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 Name: Qwäg Skill: Risk Assessment HP: 3 Glory: 2 Downtime Grimacing and digging her rump uncomfortably into her threadbare bedroll, Qwäg dug splinters from her blistered palm. No one mentioned how much wood these sticks were made of! Looking around the bustling camp, at the invariably doomed Tö surrounding her, she sighed and dug a tattered notebook and stick of charcoal from her pouch. Onion-Head, she scribbled. Arsonist. Likely cause of death: Smoke Inhalation. Survival Quotient: TBD. Digging-Guy. Excavator. Likely CoD: Cave-in. Survival Quotient: TBD. Eyepatch. Apiarist. Likely CoD-- She looked up in mild dismay, hearing shouts and angry buzzing from the castle's upper battlements. --Anaphylaxis. Survival Quotient: TBD. Sweepy McFour-Eyes. Sales-tö. Likely CoD: Heart Disease. Survival Quotient: TBD. Buzzcut. Liar. Likely CoD: Barroom Knife-fight. Survival Quotient: TBD. Eyelet-Head. Looking up again at her doomed comrades, Qwäg felt a measure of peace. She continued writing... Strategy As the warlord lays out strategic options, Qwäg recalls the little game with which she whiled away so many childhood days, and made her ever so popular with the other children: Sitting motionless for hours at a time, predicting by a number of factors how likely passersby were to fall prey to accidents or illness. There seemed to be a correlation to how few birthday parties Qwäg was invited to, but she would not presume to declare a causative link. "We should Scope them out," Qwäg agrees simply. "Scan for potential failure points in their formation. Incipient failures in discipline. Uh...warning signs of untreated diabetes?" Scope Them Out: 1d100+12 42 Bee Bonk fucked around with this message at 14:29 on Sep 23, 2017 |
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Sep 23, 2017 14:14
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Two things! First, along with your plans, roll for them. This isn't a vote - you're saying what you're doing. Whatever Mooks are left over will follow whatever seems to be bandwagoning. Also - and I should have mentioned this - you can roll your Downtime stuff (healing, cooking) AND your action for this turn! Still trying to solidify the gameplay loop, but in general y'all seem to have the jist of it! Feel free to just edit rolls into past posts, or else I'll do the rolling for ya. Second, join the Discord! Not necessary, but you'll get answers waaay quicker that way. edit: Answered a question on Discord (already proving its worth!) - cooldowns reset during Downtime, and reset again prior to combat, so you can start your first round with it... unless I say otherwise, or there's an ambush. Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 14:27 on Sep 23, 2017 |
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Sep 23, 2017 14:21
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 Glory: 2 RIK hangs out by the fire, offering sage advice to his fellows like, "don't do drugs," and, "eat your veggies." INSPIRATIONAL ADVICE: 1d100+2 101 He is a BEAST at this, and while he had people's attention, he hatches his MASTER PLAN: To take a band of men and setup some amps and a stage in the road ahead of the caravan to DISTRACT them while the rest of the army takes them out! In order to do this he's gonna need a drummer and possibly a bassist. Also roadies, lots of roadies. EPIC ROCK CONCERT DISTRACTION: 1d100+13 105 RIK tests his amp and then starts UNLEASHING KILLER RIFFS.
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Sep 23, 2017 14:35
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 Name: Stårn Skill: SIEGE WEAPONS HP: 3 Glory: 3 Wait what was that? A ROCK concert eh? Stårn was not totally sure what that was, being a simple goblin, but he was pretty sure it would be even better with actual rocks. Thus he loaded his COOL AND GOOD CATAPULT with rocks and let loose towards the vague direction the sound was coming from. CATAPULT DISTRACTION: 1d100+13=15
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Sep 23, 2017 14:48
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Name: Klörf Skill: Starting fires HP: 3 Glory: 2->3 (1d100)=54 (plan spook the beasts with fire) Not knowing when his next meal would be, Klörf decided it wise to prepare some food for the journey ahead. He started a nice fire and smoked some fresh cuts of meat over it. (1d100+10+2)=15 (smoke some meats using the 'starting fires' skill) Ah... Singed beyond recognition. Just the way he liked it!
