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Mithross posted:(I'm already holding a funeral for the guy, FYI, come join Patsy at the graveside he was lonely) (I figured you were paying your respects /doing the service, not the actual labor of taking him under, have to admit I only skimmed most posts)
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Sep 30, 2017 22:30
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Mithross posted:(I'm already holding a funeral for the guy, FYI, come join Patsy at the graveside he was lonely) What the heck, why not? ***** Bamboo silently walks up the grave site where Flutter was being laid to rest by a few other members of the Horde. She remained apart, at the edge of the gathering, almost hiding behind the other detritus laying around them. 'How many more?', she asked to herself, 'How many more will die before this war is over, and our Queen is avenged?' Likely all of them. And why everybody, herself included, was caught up in the looting and scavenging of the dead, it was a good thing that at least someone remembered what it was to be civilized. Perhaps, when it was her time to be put into the cold ground, someone would show some kindness to her.
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Oct 1, 2017 01:06
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 (If you're one of the 20 or so Töans not included in this image,
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Oct 1, 2017 02:12
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big bag of nacho cheese posted:(If you're one of the 20 or so Töans not included in this image, Cool art, well done!
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Oct 1, 2017 02:15
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 / /  Name: Gawp HP: 3 Skill: Perception Glory: 4 -> 6 (DK bonus) Downtime (part 2): Gawp arrived at the camp's central bonfire early enough to secure a standing spot among the frontmost rows of the horde. As the other members of the Unexpectables warmed themselves before the bonfire and stared into its seductive depths, Gawp took the opportunity to listen in on the conversations of those around him. You couldn't tell by looking at him, but Gawp was an unabashed looky-loo and an unrepentant eavesdropper. All things considered, the horde's morale seemed to be quite high tonight. When the General Grimper arrived (magnificently deep in his cups) and took his seat in the traditional place of honor (wherever he drat well pleased), Gawp found himself standing off and slightly to the side of the great General, just where he liked to be. Positioned so, Gawp could hear every word of the Boss's slightly slurred speech while still blending in safely out of sight - precisely where his Monsterism wouldn't be such a huge distraction.  Then again: General Grimper posted:"Every once in a while, people just grow up wrong - four eyes over here,” he hiked a thumb, “probably looked almost normal when they were born, and now they're a freak. At least all your eyes look functional." General Grimper posted:"That's a thing with Monsterism, you know. Extra stuff. Eyes, mostly, but fingers, even arms. Mostly they're just dead weight. Not hooked up right, or whatever. Useless freaks. Don't none of you tell me if you have floppy weird bits that I can't see, I don't care." General Grimper posted:"All you can do is kill it and burn the bodies." General Grimper posted:"Oh, for Reina's sake, I'm not going to burn YOU. Your Monsterism is benign, or else you'd already be dead. Rampant Monsterism is where things get real ugly, and I urge you all to keep a close eye on your fellows. If they start to turn - and you WILL notice a difference! - let me know and I'll make it painless. The last thing I need is Wendigos tearing up my camp!" Gawp glanced all around him to find any other Unexpectables showing signs of Monsterism and noticed that everyone else was doing the same. Deep down, Gawp had always known what it was that everyone was afraid of when it came to his Monsterism: it wasn't that he had four eyes and three ears, it was that people were afraid that he'd turn Wendigo and kill everybody. Gawp had always heard of the monstrous things in legends and hushed whispers, but even then the legends and whispers were usually directed at him, behind his back... where his third ear could hear them, conveniently enough. For the first time, he realized that there were quite a few others with Monsterism, just like him! You could immediately tell who they were because they now stood in pockets of empty space created by the other horde-members suddenly keeping their distance. Gawp the Perceptive made a mental list of the other Tö showing signs of Monsterism that he could spot at tonight's bonfire: Tix the Tumbler, Dack the Athlete, Mason the Mason, Snödis the Poet, Graxon the Bonegineer, Bamboo the Weaver, Neebs the Saleswoman, and Tharbad the Violent. ... and that was just a list of those with more than two visible irises! Surely there were more, but Gawp's mental list of names and faces was incomplete. Hopefully it would never come to uncontrollable Wendigos in the ranks, but if it did, it would help to know who Gawp needed to keep his eye(s) on, for the sake of the Horde. The pervasive seeds of paranoia against those with Monsterism have been sown within the Unexpectables' ranks - Gawp fervently hoped that the tensions of war wouldn't cause those seeds to bloom... ~ ~ ~ When Gawp woke in his tent the next morning, he felt an extra jingle in his coinpurse he hadn't expected to find. Had someone slipped him an extra two Glory points overnight? Whoever it was, had they done this out of fear or respect for his Monsterism? Gawp could only imagine. He may be Perceptive, but he wasn't exactly a mind-reader when it came to selfless acts of charity like this. He immediately wondered if it was possible to strike a deal with Magda. If the High Nailsmith Magda didn't need Gawp's personal assistance, maybe she could be convinced to haggle on prices? Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 03:27 on Oct 6, 2017 |
