but if you know someplace..." Not sure if I need to roll anything here, but Torm is trying to charm Aral, maybe set things up for a fling so he can wrap the man around his little finger.
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| # ? Feb 3, 2013 01:28 |
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Titus "...it was an experience." An experience Titus wasn't sure he wanted to repeat. That motorcyle! It was like riding a horse from the depths of hell. It had taken all of his strength to hang onto the screaming devil machine. What bizzare masteries did this revenant have, that he should be granted such a vehicle? In the future, a horse would be enough. Titus dismounts the bike and watches Axel perform, waiting to see how things would go. If the adventurers did not look favourably on his appearance, then he would be more than happy to... step in.
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| # ? Feb 3, 2013 01:48 |
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Raphael I'd actually meant Tormas' home base that the old man clued me into, but I'll roll with it, especially as Axel/Titus seem to have things under control. On the way to find Tormas' HQ, Raphael decided to stop 'his own' band's potential HQ. It would need to be suitably inconspicuous and plain, but with enough room for mad laboratories, dungeons, torture rooms and shark tanks- not necessarily in that order. But this place should do for now, especially with a bit of illusion magic to hide any... evil-looking, reality-warping extensions. But before buying he would want to see the floor-plan and talk to Real Estate Estate or Owner. Preferably in a dark, enclosed room so that he could remove any witnesses to the purchase. So how do purchases like this work in DW? Is Charisma just the name of a special currency? Badly drawn ASCII floorplan: pre:Front/First -------------/--------- l l Kit- l l Dining / chen l l l l l-----/-----/----/----- l l l l Salon l Storage l l / / Side exit l l l l s l l---------------------- Second Floor ----------------------- l / l l l Bed l / l closet l------------ l---- l l l l l Master / l l bath l l l l l------------ / l l l s l---- l Bed / / l closet l---------------------- Dungeon- A master never reveals his plans...
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| # ? Feb 3, 2013 11:08 |
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Axel and Titus Even the adventurers are surprised by the spectacle of a skeletal bard and a massive Northman appearing on a raucous metal contraption. Several of them reach for swords, axes, and bows. The others glance towards the mines - since you don't see anyone matching Tormas' description, it's a pretty good bet that he's down there. But, you notice, they look to one of their number before making a move - a woman in armor, carrying an ax and a sword. She glances up at Titus and Bonemetal, shrugs, and returns to sharpening a dagger. Apparently emboldened by the lack of response, a couple of the younger toughs stride up the motorcycle and its rider. They look enough alike that they might be brothers. They're decked out in leather armor and holding weapons close at hand - one has a mace and the other has a spear in hand. "Bonemetal? Never heard of ya." the first mutters. "Right you are, Krem." the second responds. "You may be Bone-loving-metal but why does that mean you're worth wasting the boss' time? You look like the sort of thing he puts back in the ground." Clearly, they're looking for a fight, but the other eight or so appear to be watching rather than getting involved. Raphael Oh, my mistake. If you'd like to check out Tormas in more depth, you can pick that up later. By 45 - Charisma, I just mean that the cost is reduced by your charisma score (15) so for you with a bit of haggling, the rental is 30 coins rather than 45. Let's go straight to the negotiation and haggling. It was a bit of a trick to arrange a dark, enclosed room on such short notice, especially in a brightly lit and cheerful town like Kei'ling. But you are up to the challenge. Despite the somewhat gloomy, enclosed surroundings, the real estate agent is a cheerful, thin young man. His nametag reads "Anton." He flicks through the paperwork you've provided. "Well, your references are all exemplary, Mr. Maliki. As you know, the base rate is 45 coin per week and we ask that you notify us before extensively modifying the property. Typical upkeep is your responsibility." Torm My read on this is that you've already won Aral over; you don't have to roll unless you are trying to get him to do something drastically outside his usual behavior. Aral's quite willing to go someplace private - it's up to you if you want to find a room here or look somewhere else in town. "Don't have a room.." Aral responds, momentarily lost in his misery again. "I got kicked out of my place when the last job went sour. It'd be nice to be out of here with those nobs looking down on me.." The Milkman is attached to an inn; a room would be 2 coin for the night or 14-charisma for a week, with some haggling. (There are nicer accommodations available elsewhere, but they'll run 30 to 43 coins/week as the base price.)