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Sep 23, 2017 15:08
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 Name: Flipit HP: 3 Glory: 0 Skill: Tinker Flipit likes to fix mechanical things, or improve them. Flipit covets mechanical toys. Don't ask Flipit about his stamp collection, it's a sore subject. Downtime/Strategy After Flipit absolutely participated in the previous action and didn't at all get his stick immediately wedged in the nearest snarl of twig-being, he proceeded to find Stårn. Flipit was impressed by the siegecrafter's ingenuity - he honestly wasn't sure how Stårn had made his pile of kindling even this functional. He decided to help with the work on Stårn's woefully cobbled-together siege weapon. Even the action of a few levers was enough to put the joy of working with mechanical things searing through him! Attempting to increase accuracy/effectiveness of Stårn's catapult:: 1d100+10 67 The Wandering Mage fucked around with this message at 15:59 on Sep 24, 2017 |
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Sep 23, 2017 15:58
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Tyrannosaurus posted:Dofro WereGoat posted:Name: Hob These are no longer valid plans for y'all with Ringo having rolled to claim the difficulty 1 closed task. For Scoping Them Out Shiny, Qwäg, Agile, Humbug and Hat filling 5/5 slots. Intercepting has Gigs, Mason, and Biggo, Dofro filling 4/10 slots. Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at 19:09 on Sep 23, 2017 |
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Sep 23, 2017 16:30
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  Noggins Skill: Carpentry HP: 3 Glory: 2->3 Noggins woke up a bit sore, her limbs still tired from the previous day's anti-stick-golem frenzy. Sleeping while clutching a sword hadn't exactly been the most comfortable either, but if people had been willing to try and steal it from Grimper, they probably wouldn't hesitate to steal it from her, either. No, that sword was her ticket to not dying horribly, and they would have to pry it from her dead-but-still-warm hands. With her trusty blade strapped to her back, and her tools of the trade at her waist, she marched out to meet the day. The first order of business was getting that catapult actually built. She couldn't fault Stårn's enthusiasm, but his insistence that the shovel he was carrying was a catapult was just sort of sad. Still, it was a great idea, and she had the skills to build it. Unfortunately she didn't really have the greatest materials, but you start somewhere, right? Make That Catapult Not Imaginary!: 1d100+12 38 With that momentarily tended to, she stepped back to observe the camp, and... holy poo poo, it was utter chaos. Ringo had already slunk off with the poison, but there were still a half-dozen people who hadn't realized that and were still making their own horse-murdering preparations, others were wandering off for different plans, and overall people seemed to be going in a million directions at once, and Grimper appeared to be preoccupied with larger-scale strategy than this single operation. This was... not a promising indicator of her own chances of survival. Still, momma always said, if you want something done right, do it yourself. Noggins climbed to the top of a hill in the middle of camp, raised her sword in the air, and started shouting. "HEY! EVERYONE! See this? It's the sword Grimper gave me! It doesn't actually mean I'm in charge, but it's more than the rest of you have right now, and I'm going to milk that authority for all it's worth! The caravan's on it's way, and we need to get our poo poo in order, which means working together, or else Grimper's gonna be pissed!" Lowering her voice a little, she continued. "So here's the idea--I was talking with RIK, and he says he can put on a kickass concert as a distraction, and then we can ambush the poo poo out of the caravan, and have the catapult ranged ahead of time. I think that's great, but it's going to take some setup. I got a look at the map, and there's a big stand of trees a ways off--we can use that for lumber, and also for hiding the ambush. So what we do is, there's three groups for now: the people scouting them, the people intercepting them to slow them down and lead them to the concert, and then the rest of us who need to build a stage and get RIK some bandmates. Sound good? It better, because we've got poo poo-all else going on right now!" (Hopefully) rallying some fellow Horde members to join her, Noggins headed off to get to work. Build a Stage!: 1d100+2 95 The Lord of Hats fucked around with this message at 03:31 on Sep 28, 2017 |
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Sep 23, 2017 16:54
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Name: Stårn Skill: SIEGE WEAPONS HP: 3 Glory: 3 Wow what was this now? There were others around, trying to help him? Trying to help him realize his dreams of ever greater catapults to grace the surface of the World? And in that moment, even though Stårn had not had eyes for anything but catapults and catapult accessories before, he could not help but be touched by their consideration. He joined the working party to guide them with his knowledge of catapult specs. Help to improve Catapult (downtime action): 1d100+3=45
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Sep 23, 2017 17:16
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big bag of nacho cheese posted:Sweepy McFour-Eyes. Sales-tö. Likely CoD: Heart Disease. Survival Quotient: TBD. *gasp*
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Sep 23, 2017 17:23
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Whoops, here's my roll, and I'll edit it into my post: Scope it Out: 1d100+2 4 Oh what the gently caress Orokos. 
