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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.

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!

Yes please! Not because I think we need to keep tabs on you, but it'll be fun to read about failure getting turned around to success via the bread, especially if it's a PC.

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Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum
I think the lowest roll by an active player character in the second Fostis round was Mason - and we all know how that turned out!


:buddy:

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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

Task Manager posted:

Yes please! Not because I think we need to keep tabs on you, but it'll be fun to read about failure getting turned around to success via the bread, especially if it's a PC.

Alright, will do! I probably would have done so had it been a player, but it's probably a good practice regardless!

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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

Grimper occupied two entire benches in one of Fostis’ several bars, a goodly pile of glasses and bottles before him. The bartender served him another platter, face wooden, a curious quirk of his lips tugging his face into a grimace as he did so. He twitched, clutching at his side, then went back to tending bar as though nothing had ever happened.

Grimper, through his misery, slowly became aware of a crowd of inquisitive faces growing around him. He caught mutterings of Nail Rituals and questions flickeringq back and forth between his men. Didn't they teach these layabouts anything!? He cleared his throat and spat on a nearby Fröman, knocking her off her feet.

“Alright, alright. I'll fill you in on the finer details of the raw power of the Nail, if only to disabuse you of your extremely wrongheaded ideas regarding its nature. No, it's not hypnosis. Hypnosis is a parlor trick for - and by - idiots. No, Nails work like nails do: by fastening two things that would rather have remained apart. You saw my Nails, yes, got a good look? Those are from years of fighting; some from our side to bind ideals and valors to my very flesh… and some from the enemy, Nailing terror and command into me. Those Nails are still there, but now inert, because I killed the Smith that made them. Strangled the life out of her even as I blubbered and wept and dreamed I was killing my mother. When she breathed her last, I saw her foul crimson face for what it truly was, and I tore her Skillcore out and crushed it, so that no PART OF HER WOULD SURVIVE IN THIS SHITHOLE EXISTENCE!

The Horde had stepped back several paces, because his hands were shouldering where they lay flat on the table, and the power pouring from his crown had risen to lick against the wooden ceiling. The planks didn't burn, because it wasn't fire, they just… twisted. Warped as though under a pressure that bent them but refused to let them break - and then it was gone, and the Warlord grew calm once more.

“Anyhow. Nail Rituals. You need a big group, the bigger the better, to witness and participate. You acted as a boundary circle for the ritual, holding it in and focusing it into our targets. The Nails sunk into their bodies and mine are paired now, binding their wills under mine. If I remove it…” he patted his side, eliciting a shiver from each Nailed Fostisian, “... They die. Instantly, painlessly. I'd rather it was painfully, but the instantaneous nature of it somewhat precludes extended pain. At any rate, this is not the norm for Nails - generally they cannot be removed once inserted. The power bound to you is yours forever after, whether or not you deserve it. Regardless, you'll know this first hand soon enough. Magda has told me preparations for our first Ritual is almost complete… well done.”

He suddenly looked sick, either powerfully regretting his complement or something he drank. Then he turned away, waving the Unexpectables away with a casual wave that they knew would turn violent if they lingered. They didn't.

Cloud Potato
Jan 9, 2011

"I'm... happy!"

Name: Hat
Skill: Millinery
HP: 3/3
Equipment: Leather Armour (+1)
Glory: 8

Hat watched Noggins come out of a home near the Craftsman's quarters with something bulky under her arm and a wide grin on her face. At least someone's found something worthwhile, she thought. The hat shop she was in had plenty of fabric and small pins and thread and stuff to replenish her work-bag, and a few coins of the local currency, but nothing really suitable for army life. The miner's helmets must be constructed, or stored, nearer the mine.

Folding the bag closed, Hat left the shop and headed for the camp, for some ritual. She saw a few Fröan stragglers be frog-marched ahead of her; and a few Töans, too. Looking around she realised that she must be passing through what passed for Fostis's Töantown; a street or two where the population had happened to congregate, allowing a few entrepeneurs to set up small businesses catering to the Töans with delicacies and memories of home. Why, there was even a classic Töan pub! It looked like the place had been named The Queen's Head, with a lovely portrait of Queen Reina on the sign, but some gutter-snipe had graffiti'd the sign with crosses over the Queen's eyes and re-named the establishment The Queen's Dead. The handful of local coins were burning a hole in Hat's pocket; maybe, once whatever this meeting was about was over, she could sneak away for a pint of something cold and a (reasonably) soft bed.

And then, the Ritual.

No wonder Grimper needed Magda. Surely this was the reason for their first battle; to enslave the enemy, to turn their labour towards our ends. And the number of nails- sorry, Nails- in Grimper's body! How many people did he control in this way? Was there a nail somewhere on Hat's body, an unseen lump of metal forcing her to fight for her Queen and country? Would the Nail's strange magic even allow her to perceive it on her body, or was hiding it from the victim all part of the charm?

Luckily, others were having similar thoughts, and the Horde followed Grimper to a pub (Was it the one Hat had seen earlier? She wasn't sure; the Ritual having delayed the town's street-lighters from their work) and he explained further. How he'd killed a Fröan Smith, even while under her spell. The sheer amount of willpower that must have taken... Hat turned around on her stool and tried to catch the barmaid's eye. Another drink was desperately needed.

As the alcohol started to flow, Hat struck up a conversation with one of the locals brave/addicted enough to stay in the bar with the occupying army's chieftain. She decided to follow Bully and Splut's example from earlier, and hoped the barfly's booze-addled mind (and brand new Nail) might make him more forthcoming with local knowledge.

Asking the barfly for information: 1d100+8 104 :cheers:

Edit: minor grammar fixes.

Cloud Potato fucked around with this message at 00:40 on Oct 13, 2017

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum

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

Fostis, After-Hours (part 2): Moments after the General had swept out of the bar, Gawp sat back in his barstool and belched. Gawp had been lapping hungrily at the froth from the bottom of his mug, and now he was feeling quite full. After a heady cup or three of this delicious Fostisian Mountain Ale, Gawp was already feeling incredibly light-headed. Maybe it was the altitude, maybe it was the silty, hoppy flavor that reminded him of his childhood growing up in the mining hills... in truth, Gawp was still reeling from his terrifying encounter with the great General Grimper.

He felt like he could use another drink, but by the time he got to the front of the line the taps had already been drained. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, at least!

On his way back to his tent Gawp moseyed by Magda's shop, making sure to glance at the Iron Ingot that the Nailsmith kept her Glory tallies on. One of their Rituals was only eight tokens away...

What would be best for the horde?
What would Grimper want?

He places eight precious Glory tokens in the slot of the receptacle marked Harvester's Grim Duty and walks off, too drunk from his selfless act of charity to notice that the Quartermaster had just taken up a stock of Gawp's new most favorite beer.

:siren:Harvester's Grim Duty: 50/50:siren:

E: there was a miscount vvv

Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 02:48 on Oct 18, 2017

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.

Prince of Space posted:


:black101:Harvester's Grim Duty: 43/50:black101:

actually it's 48/50 unless I miscounted, we just need two more

Bee Bonk
Feb 19, 2011


Skill: Amputation
HP: 3
Glory 6

Cloistered with a battered pewter mug of appalingly watery ale at an unappealingly sticky table in an the least objectionable drinking establishment she could afford, Qwäg stared at her hands with grim fascination and no small degree of nausea. Now fully assimilated, her new Skillcore had granted her disturbing visions of her own anatomical structure and those of others. Every time she moved her fingers, she was intimately aware of the gliding of her phalanges, and the proper leverage needed to disarticulate them. The awareness was disquieting, but Qwäg saw how it might come in handy...the enemy fallen were already being harvested for their precious Skills; why not take it step farther? Already, she was beginning to scribble notes about points of articulation and potential risk factors of additional limbs on a bar napkin.

Later, feeling resolved, if queasier, Qwäg stepped out into the night and immediately began picking through rubble and shaking down scavengers. A good knife would demand resources best spent elsewhere, but her newfound amputationary acumen left her with no doubts that the proper gauge of wire could saw through flesh and bone more cleanly than any knife. Now where was Gawp and all those special eyes of his when you needed them...

