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Blasphemaster
Jul 10, 2008


Name: CORNBREAD
HP: 3
Glory: 7
Skills: Chucking poo poo (often literally)CD, Yelling


Friend or foe, dead is dead, and dead is UP FOR GRABS MOTHAFUKA! Cornbread made a beeline for a random corpse!

Coooorrrrrnnnnnbrrrrrrreeeeeaaaaad! the bystanders hear as he sprints towards the body, caves the torso in with a rock, and sprints off with the skillcore.

Snatch Bonegineering skillcore: 1d100+10+7 64

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The Wandering Mage
Jul 22, 2010


Flipit
Skill:
Tinker
HP: 3
Glory: 5

The battle was brutal, but somehow, Flipit felt nothing as his foot connected again and again with the soft, contorting flesh of the former mayor, until he heard something crunch beneath his tread, and stopped.

He had been laughing, he realized. Laughing and crying. Cool tears covered his face, and his throat was sore and tight. He stopped when he came into himself, and looked around him. His colleagues were heading to the mayor's offices, and he would have followed, but something kept him there, at the mayor's side. He noticed a small notebook, looking lost and as deprived of its function as he felt right now, scattered off to the side after the fight. Perhaps it was the mayor's. He bent down and flipped to the first page. Empty. A blank notebook.

An old instinct percolated in him, and he bent down and gently held the mayor's hand in his. He pressed a bloody fingerprint to the first page of the blank notebook.

Death delivered he thought.

The hand slipped from his fingers numbly and he turned to join the search of the mayor's apartments, but something else caught his eye. A gleaming skillcore, ripe for the plucking.

Gather Neck Snapping SkillCore: 1d100 19

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.
I'd just like to generally state that while due to the nature of the game I can't address the fluff pieces all of you are writing, nor give out too much Glory without unbalancing the game more than it already is, I appreciate them all very much and take them into consideration while I generate the wider world of the game!

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

Dog Kisser posted:

. . . nor give out too much Glory without unbalancing the game more than it already is . . .

Naw, just scale up the inflation, post WWI Deutsche Mark style! :ocelot: :)

Magnusth
Sep 25, 2014

Hello, Creature! Do You Despise Goat Hating Fascists? So Do We! Join Us at Paradise Lost!




HP: 3

Glory: 3

Flitter hurried down to the town proper. She needed to hurry and get something good, something she could trade for the chrysalis. She saw Noggins head for the craftsmen's district, and hurried over to join him as he broke into a smithy. He seemed to be inspecting the armors, so Flitter looked around for something else defensive. Noggins already had a sword, so perhaps a sword, shield and armor combination would be up his alley? perhaps. Worth a shot, at least, so Flitter looked around fr a good, sturdy shield she might be able to trade.

Looking for a shield: 1d100 29

Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!


Name: Dummy
HP: 3
Glory: 3
Skill: Charge!

Dummy hit his head in the battle, and it hurt. But these miners should have head-not-hurt things right? Maybe even with a fun light!

Searching for a miner's helmet: 1d100+2 31

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.

While the Unexpectables ransacked the town, Warlord Grimper and Crusher Magda began their grim task. With the aid of any stray Horde-members, they gathered the Fostisians in a large clump outside of town. Stripped of their weapons and well aware that the slightest disobedience would be met with unimaginable pain, they stood where they were placed, shivering and huddling together. Grimper rolled his eyes. Let the red bastards shiver (and the the blue race traitors who worked with them, for that matter) as long as they wanted, he wasn’t planning to kill them. He conscripted a dozen or so strong-bodied men and women among their number to go to their storehouses and gather a precise list of materials. He - well, Magda - needed iron for this. Lots of it.

---
Skillcores were up for grabs, and the Horde went wild for them. The beaten Fostisians who were making their way out of town made some half-hearted attempts to prevent the defilement of the corpses of their friends and family, but they were hardly in a position to fight back. In the end, they had to watch as the Horde tore open the corpses, reached up and into the chest cavity, and drew out the translucent crystalline lumps that all people had at their core.

Due to the nature of their extraction, most folk (whether Töan or Fröman) only had the one Skillcore within them, and for the most part these were useless things like Wiggling Ears or Double Jointed, and by and large these were not exercised enough over the years to have grown ‘ripe’ enough for extraction. The conjunction of a Skill and the host’s desire to actually fulfill that skill, however, led to some truly spectacular individuals over the years. None of this mattered to the Horde right at the moment, locked as they were in squabbling over the still-warm dead.

(Rik gains Holding Your Breath, Cornbread gains Bonegineering, Gado gains Mining (as well as two Mooks), Qwäg gains Amputation, Hob gains Contortion, Gabber gains Listening, Flipit gains Neck Snapping, a Mook gains Jumping)

---
Tharbad the Violent loved his new bar. It was heavy, and iron, and bore the teeth marks of some crazy dude who'd been stuck behind them before he'd been jammed in there and - oh yeah - he'd RIPPED THEM OUT OF A loving JAIL CELL TO BEAT UP DISTRACTED GUARDS. So yeah, pretty awesome. He slapped it in his palm menacingly and a group of Horde dudes started following him acting all tough too. He went around looking for trouble, hoping for trouble… but his patrol never found anything (or anyone) suspicious. He supposed they'd all surrendered or something, and it sucked. He was so grumpy and impatient by the end of it that he barely noticed he'd idly wrapped his bar in a length of twisted wire. It looked cool though, so he pretended he'd done it on purpose.

---
Magda took one look at the loads of iron being carted out to her impromptu forge and sneered. Terrible quality, and meagre, much like the Frömen themselves. She gritted her teeth, striking sparks that limned her gruesome features, before dumping the contents out into a great pile and painstakingly working her way through it to find something usable. The slightest imperfection would prove quite inconvenient to her Warlord, and despite her own power she quaked at the thought of his displeasure. The Nails had to be wrought just so.

---
A trio of soldiers searched the (ex-)Mayor’s quarters, in search of… well, anything, really. It followed that an important guy would have important stuff, and Bamboo, Portha and Gigs meant to find it. However, it turned out that the mayor and foreman of a mining town’s life was slightly less glamorous than they’d been led to believe. Sheafs and sheafs of neatly filed quota reports, injury assessments, and shipping documents revealed themselves over the long minutes of examination, but certainly nothing like the treasure they’d been hoping for. They were about to give up and move on to looting with the others when Gigs the Unflappable found a tersely penned letter in an unfamiliar hand, smudged with what was either Fröman blood or some sort of oil. It read:

quote:

Broke through to something today in section A3D6 - saw a flash of green and had them seal it up. You know what that means; please advise.
Gigs did not know what that meant, but it seemed important. He pocketed it and they made their way out to join the rest, careful to leave things roughly how they found it in case Grimper wanted to look at stuff.

---
Splut the Bluffer fell in amongst the groups of captives filing out of the city, expertly shepherding his expressions and body language to match those of the people around him. He loudly lamented the betrayal of the Fröman forces and their evident sacrifices to the Töan Hordes for some nebulous strategic purpose. He received a few secret nods of approval, murmured agreements, and speculation as to why that might be… but only speculations. He got the sense that Fostis’ contribution to the war effort was distant indeed, providing only raw resources or - rarely - manpower. A shame. Doubly a shame that his new friends were probably going to be killed. Oh well!

---

The Nail had hardly cooled when she drew it off her anvil bare handed, fingertips smouldering where she touched it. She turned it this way and that in the fading light, watching the red heat spiral out into the cooling air. The pattern within it held the heat a fraction longer, a lurid red sequence of interlinking circles before it, too, faded to the dull black of wrought iron. Perfect. She tossed it over her shoulder into a small pile of shapes twinned to it… narrowly missing a much larger pile of failures. Just so, or else garbage. She couldn’t even use the iron anymore, not if she wanted it to work properly. It was slow and grueling work, and the conscripted workers needed to be replaced often. Weak. Well, she’d fix that soon enough. “MORE IRON!”