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| # ? Feb 5, 2013 02:39 |
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 \BONEMETAL/'Bonemetal? Never heard of ya.' That phrase alone was enough to send all of Bonemetal's blood boiling into a rage. Not that he had any to get boiling, but such facts were trivial to a famous metal head such as BONEMETAL. Without any hesitation, the guitarist drew forth his mighty axe and started to truly wail on his instrument of pain like his life depended on it. Within seconds, what can only be described as a vampire in the middle of doing lines of cocaine off of... something humanoid appeared in the midst of the chaos. "Are we touring again? My therapist says I'm not supposed to-" With another strum, the vampire vanishes from the air, into Axel's malevolent masterpiece of music, and soon his trusty zombie bassist emerges. "Uuuuuuugh?" "Fuckin' hell, Karl! Let's show these asshats what we're made of, right?" And with that, the two played away at the brothers. Surely, someone as wise and heroic as Axel would have intended to incapacitate the two, or use their music as a display of dominance or power. However, when Axel's eminence had come into question, it could get a little easy for him to get... carried away with his endeavors. Again, hoping to BLOW THEIR MINDS with the power of rock, not exactly kill them. But I don't really care if they die either, so I'll let you decide! Rocking some faces off! (Metal Hurlant): 2d6+2 8 1d10 7
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| # ? Feb 5, 2013 02:59 |
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Ah, that makes more sense. I was reading it 45 Charisma, not 45 gold minus charisma.  Raphael "Nice of you to meet me and my associate Mr. Blake on such short notice." With such critical negotiations, Blake had been suitably disguised as a mobster. Quite dashing really, Torm would approve. "The Family is interested in purchasing such a property in your town for, ah, moving merchandise. Now, I have an offer for you. The posted For Rent sign said 45 a week, I can pay you 30 gold as I will be extensively renovating the basement." Raphael made a motion, and mental command, for Blake to move behind Anton and hold him into his chair. Maliki himself moved in front of the door. "Now, of course, this is for front purposes only. My Family's merchandise moves itself best in secrecy, and we find ourselves in a bit of a spot. Your business knows exactly where this house is and will have files on me and mine." Raphael sadly shakes his head and looks at the floor. "This is difficult for me. But perhaps we can come to an arrangement?" Picking up the gear stashed in the corner, Raphael takes out a rather sickly glowing phial of... essence, excretions? "This, my dear Anton, is a very special liquid. It is ectoplasm from a wounded Banshee, tortured in a thousand ways over a thousand years- I bought it from a Devil some time back in exchange for... well, I made him an offer he couldn't refuse. In any case, this" he shakes the phial and takes out a comically large needle, "when injected into a person has many effects, such as making the recipient truthful- by causing painful death when an antidote is not provided, of course. So, as you wish to stay alive once I stick this in you, you will do what I say while my Family has dealings within your quaint little burg. We are both happy, yes? I get secrecy and you stay alive. Now, what do you say?" Raphael smiles and jabs the needle into Anton's chest. Parley 2d6+1: 11 [2d6=5, 5] Anton could only stand there and shiver in terror. Raphael immediately became cheerful and lit the gas lamp. "Ah, excellent to do business with you my good man. We will be coming over later to take a look at some files and sign the paperwork. We are particularly interested in looking at the floor-plans of other houses for further... acquisitions. Namely the Palace of Monsieur Barker, Wodin Barker. Be a dear and prepare that for my arrival would you? Have a nice day now. You will receive your payment, including my little bonus for yourself, within the week. Tata! Blake do see him out would you? And fetch me the Port and Ice?" I though Parley would have enough leverage in that we lured him into a dark room and threatened his life. Let me know if not. And that phial will be 1 less adventuring gear- Evil genius' will of course have such things within their baggage. I want Anton's sales agency to give up their information on Wodin's estate so that we can head over there in secret for more... negotiations. At night. With over-sized weaponry and a soul-catcher. pre:HP: 18/18 Damage: d6 3/3 ammo Armor: 1 Adventuring Gear: 4 1 Healing Potion Str: 8 (-1) Dex: 13 (+1) Con: 12 (+0) Int: 16 (+2) Wis: 9 (+0) Cha: 15 (+1)