Scrounging for a coil of slicin' wire!: 1d100 50

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

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


Noggins
Skill: Carpentry
HP: 3
Glory: 10

Noggins stared at her scrounged bottle of wine. She'd gone back into Fostis to hear Grimper talk, but between learning about the nails, and the watchful gazes of the people of Fostis, she hadn't stayed for very long. Nails. Why did they bother her so much? She worked with nails all the time, she was a carpenter for Tö's sake! It wasn't like she hadn't accidentally jabbed herself with them a bunch of times as a child. It wasn't like it would it could hurt any worse than she'd felt in the past! So why?

She took a sip. It was pretty good, all things considered, and it relaxed her just a little bit. The rituals weren't all the same. She wasn't about to lose her free will, or die suddenly when somebody pulled out a nail, or... who knows. It was just going to be like getting a little extra luck! Yeah, that was it, a good luck charm, Like a 6-leaf clover. Or even better, it would be like a pact of camaraderie with the rest of the Horde. Yeah! Yeah, it wouldn't be so bad. And in a way, it was only fair--if she was going to make Fostis get Nails, well, she couldn't just back down, especially when it was going to help her, and... and.. put them at risk. Yeah. She'd done that to them. She'd put them in danger. So now she had to help protect them. And that would take everything she had to give. No holding back. Just like the stories.

Noggins watched Gawp emerge from Magda's wagon, looking just a little... duller? Smaller? Just... slightly less than he was when he went in, smiling, despite this. And smoke was starting to rise from Magda's forge...

Noggins took a swig and then corked the bottle. Nerves or no, she wasn't about to let herself wind up like Dov--like Grimper. No, she could will herself through this. She had to.

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

Mithross posted:

actually it's 48/50 unless I miscounted, we just need two more

What's the exact count? Are we at 48, or did Prince of Space bump it up to 50?

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.
E: All of this was a lie, I didn't miscount but DK apparently did!

Mithross fucked around with this message at 06:53 on Oct 13, 2017

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum

CourValant posted:

What's the exact count? Are we at 48, or did Prince of Space bump it up to 50?

In the last downtime, 28 Glory was spent total among the horde. Two people purchased items (at 5 Glory each), however, so only 18 Glory was actually put toward the Harvester's Grim Duty (rather than 23 or 28 like it was previously thought).

This round (thus far), 8 Glory has gone to Luck's Fickle Gaze, and 32 went to the Harvester's Grim Duty. 18+32=50 ~!


(Look, Gawp really wants to make sure that there's no Corrupt Ritual.)

The next time you're looting a Skillcore for yourself, think about all the soldiers with less Glory than you that made all this possible! :wave:

Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 21:48 on Oct 13, 2017

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.

Prince of Space posted:

In the last downtime, 28 Glory was spent total among the horde. Two people purchased items (at 5 Glory each), however, so only 18 Glory was actually put toward the Harvester's Grim Duty (rather than 23 or 28 like it was previously thought).

This round (thus far), 7 Glory has gone to Luck's Fickle Gaze, and 32 went to the Harvester's Grim Duty. 18+32=50 ~!


(Look, Gawp really wants to make sure that there's no Corrupt Ritual.)

The next time you're looting a Skillcore for yourself, think about all the soldiers with less Glory than you that made all this possible!

You are correct, Dog Kisser's count was wrong, unless we got bonus glory to the ritual is should be at 18, and we are at 50/50. I was just counting from his last post because I trusted him.

i won't make that mistake again! I will make that mistake again

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

Mithross posted:

I did not miscount, before the edit we were at 48/50 and we are now at 55/50.

Thanks.

Prince of Space posted:

The next time you're looting a Skillcore for yourself, think about all the soldiers with less Glory than you that made all this possible! :wave:

Yes, which was was why I asked; if we were missing 2, I was going to top off the buy.

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum

Mithross posted:

i won't make that mistake again! I will make that mistake again

I should have clarified and told somebody what the original numbers hiccup was rather than just blindly slapping down coins on the table and saying "the bill's been paid!"

CourValant posted:

Yes, which was was why I asked; if we were missing 2, I was going to top off the buy.

Thank you for your service :zpatriot: but the deed is already done.

HOWEVER, if you're really feeling generous:

Dog Kisser posted:

Downtime
In between fights, and particularly after victories, the Horde will take downtime. During this period, Glory can be exchanged, healing and repairs can be performed, and punishments carried out.

:tipshat:

Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 09:43 on Oct 13, 2017

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.
Always err on assuming I am wrong, particularly when it comes to counting!

WereGoat
Apr 28, 2017



Name: Hob
HP: 3
Glory: 6>7
Skill: Bee keeping, Contortion

Hob stirred the pot, keeping it ready for the morning, preventing the meat from sticking to the pan.

Stir Stir.

It was late, the darkness of the night illuminated only by the cooking fire. Everyone else was asleep, curled up in blankets or huddled together.

This wasn't on, what if they were attacked?
Almost as soon as thinking this Hob's eyes darted to a shape in the firelight, movement in the shadows!

Another Töan, come to help with the watch. To stand guard over the sleepers.

They looked... dirty. Covered in soil. They sat across from Hob, a familiar shape, a face he recognised. Who was that again? He was sure it rang a bell. It looked an awful lot like

Flutter.

Hob stood to scream, but the air caught in his throat. Flutter looked across the fire, his split face grinning. The grin widened, and widened, until his face separated completely at the seam, revealing sharp glistening teeth and two horrible slimy tongues. A terrifying maw. Hundreds of winking eyes opened across its body.



Wendigo

Flutter's limbs elongated as he- no IT, IT wasn't Flutter anymore- stepped towards Hob. Feet twisting into animalistic claws. The cooking pot spilled over the ground, and Töan body parts spilling from the pot. Hob stared transfixed in horror as his friends crawled out of the boiling liquid. The cooked faces cried out in despair as they grew tiny skittering legs, warped into mini Wendigoes. The Wendigo stepped through them, through the fire, now massive, towering above HOB. Arms stretching as a massive barbed hand reached towards him. The horrible mouth opened, ready to devour him. Hob's legs were still jelly like, not responding. Time slowed. No escape. The Wendigo's massive hand reaches forward, grips him and

Hob screamed as Patsy shook him awake, drawing some irritated looks. Hob's eyes slowly moved to where the Wendgo stood. Nothing. To the cookign pot. Nothing. Magda's voice could be heard in the distance, summoning them all for the ritual, for the Harvester's Grim Duty.

With a sigh of relief and a shudder, he gathered his wits. After a few moments of shivering, he stood up from where he had been sleeping, and walked towards Magda's caravan, joining the rest making their way.

But not before loking over his shoulder. Just in case.

WereGoat fucked around with this message at 11:34 on Oct 13, 2017

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer

Skill: Sleuthing (used)
HP: 3
Glory: 4 ----> 2 ----> 0 ----> 1

Humbug had witnessed the spectacle of Fostis' Nail conversion with the expected amount of shock and fear - but soon his expression grew serious and intense, as he began to think hard on its implications. The sleuth wasn't surprised that the Warlord was using something like the Ritual of the Nail to shore up his rule, especially as the populace had not been tricked to heel. Getting his hands on Magda must have been a part of that plan in the first place - and not having to pull the trump card this early was just something the Warlord had hoped to achieve with his initial suggestion for a battleplan. Gado was being punished for being instrumental in that plan's failure, which indicated the level to which this had disappointed Grimper.

The real worrier, however, was that it was possible to Nail a whole town to your command. Humbug knew about the Ritual of the Nail, vaguely. He'd never been subject to it (that he knew) nor had he witnessed it. But now that he had... several ideas were starting to crystallize, like budding skillcores, in his mind.