---
Though several of the mountain climbers were excited to descend from their precarious position, for most the temptation of firepower was too much to bear. While much of it was stored as inert components for safety's sake, and a large portion of the rest had been thrown off the mountain by some unscrupulous vandals, they still had enough left over for some fun.

(Stårn finds some Bamsticks, Mason and Spleen find a Boomstick)

Gawp the Perceiver had an eye towards designs, aiming to learn rather than loot. Being an storehouse and not some sort of alchemical library, however, there wasn't much in the way of instruction. There were warning signs, though, and with a little detective work on compounds not to ingest he thought he had something useful.

(Makeshift Sacrifire added to shop!)

---
Humbug the Sleuth crouched over the empty form of Mayor Bello, tutting. Sloppy work on the extraction by whoever'd yanked the 'core, but thorough asskicking work by everyone else. The mayor himself had been impressively floppy when he was alive - look, his femur had bent almost double - but now that he was dead (or perhaps now that his Skillcore had been extracted) he was solid as old wood. Oho, what's this? Humbug yanked it out from beneath the old fellow.

A particularly sharp pick, still wet with the blood of his ally. Well, waste not, want not!

---
Noggins the Carpenter searched among the domiciles of the village craftsmen for a decent set of armor with a heart growing heavy with doubt. It was obvious that wherever they were converting the raw materials into goods, it wasn't here. At least not, like, warfare goods. She found plenty of cutlery and plates and tools, but nothing she wanted. Nothing… knightly. She had given up looking in stores by now and just started wandering through abandoned homes, looking for a helmet or SOMETHING… when she found it.

Stuffed into the bottom of a chest in someone's attic, it was rusty and old and missing pieces… and beautiful. Not to mention a hell of a lot better than the rags she was wearing. She slipped out on and adjusted the fit, swishing the moth-eaten cape and posing in the reflection of a broken window.

---
When the Horde had finished their looting and their revelry and their explorations, Warlord Grimper clapped his hands together overhead, momentarily thundering the sky with a blaze of fuschia light. Over the course of several minutes, the whole of the Unexpectable Horde filtered into the well-lit clearing, encircling the mass of surrendered villagers. They bickered and talked amongst themselves for a moment, but when they saw Grimper’s impassive face staring down at them from atop a rough altar they fell silent. The night was moonless and still, the only light from the bonfires set around them and from Grimper’s blazing eyes and crown. Even Fostis itself was dark, with all hearthfires doused and no one around to stoke them besides. The Warlord waited until the tension grew unbearable, then spoke.

“People of Fostis, the Hordes of Tö have come to you. Your city, undefended and alone, fell before us with an ease that beggars belief, and only reinforces my belief that Frömen are unworthy of the land they live upon. Even now, our forces march on your capital to avenge our Queen, and even now your fool King pisses in his silk sheets in terror at the fury of our invincible forces!” A groan of dismay and anger rose from the captives, but Grimper held up a hand and they cowered.

“I will not kill you, for I have need of Fostis. I have need of you, much as it pains me to admit. You will arm my forces, and you will supply me with a foothold in this region. I demand your loyalty!” A group of eleven Fostisians stood apart from the rest of the captives, having already proven their loyalty by standing with the Unexpectables against their former friends and families. “These eleven have proven that even they can rise above the circumstances of their birth to approach something like acceptability to me. Will anyone join them?”

From the venom hurled at the ‘traitors’, from the wails and threats issuing from their throats, it was obvious that, no, no one else wished to defect. Grimper smiled, a crook of his lips. “Very well. Magda, begin.”

Magda approached the group, hooded and bent as though carrying a phenomenal weight. In one hand, she carried a hammer. In the other, a pail of nails. No, not nails. Nails. She walked around them in a circle as their eyes followed her warily, again and again. Almost imperceptibly, their eyes began to drift, tracking her less succesfully. She reached out suddenly, placing a nail into an outstretched red hand. One after another, she gave the citizens a nail until at last her pail was empty - but for one. She walked through the entranced group and they parted before her girth, before she finally stopped at the foot of the altar. Grimper held out both his hands and she offered him first the hammer, then the single nail that remained. The Warlord held them aloft, turning to face each of the members of the Horde in turn, then stripped off his cloak.

His massive form was studded with black studs, the heads of dozens or hundreds of Nails just like the one he held. He held the loose nail between two fingers, and suddenly the captives mirrored his motion. He found a blank space on his torso, pressing the nail against his skin. The Unexpectables became aware of a fierce pressure building, sourced at the very tip of that nail and spreading out, a wind-that-was-not-a-wind. The grass did not tremble, their hair did not rustle, but it was all the hundred and eight members of the Horde could do to stand their ground. Grimper spoke softly, but his voice carried across the field with hurricane force.
    YOU WILL NOT RESIST.

    YOU WILL ASSIST US.

    YOU WILL NOT TAKE ARMS AGAINST US.

    YOU WILL NOT ALERT OTHERS TO OUR PRESENCE.

    YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OF US TO OTHERS.

    YOU WILL CONDUCT YOUR BUSINESS AS BEFORE ASIDE FROM WHERE IT CONFLICTS WITH THE ABOVE.

    THE PENALTY OF DISOBEDIENCE IS DEATH.

    THE PENALTY OF RESISTANCE IS DEATH.

    YOU WILL REMEMBER THIS.
With each word, the volume rose, until the Horde thought they would surely go deaf, but none of them moved to cover their ears, nor took a step. This was the Ritual of the Nail, and to step out of place would spell damnation or worse! Grimper hammered the Nail into place and the civilians screamed…

And then stopped abruptly, as though nothing had happened. They walked back into town, past the stunned Unexpectables, and went about their duties as though their lives hadn’t just been disrupted. And yet, as they walked, the Horde could see blazing pink stigmas on their chests, twinned with that on Grimper’s body. And those with particularly keen perception even noticed a shimmering in the air, like a thin, etherial chain, binding them all to him. Fostis, as he had said, was theirs. His.

The Warlord shrugged back into his coat, looking almost bored, as though he’d done this enough times to have grown inured to it. Which he had. Either as a participant or the direct actor, he’d done this countless times in his day. To think that he’d been reduced to doing it out here in the wilderness instead of with his brothers and sisters in the capital. He choked back a sob, disguising it as a clearing of his throat. “Well, get on with it. Relax for now, tend to our wounded, for tomorrow is when the real meat of our occupation begins. With a captive and compliant populace, we can actually begin to influence this region, but never forget that our goal is to take the Gateway Fortress. We will require soldiers or we will require force multipliers, but when I tell you it’s time to go, that’s it. It might be tomorrow or it might be in a month, so do not waste your time or mine!” He stomped, and the altar below him split, dropping him several feet in a cloud of concrete dust and terrifying the hell out of all of them.

---
The Unexpectables scattered, but he wasn't quite finished, not with everyone. He found Gado the Digger and lifted him off the ground, carrying him away to a secluded patch of naked earth before tossing him down roughly. “We needed that avalanche. This whole thing almost collapsed without that crucial distraction, and I hold you personally accountable for it. Don't you DARE talk back - just dig. Dig me five holes, as deep as you can, before morning. If I come back and they're not deep enough, I'll leave you in one of them.”

---
Punishment
In case you piss off your Warlord, you may be assigned Punishment. Cleaning latrines, push ups, running laps, you name it. Your Warlord will assign you a task and Difficulty, and you roll against it. A failure means humiliation and a waste of time - regardless of your success, you cannot participate in other Downtime activities if punished. A success, however, means you have overcome your punishment - and probably impressed your Warlord.