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| # ? Feb 5, 2013 07:15 |
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Torm Ironheart "Good, why don't you head upstairs and I'll rent us a room. Then we can talk some more, or maybe do something a bit more satisfying." As Aral started for the second floor of the inn, Torm found the innkeep, the stocky bearded man was behind the counter in the adjoining inn's first floor, Torm flashes him a big smile, gives his brain a little psychic push to get the hormones flowing, and asks in his most compelling tone, "I'll need a room for a week, the best you've got." Under the dwarf's efforts the innkeep simply melts, his face flushes, and he he simply stares at Torm, his features tinged with attraction. After giving the man a moment to take him in, Torm clears his throat, realizing that he was just ogling a guest, the innkeep quickly fumbles for a key, and manages to stammer out, "Of course, on the house." "Why thank you, and who knows... maybe I'll see you around." The dwarf gives another winning smile, and the man soon has a rather dumb smile of his own plastered across his face. As Torm walks away, he can feel the innkeep's eyes glued to him, based on experience Torm knew it would be a couple of hours before the poor man would be able to think about much other than him. Torm couldn't remember the last time he had to pay for a room, and the advantages of having the proprietor eager to please went without saying. Such things were simply the facts of life for a master romantic like Torm, for him love(or at least a close approximation of it) was cheap and plentiful and one could never have too many admirers. Heading upstairs to chat with Aral in private. Should I roll parley or something to represent wrapping the innkeep around my finger? It seemed like a good way to explain the zero-cost week long rental, but I'd be willing to take it further and find some other uses for him.
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| # ? Feb 5, 2013 22:40 |
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Axel The two brothers are slammed from their feet by the rock onslaught, blood dripping from their ears. They land in a pile; one looks dazed and the other is unconscious or dead. No one else seems to be in a big rush to check. The other would-be heroes flinch backwards or into tents. There's no doubt that you have everyone's undivided attention. And, in particular, the woman who had been sharpening the dagger. It looks like the sound waves caught her in the blast as well, bowling her over. But she simply gets up with a grunt. Stepping over the brothers, she strides up to you. When she speaks, it's in the loud tones of someone who's having trouble hearing. "Alright, rear end in a top hat. You can meet with Tormas. Dunno how well you two'll get along, but it won't be waste of time. But what about your prop here?" she points at Titus. "He do anything?" Titus Your ears are ringing, but you seem to have been spared the worst of the rock blast, judging from what happened to everybody else. This woman is calling your skill into question, though. How do you respond? Raphael Anton's eyes are saucers as Blake moves to escort him out. "I - when will you share the antidote? How often do I need it? How will I know it's working?" He seems quite stuck on that point, really. He keeps rubbing the place where he was injected. Torm Sure, give me a general Parley roll and we'll take that into account for future favors from the innkeep. Aral collapses onto the bed, but he's snagged a bottle of wine from somewhere and is drinking it down like water. "Oh, this is nice." he declares, in the manner of someone who's buzzed and hasn't slept in a bed in a while. "You're nice." More wine disappears. It doesn't take any prompting at all to get Aral talking again. "So - this guy, Beldritch Thaust. I'm doing one of my odd jobs, you know, cleaning things up and delivering stuff to the back of the fancy houses? And Thaust he pulls me aside and he says, 'You there. Come with me.'" Aral shivers a bit. Either Thaust has an incredibly autocratic tone or Aral is not very good at reproducing his speech. "And I do, and he takes me to his office. Some off-putting things in there, I tell you. 