The sleuth paced back and forth inside the limits of the Töan camp, pondering deeply at having caught the fresh scent of mystery. Despite all of the (surely completely factual) stories he'd heard of Warlords - despite all he'd seen of them in the capital, commanding presences one and all, legends truly... he had not considered that the Ritual could be used in such a way. Now, ever since he had watched the retreating backs of the Fostis citizens, he could not help but compare them to the cool reception he'd received at the palace when he'd gone up to volunteer his efforts as a patriotic sleuth. Blank stares, odd behaviour, the refusal to even offer the merest hint of what had happened... was the Ritual of the Nail the source of this reticence?

Well, as he had learned today, a skilled Nailsmith could be the How of it. Any influential Warlord - or Tö of sufficient influence - might qualify as the Who. But why would anyone on the side of Tö want to Nail most of the palace staff? Was he perhaps just barking up the wrong tree? Humbug hummed to himself. He still knew too little about the events of the palace during the day of Beloved Queen Reina's murder - but the trail had long gone cold. Even though the Big Question of Whodunnit still bothered him, it wasn't as if he could gather any new clues on that event here and now.

Or could he?

Humbug looked around eagerly. Had there not been volunteer conscripts with loose ties to the Queen's palace? He could think of two - Portha, who'd voiced anger about something involving the palace, and Bamboo, one of the Queen's charity cases, an unfortunate girl with a speech impediment, a mild hint of monsterism and an extreme case of suddenly being good at punch-murder. Humbug surreptitiously started to take stock of the camp. Grimper, he knew, was getting an early start on drinking in town and Magda was busy with her Nailed help - enough Töans had donated glory to start a new nail ritual, finally.

Essentially, if he wanted to start a personal project without much in the way of scrutiny, now was his chance. Feeling like he was back on the trail of something big, the detective set forth to do some interviews.

------

"Hmm."

Humbug wasn't having much luck. Portha was busy cleaning wounds and bandages - not the best thing to interrupt, nor the best place to do sensitive questioning. Considering what had happened after his first foray into investigating the Queen's murder, he wanted to keep this as low-key as possible to avoid any danger of ending up with a future Nail in his head. He wandered on and saw Bamboo scrubbing her hands raw into blood-murky waters... it was probably not a good time to speak to her either. For lack of anything else to do, Humbug kept walking and looking at the residents of the camp - hopefully he could double back and meet with one of his interview subjects later.

"Hmmm."

While he strolled through the camp he saw Klörf make his way to town, bundles of firewood in hand and an eager look on his face - and not long after smoke flowed from the chimney of an abandoned smithy. He saw Noggins, Flitter and Stårn begin to lay down plans for using a piece of rare metal Stårn had looted to create a battering ram. He saw Magda glare bloody murder at a nail bent crooked and wrong, before she threw it into the same pile of discards that she'd created in crafting the first Ritual Nails - evidently it was all trash to her now.

"Hmmmm."

Continuing the circuit of the camp, he saw Hob, exhausted from cooking, doze uneasily, troubled by night terrors. He saw Shiny tip-toeing over to Gado's punishment spot with that 'I'm so clever and determined to do what I want' look she tended to get moments before she got herself in trouble. Somehow he both disapproved and approved of her explicit assitance to the Digger - just as Gado both deserved and did not deserve his punishment for failing. Fortunately for her, Humbug was no longer of the Watch and was no longer obliged to report on her.

When he finally returned after a pass through the camp, impatient to make the best use of his time, he found Portha and Bamboo to still be at it. Still busy being useful and not-so-useful. Annoyed, he did a second circuit of the camp, saw other Töans get up to looting or cooking or dozing or talking - with much the same end result. Portha and Bamboo were still busy - not surprising, as it hardly took ten minutes to cross the camp. Belatedly he realized that he'd fallen into an old Watch pattern, that of simply going around in circles and waiting for something to happen.

"HMMM!"

With aggravating disappointment Humbug saw that he wasn't going to get any interviews done tonight. The Horde was still reeling from their first almost-lost battle and Grimper's Ritual of the Nail - and would be dealing with a new Ritual soon enough. In frustration he gripped his hands tightly around the pick-axe he'd picked up from Mayor Bello - it was clearly handy in a fight, and right now he felt like hitting something. The sleuth glanced back at Bamboo, still pointlesslty scrubbing. He'd considered handing the pick to her in exchange for the interview as the forgotten spoils of her victory, but a) she'd failed to pluck it up in the first place and b) in her current state he probably should not remind her of the man she'd furiously punched to death, lest he quickly follow in that one's footsteps. So he simply stood still, watching her scrub her hands over and over, one washing the other raw, rinse and repeat.

Whatever she was trying to clean just wouldn't come off, it seemed.

".... hm."

Perhaps, instead of going in circles, he should be forming circles. A good sleuth was nothing without a network of informants and favors to rely on.

-----------------

Humbug hummed loudly as he jogged up to Gado's Punishment zone. With Shiny's help, two holes were already on their way, but the sleuth wasn't here to drag her back or offer any kind of scorn. His scorn appeared reserved for Gado, as when he trotted over to the first of the pits - a shallow affair yet - he shook his fist at the occupant.

"Hey Gado! I've got a bone tö pick for you! How dare you fail us with your digging disaster! You better not fail again! You buffon! You maroon!" he shouted, with theatrical bombast and flung something through the dark at the poor Digger.

*CLUNK*

----> "BONE TÖ" PICK TRANSFERRED TO GADO



From the sound of it, whatever he'd thrown missed, but that didn't seem to dissuade his haranguing, which kept up for another minute, and, really, perhaps deservedly so, probably. At least a good haranguing, even a fake one, got some of that frustration off his chest. While he was at it, he looked down into the second pit and winked at Shiny. Always trouble, that one - though he hoped she wouldn't end up getting caught. She really was one of the Good Ones, even if she was a foolish and impulsive magpie of a girl. It was too bad stealing was stealing, for as a member of the Watch he'd brought her in time and again for her trifles.

"And that mole never even loved you anyway!"

With one finally humdinger of an insult, the sleuth stalked off into the night.

-------------------------------

Was it really stealing if what he was taking was already essentially base trash? It was a question he'd wondered many times, apprehending that slip of a girl. It was a question he asked himself now too, as he walked up to Magda, grinned at her and held up two fingers.

----> 2 Glory given to Luck’s Fickle Gaze Ritual

"Brilliant Magda! Pardon the lateness, here's a couple for you - we'll be givin' you even more work soon enough, I'd say!" he said, jolly voice shouted over the sound of iron striking iron. Glaring at him for interrupting her work with such a measly sum, the Nailsmith turned to inscribe two more lines on one of the metal bars, half an eye still on her work. Humbug used the distraction to bend down and scoop up a bunch of her bent, discarded Nails in a piece of cloth. He hadn't been sure if the Nailsmith would care or not, and so he didn't bother asking, and only took a handful to keep the 'theft' less obvious. With the care of someone who'd thought about it, he made doubly sure he didn't stick himself on any of them, or who knew what would happen!

Shiny would have been proud.

--------------------------------

At Klörf's borrowed smithy, Humbug knocked and then bustled his way in before anyone could even answer.

"Lad! I found you some spare iron. Careful - it's probably cursed, haha!"

He laughed at his own joke, then immediately stopped, realizing that he should probably impress the potential danger of the items on Klörf. Klörf wasn't dim, oh no, in fact he tended to be incredibly bright, and not just because of all the fires. But the lad had a bit of a one-track mind, so looking around conspiratorially, the sleuth leaned forward to whisper at the boy.

"I'm actually serious. This pile of Fail Nails might be as 'wrong' as a red-blooded Fröman. You don't have to use them in the making of anything - I'll take 'em and pass 'em back into the Nailsmith's discards maybe - but if you do, perhaps - just perhaps - some of that Ritual stuff Magda's tried to infuse in them will stick. It's probably gonna be off in some way, but who knows? Might get someone somethin' good. Or bad. Guess it'll depend. Like I said, your choice, lad."

He then snapped his fingers, remembering what he'd seen on his circuit through camp.

"Oh, and I think Stårn and some of the others are making a ram out of some rare ore. Maybe they'll want a little help with that?"

-------------------------------

Humbug trotted up.