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Oct 1, 2017 03:36
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big bag of nacho cheese posted:
Holy moly
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Oct 1, 2017 04:12
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big bag of nacho cheese posted:
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Oct 1, 2017 04:27
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Taking J10 as Portrait. Name: Flitter Skill: Giant venemous butterfly riding HP: 3 Glory: 0 Backstory: Flitter was a proud giant venemous butterfly rider, from a long line of east-east-eastphalian butterfly riders. Not like flutter, an east-west-easpalian butterfly trainer. A trainer! like a lowly peasant compared to Flitter, not to mention the ancient enemy of the east-east-eastphalian butterfly riding family. She came by the 'funeral' only to spit on the corpse, then moved on. This done, he went back to see if there was anything left to loot, prefereably something she could trade for the chrysalis, or perhaps the butterfly, once it emerged! Lootin': 1d100 57 Magnusth fucked around with this message at 06:39 on Oct 1, 2017 |
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Oct 1, 2017 06:36
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big bag of nacho cheese posted:
(This is awesome.)
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Oct 1, 2017 18:35
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 The discussion from the night before was a trifle blurry. The Warlord had allowed for a portion of the seized alcohol to be dispersed among the Horde, and you’d all made the best of it. After the strategy meeting, Grimper had gotten a trifle buzzed himself and ranted about Monsterism, and people had relayed their own stories of the blighted disease - whether their own suffering or those they’d witnessed - and things had gotten alternately weepy and violent in turns. Overall, a successful evening. However, one thing was relatively certain - the Horde was heading to Fostis. The cursed prison Nägel was also a matter of much contention, and warranted investigation… later, when the Unexpectables had seized the riches of Fostis’ mines. After all, warm bodies with a grudge against Frö were crucial to the Horde’s success against their much larger forces, but a defensible position and access to resources might be even better! “Alright, Fostis it is. For those of you who have never been out this far south, Fostis is a town built onto the face of a mountain range where they mine all kinds of crap. Iron and copper, mostly, but they pull up trace amounts of Orichalcum, Sonior and Regentrock, too. Nothing like we’d need to outfit the lot of you, and without a Smith you’re poo poo out of luck anyhow, but better we have it than them, yeah? Anyhow, pack up, because we’re heading out in one hour… why are you still standing here? G͙ẸT͇ ̹̩͉M̞͇̖͘O͕̖͔̤̼͠V͔͎̗̯͈I̢̩̙̠͖͈̻N̮̝͡G̦͓͈͜!̵͈͔̦̺̜” You did. --- As the Horde packed, they noticed Nailsmith Magda watching them. Last night, several of them had gone to her for her blessing, ritually granting her their hard-earned Glory. For one and all, she neither thanked them nor looked particularly impressed with their offerings, only nodding and tallying them on what appeared to be a large iron ingot. The marks briefly flared as she made them, then dulled to mundane grey. Gawp the Perceiver took a moment to watch her work and she ignored him. When he didn’t leave, she sighed loud enough to startle him and spat “What?” He formally offered her his services as her assistant - anything she could need, he would get her, particularly if that could afford him a discount on her services. She stood, then, and rumbled over to him, letting the ingot fall to the dust. He became extremely aware of how imposing she was; though she was a little over half Grimper’s height, she made up for that by being nearly as wide as she was tall, outsized in all proportions and more than able to crush him should she decide to step on him. “I don’t need an assistant. I don’t give discounts. You don’t want to see what happens with a discounted Nail Ritual, either. Now stop wasting your time (and worse, MY time), and go pack, or I’ll show you first-hand what a Corrupt Ritual looks like!” He did. --- Rituals
Gain 1d6 bonus Skillcore drops after combat Luck’s Fickle Gaze [0/50 Glory] - Ritual causing luck to smile on the Horde in their darkest moments - but not in their second-darkest moments. [0/50 Glory] Reroll Combat and Conflict rolls on a 1 Monsterist’s Enervating Brew [0/50 Glory] - Monsterism is a blight on the land - but it grants a ferocious power. This Ritual emphasizes this strength without causing the users to succumb. If 100 is rolled naturally, roll again and add the result --- Breakfast was rather a battle, as it often was with the Horde. Biggo the Fist, Patsy the Baker, Gado the Digger and Hob the Beekeeper all stood around the cookpot, tossing in this and that and disagreeing on what precise brand of ineffable cookery magic they wished to imbue the meal with. Patsy - the only actual cook - managed to browbeat and convince the others into using 2 Rations to make something actually worth eating for once. From their stores and from the stray ingredients gathered by the others, the cooks began to make a meal of Töan Combat Bread - fortifying, tough, and actually pretty tasty.