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Sep 23, 2017 17:31
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 Gado!!! Skill: Digging [Unavailable next turn] HP: 2 Glory: 2 -> 3 Horde's Glory/HP Count Gado is off busy wallowing in the dirt as he is wont to do, when out of the blue the sword bearing Noggins begins to call out orders. Gado isn't exactly sure how well the Distraction will work, but every concert needs a Mosh Pit dug right? quote:Changed from digging to distracting Digging a Mosh Pit for the Concert Distraction 1d100+2=22
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Sep 23, 2017 17:47
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Successful Businessmanga posted:These are no longer valid plans for y'all with Ringo having rolled to claim the difficulty 1 closed task. Is this true?
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Sep 23, 2017 17:50
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Tyrannosaurus posted:Is this true? Poison, Scope, and Intercept are all listed as Closed Conflicts. Dog Kisser posted:Conflict Resolution Dog Kisser posted:
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Sep 23, 2017 17:58
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Ringo is loving toast and it's great.
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Sep 23, 2017 18:13
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[quote="Arkanomen" post="476622956"] Name: Graxon Skill: Bonegineering HP: 3 Glory :0 Graxon needed bones. Bones are important and they live inside your face. Once you die others can get your bones out and you can keep being useful. Graxon came to terms with the Calcium Cycle of life long ago and today, someone else was gonna help out with their bones. Graxon scurried over to the ruins and hunted for any bones he could find. rustle up some bones (good for many things): 1d100 56 Later it came time to get to work and today's work was PITS! Graxon had dug many pits in his life. Pits are great for trapping animals and other things in so you can get more bones. Even better if you line the pits with sharp bones. Keeps the victims from hitting the ground and breaking their precious, precious bones! Lay bone spikes in the pits: 1d100+10 29
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Sep 23, 2017 18:28
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Tyrannosaurus posted:
In light or recent developments pertaining to another already poisoning the horses, Dofro decides to try and Intercept. Maybe there is still some poisoning to do there. Intercept!: 1d100+3 67
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Sep 23, 2017 18:47
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 Skill: Sleuthing HP: 3 Glory: 2 Downtime - The Long Dark Tö-Time of the Hum Humbug shifted uneasily atop the Tötato sack he'd been handed as his part of the army's week worth of rations. Despite feeling like a sack of mashed Tötatoes after the day's exertions, he couldn't fall asleep. Instead, he indulged in thinking of The Big Question he'd stumbled across... Whodunnit. Who had really killed the Beloved Queen Reina? The High Command and whoever was heading up the Regency would have all of Tö believe it was a simple question, with a simple answer: Frö did it. Humbug's natural skeptisicm, honed by years of pursuing conniving liars and thieving opportunists like Splut and Shiny, would have him believe that there was nothing simple about a Fröman assassination plot. Getting into the royal banquet and poisoning the queen - and just the queen - was the sign of a competent criminal mind, and one that had not really served Fröman interests at all, what with the immediate counter-invasion. Something stank of hot-sock mystery. While Humbug couldn't - and wouldn't - discard the possibility of low-brow Frö being behind it all, he felt there had to be more to the Beloved Queen's murder. Whatever had happened, the Warlords had certainly seized upon the event as the perfect opportunity to go to war - Glorious War! If it wasn't for the Warlords being such a good candidate for Whodunnit - due to that old 'motif' thing Watch Captain Badbrass had always talked about - Humbug might not even have begrudged them that. War was an inherently Glorious thing. Just look at Old Grimper! He'd been to Wars, and for all that Humbug was feeling salty about being made to serve him, Grimper was an actual real Warlord. A legend in the flesh, deigning to attend to the army's training! Another mystery, that. Why had such a powerful Warlord been sidelined to babysit the most ill-suited of raw recruits? To Humbug it smelled like a fall from grace - like a sack of moldy Tötatoes being used for bedding. How had Grimper fallen out of favor with High Command? Had he dared ask that simple question too? Whodunnit. Nothing simple about it. A loaded question, with many answers. Humbug's only leads so far was a palace-full of silent witnesses, a prison sentence that bordered on the obscene and a conscription that would border on the death. ------- DivineCoffeeBinge posted:
Strategy Shiny felt a shape loom up behind her. A familiar voice rang out in its usual cheery, bombastic tones. "Hello Shiny! Mind if I join you, for old times' sake? Haha, of course you won't," declared Humbug, patting her on the back and stepping up as the last volunteer sent to Scope out the Fröman caravan. Shiny would - no doubt! - be up to her old tricks, but she'd never been one of the Bad Ones, and in the field her magpie-like nature stood a chance of being a good thing. At least as far as it concerned enemies. For the rest... well, it wasn't as if they had much to steal anymore, but Humbug would keep an eye on her as much as the enemy all the same. He had to stay in practice, after all! Sleuth scout: 1d100+12 50 Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at 01:53 on Sep 24, 2017 |
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Sep 23, 2017 19:05
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 Name: Dummy HP: 3 Glory: 3 Skill: Charge! His life choices rewarded with many dead stick-men, Dummy takes a nap on their massacred stick-corpses. Soon he would die gloriously for someone better than him. He snored contently, filled with pride and purpose he never had before as the assistant manager of a value-hut. Strategic Vote Charge? Charge? This was his reason for being! And yet, literally no one else seemed enthusiastic about the idea. Dummy didn't join this horde just to kill himself, he joined to finally be of use to someone! So, Dummy decides to follow the lady with the shiny sword, because she must be the best because she has a sword! He didn't really understand whatever it was she wanted to do, but he could lift heavy things and then stamp his feet and that was supposed to help! Some beautiful character growth as Dummy realizes that charging is only worthwhile when you charge together Helping build a stage and do a concert!: 1d100+3 89
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Sep 23, 2017 19:06
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Flipit Skill: Tinker HP: 3 Glory: 0 Flipit finishes his modifications to the catapult with a gentle bow to its creator and follows after Noggins as she issues her call to action. He likes the idea of getting in some live music before his all but assured demise, so he heads over to the band stage to help set up. He also tries hollowing out some hunks of wood into conical shapes to help amplify the music. Help with Band distraction: 1d100 32 The Wandering Mage fucked around with this message at 16:00 on Sep 24, 2017 |
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Sep 23, 2017 19:35
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 Name:Grag Skill:Bandaging HP: 3 Bandaging Snodis 1d100+10+1 https://orokos.com/roll/553005 89 Glory: 1 => 2 [INTERCEPTING] 1d100+2 https://orokos.com/roll/553007 13 Grognan fucked around with this message at 20:52 on Sep 23, 2017 |
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Sep 23, 2017 20:43
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 Spleen Skill: 'Splosions HP: 3 Glory: 2 TheNabster posted:Strategy And so he did exactly that leveraging his skills, 1d100+12 = 72
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Sep 24, 2017 00:05
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Scribbleykins posted:Strategy  Shiny cannot suppress a small shiver as Humbug strolls up behind her. You see, Shiny understands who and what Humbug is. Humbug is a detective. He detects. And here's the thing about detectives. If you're a criminal - at least if you're the kind of criminal that Shiny is (or was, as she's now a Government Employee and clearly above the petty civil code) - life is pretty simple. See thing, want thing, take thing, kick thing's previous owner inna fork if he gets uppity about it, run real fast. Thinking is generally not a major part of the operation. Thinking, indeed, gets in one's way, as being halfway through nicking someone's purse is a terrible time to suddenly be struck with a realization vis a vis the probabilities of your current course of action ending with you in prison. But detectives? They think all the time. They think about crime. They think about crime more than most criminals do. And they don't just think about one kind of crime - oh no, they understand stealing and killing and mugging and arson and mail fraud and identity theft and kidnapping and artificial sweeteners and all sorts of other unsavory activities. And they're so good at thinking about it that they can reverse-engineer who did a crime even though the person what did the crime probably didn't think about it all that much. Do you know what that makes them? It makes them criminal masterminds in denial, and the chance that one day Humbug's essential criminal nature will emerge into the light of day makes him scary as heck to Shiny, because criminal masterminds have a tendency to look poorly upon criminals whose minds are less than masterful. So she'd better get on his good side ASAP, which is why Shiny turns and smiles brightly. "'Course not, for old times' sake. It'll be a hoot, just you wait an' see!"