"Ho Stårn! Guess what! If your Ram needs custom metal, Klörf's been heating up a smithy! By the by, what's your opinion on Fail Nails? As catapult ammo?"

After receiving his answer, Humbug trotted off.

------------------------------

Huffing and puffing, and having finally built up the courage, Humbug jogged up to where Bamboo was still rubbing her hands raw. Meeting her surprised gaze with his own, he took her by the shoulders and practically shouted in her face.

"FAMILY. WOULD. NOT. WANT."

The detective's tone was huffed and terse, but free of mockery as he plucked the purple-dyed washbasin out of Bamboo's hands - hoping she would not react agressively to his breaking of the spell - and started on the spiel he'd mentally practiced while running from Tö to Tö.

"You did nothing Wrong, 'boo. War is war. War does not ask 'Right' or 'Wrong', only what must be done, and that you do it. But it's 'Right' that if you weren't there to take out the Mayor. He would have had the townsfolk resist us harder. More Frömen and Töans would have fallen. The Horde would have suffered. Our mission would have suffered. Grimper would have been in a fouler mood and - I promise you - more Tö than Gado would be getting Punished for their failures. Which, and never tell Grimper I told you this, would have been 'Wrong'."

He reached out and took a careful hold of one of Bamboo's hands.

"Horde's in your debt. Here. For being what we needed."

----> 2 Glory given to Bamboo

Humbug hum-phed, feeling slighty sick at giving up the rest of his hard-earned glory. He let go of Bamboo's hand and grimaced at the redness left on his own.

"Now go have those looked at. A good basket-weaver like you shouldn't be ruining her hands! Do it for the Queen, bless her memory!"

Networking: 1d100 73

TL;DR: Humbug is doing a ton of different things and booster actions, any of which might succeed, fail or backfire in interesting ways, pending on player and GM response, in an attempt to make friends and connections.

(We'll all be dead by the next update, so haha, joke's on him.)

Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at 21:59 on Oct 13, 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

Now what was this? Someone was calling his name??? Why were they bothering him, couldn't they see he was VERY BUSY with HIGHLY IMPORTANT siege related work! What could possibly be so pressing that they needed to-


Scribbleykins posted:

Humbug trotted up.

"Ho Stårn! Guess what! If your Ram needs custom metal, Klörf's been heating up a smithy! By the by, what's your opinion on Fail Nails? As catapult ammo?"

Ohhh! That was an important question. His expert opinion on sieging and siege related accessories was required!

"Hmm", Stårn exclaimed thoughtfully, hand on his chin, "The fail nails are made of iron which is heavy and dense, and thus imparts a large Pain Quotient on anyone it is dropped on. In addition, nails are pointy and being pointy means they hurt. Thus the fail nails already possess not one but TWO qualities of exceptional siege ammunition. Yes, I would say that they're an obviously good choice for such a use."

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?


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

Bamboo looked on without attachment as Humbug took the bucket away from her and practically shouted into her face.

He spoke for some time, though she couldn’t really make out what he said; she really wasn’t in a listening mood, and, she had already tuned out the Horde for the night.

Finally, Humbug placed 2 Glory into Bamboo’s raw, bleeding hands and closed her fingers around it. He looked at her, seemingly pleading for a response.

It wasn’t long in coming.

Bamboo pushed the 2 Glory back into Humbug.

”Glory. Is. Earned! Baskets. Are. Made!! Bamboo. Not. Horde!!!

With that, she stood up, and walked off into the night.

Scribbleykins posted:

----> 2 Glory given to Bamboo

Appreciate the gesture. However, Bamboo is quite the damaged little Hordling; you’ll see just how much as the story progresses.

fishception
Feb 20, 2011

~carrier has arrived~
Oven Wrangler


Tharbad The Violent

HP: 2/3

Glory: 4

Tharbad was VERY disappointed that there weren't more skulls to crack, especially with his slick new bar, but by the end of the patrol, he had managed to get a big wire wrapped around it! Fantastic! Truly, now his bar would be feared in the hearts of the enemy. But more importantly, he needed more recruits, those willing to rush headlong into GLORIOUS COMBAT without hesitation.

He strode out towards where he heard the sounds of working metal, and found Klorf and Stårn discussing something or other about nails and siege catapults and whatever else YAWN BORING that they were talking about. He thumped the metal bar down on a nearby object to make a noise to attract their attention, before launching into a half-drunk (though he had not drank anything) rant, his weird double-eye spinning confusing circles around in its socket as he rambled.

"WE NEARLY GOT KILLED OUT THERE. We need more people bashing peoples heads in with bars! You make metal, right?!" He pointed at Klorf. "I need more bars for the Töan Bar Association! We need the smashiest bars! The meanest bars! THE ANGRIEST BARS! That way they know we're serious, so when we bash heads, they scream louder than we do!"

During this entire rant, Tharbad was flailing his arms about randomly (as he does), whacking the wire-wrapped bar against a variety of things nearby in his excitement and/or anger, pick one. He then points the bar at Stårn, "Will YOU PICK UP THE BAR?!"

Chances are good he'll just be angry if you refuse. Probably.

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010


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

Tears begin to leak, quickly filling his goggles. Whether Gado is crying because of Humbug's disguised kindness or whether the direct insult over the Mad Mole abandoning him is unclear.

Once Humbug has sleuthed off toward his future endeavours, Gado's vigor is restored. Having gained a bone tö pick with the earth, Gado sets back into the earth like a Tö possessed.

Retroactive +2 to my hole checks I guess :v:! Gonna make this the best murderpick to have ever been Up until I get grimped in the morning.

Murder Pick is officially Just A Weapon, so if Humbug wants to retcon the gift that's cool. I'm not gonna complain about a thematic weapon though.

Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at 01:05 on Oct 14, 2017

DivineCoffeeBinge
Mar 3, 2011

Spider-Man's Amazing Construction Company


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

Shiny can't help but smile, using the cover of Humbug's 'harangue' of Gado to quietly keep digging. For one thing, the detective being all bombastic never ceases to amuse, but for the other... once he's gone, Shiny murmurs sotto voce to the beleaguered (and tearful) Gado. "Us Unexpectables've gotta stick together, right? Ain't no one gonna look out for us but us."

Maybe not even Grimper, she thinks but does not say. Just what is a Warlord of his obvious ability doing out here in the boonies instead of leading a, y'know, real army? Shiny doesn't doubt that he'd throw them all over in a heartbeat if it meant regaining the prestige a Warlord should be entitled to... which means the Horde's best bet for survival is going to be success.

Easier said than done.

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum

The Lord of Hats posted:

Noggins watched Gawp emerge from Magda's wagon, looking just a little... duller? Smaller? Just... slightly less than he was when he went in, smiling, despite this. And smoke was starting to rise from Magda's forge...

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.
Name: Klörf

Skill: Starting fires
HP: 3
Glory: 8->9

Transfixed by the graceful dance of the forge's flickering flames, Klörf sprang to attention when Humbug, his second friend ever waltzed into his temporary abode.

ScribblyKins posted:

"Lad! I found you some spare iron. Careful - it's probably cursed, haha!"

"C-c-cursed?", he stuttered. That certainly didn't sound all that good to him. He was there to witness how warlord Grimper drove a Nail into his very flesh; something that disturbed and somewhat disgusted the young Töan. Klörf could remember the time he accidentally sat on a push pin, and did not wish to imagine how much more painful it would be to hammer an even blunter object into one's own flesh.

On the other hand, it was impossible to deny the ritual's usefulness. If these Fail Nails held even a little bit of power, it could potentially help out the horde in a big way.

"Thanks, Hamburg! Good friend! Klörf will make something useful. Or at least try!"

As his friend the sleuth left the building, Klörf returned to his fire. He'd seek out this Stårn fellow in a few minutes to discuss melting some interesting ore that had been found in the mines, but first he had to refuel his forge. So he grabbed the nearest pile of firewood and raised the flames higher and hotter. Slowly but surely, a thick blanket of warmth spread out over everything in the building and the pyrophiliac's mind became cloudly as smoke.

Several hours later...