In Gado’s case, he needs to dig 5 holes, at 1d100 each. Each counts as a turn for purposes of Skill cooldowns, but roll all five at once. You'll get more information about your success or failure terms after you've done it.

---

Grimper was irritable. Punishment always made him feel better, but the real moron here, the one who'd almost tanked the operation, had died for it. Nevermind that the soldier couldn't have known that his tactics wouldn't work, and nevermind that the old Mayor had proven unexpectedly resilient - The Warlord only cared about results.

He scowled his way through his 'army’ until he found the other one. Cornbread, they called him. Grimper almost lifted him off the ground too but thought better of it. “You. You're disgusting, and your 'shitvalanche’ amounted to you defecating on a mountainside. You're an embarrassment! Your foul success with those stink bombs is the only reason I'm not burning you like the trash pile you are! Consider this a warning, and call it your lucky day - but clean yourself up, for heaven's sake!”

He stomped away, eyes watering from the stink of him, as he once more lamented his pitiable fate!

(Downtime once again, and with the exception of Gado you're free to wander the town and mines. Warlord Grimper is once again going to drink his sorrows away, so feel free to ask him about any bolded textapart from that you dorkfor Warlord Story Time!)

edit:
I noticed afterwards I forgot to add the Shopping details! Included below. Do note that the availability of some stuff has changed due to your recent conquest. Ritual totals do not count any new posts since my last update.

---
Shopping
Spend your hard-earned Glory to buy crap! Buying options can be roughly divided into personal purchases and Rituals: the former is stuff like weapons, armor, and sundries, while the latter will allow the entire Horde to pay towards a Ritual that will strengthen the group as a whole. You can also, naturally, keep your Glory, which makes you stronger in Conflicts and Combat - but if you die, you lose all of it!

Items
The caravans were chiefly full of basic equipment that you can use to outfit yourself. There’s other stuff to find out there, but you’ll have to knock over different caravans or form some kind of alliance with a merchant guild to get other stuff. For now, this is what you’ve got:

    Weapon [5 Glory] - Many different weapons can be found or forged in this world of war. Whatever their appearance, they serve to separate men from their lives.
    Encompasses swords, spears, gauntlets, etc. Adds +1 to Combat rolls. Can be used to upgrade existing weapons by 1 each time this is purchased. Describe it when you buy it, though weapons purchased from the quartermaster are of workman-like quality only.
    Armour [5 Glory] - Plate, leather or bone put between you and the blades of your enemies. It will do, in a pinch, but if your enemy's tenacity overwhelms your skill you may as well be wearing parchment.
    Encompasses leather armour, plate, etc. Removes 1 from the enemy Combat rolls. Can be used to upgrade existing armour by 1 each time this is purchased. Describe it when you buy it, though armour purchased from the quartermaster are of workman-like quality only.
    Shield [5 Glory]- A great slab of tough material sits between you and certain death. Treat it well, and it will save your life.
    Blocks 1 Damage (to yourself) in Combat, then breaks.
    Cowardclaw [5 Glory] - A sickly-yellow flower. Its smell is repulsive and cloying - perhaps that will be enough to turn the blade away from you and towards your ally?
    If you would take Damage during Combat, reroll. If you roll higher than another above you, they take your place.
    Makeshift Sacrifire [10 Glory] - A foul concoction of volatile chemicals, much rougher than a proper formulation would be. It ought to do the trick!
    Can be used during any combat to instantly roll a natural 100 - and then die. However, due to its unfinished nature, roll 1d100 (no modifier) when you use it. On a 1, it backfires, sending the deadly energy at your allies! Despite the mess, harvesting of Skillcores and Gear proceeds as normal.
    Boomstick [5 Glory] - A canister of compressed explosive, easily activated with a small flame. Risky in enclosed areas, but deadly against structures or slow-moving creatures!
    Explosives +25, One Use
    Mining Pick [5 Glory] - A simple pick used to break up rock in mines or to dig holes.
    Mining +25, One Use
    Grappling Hook [5 Glory] - A hook attached to a length of rope, making climbing tall ledges a breeze!
    Climbing +25, One Use
    Fostis Ale [5 Glory] - A delicious cask of (lightly contaminated) local Fostis Ale! Share it with your friends! Bribe your enemies! Or bribe your friends and share it with your enemies, I'm not your mother!
    Camaradery +25, One Use
    Mad Mole [5 Glory] One In Stock - An angry, slightly-bruised mole that wants nothing more than to dig a hole and get the hell out of there. Isn't it cute?
    Digging +25, One Use[/i]
Rituals
Expensive, dangerous, magic. Not easy to perform, not easy to afford, but well worth it to increase the Horde’s survivability. Only a few are available now, but exploring ruins and sacking libraries can discover new ones. The Horde can pay into these gradually, activating them eventually once the required total is met.
    Harvester’s Grim Duty [23/50 Glory] - Skillcores are fragile and ephemeral; this Ritual ensures that the Horde’s strikes avoid destroying the precious organs.
    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
---

Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 14:33 on Oct 12, 2017

paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007


Skills: Spreading Disease
HP: 3/3
Glory: 2

A disappointed Grumbus stumbled out of the mine. Despite rolling around in the mine's waste dump for at least 5, 10 minutes, he didn't feel sick(er) in the slightest! And not a mushroom or creepy parasite in sight! Even the Miner's Cough angle was a bust; from what he could tell it was from environmental conditions and not a pathogen. At least one of the others found some boring ore or something so Grimper wouldn't be mad at him for slacking or wasting time. He sighed and began to trudge back to camp.

As Grimper dressed down Cornbread, Grumbus resisted the urge to smirk a little. Once again the Grumbus Theory of Wretchedness was proven correct! As Grumbus went over himself to make sure he wasn't next, he made a mental note:

"No playing with poop."

Wait, no. That ruled out too many possibilities.

"No getting caught playing with poop!"

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010


Gado!!!
Skill: Digging (On cooldown), Mining
HP: 3
Glory: 3->4

Gado stays face down in the dirt until Grimper has stomped away, not wanting to raise the ire of the warlord further he simply begins to scrape away at the ground pathetically afraid for his life. The resulting hole isn't much to speak of, but he only has so much time to devote to the task and so he moves on. [Digging Hole 1: 32]

Arms tired from the constant scraping motions of digging, Gado changes tack and begins to use the tip of his trusty wooden stick to practice the new talents granted to him by his skillcore. It doesn't go particularly well. In theory he knows you need to brace a mine shaft to stop it from collapsing, and that you don't normally dig them directly down, but it's a learning experience he'll hopefully be able to use in the future outside of this pathetic hole in the ground. [Mining Hole 2: 16]

Having given his Dig muscles a respite, Gado enthusiastically tears into the ground with renewed vigor, the resulting hole is a good deal better than his first attempt. [Digging Hole 3: 57]

It's halfway to dawn when Gado decides to give the mining business another shot. Spending some time collecting more sticks and other such necessities, Gado goes about creating his new angled hole, bracing the roof with sturdy branches where possible, it goes quite well! [Mining Hole 4: 82]

The downside to getting into the mining groove is that your digging headspace gets all messed up! The last of his potential graves is probably the shoddiest hole he's ever dug. The only sound echoing out of it come morning as Grimper approaches is the litany of Gado's panicked curses. [Digging Hole 5: 20]

Holes

:rip:

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum

Name: Gawp
HP: 3
Skill: Perception (Active)
Equipment: Sharp Stick (+0)
Glory: 10 -> 11

Fostis, After-Hours: When it came time for Gawp to divvy up camp duties for himself and the other mooks under his shaky grip of command, Gawp realized that he had an important choice to make. Once everyone else had been sorted out, what was he going to do with all his free time? What would best serve the Unexpectables?