Cooking Success! 1 Ration Retained! Lowest Horde Roll Rerolled! 6 Rations Remain!  The Horde happily dug into the pile of bread, shoving them into their mouths as though they were starving and leaving trails of crumbs behind them. The cooks, though momentarily annoyed that no one had bothered to savour the fruits of their labour, felt satisfaction at a job well done. --- Flutter may have been squashed, but Ringo was alive. Mostly. The loss of his topknot was a bit of a shame, but his brush with Grimper had brought him nearly to death. Several of his fellows attempted to patch him up as best they could - mostly getting in Gryph the Bandager’s way - but the true extent of his injuries was beyond even his ministrations.
Wounds Healed… But Crippling Remains!  Speaking of Flutter, no particular mind was paid to their fallen comrade at first - he had went up against the Warlord unprepared, and it was his fault. They split his chest open and yanked out the crystalline Skillcore, fighting over it until at last Stårn the Sieger ran off with it laughing. Strangely, afterwards some contingent of the Horde felt… bad? Not guilty, because it certainly wasn’t THEIR fault he’d gone off and gotten killed, but certainly some sort of ill feeling. He was the first of them to perish, after all, and that meant something. They buried him in a shallow grave and conducted a small, awkward ceremony. Tö was not, by and large, a particularly religious place, but by that same token it did not clamp down on cults and traditions in its constituents. Even a Horde as small as this one likely had a half-dozen different faiths or superstitions, but the Warlord could not possibly care less as long as they didn’t interfere with work… as they were doing right now. His massive shadow fell over the witnesses and he cleared his throat. “Get back to your duties. Leave the fallen where they fall, or if you must bury them do it quickly.” He slammed his foot atop the grave, compacting the soil. If they didn’t know better, anyone would have thought there was no one there at all. Only Noggins the Carpenter thought to look for what Flutter had risked - and lost - his life for. An emerald green chrysalis, fitting right into her palm. She spotted Flitter the Butterfly Rider eyeing her enviously, but she didn’t make a scene just yet. Perhaps a trade could be arranged down the line, but for now, the thing was all Noggins’.  --- They smelled Fostis before they could see it. Sulfur and coal and other unidentifiable smells assaulted their nostrils, but it wasn’t as though they were unused to unusual odours. True to Grimper’s description, it was built into, onto, and around a mountainside. It didn’t appear (from this distance, at least) to be particularly well defended, but that very construction made only a frontal assault truly feasible for a massed army. Navigating the slopes on either side or behind it would be tricky. It was also quite a lot busier than they would have expected, with carts and people flowing in and out. Both Töans and Frömen worked the mines, by the looks of it, but they were all so caked in grime it was tougher to tell which was which. “It doesn’t matter,” said Grimper, “if they get in your way, take them out. It would be easier to have a captive population to work the mines, but worst case scenario we can just use what they’ve already extracted or mine ourselves. Either way, we’re depriving their neighbours of resources, which can only benefit us. So. How do you want to hit this place?”