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Sep 24, 2017 01:05
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 Name: CORNBREAD HP: 3 Glory: 2 Skill: Chucking poo poo (often literally) CORNBREAD goes about camp poking the nameless goons and muttering to them, in the hopes that one of them will take the hint and bake some loving cornbread. Cornbread?: 1d100+2 7 No one gives a poo poo. As to the question of strategy, CORNBREAD shrugs and wanders off to carefully select and stockpile heaps of woodland excrement about the path our future victims will be taking. As the bads begin to pass by, he takes aim at those directing the beasts of burden, hurling the poo poo at them from the safety of woodland cover. Shoot poo poo at a high velocity: 1d100+13 90 The poo poo is from apex predators. (HP3 G4) Blasphemaster fucked around with this message at 03:54 on Sep 24, 2017 |
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Sep 24, 2017 03:51
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Name: Flutter Portrait: D7 Skill: Training venemous giant butterflies HP: 3 Glory: 0 Action: Flutter didn't know if the enemy had giant venemous trained insects. But if they did, he'd sure know how to lure them away! all you need to do is hide in the grass and say like a female giant venemous butterfly, and then if that doesn't work, say like a male giant venemous butterfly. Mating call of the giant venemous butterfly: 1d100+10 49
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Sep 24, 2017 04:02
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 Name: Gorb HP: 3 Glory: 1 -> 2 Skill: Scroungin' OK, dirt isn't valuable even by his standards. But it's still taking stuff away from where it is, so that's good enough. Dig some holes. 1d100+1 = 22
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Sep 24, 2017 04:22
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 Name: Dack Skill: Athletics HP: 3 Glory: 2 After his terrible performance at fighting straw ogres, Dack is thankful for a chance to sleep off the shame before the games continue. The next day sees a flurry of activity as everyone rushes off in different directions, leaving Dack confused as to what he should be doing. Eventually, he sees Cornbread throwing stuff at the convoy. While he seemed confused about what to throw in "shot put", He was probably new to the games. So Dack decides to show him the ropes, as it were. Shot Puting a rock into some caravan guard's head: 57 Although he has to admit, Cornbread has an excellent form for someone who doesn't know what he's doing.
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Sep 24, 2017 06:15
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 Face: 6D Name: Gawp HP: 3 Skill: Perception Glory: 0 -> 1 -> 2 (downtime + action) Backstory: Gawp was born to a peasant family in a mountaintop village of miners. His childhood was spent keeping an eye on the townspeople, scanning the horizons for danger, and watching his betters at work in the mines. Being a bit on the scrawny side, Gawp was never well-suited for the backbreaking work of mining and hauling ore, but he WAS good at spotting veins of minerals from great distances. When he wasn't on alert on guard detail, Gawp was often sent on the village's scouting missions to conduct geological surveys for the bigger and stronger folk. Since he was often forced into doing all the "light labor" for his mining brothers, Gawp eventually made himself learn his letters and numbers so he could be more useful to his teammates when out on trade expeditions. When the army recruiters came to his village seeking miners who were capable of swinging a weapon, Gawp was offered up instead. ~ ~ ~ Gawp awoke late in his shoddily-pitched pup tent, keenly aware that he was NOT DREAMING... yes, he was actually IN THE WAR - IN THE ARMY! He had merely gone through the motions all day yesterday, but nonetheless it had still left him drained and exhausted, and so he must've overslept... Gawp quickly climbed the nearest tree and took in the scene of the war camp, his four eyes roving independently across the tentscape in multiple directions. Amid the relative chaos of the camp, Gawp could already spot several smaller war parties banding off and heading in different directions. The first group to leave was lightly kitted out and seemed to vanish into the forests - that must've been the scouting party leaving already! (drat, we missed it!) A second group appeared to be dressing themselves in the enemy's garb and was getting ready to depart. Yet another group could be seen carrying loads of shovels, spikes, and explosive materiel to somewhere deep in the woods. Yikes! War was a messy affair, as usual. Gawp considered his options, and realized there was no point in dawdling further. He had to to join up with a team that can make use of his skills, and preferably it'll be one that'll keep him furthest from danger. Gawp will dig. in times of war a shovel can be safer to hold than a sword. Help the digging team: 1d100 77 Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 03:25 on Oct 6, 2017 |