'You seem like the sort of person who escapes notice. No, don't argue. I see half-a-hundred like you every day, but you have a chance to earn something extra. It is a simple matter - I simply need for you to collect some documents for you during the course of your .. deliveries and whatever else it is you do.'" "So he tells me to check on Tormas first. All I need to do is get some documents from his trash, anything with certain marks on it, and a few others from his desk. Some kind of hero guild business? And I was supposed to leave some other papers in their place. The only thing is that .. well, I don't read too fast, sir. I was puzzling over the papers when Tormas' second-in-command came in and she found me. Now, Tormas... Tormas is a good sort, I've always thought, time of day for anyone. But Libe? Libe looked at me with my hands full of papers and she snatched them. And she found the papers I was supposed to leave and she was angry. And she turned me out with some bruises, I tell you that too." The wine bottle is empty by this point and Aral stares at it in puzzlement, as if it has also let him down. "And after all that, Thaust just gives me a couple coins and tells me to go away. But everyone else thought I was trying to hurt Tormas' good name. It wasn't that at all!" Sionak fucked around with this message at Feb 7, 2013 around 23:25 |
| # ? Feb 6, 2013 00:02 |
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Sionak posted:Titus A challenge? Pah! Titus regarded women the same way as men - by their competence only. This one appeared to have some skill, but from this land? An inferior. And she dared question his skill? Titus looms over the woman, eyes burning behind his helm and axe gripped tight in one hand. "You are leader, yes?" His free hand shoots forwards, gripping her knife hand, and squeezes. His hot, stinking breath floods over her face, his shadow blocking out the light. "You are pathetic. You think to challenge a Northman? You are bad leader. Good leaders know what is brave and what is stupid. In North, you are dead now." He lets go, watching the knife fall from her twisted fingers. Then he stands straight, gaze sweeping over the assembled adventurers. "If you do not let me pass, I kill every one of you. Easily." Intimidate camp: 2d6+1 8
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| # ? Feb 6, 2013 01:04 |
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Axel Somethingsomethingson "What a lass!" Axel slides his bony fingers back into the long threads of hair, placing his mighty boot on top of one of the convulsing adventurers, "And quite a fine lass at that, innit? Ol' scrappy over there, well, he's the sorta chap that'll get his knickers in a twist when people start harassing the talent- that is, me, BONEMETAL." "Muh. Uuuuuurgh." A bemoaned Karl watches the scene with anguish. A honk could be heard from Axel's motorcycle, that had suspiciously moved right next to the zombie. Distracted for only a moment, Axel strums his guitar and his zombie friend returns back to his guitar, Lightbringer, then returns his attentions towards the woman in front of him. "Enough about Big Ben, right? You want to let me know what it'll take for you to get a legendary bard to follow you around on your adventures? Cleaving monstrous skulls in twain, discovering cursed treasures in the most exotic of locales..." Axel places a skeletal hand on the warrior's shoulder, "...using said treasures to cur-" A slight reverberation echoes from Lightbringer. "Axel! The mission, Axel!" After a very repulsed groan, Axel walks backwards a few steps, and doing as he had rehearsed only a thousand times beforehand, hops onto the back of his motorcycle without looking. "I want the two of you kids to play nicely, now!" If Axel could wink right then and there, he would have. However, he couldn't, and the drive to Tormas' tent was a little too short to warrant his motorcycle. Making the most of it, he rides his motorcycle inside the legendary adventurer's tent. -------------------------- "Righty-o, mun! Some drunken sob somewhere told me that you're willing to get your hands dirty for a couple hundred coins to serve the KLM Company, whoever the gently caress they may be or whatever fuckin' agenda they might be willing to pursue. Maybe they're trying to rid the mines of some ogres so they can go start a war somewhere and kill a bunch of the little townsfolk you care about so mu- I mean, that deserve much better than this. Maybe they're just trying to get revenge on the poor sod who got caught with 'is knickers down in the middle of their living room with a candle rammed up his-" Axel's motorcycle does a wheelie, much like a horse trying to rear its body. Axel pulls a quick chord on his guitar to help establish his dominance. "Well, to hell with all of that I say! There are bigger fish to fry in this city. Much bigger fish, with a MUCH bigger pay. You get me? 'Course, I can give you the info, if you're willing to cut me in, that is."