Stårn proudly displayed his orichalcum on the wooden table in the center of the room. Its green luster was a sight to behold. Klörf held it aloft in one hand, appraising it with one eye closed and holding a thumb on his chin. Despite looking the part, wearing a smith's apron and all, he really did not know the first thing about metallurgy. Or smithing. Or minerals. Or anything other than how to start a fire, really. But he did not wish to disappoint the siege engineer.

"Yes. Would make good ramming head. No. GREAT ramming head! Will smelt orki-, okich-, uh green rock for you". He was about to place the ore inside of the crucible, when suddenly the building's door violently swung open. There in the doorway stood Tharbad, violently bashing a metal rod on a nearby metal drum. The noise drowned out the conversation Stårn and Klörf were having.

Sperglord Firecock posted:

"WE NEARLY GOT KILLED OUT THERE. We need more people bashing peoples heads in with bars! You make metal, right?!"

The little blue Töan wanted to do nothing more than cower behind the nearest object when Tharbad spoke. He'd seen the man before; there was nothing gentle about him. With a voice filled with anger and a short temper to match, the figure reminded Klörf of his bullies of old. Trying his very best to remain brave, he cleared his voice and spoke in a voice that only barely concealed his freightened state of mind.

"Klörf smith metal, yes", the lie was almost as blatantly obvious as droplets of sweat making their way down his head. "Tharbad like good bar?" He showed the intimidating man a leather pouch, given to him by Humbug. "Magda gave Klörf Nails. Have powerful magic. WIll make magic bar for Tharbad!". He threw them into the crucible with some other bits of scrap metal, and waited for them to smelt.

Humbug's warning echoed in his mind. Maybe the nails contained residual power that could be imbued into other objects. Maybe they were cursed, and working them into a weapon was a bad idea. Klörf considered none of these things. He just didn't want to be on the scary man's bad side. And if he did end up making a horrificly cursed object of unimaginable terror? Well, at least its wielder had his fate coming to him!

Zybourne Clock fucked around with this message at 22:50 on Oct 14, 2017

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

Lovely. As always.

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum

Name: Gawp
HP: 3
Skill: Perception (Cooling)
Equipment: Sharp Stick (+0)
Glory: 3

Fostis, After-Hours (part 3): Despite the deep ache of his legs and the warm bubbly beer still settling in his belly, Gawp was having a hard time getting much sleep. He was tossing and turning in his pup-tent, tormented by strange dreams where he revisited vivid scenes of the day's carnage and bloodshed.

In Gawp's dreams, he was in the town square with the others, watching the face-off against the Mayor and his men. The mayor took a hit square to the jaw and went down and the others followed soon after in the chaos. Grimper appeared to call the fight for the Unexpectables and then suddenly Töans were scrambling everywhere!

In this dream, Gawp looked down and saw that he was no longer Gawp - he was a very important doctor person - a surgeon even! He was performing post-mortem surgery upon the corpse of a fallen comrade using a dull flint knife - one has to be careful, after all, there are precious Skillcores inside! Bonegineering in particular was a rare and infinitely useful skillset in the hands of a capable doctor, to be sure.

As Gawp / Doc worked a cutting tool over the dead tissues of Graxon, there came a sound of barbaric Yelling, distant at first but growing increasingly in volume as though it were coming directly their way. There was no avoiding it; there was no ignoring it. It was primal and fearsome and dangerous, and it was coming from the giant Töan named Cornbread.

Dream-Doc froze in instinctive terror when the figure appeared, yelling his own name with excessive volume. Cornbread stove in Graxon's chest with a sharp rock and drove his huge and messy fist deep inside the cavity of the dead Bonegineer, rummaging around and plucking the Skillcore out like it was nothing but overripe fruit. The Skillcore was Cornbread's now. There was no fighting it.

Blasphemaster posted:

Coooorrrrrnnnnnbrrrrrrreeeeeaaaaad!
Gawp snapped awake. He could still hear the crazed Töan yelling out his own name, again and again...

Echoes of the dreamworld... Gawp thought he was going mad, that he must be experiencing symptoms of Rampant Monsterism, so he started making plans to run into the hills when he glanced outside his pup-tent. Sure enough, this is what he saw across the way:



Hours passed, and Cornbread was still going at it. What could he possibly want?

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

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum
Another moment from the past:

DivineCoffeeBinge posted:

In the end, Shiny cannot refuse this gift. She's just not built for it. But what she can do is provide a gift of her own, and you know what isn't shiny? Flowers aren't shiny. So she scurries up to the Quartermaster, humbly requesting to purchase some provisions - namely, some Cowardclaw. This will be discreetly stuffed into Humbug's pack at some point during the night.


Shiny :h: Humbug

Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 09:52 on Oct 16, 2017

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!
Grimey Drawer

Prince of Space posted:

Another moment from the past:



Shiny :h: Humbug

:allears:

Thank you, Prince, for immortalizing that unexpectedly sweet moment. You’re a credit to this thread!

DivineCoffeeBinge
Mar 3, 2011

Spider-Man's Amazing Construction Company

Prince of Space posted:

Another moment from the past:



Shiny :h: Humbug

:3: :3: :3:

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.
Is everyone cool with me giving Prince of Space some kind of in-game reward here, because drat! I'm leery about what'll happen to balance if I just give him Glory every time he posts something spectacular, but I need to do something!

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

Hello, yes! Is being very good day for posting, no?
I know I'm fine with it. Prince of Space has said that he intends to keep putting that bonus glory into rituals, if that changes your estimation of the effects on balance.

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Loon, Crazy and Laughable

Prince of Space, you're causing glory inflation.

(But yeah ok)

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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

The Lord of Hats posted:

I know I'm fine with it. Prince of Space has said that he intends to keep putting that bonus glory into rituals, if that changes your estimation of the effects on balance.

That actually might not be a bad way of going about it - giving him Ritual Glory-bucks or something that don't improve his character directly but will benefit the Horde by being spent on Rituals only. That'll still 'unbalance' the game but if it's unbalancing it in EVERYONE's favour I'm significantly more cool with it. At any rate, expecting an update today - if I have time, I'll art it, but for this one I'll favour getting it out rather than having it perfect, just so we can keep things moving along.

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
Works for me. Kudos!

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

Dog Kisser posted:

That actually might not be a bad way of going about it - giving him Ritual Glory-bucks or something that don't improve his character directly but will benefit the Horde by being spent on Rituals only.

No problems here, Prince definitely deserves some recognition for the art he's been putting out! :ocelot: :)

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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

The people of Fostis were strangely friendly hosts, for people that were just conquered. Apart from the few particularly strong-willed people that resisted their domination with twitches and spasms and flickering grimaces, the huge majority of the population sank back into their regular routines. After all, no one was attacking them now, and the Unexpectable Horde had no reason to do so, so for all intents and purposes things were back to normal. While the Fostisians did their things, the Horde did their own. Looting, partying, or information gathering were not resisted by the Nailed populace, so until told otherwise the Horde did all three!

---
Healing the wounded was the first priority - while the injuries sustained had been minor all around, there had been many of them. Ringo, Agile, and their group had sustained some damage in their dizzying fall down the cliff face, and Spleen, Tharbad and the other rabble-rouser had sustained some injury as they were taken to prison. All in all, they had a dozen injured Unexpectables and only a third willing to perform medical attention. Portha the Rummager and her crew did their best to take care of all of them...
...and when that didn’t work, they prioritized those who looked worse for the wear...
    Healing = 298 vs 4d100 Wounded = 90
    Ringo, Agile, Spleen and Tharbad - Wounds Fully Healed!
...leaving the others to lick their wounds and manage for now. Töans were tough as hell, after all, and infections were rare except in unusual circumstances. The wounded grumbled and wandered off, but if they wanted to have all their fingers set properly they should have grown a Doctoring Skillcore in their infancy!

(Aha, we have some actual injuries now! We had more injured than we did doctors, and in that situation their combined healing roll is first applied to all injured and then (if that doesn’t work) to a number of injured equal to the number of healers. I will err towards healing PC Horde members (because who cares about Mooks) but may make an exception for badly injured Mooks.)