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Sep 24, 2017 10:01
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 Pythag HP: 3 Skill: Math Glory: 3 Downtime: Chill out with the mooks Strategy: Calculate best path of interception: 1d100+10+3 = 53
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Sep 24, 2017 21:08
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 In the hours before first contact with the enemy, the Unexpectable Horde performed some maintenance on their soldiers and on what little equipment they DID have. Snödis and Gado wounded by the cruel instruction of their Warlord, were ministered over by the efforts of a strange group of their fellows, very few of whom actually knew the first thing about medicine - though they looked really cool.
Wounds Fully Healed! (Yeah, that healing was pretty easy, but don’t assume that to be the case all the time. As more injured pile up, those numbers are going to get higher - and that’s before other concerns such as disease or lingering injuries, or even worsening Monsterism! Cling to your successes, Unexpectables!) They also took some time to eat and forage, to ensure that their bellies were full before their day’s trials. Between the stores the Horde had brought with them and the successes (and ‘successes’) of the foragers of the crew, the Horde ate well - and found that they’d managed to stretch their resources further than they thought they could be. Better to have too much food than too little! They ate and dreamed of glory, and shied away from a future spent boiling boots and scraps of leather to survive another day. (I’m going to need to make some tweaks to Cooking. First off, you succeeded in your attempts to stretch your Rations - 7 Rations remain. I however realized that I didn’t include a method to determine how many Rations you want to risk while cooking. So we’ll try this instead: Cooks, when you’re prepping food, say how many Rations you want to risk - this will increase the difficulty of the roll. For each Ration, you can pick one of the bonuses listed here - list that along with your roll and number of Rations, too, in order of desire. I’ll sum up all cooking rolls and take the average of your bets. If that still doesn’t work, I’ll try something different! Aw yeah making stuff up on the fly is the best) Those who didn’t cook, or were finished eating, did their own thing. Grimper made no effort to watch them, content to let them roam on their own. As long as they returned when he called - and did not otherwise expose them to the enemy - he cared little about the fragile, simpering fools he had been saddled with. Many explored, or sang, or told eachother tales. Some even gathered together to build siege weaponry, despite the stated intent to attack a highly mobile caravan. Despite many, many failures - and the frankly unhelpful enthusiasm of Stårn the Sieger - Tinker Flipit managed to create something workable out of the trash they had lying around.  (Downtime is chiefly for healing and buying stuff and doing Rituals, but the buying stuff and Ritual part hasn’t come of importance just yet. It also gives you time to flesh out your characters and tell stories to generate extra Glory - for that matter, anyone who told a story or put in some effort to make the world seem a little more alive, give yourself an extra Glory. Honour system, ladies and gents. Sometimes - rarely, though especially when groups come together to bandwagon on a single cause - there will be other effects, such as the Portapult up there. The vast majority of the time, rolling to do random stuff off on your own will waste your time. Which doesn’t mean you CAN’T, naturally, and doing so may reward you anyhow… possibly?) --- At last, the big moment came - the caravan was visible on the horizon from this high vantage point, but many members of the Horde had already filtered out to accomplish their various tasks. Grimper watched in disapproval as he considered the layout of his forces. To wit;
 The caravan trundled down the worn road, crewed by several armored Fröman soldiers, flanked by several others, and escorted - and severely slowed in their course - by a score or two infantry on foot. They looked bored, and they looked hungry. They did not, however, look alert. Bamboo the Weaver and her group of scouts clung to the trees, signalling to eachother with reflected light. Grimper’s grip grew tight on the pommel of his blade as they approached, and he saw Bamboo hold her breath.