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| # ? Feb 6, 2013 01:16 |
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Raphael "Hmmm, as I said my good man, you will receive the antidote when you deliver the information. Do not worry. It will not be painful, or kill you, until roughly the morning; well, besides the psycological torture you are going through that is. Hahahaha. You will find the antidote works when you do not die in a horrible, painful fashion over several fever-ridden days in bed. But I could add in some herbs to make it tingle a bit if you prefer?" Raphael slaps the man across the face hard. Now "Get Out and Get Me That Information." ---- With his current business done for the moment, Raphael sends Blake on a mission to find the others in the League. Blake will tell them where to find their new hideout and how to open the door without falling into the crocodile pit. In the meantime, that crocodile pit has to be built, now doesn't it? All According to Plan2d6+2: 10 [2d6=5, 3] Hold 3 when in Danger at the Hideout pre:HP: 18/18 Damage: d6 3/3 ammo Armor: 1 Adventuring Gear: 4 1 Healing Potion Hold 3 at Hideout Str: 8 (-1) Dex: 13 (+1) Con: 12 (+0) Int: 16 (+2) Wis: 9 (+0) Cha: 15 (+1)
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| # ? Feb 6, 2013 07:05 |
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Torm Ironheart "That's fascinating, and you don't have to worry, I don't think you're trying to harm Tormas. I'll even go and talk to him later, clear things up for you, but first..." Making love with a telepath is a powerful experience, the mental link allows for the feelings to be shared which can be quite... intense. When the telepath in question is also one of the world's foremost masters of the arts of love... Well, after Torm's time among the nobles of the Grand Duchy of Lustrana which as the name may suggest is quite renown as the capital of certain arts, and incidentally the home of a great many poets and wordsmiths, the Grand Duchess made the extremely rare decision to call for the full Committee on Nomenclature to meet in order to come up with terms to adequately describe the experience. The last thing Torm had heard they had spent six months and had no results so they had decided to make up an entirely new word, the dwarf had never learned of the Committees final decision. All Torm needed to know was that he'd never met a man or woman who after such an experience wasn't suddenly eager to do anything he might ask(except perhaps Jorn, but then the ex-doge was easily Torm's equal in the romantic arts, and it was part of the reason the man held a special place in the dwarf's heart). Suffice it to say, the next several hours were far and away the best of Aral's entire life to that point. Parley with the barkeep: 2d6+2 9 Blowing Aral's mind(Parley): 2d6+2 11
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| # ? Feb 7, 2013 06:46 |
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Titus You hear them muttering. Clearly, these men and women are used to being the biggest shots around. They can't quite grasp the fact that this is no longer the case. But no one makes a move. The woman shakes out her hand, wincing. She won't be holding a knife in it again for a little while after you ground the bones against each other. Surprisingly, she holds out her left hand for you, presumably to shake. It is either a brave or another foolish gesture. "Glad to see you've learned some restraint down here in the south, big man. My name's Libe. I keep this band from falling apart when Tormas isn't around." She glances back at the group. "Which means, nobody else picks a fight with these two. You got me?" Have you ever dealt with trolls before? Do you see any tell-tale signs around here? Axel Axel's torrent of words breaks on a large, sleeping figure snoring away in a cot. Tormas is - was - asleep. He looks a little more banged up than you expected. There's some bandages around his head and chest. Otherwise, he looks like the sketch that Lord Ire provided. Well, except that he is wearing a faded green bedrobe over his bandages. "I .. whazzat?" he manages. "The mine? Town?" Blearily, Tormas struggles to his feet and pours a glass of red wine into a battered tin cup. Oh, there are matching slippers to go with the robe. After looking carefully at Axel, he pours another cup, and offers it to the skeleton. "You have the better of me." Tormas says after taking a slow drink. "Who sent you? What could be more urgent in town than the trolls in the mine?" Raphael "Ye-yessir." It's a bad day for Anton, no doubt about it. He scurries off, pauses as if wondering if exertion will make the poison move more quickly, then takes off again. Who