He reviewed his options:

Gawp saw that there was a Guard Patrol that had begun fanning out among the campgrounds and recruiting posse members, and Gawp realized that his advanced monsterism eyesight might best be put to use watching for enemies in these dark hours. Sensibly, some of the locals at Fostis might still be rather unhappy about their current state of occupation, and so they could be planning an ambush...? It was best to be prepared, anyway!

Next, Gawp looked to the tents of the Field Medics, and saw that they were busy bandaging the wounded and strapping splints onto injured legs. They weren't necessarily swamped as far as Gawp could tell, but surely they could use another pair of hands and two pairs of eyes on deck! Heck, Gawp had realized that it had been far too long since he'd gone over his remedial first aid training... plus, the extra help couldn't hurt (too much)!

Third, Gawp turned to the groups of Foragers, who were heading off into the town's foothills to find fresh food like berries, mushrooms, livestock and meat. On his mountainous climb, Gawp had seen a couple of mountain goats frolicking along the cliffs, and oh my did they look ever so majestic and mighty - mighty tasty! Gawp didn't have a bow and arrow to hunt with and he was terrible with traps... but maybe Gawp could serve as the team's spotter?

Finally, Gawp remembered something - a fourth thing! He reached into his pocket and retrieved the folded, tattered page of charts and figures which Pythag the Mathematician had given him earlier: "Pythag's Big Boom Numbers." Supposedly, this page contained a fairly accurate tally of all the explosives the Unexpectables had available to them. Gawp considered the big, underlined numbers at the bottom of the page. It was important for the army. He knew that this was his one-way ticket to getting in good with the Boss, General Grimper, but his timing in the matter would have to be perfect if he didn't want to get on the General's bad side...

What to do? Choosing an option for himself became too maddening for Gawp, so he flipped a coin-token two times and followed the end result. Both times, it was Queen Reina's lovely face that came up (may she rest in our vengeance):

1 = Approach Grimper, 2 = Join Foragers, 3 = Join Medics, 4 = Join Guard Patrol: 1d4 1

Deep down, Gawp knew that helping out the General was the right thing to do.

Steeling himself for a face-to-face encounter with the Big Boss himself, Gawp hovered at a spot within eyeshot and earshot of the General Grimper's war-tent, waiting to Perceive the best possible time to interrupt the great General in his business.

Approach General Grimper with Pythag's Big Boom Numbers: 1d100+20 76

When the General Grimper stepped outside of his giant commander's tent, Gawp approached him, haltingly, and belted out, "Sire, Mister Big Boss Grimper, General, SIR-!"

He snapped a salute a bit too hard and poked himself in the uppermost eye. He could feel that one's gonna sting and water-!

"Sir! I- I know how much boom-powder and bamsticks we've got - it's all here on this slip of paper. They're Pythag's Big Boom Numbers, sire. For you, mister General - sir!"

Gawp offered up the piece of parchment to the General on one knee, closing his eyes and craning his neck as though he were handing over his life.

When Gawp snuck a glance at the General with his teary and bloodshot uppermost eye, this is all he saw:



Huh. There was a certain shimmer about the General tonight. Was that from the Ritual of the Nail? Gawp had seen it with his own eyes, but maybe the General would want to share more about what just happened to the Fostisians.

Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 02:49 on Oct 18, 2017

DivineCoffeeBinge
Mar 3, 2011

Spider-Man's Amazing Construction Company


Name: Shiny
HP: 3
Glory: 3
Skill: Stealin' Stuff

So... so that was a thing. Shiny makes a note - Humbug might be a budding criminal mastermind, but Grimper was the boss.

Thinking about bosses and masterminds and crime - which is basically most of what Shiny thinks about if she's not distracted by a shiny thing, though to be fair she's usually distracted by shiny things - makes Shiny remember her early days, the start of her own Life of Crime. Like most young Töans who turn to lawbreaking, she got her start early, as a street urchin, and she ran with a gang.

A gang is kind of like a Horde, only smaller and less official-like, right?

Anyways, back in that gang there was a gang Boss named Midget. He was seven feet tall, Shiny never did figure out who named him that. It was ironic, like. And Midget was kind of like Grimper, only with fewer nails and more brass knuckles. Also he wasn't quite as naturally terrifying as Grimper is, so he had to make up for it by beating the stuffing out of any Töan unlucky enough to cross him, and it was really easy to cross him. So if you were in Midget's gang, you learned to take a beating. But you also learned that if he was mad at one Töan, he might take it out on many Töans. So sure, you could let someone else fail and take a beating and be happy that it wasn't you, but he'd still be in a foul mood after. But you could also help each other and make sure no one failed, and then maybe there wouldn't be any beatings.

All of this is on Shiny's mind as she sneaks over to where poor Gado is digging holes. Sure, he's taking a punishment - a metaphorical beating. But if Grimper's not happy with his results, he might take it out on the rest of them too. So she looks around, makes sure that Grimper has stalked off and isn't looking in this direction, and without a word she grabs a nearby shovel and helps the poor fellow dig for a bit. She can't take the beating for him, but maybe she can help absorb a punch or two.

Helping Gado Dig: 1d100+3 92

.....oh, Midget? Yeah, he died. Freak carnivorous butterfly accident. Very tragic. Shiny doesn't even feel that bad about slipping that tasty butterfly food in his back pocket when he wasn't paying attention.

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?


Name: Bamboo
HP: 3
Glory: 8 + 1 (Story Glory) -> 9
Skill: Basket Weaving [Ready]

Once more, night had fallen on The Unexpectables, and once more, Bamboo was at the edge of camp by herself.

For those who cared to look, she sat hunched over a bucket of water, illuminated by a small fire.

Over and over again, Bamboo plunged her hands and arms into the bucket, her body rocking slightly with the effort.

Washing, rinsing, scrubbing, rubbing, repeat. Washing, rinsing, scrubbing, rubbing, repeat. Washing, rinsing, scrubbing, rubbing, repeat.

The water, once clean, had long become filthy. Tinged with blood, tears, sweat, and the Reina knows what else.

"Must. Find. Baskets! Must. Find. Baskets!! Loot. For. Family! Loot. For. Family!! Horde. Take. Loot! None. For. Bamboo!!!"

It was not clear whose blood was flowing into the bucket. Bamboo's skin had been scraping off raw for some time now.

The Warlord's drunken bellowing brought her somewhat out of her trance. He was in a story telling mood again.

"The. Old. Guys!" Bamboo cried out into the night, "Tell. Us. About!! The. Old. Guys!!!"

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.
Name: Klörf

Skill: Starting fires
HP: 3
Glory: 8

As Klörf walked through the mining town, he couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved. The behaviour of the Frömen was almost unreal. Not a few hours ago they'd been subjugated by the Unexpectables. But now they were going on with their day as if the clock had been turned back a day. He felt as if he could walk into just about any house, clear out their kitchen, and walk out with all of that family's food without them caring in the least.

Not that he had any plans of doing so. No, something had caught his attention. Something he had always wanted to do, but couldn't because he was born as the son of a lowly farmer and not as a smith's apprentice. In the town's periphery, near one of the mining entrances, stood a strange building with a very tall smokestack. Despite being barely literate, Klörf recognized the building from a picture in a picture book he once thumbed through. Yes, that was a forge.

He entered the building with glee, but was dismayed to see the forge had turned cold. It was a good thing, then, that he had brought along enough matches and tinder to fire it up again! Within minutes, smoke left the building's smokestack.

"Klörf need help!", the little blue man yelled to his fellow Töans. "Need ore for smelting! And strong arms for hammering iron in shape! Who help Klörf to make sword? Shield? Nail for Magda, perhaps?"