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 18:58 on Oct 2, 2017 |
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Oct 2, 2017 18:49
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Also - if you have items kindly paste em' up by your portrait for my easy access and yours! If anyone's missing pictures I'll link em' for ya
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Oct 2, 2017 19:01
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 Gado!!! Skill: Digging [Available Next Turn] HP: 3 Glory: 0->1 Grimper isn't even done bringing up the possibility of causing an avalanche before Gado has bolted out the staging area to find a nice high cliff face to drop on some unsuspecting people. It was one thing to tempt a digger with the possibility of going down into a mine to dig around for ore, it was another thing entirely to bring up to possibility of changing the landscape entirely.  Armed with his new pal the Mad Mole, Gado spends a good while trying to find a particularly crumbly bit of the surrounding potential rock slide. Once he'd found something to satisfy his requirements, he simply pointed and gave the Mad Mole a pat on the head "Now you go on and wreak havoc and destruction for me ok? I need to impress Grimper and the rest and you're my ticket for that!" Cause an Avalanche [1d100+++ closed test] 1d100+25(madmole bonus)= 42  Rip Gado
Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at 20:15 on Oct 2, 2017 |
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Oct 2, 2017 19:08
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 HP: 3 Glory: 1 Flitter knew that to gain her glorious, glorious butterfly mount, she would need to be remembered and noticed. Luckily, flitter was born secure in the knowledge that she was remarkable, and, hearing of a dangerous scouting mission and wanting to go feel the wind in her hair again, she volunteered to go scout high. Scoutin': 1d100+1 90 Magnusth fucked around with this message at 19:22 on Oct 2, 2017 |
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Oct 2, 2017 19:13
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 Name: Graxon Skill: Bonegineering HP: 3 Glory : 4 Graxon slips into the shadows. The dead and dying offered good practice but little in the way of reward. No bones, no wealth, no glory. Well another opportunity would suffice. The bonegineers art is a curious, if not versatile one. The city ahead was brimming with activity, easy enough for a lone goblin to slip in under cover of a beggers cloak. Finding the mayor was not difficult. Civilians slipping in and out, arms full of documents and petitions. Graxon waited until lunch time when the doors were shut and the mayor alone. A kindly old fellow, the skin taught against bones. It didn't take much effort to subdue him, no the real art was covering the crime. Graxon knew many things about the skeletal system. What marrow does, the effects of calcium and floride, and the many many diseases that influenced them. One particular disease was known the strike fast, fatally and without warning. Bonitus, the systematic crumpling and snapping of the entire skeletal system. The perfect cover for a murder, but the body had to be adjusted just so, in the right spots and breaks the right way. Not many, nay only a chosen few bonegineers could do it. Fortunately Graxon was trained in this secret art and today the bones broke just right. He was done in half a minute, paused to grab a small token from the office, a small trinket from the bottom drawer. Covered in dust, forgotten. It would not be missed. Who would question the mayor's natural yet tragic demise? Graxon had to leave, the clock tolled the end of the hour and soon the lynchpin of the town would be found, snapped almost literally in half. He's got the Bonitus!-kill the mayor: 1d100+14 101 Arkanomen fucked around with this message at 19:29 on Oct 2, 2017 |
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Oct 2, 2017 19:15
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Name: Klörf Skill: Starting fires HP: 3 Glory: 5->6 A frown appeared on Klörf's face, or at least it appeared to be a frown to an outside observer. In actuality, he was formulating a plan. And that required thinking, something he wasn't used to doing. "Blend in", he spoke. "Might work better if we use props? Go back to Fröman caravan and take carts. Stuff many Töans in cart and pretend to be traveling merchants. Then strike at night?"
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Oct 2, 2017 19:16
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Potrait: Naim: Mason Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin' HeeP: Mason Mason Mason Glury: Masonx5 "I Elways deslikked tehm citeeslicker felk. Wai, eye rucken my eyes ken maik moor gud fer da groop eff eye mosey on upp them thar hills fer a bettar lucksee - en git a drop en thems foolz. eye ken evan git my hollerin' a shout tu mek em thunk their bee evan moor Masons then jest Mason!" Mason decides to Scout Up Higher Mason Climb! (Skill+Glory): 1d100+14 30
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Oct 2, 2017 19:20
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 Name: Bamboo HP: 3 Glory: 6 -> 6 + 1 (Action Glory) Skill: Basket Weaving [Activated this turn, cool down next turn] Interlude: Bamboo listened to the Warlord and pondered her choices. As usual, the more impatient of the Horde were already rushing off to execute some form of suicidal plan. Stealth and cunning had worked well against the caravan, and there was no reason not to believe it wouldn’t work here again. So, Bamboo set off, to Blend In with the crowd. It felt right, naturally. After all, her life before the Horde was as a simple artisan, the weaver of baskets. Blending in amongst the people was easy for her; she was one of them, and she Wove through the townsfolk with practiced grace. Action: Blend In [‘Weave’. Through. The. Town]: 1d100+10+6: 39 [1d100=23]
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Oct 2, 2017 19:38
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 Qwäg Skill: Risk Assessment HP: 3 Glory 3 Qwäg looks from her notebook to the departing Gado with a grim certainty, and shakes her head as she underlines something. Closing the notebook, she turns to Klörf and does her best to apply a reasonably non-disdainful expression to her features, an effort that only worsens the intensity of her eyetwitch. "Blend in. Not the worst idea I've ever heard," she admits slowly. "Though...do you have any experience in merchanting? Where's Neebs? She might be able to help you concoct a more convincing cover. As for me, I'm sure those mines are a deathtrap even without any immanent sabotage attempts...I think I'm going to pose as a mine inspector; get a look at things and put myself in a good place for when the shüt hits the fan..." Impersonate a Safety Inspector: 1d100+13 101
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Oct 2, 2017 19:39
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Claiming B5 Name: Grumbus Skill: Spreading Disease HP: 3 Glory: 0 Back: Grumbus was placed in the horde after it was decided there was too much risk in having him expire anywhere near a 'civilized' area. Well, that and nobody wants to clean that up. Grumbus coughed up something into his hand, smiling after he got a good look at it. It wasn't a pink chunk; today was going to be a good day. He shuffled into the mining town, discreetly bumping into as many people as possible. He coughed on door handles, spat in drinking water and otherwise acted like a foul, smelly jerk. [Action]: Blend in and spread the sick: 1d100+10 = 80 After he was sneezed and vomited out, Grumbus felt a whole lot better (for now). More disease for them meant less for him. That's how it works, right?