---
The Horde spent some of their hard earned Glory on equipment; they’d seen one of their own die in actual combat, now, and the fear of a pointless death was rather prominent in their minds. They came and shopped silently, because Magda was grumpy and tired, and any friendly overture towards her - and even pragmatic offers for aid - were met with a cold stare or an open palm slap across the face. But she accepted their Glory and gave them what they paid for, and soon things fell into a kind of rhythm. As long as you didn’t bother her, she did her duty as quartermaster with brisk efficiency.


(Grab your items, ladies and gents. I THINK that's everything needed, but let me know if I missed anything. Doc, that Sharp Knife is for you.)
---
Magda dozed as the Horde came by in their ones and twos with their piddling little stories, their miniscule gobbets of Glory, and mentally tallied up what she needed for her Rituals. Already, she saw the shape of it, the stories and tokens giving her a glimpse of the pattern laying over this Horde. They were fools, and weak besides… but they all began that way, at some point. She herself had been green and soft, once, and now she was… well, now she was her. The last surviving Asskicker, one of the few High Nailsmiths south of the real fighting, and overall tough old broad. She belched herself awake, terrifying one who had come to give tribute. She took it from him then slammed the gates shut on her makeshift forge wagon. She had some Nails prepared for this eventuality, left over from the Nailing of Fostis. They were blank, for now, and it would take a while yet before they were ready to go. She drew out a thick packet of scrolls she'd prepared earlier, inscribed patterns brought to the very cusp of completion in waiting for the last few fragments of Glory. She drew out her Chisel and Burner, sighed, then began to read aloud. Outside her wagon, the sound of her bellows echoed through the night. The Unexpectables steered clear.

---
Snödis the Poet was lost. Well, she'd been trying to get lost, after all. Trying to find the hidden crevices of these mines, trying to find chunks of Sonior down in the depths. She misremembered a tale from her youth, that if you called out for it the Whistling Stone would call back. She wasn't entirely wrong, but she was wrong in the most important ways - and besides, that wasn't why they called it the Whistling Stone. So it could only have been luck that led her to stumble upon some wedged into a narrow pocket of rock, ignored or forgotten by those who must have revealed it.

She broke a large chunk off and made her way back to the surface, confirming - incorrectly - for herself that Sonior would listen to those who called it. The tunnels fell silent when she left.

---
When Gigs the Unflappable brought his note before the Warlord, he wasn't sure what to expect. He most certainly did not expect him to spread his lips and teeth in a wild and unsettlingly genuine smile. “Excellent, excellent. We must send a party right away to secure this - no, I'm getting ahead of myself, to confirm it! Set off as soon as you're prepared.” Wait, what? “Yes, you're going. You found this memo, so this is your project. Assemble your team and go investigate it as soon as possible. And for the Dead Queen's sake, man, be careful with it!”
(Apparently Gigs is leading an expedition! More on this later.)

---
Gado the Digger felt sore for more than one reason. To have failed to cause and avalanche AND lose the mole AND be called out on it was bad enough, but having to dig these holes was pushing him further than he’d ever had to before. He was panting and exhausted, and the holes just weren’t deep enough. He wiped sweat off his brow and got back to it. He was the best at this, damnit, he couldn’t give up now.
It actually wasn’t going too poorly, actually! He was kinda kicking rear end! He was… he was… he felt a little hot. In his chest. He poured water down his gullet then over his body, and that helped a bit, but… phew, he needed to dig. He grabbed for his shovel… but it was gone. He cast about for it and saw Shiny the Thief, standing there like an angel with a shovel. She held her finger to her lips and looked both ways.
With Grimper nowhere in sight, she hopped in and started digging like a madtöan, clearing out the dirt in his shallowest hole with a thief’s keen speed. She dug until he told her it was good enough then tossed the shovel at him, nodded, and scarpered. Not a moment too soon, too - a massive shadow fell over him and he turned weakly to face his Warlord.

“Hmm. These holes are good enough. Not great by any means, but certainly better than your sorry display earlier. Fill them, then get yourself cleaned up - the Ritual is almost complete.” Without another word, he turned to walk away… then stopped. “Oh and Gado… how’s your chest feeling?” He laughed, low in his throat, then walked back into town.

(Gado feels something resonate in his chest… but it passes soon after he finishes digging)


---
”.͞.̷.̵̸̨ć͟͠a͏vi̶t̢҉͠y͘ ̨̛͜t̢͟͞h̡͏è͡ ̧S̢̕k̴̢i̛͟l҉̶l͡c̸̀͜ór̕e͠ cą̕n͢͏ b̛͢e̷͞͝ ̷͘f͢͜o̴ư̶͢nd ̶͜f̵̛̀u̡͝͝s҉ed t͟o͘͡ ́͘͝t̴͟h͘è͟ ͘͢b͝o̴̧n̸̷̡e̕ b̸̡e͏͟͡hi͘n͜d̸̢͡ ̢t̸̶h͘e͘ ҉̛́t͟h̛̀ir̸d̷ ̨͘a͏nt̵e͜r̕͜i҉̷o̷͟r̵͠ ͏̸͘r͡ib̷̛ ҉͠á̛ń̡̕d̴͘ ̡v̛a̕s̛͏̨cul̶͢ar̢i̡̨z͏͞ȩd͡ t͢h̸̨ŕò̴͡u͢gh ̕a͘n̸d ̡͏i҉̷͟n̕͜t̶̶ò ̕͏t̴̵͠h̕͝e̴̡͞ ͟c̀͜iŕ͠͝c̸̛͞uląt̷or̴̨y̡̨̕ s҉y̢s͡t͘͞e̵̛͝m̢ ͝w͠it҉̧h̵́ ̴͝o͝҉v̛͜͡er̢l̛a͠p ̀į̶̀n̵͠to t̶̷͞h̵̴̢e ̢̛͘ń̢̕er҉̵v̵ó̶u̵͡s ͡n͏̀͞e̷͞t̵̵w̴̕o̶̶r͞k͠͡ ̡̡an̨͘d̷ ̡p͘͏a͜͝r̷a̸ĺ̷͏l͠͝e̶̕l̕ ̕͠s̡y̕͜͝st҉̶e͞m̸s̵͟…͞͝ m̵҉̡a̷k̷e ҉̨a͟͞͞n ̧̀į̷̶n̸c̡í҉̵śi̷̶o̡ǹ͝ ̵̸̨a̷̴t͘ ̵̧͜t̴he ̀͝a̸̶p̧͝p͞o̸ìn̨̧t̸̴e̴̴d ̡p͞ơ͝i͜n̷҉͢t̢̛ ͠an̷̨̧d̡͝ ̡͏͜p̶͏ŗ̸̀e͢͠v͏̕͢ę͜͡n̶t̸̛ ͜é͘҉x̨̡p҉̵̵o͡͡s̀͡͡ur͜e͟͝ ̨̛҉t͟͏o ҉̡at͡m̵͟ơ̸s͡͞p͢͜҉h̕͠e̸̢r̵̀͠ę̨́ ̵̧t̸o͜͝͡ r͘̕éd̛u̴͡c̛͢e͟ ̕͘c͘͞͡o̴̶͘n̛͠t̶̕͞a͡͡m̷i͟͞na͝t̨íoǹ͢ ̸̛w͏͜i͝ţ͠h ̕A̛͟i҉͝ŗ̸͜b̨̡ò̧r͢ǹ̷͘e̶̸ ͢P̨̕͡a̡̕͝t̨h̵͟ó̧g̵͘eǹ̵ C͡1̷͟3 ͟͝a͏ǹ̢͘d̀̕ ̷̢͡c̸̛òn͟cór҉̶ḑa̴̕n̡̨t̴ ̵deg̴̷͢ŕa̡͟di̡͠n̶͜͠g͜͜ ̢ó҉̴f ̶t̸̶̷he͠͏ ̶̛͝o̵r̕͡g͏̨ą͟n͏̛…̨̧͝”

On and on the Litany went. Harvester’s Grim Duty was somewhat involved, as Nail Rituals went. A good deal of information had to be incorporated into the Nail - and through it, into the host - and this information had to be painstakingly inscribed into each and every one. She groaned again, lamenting that she was doing this without assistants, but no one here was competent enough to assist her. If - when - they failed, they’d Corrupt the Ritual and things would get naughty. No, she had to do it, had to say the words and write them. She knew what they meant, once, or at least understood them, but now she did it by rote. Whatever, it worked well enough.