are you sending Blake to first? And, where are you going to get your crocodiles? There's hardly even time to enjoy your port and ice when Anton returns, arms bulging with documents. It appears that he has taken you very seriously and has brought every document and blueprint relating to the Wodin family that his agency possessed. And Anton seems very attentive, ready to clarify any questions you might have. Where do you want to start with the files? Torm It appears that your skills have not waned. Aral is sleeping softly now, looking peaceful and far more happy than anyone would have expected of the hangdog drunk you found at the Milkman a few short hours ago. Where do you want to go from here? You could spy on his dreams, but dreams tend to be such cryptic things. You have definitely and thoroughly won Aral over and the innkeep seems fairly receptive as well. Sionak fucked around with this message at Feb 7, 2013 around 23:36 |
| # ? Feb 7, 2013 23:24 |
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Axel Gulbrandsen Axel revs his motorcycle quickly before taking a drink of the wine Tormas had offered him. Fluids quickly disperse across the floor after pouring through his skeletal and bony frame. "My good conscience had sent me, friend, and I'll be damned if a sod like me isn't broken-hearted to tell you what's in store." Axel brings out his guitar and starts to play it softly, and he's about to start singing when a stray feminine voice echoes throughout the room. "Just tell him already, Axel." Axel puts his guitar aside and matches Tormas' eye with his own hollowed out skull. "It's quite simple, yes? Especially for one with your name. It's not a matter of 'what' is more urgent, but 'who'. See I was at the milkman recently, singing people a jovial song and playing a jolly old tune when I see this guy. This short guy, who looks like he could pass for a dwarf, only without much of the beard. Kinda looks like you, even, without the whole 'Oh boo hoo Winter is Coming' look. Axel's motorcycle beeps of its own volition. "Right. I'm playing this jolly old tune for some jolly old people when this guy comes out of nowhere. Starts telling me about these crazy things, about this group of people and that group of people, and how he had plans for all of them in some great master puppet show to take over the city. Now, I'm just a simple bard, so I don't think he's aware that I was listening in on him, but the entire time I'm thinking stuff like 'Man, would I like a chunk of that.' and 'This man needs to be stopped.' and 'Oh, the children, Mildred. Think of the poor children!' So I run out of there as quickly as I can, and I decide 'Who's best to deal with this situation? Heroes, of course!' The heroes of yonder, the types that would risk their lives to fight some bleeding trolls. Trolls, for god's sake!" Axel downs the rest of the wine, spilling the fine drink all over the floor. "He said 'You can call me Torm,' like that's his real name. He kept dropping names like 'Wodin Barker' and 'Beldritch Faust', like he was planning something evil to do to both of 'em. Like tie 'em up an' kill 'em an' perform some ancient ritual to bring back the 'doomed god' or somethin'." Axel's guitar plays another note by itself, bringing the skeleton to drive the point home. "Please, sir, I'm just a poor man cursed to live in this devilishly handsome body for the rest of eternity, but could you go over and deal with it immediately? I'm just a humble bard, and cannot even tie me own shoes without the aid of a great and strong hero like yourself." I assume that a Parley roll would go with something like this. So... Parley (+Cha): 2d6+2 10
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| # ? Feb 7, 2013 23:53 |
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Raphael "Ah, Anton. Do come in my good man. I can see that you are shaping up to be a very good lacky indeed. Keep this up and I might continue sending you the antidotes after we leave. A network of contacts is always a good thing to have, and... my employers and interested in this little burg of yours. Now, put the papers over on the kitchen table. And do drink the blue vial over there. It will give you a week to live." He gestures into the dining area, already paneled in oak; not real oak for the moment, but the illusion would have to do for now. C'est la vie. Taking a quick perusal over the papers, Raphael attempts to zero in on any secret or potentially ill-used means of ingress and egress. His predilection for bodyguards, combined with his (probable) arrogance and false sense of security when among his opulent surroundings would make a midnight chat very profitable indeed. "So Anton, what do you know about