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Oct 2, 2017 20:29
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 Bully Skills: Oratory, Climbing HP:3 Glory: 5 Bully enjoys a good fight as much as anyone, but he thinks that he will be able to convince (at least some of) the residents of Fostis of the rightness of the Toän cause. He volunteers to lead the recruitment efforts. Nobody's quite sure where he found that soapbox, but he seems to make it work for him. People of Fostis! Lend me you ears!: 1d100+16=111
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Oct 2, 2017 20:49
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  Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry HP: 3 Glory: 0 - > 1 They had arrived at Fostis, and Gabber's stomach was lurching about as if the Monsterism was trying to give him a second. Part of it probably had to do with the sulfuric smell in the air, but he knew part of it was his apprehension at pulling this whole thing off. Thoughts kept intruding into his brain no matter how many times he tried to smack them back out: *Things had gone too easy with the caravan, things were bound to screw up, it'll all be your fault Gabber* Trying his best to avoid thoughts of impending doom, Gabber hiked his well-worn shield onto his back and began heading towards town, intending to blend in as a soldier on leave from the war, or maybe just bodyguard or caravan hand in town to restock. As he neared the town itself, he couldn't help but feel like doom was only moments away... Blend In: 1d100+10 25  big bag of nacho cheese posted:
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Oct 2, 2017 20:54
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  Skill: Sleuthing HP: 3 Glory: 1 --> 2 "Hum..." said Humbug, and held up the Cowardclaw he'd retrieved from inside his pack. It smelled of illegal sweeteners and runny manure - the smell of real tragedy - and brought back bittersweet (but quite legal) memories of the Watch. Two of his fellows had constantly been smoking the drat things - mostly as a very successful gambit to avoid citizens asking them for help during their patrols. Most folks couldn't stand the flower - both for its stench and its association with cowardism. Humbug was nowhere near as concerned. He'd gotten used to the lingering, cloying stench of the thing, both in working with the pair of clawlunged guards and in dealing with the kind of downtrodden Tö who emulated their example to avoid undue attention. Cowardclaw were a poor Tö's substitute for dealing with life's troubles... and Shiny had spent all of her glory just to give him one. Humbug took one final whiff of runny sweetness and put the flower carefully into the brim of his hat to display it prominently, like a tiny, stomach-upsetting signal flag. Zybourne Clock posted:Name: Klörf The presence of Humbug wafted over - what with the nauseating smell of cowardclaw following him - and he nodded his agreement at Klörf. "Good idea, lad! Blending in needs forethought. The times I've had to pretend to be someone I wasn't - just for the sake of following a perp into some den of niquitude - why, I must have done so at least twice! With a few props, I'm sure we can act as late-arriving merchants, transporting the honored Mine Inspector to town, trying to pick up some goods for the morrow. Then we could use the night-time to snoop around or chat up the locals pretty easily and figure out what's what." The sleuth snapped his fingers as two ideas came to mind. "Let's see if we can't acquire some of those stolen Frömen cloaks - that oughta help. Some hot-burning torches, as well - that's your speciality isn't it, Klörf? At night, all cloaked up and with the red tint of the torches' light our skin will almost be as red as theirs!" Blend in to Sleuth around: 1d100+11 79 ------------------------------------------ This is awesome and you are awesome. 
Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at 22:24 on Oct 2, 2017 |
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Oct 2, 2017 20:58
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  Noggins Skill: Carpentry HP: 3 Glory: 6->7 Fostis! City of industry! Well, town of industry. Town of mining, at least. The point was, it had raw materials, and where there's materials, there's craftsmen. And where there's craftsmen, there's skillcores. Good skillcores, not crap like snoring. How sad did you have to be that that was the skillcore you developed? How desperate that you'd actually willingly stuff that thing into yourself forever? No, if you wanted to be as great as Grimper one day, you needed to pick your cores carefully, and be clever about using them. Speaking of which... Noggins' ears (just the two, she was Monsterism-free, thank you very much) perked up as Grimper mentioned the possibility of recruiting dissidents from Fostis's ranks. If having soldiers left while your enemy had none was a victory, and wiping out the enemy without any injuries on your side was a major victory, it stood to reason that wiping out the enemy and ending up with more soldiers than you started with was the best kind of victory possible. The only problem was, a horde of 99 Tömen, a warlord, and a Nailsmith wasn't the most intimidating force imaginable. Sure, the Horde would get the job done, but it wasn't enough to scare people into surrender right off the bat. But maybe that wasn't as insurmountable as it seemed... Noggins became a blur of activity, pulling stacks of lumber and buckets of paint from one of the carts, and ragged spare clothing from another, pausing only occasionally to reassure herself that the padded box containing Flutter's chrysalis was still secure at her waist. One by one, rank by rank, she assembled a veritable army of scarecrows--hastily put together, but reasonably well-crafted all the same. They wouldn't hold up to scrutiny, not at all, but that wasn't the point. The point was to look really impressive from a distance. Swell Our Ranks With Fearsome STICK OGRES!: 1d100+16 58
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Oct 2, 2017 20:58
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Name: Ringo! HP: 2/2 (Crippled) Glory: 5 Skill: Lockpicking Well, they had decided to go to the mining town. Time to scope out the scene. There might be time to get some loot or spending money later. Or maybe they'd get lucky and find a side gate or access door or something. Ringo adjusted his new hat and put on a brave smile before joining the others in the scouting party. It was best to not show how much his Everything hurt. He'd have to loot something nice for Hat and Shiny, though. They were good folk. Scout the Foothills: 1d100+5 81
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Oct 2, 2017 21:02
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 Name: Portha Skills: Rummaging, Cleaning HP: 3 Glory: 5 With the loss of Flutter, the Horde was short a soldier. Perhaps some of the Töan workers could be persuaded to take up arms and fight for the memory of the Queen. Maybe there was even a Töan smith who'd be sympathetic. Find and recruit loyalist Töans 1d100+5=79
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Oct 2, 2017 21:04
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 Flipit Skill: Tinker HP: 3 Glory: 3 Flipit stepped nervously forward. "I would like to attempt to Blend In with the others. I can offer my skills to the townsfolk to help repair their mining mechanisms, but instead sabotage some things if the opportunity arises." Blend in with the townsfolk as a Tinker (to sabotage machinery): 1d100+10+3 94 The Wandering Mage fucked around with this message at 21:11 on Oct 2, 2017 |
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Oct 2, 2017 21:08
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((With Flipit's action, Blend in, Avalanche, and Assassinate are now all full!))
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Oct 2, 2017 21:13
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Name: Klörf Skill: Starting fires HP: 3 Glory: 5->6 Scribbleykins posted:"Let's see if we can't acquire some of those stolen Frömen cloaks - that oughta help. Some hot-burning torches, as well - that's your speciality isn't it, Klörf? At night, all cloaked up and with the red tint of the torches' light our skin will almost be as red as theirs!" "Special tea! Special tea!" Klörf excitedly proclaimed as he ran off to gather enough materials to make as many torches as he could before nightfall. He gladly handed them out to his fellow horde mates, regardless of whether they were going to attempt to blend in like him. In his mind any of the proposed tactics were better with liberal application of fire. Make many torches and hand them out - (starting fires skill) - 1d100+10+5=82
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Oct 2, 2017 21:51
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Pick something else. Blend in is full
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Oct 2, 2017 22:06
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Green Intern posted:Pick something else. Blend in is full He's Blender #1. He just hadn't rolled.