”̷.̷͟.̀͜.̴̧d͝o̴ ̶̡͢n̸͢͝o͠t͟͡ p͞i̶e̶r̵c҉e͠ ̵̴it̨͠͠ ̧ưn҉̛d̛͜e̵r̛̀͟ ̴̧a͡n̴̕ỳ̵̡ ͟c̷̵͞i͟r͡ç̨̛u͟͡m҉͢s̨͜tanć̀́ȩs.̡ ̀P҉̵ư͏̧nc͏̀͢tur͞iń̷̡g̴ ́̕t͞͏he̵̸͜ o͠͠r̸͡gà͠n̵͞ ̸̢͢c̵̵̸ą͏n͜ ͘c̡͟a̢u̷ş̀è̡͞ ̕͘l̷͡ǫ̶̨sş̵ ̴͠ó͡f̴̵͟ ̸̨d̵́a̴̷̧t̸͡a͡, ̷̧b̷u̸t̸͞ ̡r͘i̕sk̷̢s̶̛ ̸t͟͠h̴͜e̛ ̴͜o͠c̕c͟u̶͝re̷͠nc͡e ͝o̴f ̢A̵ņ̴o͡҉m̛͏͏a̷͡l̵͘i͏̷͘e͢s 1̛͜ ͝t̴͘͢h͞r̀͜͡o̷͘ú̵͟g̡͝h́ ̸6̀͝à͢,̡ ̵̢́i҉̸n̵ d̢́e͠cr̛̕e͘͢a͞s͘i͡n̵͜g̡ ̧͟ó͜͟r̀de̢r͢͞ ̵͟o҉͝f̀ ̶̨lík̢el̴ih͟oo͞ḑ.͢ ̴̢A͝ḑ̴he̸͘r̷̕͜e̶̢͏ ̧̧̨t̛h̴e҉̸ ̡c̨͠o̧l̢̕lę͟c҉͞te͜͢d̨͘͟ ҉ti̡ş̛͠s̛u̕e͜ ̀t̶͡o ̵́͟t҉͟he̕͢͞ ͟o̵ćc̸͢i̡p̶i҉͘t͜a̸̧l͡…̀”̸̛

---
Ringo the Thief had had some middling luck as asof late. That thing with the horse poison a while back was pretty cool, but his near-terminal ‘Grimping’ was less so. His topknot (and head) still stung him terribly, and other internal injuries were plaguing him still. But just now, he found a (relatively) brand new thief’s cloak, and as he swished it about he felt a little better. Certainly cooler looking, which still counted for something!

(Ringo finds a thief’s cloak (check the first post for a new portrait) which doesn’t confer any mechanical advantage except style!)

---
Somehow - doubtless influenced by Stårn the Sieger - a contingent of the Horde got it into their mind that they wanted, needed a battering ram. The only problem was that none of them were particularly excellent at actually building things. Noggins the Carpenter excluded, naturally, but with so many hands eager to help her guiding influence was somewhat lost in the melee. She found them a good sturdy log, debarked it and shaved it down until it was roughly cylindrical, but when she found they wanted to jam a hunk of Orichalcum (where had they gotten that!?) onto it she was at a loss.

Klörf the Firestarter happily offered the use of his forge, which was at least extremely hot even if the fellow didn’t know the first thing about actually using it. Together, they managed to suss out how melt a few test blocks of iron and pour them onto the battering ram. It caught fire and they put it out, but most of the metal stayed pretty well in place. Carefully, they tried the same with the precious Orichalcum. Experimentally, they’d discovered it got much heavier the faster they moved it, so they slooowly heated it in a crucible until it got red hot then jammed it into and onto the carved wooden cylinder. Somehow the idea to sculpt Mason the Hollerer’s face into it - in recognition of his efforts in breaking down that door - arose, and so they tried to hammer the still-hot metal into a rough facsimile of the brave Töan soldier. The first blow of the hammer rang loud enough that it stunned them, and cracked the iron head of the tool in half. Naturally, the Orichalcum had grown heavier due to the velocity imparted by the impact - it was like hitting an iron wall. The ram was a little uglier than they would have liked, but it would certainly do its job. Just for good measure they hammered in a few of Magda’s failed Nails into it to make it look more fearsome

Stårn literally vibrated with excitement when it was finished. He hauled the enormous thing away on his back, laughing hard enough to fleck his chest with spittle as he imagined bearing down on an unsuspecting door with the weight of a mountain. Crash! Bang! Aaaaaaah! Such lovely dreams would become reality the very first instant he thought he could get away with it.

(Alright team, you made a Ram! It’s not very good because you all suck, but since you all worked together on it and sacrificed a valuable piece of material, it’s a perfectly serviceable ram! As it says on the cards, you’ll need four people to use it effectively, though it ‘belongs’ to Stårn. It’s far too large to be useful in combat, but it’ll do a number on non-fortified structures.)

---
At last she was complete. She went outside with her pail and hammer and clanged the two together until Grimper poked his head blearily out of his tent. His headdress was askance and he looked irritated at being bothered, but when he saw it was her he swept towards her, gathering his men as he went. She stifled a chuckle. The great Warlord still took orders from her on this one thing, needed her for at least this. She gave him the pail and the hammer and her precious Nails and allowed him to take the reins.

Once he’d gathered the Unexpectables once more in the field outside of town, he spoke to them. “My Horde, today you will be pierced for the first time by the Nails of knowledge and power. You will take your first step towards become somewhat useful to the memory of our beloved Queen and our Regency Council. You will learn the ways of preservation of your foes, of precision in your strikes, such that you may turn their power against them. Take a Nail, each of you, in your right hand.”

They did so, then formed a tight circle as they had before. They held the Nails awkwardly, wilting slightly under the weight of them. Goodness, they must weigh several pounds each, far denser than they appeared. They seemed to catch the light strangely, highlights glowing faintly as though still warm from the forge. Grimper allowed them to experience the strangeness of them, then disrobed as before. “Take your Nail and hold it to your left shoulder, like so.” They did so, feeling an anticipation building inside them like the moment before a fist struck. The pressure built again, the wind-that-was-not-a-wind rising from Grimper - no, from the Nail in his fist. He spoke, and they were deafened.
    TAKE THIS NAIL INTO YOURSELF AND LEARN, MY HORDE!
He hammered it home, and they felt the Nails in their own grip slide through suddenly limp fingers and pierce the bone.

Agony assailed them, along with pictures and sounds and words. Diagrams and notes, precise ingots of muscle memory sliding into their nerves like long slivers of glass. They understood. They understood! THEY UNDERSTOOD! Ecstasy and terror rose in them like a scream - and then it was gone, and they fell to their knees as one.

“The Ritual is complete, Unexpectables. Go home.”

(Harvester’s Grim Duty has been Nailed to the Horde! 1d6 Bonus Skillcores will drop after every combat with enemy Frömans or Töans! Hail to the Dead Queen!)

---
The day after was rough, to say the least. People were hungry and tired and not a little bit frightened, and they wanted some food. Patsy the Baker once again took point on the cookery, hoping that this time people would at least pause and taste the drat bread before they ate it. With a little help from the others, and helped along by the access to actual tools and oven found in town, they easily made something delicious and nutritous with 2 Rations.
    Cooking = 295 vs 2d100 Rations = 90
    Cooking Success! 1 Ration Retained! Lowest Horde Roll Rerolled! 5 Rations Remain!

The Horde came by in between their other tasks, grabbing bread off the table before him as it was ready. The air was thick with the warm, sweet smell of it, and Patsy was thankful once more for the equipment and ingredients the town had available. It’s a shame that he’d have to leave it behind once they left… or would he?