 The Warlord tore his gaze away from the goblinoid figure and watched their orderly lines unravel into chaos as the Frömen realized they were under attack… but by who? To their eyes, their leaders had given the command to charge before unceremoniously falling to their deaths beneath frantic beasts, and the only enemies apparent were shouting vulgar lyrics from the distance while surrounded by butterflies. Still, they charged, as ordered… only to discover the pits concealed all around them.
And, after all, the real attack was coming from the opposite direction.
Grimper may have smiled, but surely it was a trick of the light. His soldiers fell upon the bounty, and he would allow it, for now. He’d whip them into shape soon, but for now, let them celebrate. They’d have precious little else to celebrate in the coming weeks. (Holy poo poo. I actually had nothing planned for what would happen if you guys won so handily - this was supposed to be an introduction to multi-round combat, but you beat them so hard there’s not even a point sticking around here! For now, get your rewards - roll 1d100 (plus an applicable Skill, if appropriate) to try to grab something off the corpses. Do not, however, add your Glory to this roll - just plain d100 and optionally Skill Harvesting Corpses are just waste - but their Skillcores are valuable even in death. Often, after an enemy army or lieutenant is killed in battle, their Skillcores can be extracted. This is passive as long as the Horde has sufficient time, and will generate a list of available Skills to be consumed by the Horde’s soldiers - first come, first served!
In this particular case, the available Skillcores are Cleaning, Climbing, Leaping, Swimming, Yelling, Sitting Quietly, Breaking Necks, and Snoring. Feel free to roll for those, but you can instead roll to take gear off their bodies. Just generally say you’re looking for weapons or armor or something else and I’ll let you know what you find. You know that you aren’t supposed to break into the caravan wagons themselves under pain of death - but that doesn’t mean you, like, can’t. Just that you shouldn’t get caught. Good luck! Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 22:10 on Sep 25, 2017 |
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Sep 25, 2017 21:50
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Name: Graxon Skill: Bonegineering HP: 3 Glory :2 Graxon loots the dead and tries to claim Breaking Necks roll for breaking necks: 1d100 67 Arkanomen fucked around with this message at 22:13 on Sep 25, 2017 |
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Sep 25, 2017 21:56
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Name: Stårn Skill: SIEGE WEAPONS HP: 3 Glory: 3 -> 4 (from fluff that I claim without shame MWAH) -> 5 It was beautiful. If the Portapult was a Töan, Stårn was sure he'd have courted and married it already. A proud tear hung to the edge of his eye as he carted it around, searching for the skillcore of YELLING. As a backliner, he needed his voice to carry to warn his hordemates about all the falling rocks, after all! Claim the skillcore of YELLING: 1d100=66 Theantero fucked around with this message at 22:13 on Sep 25, 2017 |
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Sep 25, 2017 22:11
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 HP: 1->3 Glory : 3 Throwing off her fake Frömanian scarf at the first opportunity, Snödis jumped at the chance to learn how to truly relax, even in the midst of battle. Salvage Sitting Quietly: 1d100 = 24 + 3 = 27 Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at 22:14 on Sep 25, 2017 |
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Sep 25, 2017 22:12
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 Portha HP: 3 Glory: 3 Skill: Rummaging After the dust had settled and the enemy caravan stopped moving, Portha decided to do what she did best: salvaging mislaid valuables! Their mooks obviously had little of value, better to focus on finding the leaders. A glint of metal caught her eye from across the battlefield, maybe it was a high quality sword or something. Aha! Lieutenant with lots of medals! As Portha went through his pockets she couldn't help but notice how immaculate his uniform was aside from where he was shot and how well polished his medals were. This was clearly someone who placed undue importance on his appearance After going through his pockets and finding nothing, not even a decent weapon, Portha looked around and saw everyone else looting the battlefield. She'd missed her chance. Well, even though this jerk refused to carry anything of value, he did have one thing she'd needed before she joined the army. Time to learn how to actually clean things. Loot the Cleaning skill 1d100+10=85 e: missed the part about not adding glory, disregard the extra +3 on Orokos. super sweet best pal fucked around with this message at 23:16 on Sep 25, 2017 |
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Sep 25, 2017 22:16
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 HP:3 Glory:3 Oo, skill cores! Being able to actually do something instead of just blagging about it could come in handy. What was this one? leaping? Seemed like it could be handy.. Go hardcore Leapcore: 34.