Attempting to light a dormant smithing forge, 1d100+10+8=106

Zybourne Clock fucked around with this message at 17:10 on Oct 14, 2017

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010


Gado!!!
Skill: Digging (On cooldown), Mining
HP: 3
Glory: 4

Shiny's appearance and subsequent help in digging out his punishment holes is a breath of fresh air, It's very clear Gado isn't doing so well under the pressure of potentially getting Grimped. There's a razor edge of panic in his voice, but Gado's voice still manages to come out in a resolute whisper "If I manage to stay alive tomorrow, I've got your back going forward, no questions."

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009



Name: Portha
Skills: Rummaging, Cleaning
HP: 3
Glory: 8

Portha cursed her rotten luck at the Mayor's office. Absolutely nothing of value aside from that note Gigs carried off before she could grab it.

Best to just get back to work. While none of the soldiers in the melee had taken any hits, the guys who'd started the initial ruckus were roughed up and the mountain climbers had come back with a few scrapes as well. Their wounds would need cleaning if they didn't want to get infected.

Clean and dress a soldier's injury 1d100+18=96

________

Those nails Grimper had, those were terrifying. Next to that, the rest of the Horde was getting off light just losing Glory. Maybe it was time to pay Magda a visit.

1 Glory to Luck
2 Glory to Harvester


With her remaining Glory she bought one of the spare pickaxes, it would prove useful in the upcoming siege. -5 Glory

________

Ask about getting more items. Who are the merchant guilds we could contact and would they be interested in sending someone to take over as mayor of Fostis?

super sweet best pal fucked around with this message at 22:17 on Oct 12, 2017

WereGoat
Apr 28, 2017



Name: Hob
HP: 3
Glory: 8≥9(lore)≥6
Skill: Bee keeping, Contortion

Hob watched the ritual with fascination. The cowardly foes bound to service. Seeing the reality behind the tales of Dorgan the conqueror was... jarring. Not as heroic as he first thought.

His limbs turned to jelly, legs wobbling. It wasn't that shocking was it? It was obvious that war would be different from the stories. Wait...

The new skillcore. It was taking effect. Unlike the beekeeping core that he had cultivated over years, this new skillcore was unknown. And unlike beekeeping, it was not a pure knowledge core but a core of physical skill, and a strong one. It feels different. His body is not ready for this. Bones separating, flesh twisting, Hob could feel the Contortion ability developing as his squishy Tö flesh absorbed and integrated the core. Why had he taken this instead of mining, or jumping? At least beefy arms or powerful legs would leave his other limbs unchanged. At least his back and neck and ribs wouldn't hurt so. Why hadn't he taken a straightforward core that left his body unchanged?

Since he wasn't going anywhere fast, Hob started tending to the cooking. Slowly, carefully, Trying to stretch out 1 ration by adding some of the food found in the town's market.

Cooking, trying to preserve rations: 1d100+8 106

What started as a thin broth was thickened out with the new ingredients into a thick stew, bubbling away, ready to be shared out.



Grimper was returning with his wine. Showing weakness was not an option.

Gritting his teeth, Hob ladles the choicest a meats from the pot and offers a bowl of stew to the general, and whimpers;
"Can you tell us about Orichalcum, Sonior and Regentrock from the mine, sir?"

With food in his belly the feeling was returning to his body, and was more normal again. Back to the same as before, but bendier. Much better. Hob wondered if any of the others had similar problems with new cores.

After listening to whatever Tales Grimper tells, he walks over with a slight spring in his step to give 3 glory to Harvester's grim duty .

WereGoat fucked around with this message at 22:36 on Oct 12, 2017

Torchlighter
Jan 15, 2012

I Got Kids. I need this.

Name: Gryph
HP: 3
Glory: 5
Skill: Bandaging/Medicine

Gryph dragged the ragged, somewhat white tent around, looking with pride at the large red cross he'd painted on it. Finally, somewhere to assemble the wounded to try and heal their injuries.
And there were plenty of injuries to go around. Too many injuries and not enough Toan. He'd have to see about training some minions field medics.

Medicing! Get Chore Medicing He-are!: 1d100+15 86

Downtime
Gryph is going to give his 5 Glory to help with completing Harvester's Grim Duty.

HiHo ChiRho
Oct 23, 2010

Potrait:


Naim: Mason
Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin'
HeeP: Mason Mason Mason
Glury: Masonx8

No action yet, just wanted the BOOMSTICK

Half-wit
Aug 31, 2005

Half a wit more than baby Asahel, or half a wit less? You decide.

Name: Neebs
Skill(s): Sales
HP: 3
Glory: 7 -> 1

Had she truly just witnessed magic? She knew it existed, but this was something else entirely. This...wasn't quite right. The Queen never would have approved of such tactics, would she? But...the power of it, if this is what magic could do to people, then: how was Neebs to know that she herself had not been exposed to it in the past? Why DID she love the Queen so much?

No...that wasn't right either. Of course she loved the Queen. Every proper Toan loved the queen. It was ridiculous to think otherwise.

One thing was for sure though, she'd avoided the notice of Grimper; and as she watched Grimper stalk over to Gado she decided this was the proper way of going about things; avoiding notice. It was no wonder people were meaningless to Grimper, he had the power to make people slaves. Either people obeyed him, or he'd make them obey him. She had to become less noticable...and all of the glory she had accrued thus-far wasn't going to keep eyes off of her.

Later, she approached Magda reluctantly, but knew that getting rid of the glory was safer than keeping it. Giving 7 glory to the Luck’s Fickle Gaze ritual.

Afterwards, relieved of her burdens...she decided to pick up a broom and do some sweeping.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0
Grimey Drawer

Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 8 -> 9

By this point in time, Snödis was hopelessly lost in the mines. A thing she readily admitted, if only to practice her disapprovement.
The signs had lead her nowhere fast, apparently Fröians used them as warnings rather than as clues - which had led to quiet the culture shock when she discovered not heaps of treasure but rather abandoned shafts.

Lamenting her poor luck and failing skill, she tried to find her way back to camp, all the while whistling the Töian National Anthem quietly to herself, perhaps in the hope that some nearby hidden cache of sonicore might reveal itself, or maybe just to dissuade any cave-bats from battacking her on her way back.

Skilless Whistling: 1d100 = 96 (+8 with glory? not sure it counts for looting)

After about half an hour of aimless wandering, one of the abandoned mine-shafts whistled back.
She could not tell if it was just her echo, some sonicore or perhaps a small, lost, helpless creature that needed her to adopt it, but she could not very well let the mystery rest.
She took the side-path, hoping that the army she came with had not left again by the time she came back.

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.
I noticed afterwards I forgot to add the Shopping details! Included below. Do note that the availability of some stuff has changed due to your recent conquest. Ritual totals do not count any new posts since my last update.

---
Shopping
Spend your hard-earned Glory to buy crap! Buying options can be roughly divided into personal purchases and Rituals: the former is stuff like weapons, armor, and sundries, while the latter will allow the entire Horde to pay towards a Ritual that will strengthen the group as a whole. You can also, naturally, keep your Glory, which makes you stronger in Conflicts and Combat - but if you die, you lose all of it!