[HORDE VOTE]
  • Take Some Rations
    Fostis wouldn’t mind losing out on some of their stuff. Take 2 Rations and leave enough for the people in town to have a decent supply after you’re gone.
  • Take Most Rations
    Too bad for them, you conquered them - take what you need. Take 4 Rations and put them in a tough position come winter. It might affect productivity in the mine, but odds are the miners will claim the largest share of it anyhow.
  • Take All Rations
    Who cares about what they need? Take everything and let them figure it out. Take 6 Rations and almost certainly cause deaths or at very least an exodus during winter. They won’t resist you - they can’t - but it will make their lives very difficult indeed, and mining will slow considerably.
---
When the Horde was feeling a little more secure, they spent some time poking at their new Nails. It sat nearly flush with their skin, but otherwise didn't feel like much of anything. Even the flesh around it wasn't sore… it was less like a piercing and more like a particularly stiff, particularly metallic callus. It was equal parts fascinating and viscerally gross, but they were growing used to it quickly. There was more - they knew where Grimper was, now, even with their eyes closed. The Nail tugged towards him faintly at all times, but this too was quickly gotten used to.

When everyone was dressed and ready the Warlord stood before them. He smiled wryly, then flicked a mailed finger against his shoulderpad. A shudder ran through the Horde as they felt the resonance in their own Nails, and Grimper laughed, not entirely unkindly. “We're bound now, Unexpectables. Oh, we won't feel each others pain or anything like that - it's not THAT kind of Nail - but we're bound just the same. Keep it up and I may even mourn you once you die pointlessly against our vastly more numerous foes!” Then he did laugh unkindly, until he shook helplessly under his own mirth. It was very awkward. “Now,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes, “what shall we do next, my Horde?
  • Priority Mission: Investigate Old Guys Relic - [Difficulty 8]
    “Mr. Gigs over there thoughtfully decided to share his findings from the Mayor's office with us instead of going out there himself like a dumb idiot. I'm giving him command of a scouting party to go take a look at a suspected Old Guy relic. We have precious little information on it, but securing it would be an unexpected coup for us. Gigs has final say over who gets to come along - this is his baby, and it’ll live or die on his watch.”
  • Investigate the Wilderness! - Difficulty 10
    “Fostis is surrounded by forests, and I know for a fact there’s some crazy poo poo out there. It stayed away from us on our way in, but with a smaller group we may be able to lure them out. We can use their guts for good stuff, so we need some scouts.”
  • Investigate the Mines! - Difficulty 10
    “Now that the Fostisians are back to work, we can tag along with them and find the good veins. Now, the Nail should prevent them from holding back, but it wouldn’t be the first time the power has been circumvented through cleverness or force of will. Seek out the rare and valuable, or seek out rebellion. Take both out.”
  • Intercept Shipments - Difficulty 30
    “Shipments to Fostis and the surrounding cities will pass through a crossroads some few hours out of town. Typically a Fostisian delegation would go out to meet them. Instead, it’s going to be you.”
  • Scout out Noostra - Difficulty 20
    “Noostra is a rich town, but it’s a hell of a fortress. Go look it over, but do not under any circumstance enter it unless you’re completely certain you can pull it off. I repeat, do-loving-not do this unless you think you can make this work!”
    (edit: removing it due to lack of interest - we'll put a pin in it for now)
  • Scout out Nägel - Difficulty 20
    “It’s a prison, so presumably they’re more concerned with people coming out than people going in, but security is going to be tight either way. If we can sort out a way to get prisoners out of there we have a source of manpower that we sorely need… but feeling that we can take their fiendish research for our own ends.”
  • Something Else
    “Well? What else you got!?”
(Despite the Difficulties listed, success or failure on the above choices will merely describe the starting point of the investigation on any of the above places. I strongly suggest for your success’ sake - as well as for my sanity - that you try to stick together in your choices, but you don’t NEED to. Odds are, the choice that gets the most votes will gain the most focus narratively, but no matter where you go you’ll get some good recon… unless you whiff this roll and the one next time and get captured or murdered, I guess!

:siren: Also this Downtime was full of particularly rad stuff! I’m sorry if I missed any of you in particular, you weren’t forgotten - Downtime is kinda a crap shoot of whether or not anything actually happens to you, even with awesome rolls. This is for my own sanity’s sake, but I hope it won’t discourage you in the future - maybe you’ll get lucky next time! Regardless, anyone who put some effort into their post or expanded the lore or worked with someone else, give yourself an extra Glory! For those of you doing art, I mentioned this in the Discord: for each piece of art posted, the artist gains +1 Ritual Glory which can be used towards Rituals only and which sticks with the player rather than the character. This is a reward for you, not for the character, and is entirely non-digetic (except where it interfaces with Rituals) :siren:)

Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 15:12 on Oct 18, 2017

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.
welp i posted too early instead of previewing

I will do a proper readthrough of this tomorrow but I wasted tonight watching the IT Crowd and eating lettuce buffalo chicken wraps

edit: Dammit I forgot the battering ram bit! Tomorrow, mi hermanos y hermanas
edit2: argh typos
edit3: also art tomorrow too, mostly of new gear y'all found or possibly built

Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 05:10 on Oct 17, 2017

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?


Name: Bamboo
HP: 3
Glory: 9 + 1 (Action Glory) + 1 (Bonus Glory) -> 11
Skill: Basket Weaving [Ready]

Bamboo played incessantly with the 'nail' hammered into her shoulder. Poked, pinched, pulled. Poked, pinched, pulled. Poked, pinched, pulled.

It was a part of her now, much like the Horde. As much as she didn't want it. As much as she didn't want to be here. As much as she needed her family, and they needed her.

Well, if she couldn't leave them, at least she could leave them for a little while.

Dog Kisser posted:

[HORDE VOTE]
[*]Take Most Rations

Dog Kisser posted:

[*]Priority Mission: Investigate Old Guys Relic - [Difficulty 8]

Bamboo found Gigs studying the note he had found in the Mayor's Office.

"Note. Seems. Important! Old. Guys. Relic!! More. Than. Baskets!!!"

**** Edit - Forgot the Roll ***

Action: Investigate. Old. Guys. Relic!!: 1d100+9 67 [1d100=58]

CourValant fucked around with this message at 18:37 on Oct 17, 2017

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Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010


Gado!!!
Skill: Digging (Available Next Turn), Mining (Unavailable next turn)
HP: 3
Glory: 4->5->6(friend glory)

Gado is still huffing and puffing when he joins the ritual circle, thankfully cleaned of his overnight work. Shiny and Humbug get a pleased clap on the shoulder as greeting and a knowing nod, but the ritual is about to begin and there's not much time to sit around and chat just yet.

It's no surprise the exhausted Töan falls to the ground in the ritual's wake, the sheer volume of knowledge assaulting him, but eventually he hauls himself to his feet to go chomp down some of left over bread Patsy managed to whip up, at least it was a distraction from the odd feelings he'd had during his digging session.

Creepy Note posted:

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.

Skimming over the missive Gigs had found, Gado gives a little nod and flings the Bone Tö pick into the air, snatching it calmly by the handle and resting it across his shoulder. He gives a little smile toward Gigs as he casually signs up for the job "I'm all limbered up thanks to our illustrious Warlord, so if you need someone to go investigate that spooky mine secret? I'm your Tö."

Gado's willingness to immediately sign up for another important mission is a little odd, but there's some part shame over his failure on the avalanche, some part exhausted delirium, and an odd pride over his work digging punishment holes shining through in his eyes.

quote:

[*]Priority Mission: Investigate Old Guys Relic - [Difficulty 8]
Doing Mine stuff down to section A3D6 with Team Gigs 1d100+15= :siren:115:siren:(total updated to reflect effort/friend Glory) Punishments are clearly the path to being a Good Roller friends! Fail at your plan integral tasks more often!

Rationwise: Take most Rations To the victors go the spoils. They should just be glad there were some Töans among their ranks or we'd leave them nothing!

Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at 20:15 on Oct 17, 2017

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