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Sep 25, 2017 22:25
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Pythag HP: 3 Skill: Math Glory: 4 Action: Loot a Shield: 1d100 = 82 Pythag worried at the cut in his shorts, a spear having just missed jamming him through the hip. Armor is life, he quickly realized. But it also slowed you down, and might even make you drown. A shield, though - that you could drop if you were running or sinking.
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Sep 25, 2017 22:28
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Gado!!! Skill: Digging HP: 2 Glory: 3->4 Horde's Glory/HP Count Once the screaming has stopped and the only movements from the enemy is their dying twitches, Gado does what comes natural and begins to rifle through the pockets and packs of the deceased. As much as he loved digging with his hands or a half rotten stick, some proper tools were probably in order! Looking for tools, preferably of the digging kind! 1d100=98 or 108 if I can justify Digging as Digging through people's pockets/packs  .
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Sep 25, 2017 22:31
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 Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry HP: 3 Glory: 2+2(normal 1 + bonus 1) = 4 They...they'd won? Having infiltrated the enemy thanks in no small part to Hat's fine imitation Fromen hats (Mental note - high quality hats too good; Fromen spy?), the battle had been a bit of a blur. One minute he'd been bashin' a Fromen on the noggin with a sizeable branch, the next he was face down in the dirt after catching a kick from a poisoned pony. Dusting himself off and beginning to scan the salvage, Gabber thought back to his dear old mum's most often quoted words of wisdom, ones he often thought back on fondly over the years; "Gabber, would you PLEASE just sit still and keep your mouth shut for one minute?! That smell! Like...like rotten eggs mixed with pig poo poo!" Lunging for the Sitting Quietly skillcore, he was dismayed to find he'd been beaten to it! Scrambling as the best bits were going quick, he lunged forward grasping at something, anything! Grabbin' for the closest weapon looking thing around: Results 1d100+4: oh Lord what did I grab Task Manager fucked around with this message at 22:44 on Sep 25, 2017 |
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Sep 25, 2017 22:34
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 Qwäg Skill: Risk Assessment HP: 3 Glory 3 As Ringo passes by, carried aloft in triumph on the shoulders of his comrades, Qwäg fishes the notebook from her pouch and stares at "eyelet-head"'s entry with consternation. "Must be the ring," she mutters, scribbling a few quick revisions. "Didn't factor for wind resistance..."  Qwäg carefully picks her way through the red-carpeted carrion field, all too aware of the rich panoply of diseases to be found while grubbing in corpses and their various excreta. Nonetheless, she forces her twitchy-lidded eyes to carefully pore over the Fröman dead, poking and rolling with her stick in an attempt to find a weapon more suitable than the splintery mess she currently wields. "Too sharp," she dismisses. Then, "too dull." Carefully placing the disqualified weapons aside as to minimize their hazard to less aware looters, she picks up a blade and grimaces. "Too rusty," she declares with a scowl." Suddenly, her eyes light up as she sees a potentially--No, some pointy-headed yahoo just snatched it. Gritting her teeth in consternation, Qwäg shouts out above the din, "That spear's head is insufficiently anchored! Enjoy your deathtrap, Töman!" It doesn't get her a weapon, but she feels slightly better. Taking a moment to change that particular hordling's Likely Cause of Death to "Friendly Fire Incident," Qwäg continues searching for an offensive edge, preferably something that will let her stay at statistically safer range. Looting weaponry from the unworthy dead!: 1d100 50 Bee Bonk fucked around with this message at 22:49 on Sep 25, 2017 |
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Sep 25, 2017 22:34
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Name:Grag Skill:Bandaging HP: 3 Glory: 2 https://orokos.com/roll/553424 Rolling for Snoring: 18
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Sep 25, 2017 22:39
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