Items
The caravans were chiefly full of basic equipment that you can use to outfit yourself. There’s other stuff to find out there, but you’ll have to knock over different caravans or form some kind of alliance with a merchant guild to get other stuff. For now, this is what you’ve got:

    Weapon [5 Glory] - Many different weapons can be found or forged in this world of war. Whatever their appearance, they serve to separate men from their lives.
    Encompasses swords, spears, gauntlets, etc. Adds +1 to Combat rolls. Can be used to upgrade existing weapons by 1 each time this is purchased. Describe it when you buy it, though weapons purchased from the quartermaster are of workman-like quality only.
    Armour [5 Glory] - Plate, leather or bone put between you and the blades of your enemies. It will do, in a pinch, but if your enemy's tenacity overwhelms your skill you may as well be wearing parchment.
    Encompasses leather armour, plate, etc. Removes 1 from the enemy Combat rolls. Can be used to upgrade existing armour by 1 each time this is purchased. Describe it when you buy it, though armour purchased from the quartermaster are of workman-like quality only.
    Shield [5 Glory]- A great slab of tough material sits between you and certain death. Treat it well, and it will save your life.
    Blocks 1 Damage (to yourself) in Combat, then breaks.
    Cowardclaw [5 Glory] - A sickly-yellow flower. Its smell is repulsive and cloying - perhaps that will be enough to turn the blade away from you and towards your ally?
    If you would take Damage during Combat, reroll. If you roll higher than another above you, they take your place.
    Makeshift Sacrifire [10 Glory] - A foul concoction of volatile chemicals, much rougher than a proper formulation would be. It ought to do the trick!
    Can be used during any combat to instantly roll a natural 100 - and then die. However, due to its unfinished nature, roll 1d100 (no modifier) when you use it. On a 1, it backfires, sending the deadly energy at your allies! Despite the mess, harvesting of Skillcores and Gear proceeds as normal.
    Boomstick [5 Glory] - A canister of compressed explosive, easily activated with a small flame. Risky in enclosed areas, but deadly against structures or slow-moving creatures!
    Explosives +25, One Use
    Mining Pick [5 Glory] - A simple pick used to break up rock in mines or to dig holes.
    Mining +25, One Use
    Grappling Hook [5 Glory] - A hook attached to a length of rope, making climbing tall ledges a breeze!
    Climbing +25, One Use
    Fostis Ale [5 Glory] - A delicious cask of (lightly contaminated) local Fostis Ale! Share it with your friends! Bribe your enemies! Or bribe your friends and share it with your enemies, I'm not your mother!
    Camaradery +25, One Use
    Mad Mole [5 Glory] One In Stock - An angry, slightly-bruised mole that wants nothing more than to dig a hole and get the hell out of there. Isn't it cute?
    Digging +25, One Use[/i]
Rituals
Expensive, dangerous, magic. Not easy to perform, not easy to afford, but well worth it to increase the Horde’s survivability. Only a few are available now, but exploring ruins and sacking libraries can discover new ones. The Horde can pay into these gradually, activating them eventually once the required total is met.
    Harvester’s Grim Duty [23/50 Glory] - Skillcores are fragile and ephemeral; this Ritual ensures that the Horde’s strikes avoid destroying the precious organs.
    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
---

Task Manager
Sep 5, 2008

A weird time in which we are alive. We can travel anywhere we want, even to other planets. And for what? To sit day after day, declining in morale and hope.

Name: Gabber
Skill: Mimicry, Listening
HP: 3
Glory: 3 -> 4 -> 1

It was close, oh so close. Forearm deep in the corpse of Big Ears (his affectionate nickname for the poor Fröman who's chest cavity he was invading), Gabber's fingertips were bumping up against something decidedly unorganic. It had to be a Skillcore, it just had to! Pausing momentarily to scan around and give a quick glare to any other Unexpectables who might have been angling in on his prize, Gabber resumed his efforts. Giving a final push and finding passage, his arm pushed past the last bit of resistance and his hand wrapped firmly around what surely had to be a Skillcore. Success!

Unceremoniously yanking it from Big Ears, he clutched the translucent orb to his own chest. A Skillcore! Hopping from one foot to the other, he could barely contain his excitement at his amazing find. He didn't care what it was, it was his! His dancing soon ended though, as he came to a sudden realization - he had no idea how to add the Skillcore to his own. Shutting one eye and giving the orb a detailed once over, there were no secret buttons or instructions; just a crystalline orb covered in various bodily fluids. He brought the orb up to his mouth tapping it against his sealed lips; rubbed it like a magic lamp from some bedtime story of his youth; he even briefly considered miming to those nearby for help, but quickly realized they'd be as likely to take it from him than help him. What to do?

Looking down at the corpse of Big Ears again, a sudden lightbulb went off in his head. Maybe...? Taking the orb, Gabber slowly brought the thing up to his right ear, gently tapping it against his lobe. A bright flash occurred (or maybe that was just in his head?), and suddenly the orb was gone, and Gabber's world became all the more defined.

The SOUNDS! He heard every *tink* *tink* of Magda's hammer clear as day even though she was nowhere close - he could even somehow tell, without knowing a thing about the Ritual of the Nail, which strikes were working to make a perfect Nail, and when an imperfect strike forever marked it as just a nail. He could hear the solid *TWACK* of Tharbad's posse slapping their iron bars on their palms. He heard every chirping bird, every whispered conversation, and it was all sooverwhelming!

As he continued adjusting to his new condition, Warlord Grimper gathered them up and began to put on his performance. Gabber stood in line with the rest, and decided to give the ritual his undivided attention...

LISTEN, LISTEN WITH ALL OUR MIGHT!: 1d100+13 95 :tviv:

Dog Kisser posted:

    YOU WILL NOT RESIST.

    YOU WILL ASSIST US.

    YOU WILL NOT TAKE ARMS AGAINST US.

    YOU WILL NOT ALERT OTHERS TO OUR PRESENCE.

    YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OF US TO OTHERS.

    YOU WILL CONDUCT YOUR BUSINESS AS BEFORE ASIDE FROM WHERE IT CONFLICTS WITH THE ABOVE.

    THE PENALTY OF DISOBEDIENCE IS DEATH.

    THE PENALTY OF RESISTANCE IS DEATH.

    YOU WILL REMEMBER THIS.

By the end of Grimper's glorious announcement tears streamed down Gabber's face, a mix of abject awe at the beauty of such words and the pain from his super-powered eardrums still reverberating within his skull. He knew that starting today, his life was forever changed. Swept up in a patriotic spirit seeing the Fröman citizens now so devoted to the Töan cause (and maybe just a little bit feeling the effects of Grimper's Nail ritual?), Gabber bounded off to Magda, preparing to give her all his yet accumulated glory towards the cause.

Give 3 Glory to Magda for Harvester's Grim Duty, leaving Gabber with 1 going forward.

Storytime

The ringing in his ears having finally wound down, Gabber made his way to the tavern he knew Warlord Grimper was joyously drinking to their perfect victory at! Not wanting to miss any opportunity to hear more about that wondrous, life changing ritual he had just witnessed, when he had the Warlord's attention Gabber puffed out his chest, picked up an imaginary Nail and hammer, and pretended to drive it into his own flesh. Could they have more info on that Ritual of the Nail?

Task Manager fucked around with this message at 14:52 on Oct 12, 2017

Yvonmukluk
Oct 10, 2012

Everything is Sinister



Bully
Skills: Oratory), Climbing)
HP:3
Glory: 8

Bully tries to talk to some of the new recruits to see if they can provide any useful information about the region that might prove useful for the horde's next moves. Even if it is just some information about the local geography, it might prove useful!

A friendly chat: 1d100=19(+8=27, if applicable)

Alas, most of the new recruits are not in a talkative mood, or else can provide little useful knowledge.

Yvonmukluk fucked around with this message at 14:47 on Oct 12, 2017

Fuzz
Jun 2, 2003

Avatar brought to you by the TG Sanity fund

Additional Skills: LEAPING, HOLDING YOUR BREATH
Glory: 8 -> 9

RIK clutched at his sides as a third skillcore was incorporated into his very essence, making him the currently most skilled Toän in the Horde.

He had to have more.

Fame, fortune, hot Toän babes... all of it came with that rocking lifestyle, and more cores could give him his fix. He just knew it.