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Oct 2, 2017 22:07
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 Pythag HP: 3 Skill: Math Equipment: Shield Glory: 5 -> 6 Pythag pulls out his cheap compass and charcoal, scribbling numbers and addresses down as he attempts to calculate the best vantage point. Action: Scout Up Higher: 1d100 + 5 (Glory) + 10 (Math) = 109 "There!" Barbed Tongues fucked around with this message at 22:48 on Oct 2, 2017 |
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Oct 2, 2017 22:26
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  Name: Hat Skill: Millinery HP: 3/3 Equipment: Leather Armour (+1) Glory: 5 Hat looked across at the blending-in team. It worked last time, maybe try it again? But this wasn't a smallish squad of tired soldiers, but a bustling town of industry and metal, in enemy territory to boot. Lots of rested, observant eyes. Sure, there were Töans in Fostis, but too big a clump of blue-skins might attract the wrong kind of attention. She wished the squad the best of luck, and considered the scouting assignments. The foothills seemed far too treacherous; the estimated risk ("Thanks, Qwäg!") of injury far outweighing the number of soldiers requested. No, better to scout up high, get the most information we can with a smaller team, and hopefully fewer team members will come to harm. Her mind made up, Hat wandered over to Mason, Flitter and Pythag, and started discussing the best route up the mountainside. Climbing (Scout Up Higher): 1d100+5 26 
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Oct 2, 2017 22:32
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  Name: Gawp HP: 3 Skill: Perception (active) Equipment: Sharp Stick (+0) Glory: 6 -> 7 March to Fostis: The Unexpectables were Fostis-bound! Gawp was taking a big bite from his hunk of Töan Combat Bread when the familiar scents of unearthed dirt, coal, sulfur, and smelted metals reached his nostrils, borne by some northbound wind. For a moment, Gawp had lost all track of where he was - he could've sworn he was nearing the old mining town he once called home. Grishög, it was called, but that old place didn't matter any more. Grishög was all the way on the other side of the northern mountain range, far beyond the Tö and Frö border. How deep into enemy territory had Gawp gotten himself, anyway? As he chewed through the savory chunks of baked tubers and grain, Gawp felt a welling of liquid in his uppermost eye. Undoubtedly this was from a pang of homesickness, and not at all to be confused with a stray fleck of fear-dirt. Gawp blinked the stray thoughts away. Despite the distance, Gawp's old life in Grishög didn't seem so far away after all - not now that they were on the outskirts of Fostis! Fostis was Gawp's here and now, and that was all that mattered. Gawp got a little giddy at the prospect of prospecting for a brand new mining town. Where would the veins be located? How deep did the mines go? How much Iron and Copper would they find, and how much Orichalcum, Sonior and Regentrock could a single Töan carry? Gawp had never encountered the stuff himself, and now he was undeniably curious about their metallurgical properties. Gawp also wondered what the miners in Fostis would be like. Were they well-treated? He'd heard that the Frömen at Fostis used Töan slaves as miners, but Gawp had always thought that that was merely a tall tale that Töan parents told their children to scare them into behaving... Gawp was suddenly reminded of the cutting and booming voice of Magda, when she spoke directly to him: Dog Kisser posted:“Now stop wasting your time (and worse, MY time), and go pack, or I’ll show you first-hand what a Corrupt Ritual looks like!” First things came first: Gawp needs to lend his eyes, ears, body and soul to the horde to scout out the mountains with the others! "Mountains! I know mountains." Gawp declared. "I'm no expert in climbing but I've done my fair share." He added further, a little hesitant, "Also I can spot things from really far away. I should be useful on a scouting party!" Scout the High Mountains: 1d100+15 90 Gawp noted that the Mathematician was in his party, too, with his shiny metal shield and all. Gawp could plainly see that Pythag had a good head on his shoulders, and so Gawp followed the stoic Tö's leadership as they searched the mountains together. In particular, they were supposed to be on the lookout for any back-passages or tunnels that the villagers might use to escape. Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 02:46 on Oct 18, 2017 |
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Oct 2, 2017 22:34
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Scribbleykins posted:He's Blender #1. He just hadn't rolled. Ah, my mistake.
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Oct 2, 2017 22:42
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 Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly HP: 3 Glory: 4 Snödis said nothing, leaving the camp and all the battle-lusting Töians behind, ignoring all who would call for her attention. She could already tell the others would fail spectacularly in one way or another, and so it fell to her to be an even bigger inconvenience to the townspeople, that they would not realize they were under attack, even from an avalanche, until it was too late. So she walked, through the gates, through the town square, straight passed the mayors office where hopefully no one could hear the sounds of bones cracking, right up until the largest, most important entrance to the mine. And then she sat down. Right on the tracks, and refused to budge. Sitting Quietly as a Giant Distraction: 1d100+10+4 = 90 If anyone came up to her, or asked her to move or even implied it, she would give them A Look. With four eyes, this proved quiet effective.