Wodin's home life? Does he have a designated bed chamber, mistresses who could be co-opted, or a disgruntled chef? Any potential means of access to the mansion would do. Even if it is a mere secret passageway." With Raphael's planning skills and not-inconsiderable experience with making secret passageways, traps and other such minutiae of evil fortresses, surely he could find something useful. Spout Lore 2d6+2: 12 [2d6=5, 5] And he smiled as the plan came to him. Oh yes, this here would do. "Lackey? You see this route through the city sewers here? Does it still exist? And does this access point in he house's garden exist? And is there a "Lover's Trestle" to this room here, which I believe is for mistresses? I wish to use this planned route to access this place. Find out if they are still there or if your files are useless." He smacked Anton just as he finished downing the antidote- causing him to splutter, and sending the man reeling towards the door. "Go!" Dice love me  Where is Blake going first? As any evil genius knows, efficiency is key. So Blake will be finding Torm first to update him on the situation. The lover would almost certainly be in town somewhere, likely in a bedroom (or not, that dashing rogue!) After this visit, he would find the Skeletal Bard, easy to find from a distance thanks to its... music? Well, the arcane emanations from its guitar at least would be simple to follow. The barbarian would be hardest to find individually, but he said he was following the skeleton so the two should be together. And Blake would obviously return right after. The Port won't fetch itself! "My dear Torm. I would have you know that I have acquired a large house within the town for our little collective's use. Once you are finished, I would like you to return to this place to aid me in infiltrating one of our target's mansions; my plan is right up your ally as it involves dealing with mistresses and midnight escapades." "Bard,' 'Barbarian.' Here is the mansion I have bought for us *Gives directions* If you are in need of a retreat [sub]due to your incompetence no doubt[/sub you can head here. The defenses will be magically imprinted to you and armed when you recite a love sonnet and make an oath of loyalty and honor to the crown at the doorstep, respectively. I am sure that this will be no problem to you?" Crocodiles?! Oh, don't be silly. I was speaking in vague foreshadowing- une technique de literature. Crocodiles are a needless expense in this situation. In a proper fortress with a nearby rive and endless supply of dumb adventurers, the fixed costs of such a trap would be next to nothing; free food and water. If there are crocodiles involved, and honestly I wish they were, they shall be illusory. But here there are no such advantages. While I do enjoy such traps, if only for the optics, safety and efficiency comes first. I shall probably start by a simple dead-fall pit- steel-tipped spears at the bottom, covered to the tips in water. Heros fall down, get stuck on the spikes and die from a mixture of drowning and blood loss. Once there is a bit more time I'll put in piranhas, much easier to care for than crocodiles, and a quickly descending ceiling to trap the adventurers. But for now this shall do. However, even an evil genius needs a laugh or two at times a spike pits just are not funny. So I'll make the trigger hilarious. Put a 'Screaming Maiden on the Sacrificial Altar' spell to be triggered by a busted open door. The heros run in to save the maiden when the floor drops out from under them. Hilarious. I shall have to put in a recording gargoyle so that I can see their faces. Slaan fucked around with this message at Feb 9, 2013 around 07:36 |
| # ? Feb 8, 2013 09:09 |
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| # ? May 22, 2013 13:56 |
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Titus Titus shakes the woman's hand. "Titus." He looks around the camp. Hm. He hadn't meant that Libe was a bad leader. It took some skill to keep this rabble in line. And judging by the claw marks in the surrounding trees and rocks, this was troll territory. He'd faced some of their Northen kin - spiteful as they were strong. It took some effort to defend oneself from these creatures, and even more to bring one down. His opinion for the group improved a little. "Why are you here?" He directs this question to Libe, turning to the woman. "Band of warriors can go anywhere it wants, do anything it likes. You not have to stay here in troll woods in shadow of cursed mountain. What do you owe this Tormas?" The Deleter fucked around with this message at Feb 14, 2013 around 19:23 |
| # ? Feb 8, 2013 17:16 |
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