As the others helped Gado dig, RIK approached Grimper and Magda, curious about the Nails but more curious about something else.

"Excuse me, Warlord Grimper, but what do you know about Skillcores and their acquisition?"

RIK tried to play it cool, not letting the warlord on to how much he was jonesing for more cores...

(Asking Grimper about SKILLCORES)

Fuzz fucked around with this message at 14:59 on Oct 12, 2017

Bad Seafood
Dec 10, 2010


If you must blink, do it now.


Name: Gigs
Skill: Unflappability
HP: 3
Glory: 8

"Hmm..."

Gigs' eyes narrow ever so slightly. The exact nature of the note eludes him, but it isn't hard to make an educated guess. He suspects they found something in the mines. Something dangerous perhaps. It's always something.

No doubt Warlord Grimper will wish to know of this.

Gigs stares blankly at the sight of Grimper's nail-studded body. Yes, yes, he's all very tough and angry and scary and twelve-feet-tall and better drawn. Awaiting the proper moment, Gigs approaches the warlord with note in hand. It's the closest he's ever been to his commanding officer. Gigs blinks. He always blinks when he's nervous. He's actually quite terrified - his characteristic nonchalance, his dismissive personality more symptomatic of his meager resignation with this lot in life, rather than any sort of alleged indifference. Either Grimper would command him or he would kill him. When you reduced all options down to those two, it was incredibly easy to wear a fixed face, not that Gigs had ever asked to be born with this face. But it was his all the same, and he was unlikely to locate another one.

The warlord's features glisten in the firelight. Gigs hands over the note and delivers a succinct, to-the-point report regarding where he found it, what it says, and his own reading of its meaning: that there might be something worth finding in the mines. Maintaining his neutral tone, lest Grimper think him presumptive, he suggests interrogating the locals for information regarding the coordinates, and leading a team down there to see what they can dig up (1d100+18 = 28). He offers a quick, sidelong glance in Gado's direction at the mention of digging, wondering if this might not be an opportunity for his associate to redeem himself.

Hopefully the old man would be cool with the new digs.

HiHo ChiRho
Oct 23, 2010

Potrait:


Naim: Mason
Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin'
HeeP: Mason Mason Mason
Glury: Masonx8 - 5 = 3

Mason Spends 5 glory to get a Grappling Hook.

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007

SWORD OF SMATTAS. CAN YOU NOT HEAR A WORLD CRY OUT FOR JUSTICE? WHEN WILL YOU DELIVER IT?
Yam Slacker

HP:3
Glory:8

Splut looked at the Nailed populace wistfully: The lack of pertinent information was itself information of a sort, but not the best of outcomes. Perhaps if he had tried to convert them more directly to the Töan cause, some of them might have willingly converted. Ah well, live and learn.

He saw Bully trying to chat with the ones that had turned coat, and saw an opportunity to help out his fellow speakmaster. Let's see if he couldn't get some useful topological or topographical information out of them.

Asking the new recruits about the lay of the land: 60..

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Loon, Crazy and Laughable


Name: Ringo!
HP: 1/2 (Crippled)
Glory: 8 > 9
Skill: Lockpicking

Always one step behind the rest of the Horde. That's Ringo. Last to open the door, last to get a pick of the loot. No more! After a quick pit stop back at camp to get patched up, he dashes off back into Fostis to look for some likely targets for further looting! All those locked doors out there. Surely there must be a shop or something that's got the primo goods in it! He'll get that sweet sweet Cool Thief Guy Cloak if it's the last thing he does!

Loot a Cool Thief Guy Cloak (+lockpicking): 1d100+18 69

:siren:Nice:siren:

TheNabster
Apr 26, 2014

"Today I will cause problems on purpose"

Spleen the Volatile
Skill: 'Splosions
HP: 2/3
Glory: 7 -> 0

Explosives get! My strange and worrying obsession now serves a purpose!

Back at the camp, shiny new toys in had Spleen decided to get on with some homely housekeeping. First, just in case anything else happened to him and and everyone around him in the short time they had stopped, he decided to dump his Glory onto Magda for sweet, sweet horde wide buffs.

Spleen pays all of 7 Glory towards the Harvester's Grim Duty ritual

With that out of the way, down to business, first he acquired a needle from somewhere, best not to ask with Spleen, and then he pulled some spare thread from his head scarf. "Spleen can stitch his own wounds thank you very much."

Spleen performs first aid on himself, 1d100 = 56

Yey, a decent-ish roll!


With what ever amount of horrible botched job he may have done to himself, that just leaves the matter of Grimper story time, it's always nice to hear Grimper talk about things that aren't directly insulting, belittling, berating or otherwise doing violence to them directly, and instead are those things about other people instead.

"Spleen also wishes to know more about the Ritual of the Nail sir, it looks pretty hard-arse magic to Spleen."

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

Hello, yes! Is being very good day for posting, no?


Noggins
Skill: Carpentry
HP: 3
Glory: 9->10

Noggins had trouble sleeping that night. A combination of excitement for her new acquisition and fear from seeing the Ritual of the Nail kept her up and full of a frantic energy. She’d checked her own body twice for any sign of the same stigma that the citizens of Fostis now bore, and part of her wanted to check again. The whole thing felt… wrong. She understood that it was necessary, that they needed Fostis’s full support in this campaign, and that there just wasn’t time to win their hearts and minds the old fashioned way, especially with the way they reacted when asked to join voluntarily, but… that wasn’t the same thing as being right. But then again, what was the alternative? Sending them off to a prison camp somewhere? Killing them all and bringing in loyal citizens to work the mines? Those really didn’t seem any better.

So to take her mind off of it, Noggins worked. Sheet after sheet of sandpaper was expended, slowly grinding away at her new armor’s rust. It was hard, tedious work, but it was comfortably familiar, wearing away the imperfections to make an improved whole. She wondered how it had gotten to this point in the first place. It had clearly been quite nice armor at one point, and the previous owner had cared for it enough to hold onto it. But then why had it been shut away like it was? Why were pieces missing? Why had it been allowed to rust? Did it’s owner just not appreciate the importance of maintenance? Even the hardest wood would rot eventually, if you didn’t treat it properly, and the same went for anything else.

The rust all removed, she retrieved a rag and a small pot of polish from the supply wagons, and on the way her attention was caught by Gado, frantically digging to save his life. And… was that Shiny? Why was she digging? Grimper hadn’t assigned her to be punished, and if he found someone helping Gado out… Noggins watched them for a while, thinking, and then walked off. No, too many people digging would attract attention, and she wasn’t any good at it in the first place. Instead, she tracked down Flitter, and pressed a small box into the Butterfly Rider’s hands.

“This is Flutter. I don’t know how to take care of him and you do, so… it’s better that he’s in your hands. I know Stårn has Flutter’s old skillcore, but… I think he’s going to be too busy with other things to give Flitter the time he’ll need. Take care of yourself, okay?” Not waiting for a response, Noggins headed back to her workspot and got to polishing, eventually falling asleep draped over the cuirass. She had trouble putting into words why, but she felt a lot better about things now.

When morning came, she gathered up her now-gleaming armor, and headed back to the supply carts. When she’d been building the stick ogres, she’d noticed a huge oak log in among the wood supply. She’d originally planned for that to be the core of Stick-Grimper, but had run out of time to implement that particular masterpiece. All of the stories of the past battle had given her another idea, though, and she set to work, getting other to help her pull it out, then stripping the bark from the log and laying out marks on it. There would need to be holes for handles here, and here, and holes drilled the hole way through for the chains, and a canopy to protect the siegers…

“Hey Stårn! Give me a hand, here! I don’t think Mason’s head is going to hold up to an actual gate!”