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Oct 2, 2017 22:51
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 Tharbad the Violent 3 HP Skill: Violence Glory: 0 => 1 Tharbad was angry. Mind you he was always angry when he wasn't smashing or breaking something, but today he was particularly angry. He woke up on the wrong side of the ground, so to speak. Howling like a banshee, he grabbed two torches from the person helpfully handing them out (he didn't quite care about names, really), and outright sprinted towards the town alongside whoever else might've decided to show up and break things. Because while they were untrained and tentative about breaking things, Tharbad was a virtuoso of all things violent and temperamental. Charging forth in a frothing fury, he swung the makeshift torches like clubs, whacking everything he could within reaching distance in a tantrum that probably would be more impressive if he actually had weapons and armor. I CAST BREAK poo poo!: 1d100+10 = 60
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Oct 2, 2017 23:04
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  Spleen the Volatile Skill: 'Splosions HP: 3 Glory: 4 Spleen was super interested when the plan to cause an Avalanche was brought up! And then lost it when someone else took it And was interested when plots to assassinate important members of the town came up! And lost it again when someone did it already. All that was left was the boring stuff about breaking windows and talking to people. BORING! Spleen did not join this man's army to throw rocks and sit in cafes, Spleen joined this army to cause extreme and explosive explosions to every where within a couple miles radius of Spleen and Spleen's associates and Spleen's bombs who he values slightly more than his associates! He was going stir crazy over having caused approximatly zero bombs since he joined this group. He was going just plain old crazy having no bombs period. But this was a mining town, and mining towns had to have things that exploded right? It was part of mining after all and everything and just ARRRRRGH! Spleen twanged like a badly strung bow and beelined to the nearest storehouse, to loot the crap out of anything that looked like it could go bang. 1d100 = 30 Oh noooooo
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Oct 2, 2017 23:23
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 HP:3 Glory:5 Gathering up a bunch of suitably gullible mooks, the arch-bluffer extolled, "The best way to deal with a threat is to recruit it, because then it's threatening your enemies instead. Now, I've got just the cunning plan that'll win them all over, no problem, but I'm going to need 29 stout Töan volunteers to back me up here. Trust me on this, there's no way this could possibly backfire..." Bluffing to Recruit Them: 115!!!.
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Oct 2, 2017 23:46
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 Name: Neebs Skill(s): Sales (used this turn) HP: 3 Glory: 4 -> 5 Dog Kisser posted:Grimper's massive shadow fell over the witnesses and he cleared his throat. “Get back to your duties. Leave the fallen where they fall, or if you must bury them do it quickly.” He slammed his foot atop the grave, compacting the soil. If they didn’t know better, anyone would have thought there was no one there at all. Well...this was getting concerning. Could she do nothing right in the eyes of Grimper? It wasn't even her idea for a funeral, but she didn't see the harm. No...surely the Warlord's displeasure at the various tasks she'd been engaged in was just happenstance, and the rest of the horde was just as worthless in the Warlord's eyes. Neebs returned to camp and tried to stay unnoticed the rest of the night, hanging around the edges before falling asleep. [Battle plans] After waking up the next morning and eating one of the more delicious breakfasts the cooks had made, she listened to the pep talk Grimper made. Neebs thought about which task she could do that WOULD avoid the notice of the warlord...but by the time she finished thinking about it, it seemed most of the specialized tasks had been taken up by other members of the horde. She dropped by to try to give some meager advice to Qwäg, Klörf and Humbug for their plan to Blend In as merchants, but her heart just wasn't in it and it didn't really help much at all before the group that planned to Blend In took off. She heard Splut bragging about his cunning plan to win the townsfolk over and thought that was as good a plan as any. She figured she could help him sell his plan to the townsfolk, because, what was a plan if not another piece of merchandise waiting to be sold? Help Splut Sell his Recruitment Plan: 1d100+14 43 Still, she was so dejected from being admonished multiple times yesterday that her efforts didn't seem to help much with this task either. Half-wit fucked around with this message at 00:51 on Oct 3, 2017 |
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Oct 3, 2017 00:23
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| # ? Apr 20, 2024 00:20 |
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Name: CORNBREAD HP: 3 Glory: 8 Skills: Chucking poo poo (often literally), Yelling Cornbread looks at the mountains, to the mining town, and back again. He starts giggling in a disturbing manner, waves over the others, and proceeds to draw out a rube-goldberg-esque plan of attack that no one can decipher. Then he spends hours dragging sacks filled with the horde's 'leavings' to a cliff edge suspiciously within throwing distance of a pile of rocks that if dislodged would cause some pretty nasty results. Cornbread tries to rally supporters and gets ready to trigger an avalanche of poo poo and stones. Rally support for a poo poo avalanch.: 1d100+8 40 eh Blasphemaster fucked around with this message at 01:56 on Oct 3, 2017 |
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Oct 3, 2017 01:10
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