Building a Battering Ram: 1d100+19 40


((As a note, if any new characters want to have been part of the Battle of Stick Ogre Hill, feel free, I'll go along with it! Also, voting Skillcores for storytime))

The Lord of Hats fucked around with this message at 19:32 on Oct 12, 2017

Kyyp
Jan 14, 2007


Name: Doc
HP: 3
Glory: 6
Skill: Surgery

Doc realizes she has yet to actually do her job. Better get on that.

Medicine. Time for Surgery: 1d100+16 = 58

Well. Coulda been better. Probably should have made sure to have actual tools to use. Turns out surgery is a little messy when you do it with your bare hands. Who knew? They'll be fine. Probably.

Doc is spending 5 glory on a shiny new Weapon. Some kind of multi-purpose surgery tool.

Orokos please. Last three rolls have been 57, 56, and 58. At least give me some variety in the bad rolls.

Magnusth
Sep 25, 2014

Hello, Creature! Do You Despise Goat Hating Fascists? So Do We! Join Us at Paradise Lost!




HP: 3

Glory: 4->0

Flitter cursed her luck at being unable to find anything, and spend the rest of the day and the day after in a sour mood. All she needed was a Giant Venemous Butterfly, and she could show her true skills, her true glory, but at every turn, she was thwarted. But as she sat in camp, sour-faced and snarling at anyone who came near, staring into a fire and cursing herself, a miracle happened, or at least it seemed so to Flitter. Noggins came over and, asking nothing in return. gave her the chrysalis. The chrysalis! Flitter was stunned for a moment, and before she could reply and promise to repay her, Noggins was gone. The rest of the night, flitter sat in front of the fire, slowly, carefully, deliberately feeding her glory into the thing.

The next day, when Noggins was working on a battering ram, Flitter came over and, without saying anything, but with a look of gratitude, began helping her with the work.

Helping noggins, my new best friend.: 1d100 32

Infinity Gaia
Feb 27, 2011

a storm is coming...


HP: 3
Glory:7->8

Biggo was pretty surprised at the whole Ritual of the Nail. Not due to the magic, but due to the use of a hammer. He figured Grimper was strong enough to just punch nails into things, even if it was his own skin. Biggo idly wondered if the hammer was part of the magic too, and how disappointing it'd be if it was. The actual effects of the ritual had completely eluded his grasp, so focused he was on the actual act of hammering nails into things.

Back in camp, Biggo took a position as a "cook" once more. Though he seemed content to just tenderize meat with his fists again. Whether he was aware of the actual effects of this on a meal or not is very unclear, it was equally likely he was just using it as an excuse to keep punching things even during his downtime, seeing as no one seemed to want to freestyle armwrestle him anymore. He didn't seem very bothered by it, but then again, Biggo's expression is just somewhat blank all the time.

Cooking, trying to get Lowest Roll Rerolls: 1d100+18 = 81

Well, regardless of his reasons, it was unlikely any other Horde could eat meat as tender as The Unexpectables could. Having temporarily relieved his desire to punch things, Biggo dumped the whole pile of meat into the stew Gob was cooking as his mind turned back to the Ritual of the Nail, and it's use of hammers and not fists. Nothing more he could do, he'd just have to ask the General about The Ritual of the Nail and hope he happened to talk about it rather than about whatever boring magical effect it was actually causing.

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

Hello, yes! Is being very good day for posting, no?
E: Quote is not Edit.

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

Edited my post to donate another glory to Harvester. We should be at 40 if my count is right.

e: and a pickaxe

super sweet best pal fucked around with this message at 22:19 on Oct 12, 2017

Theantero
Nov 6, 2011

...We danced the Mamushka while Nero fiddled, we danced the Mamushka at Waterloo. We danced the Mamushka for Jack the Ripper, and now, Fester Addams, this Mamushka is for you....


Name: Stårn
Additional skills: Butterfly Beastmaster
HP: 3
Glory: 9 -> 10

Haha! Yes! This was exactly what he wanted! Something to throw from his catapult to truly make a difference! Sure, it was maybe not the biggest rock, but it was definitely the biggest bomb. And that wasn't something Stårn could really complain about, now was it? Indeed, he doubted his day could even get any better.

The Lord of Hats posted:

“Hey Stårn! Give me a hand, here! I don’t think Mason’s head is going to hold up to an actual gate!”

Ohh, but it COULD! Indeed, he was blessed among the people of Tö, to have such good fortunes. He sauntered over to Noggins, and inspected her work, casting an appraising eye upon it. "It is good work", he finally said, "But it could be even better with THIS!" he excitedly exclaimed as he withdrew his hunk of Orichalcum.

"If we fashion the head of the ram out of Orichalcum, we can take advantage of its properties! It will be light and easy for us to slowly lift up, but it will become MASSIVE as we left go of the ram and let it pick up speed to crash whatever we are crashing! Indeed, for the purposes of CLOSE RANGE SIEGING, it is an ideal material!"

Siege Weaponing to help design Battering Ram, also adding ORICHALCUM to the ram part!: 1d100+19=102

Mithross
Apr 27, 2011

Intelligent and bright, they explored a world that was new and strange to them. They liked it, they thought - a whole world just for them! They were dimly aware that a God had created them, was watching them; they called out to him, thanking him in a chittering language, before running off.

Name: Patsy
Skill: Baking
HP: 3
Glory: 8

After being quite afraid to go into town scavenging (both by the prospects of being caught alone and the thought of being depressed looking at the defeated enemy), Patsy instead headed back to camp early and tried yet again to regain his composure. He wasn't feeling very glorious at the moment, honestly. So he donated a chunk of his ephemeral something to Magda, hoping to at least help his fellow horde mates.

4 glory to Harvester

Afterwords, he settled in to do what he did every night, the one thing he enjoyed about being in the Unexpectables. Cooking for a bunch of grateful starving bastards and their friends.

Cooking for two effects: Do not consume rations, Reroll lowest roll 1d100+14 = 109 (Patsy only rolls well at one thing apparently, but that's ok, it fits his character)

Patsy looked around at his evenings work and heaved a sigh of relief. He might not be good at combat himself, but he was getting the hang of these rations. Someone had even come up and told Patsy that, during the battle, he'd gotten a surge of energy he'd never felt with the old food, and it had saved him from a bad turn. For maybe the first time since becoming an Unexpectable, Patsy felt a moment of actual happiness.

Mithross fucked around with this message at 20:54 on Oct 12, 2017

Task Manager
Sep 5, 2008

A weird time in which we are alive. We can travel anywhere we want, even to other planets. And for what? To sit day after day, declining in morale and hope.

Mithross posted:

(did anyone actually use the ration bonus last time? is that something you do automatically DK? going to edit in exactly what I'm doing with cooking once I'm sure we're actually using the buffs)

Seconded - I have no idea if we're supposed to decide to use rations on our own, if DK uses them for us depending on who has the highest/lowest overall roll, or if they get used in some other way or not.

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.

Mithross posted:

(did anyone actually use the ration bonus last time? is that something you do automatically DK? going to edit in exactly what I'm doing with cooking once I'm sure we're actually using the buffs)

Yes, I do it automatically! It triggered in the first phase of the conflict, turning a Mook's 2 to a 53. In the future, I can flag when such events happen, if you want!

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Mithross
Apr 27, 2011

Intelligent and bright, they explored a world that was new and strange to them. They liked it, they thought - a whole world just for them! They were dimly aware that a God had created them, was watching them; they called out to him, thanking him in a chittering language, before running off.

Dog Kisser posted:

Yes, I do it automatically! It triggered in the first phase of the conflict, turning a Mook's 2 to a 53. In the future, I can flag when such events happen, if you want!

That would be nice, yes. I just wanted to make sure we were getting a use out of the buffs before I risked rations on them, but it will be cool to see exactly what it's doing.

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