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Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010

Got to talking on Discord and DK has declared :siren:Skillcores are a once per opportunity free roll:siren:. It now no longer eats your downtime action to pick one up, so you can loot actual items or do your normal downtime stuff.

Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at 23:03 on Oct 31, 2017

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Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum
^^^argh, beaten!

:siren:ANNOUNCEMENT:siren:

Dogkisser posted:

DogKisser - Today at 2:31 PM
I'm beginning to think Skillcore rolls should be free
Like, one at a time, but free
What y'all think

From here on out, if you're in one of the victorious parties, you can make a single skillcore roll for free!

That's right - this round you can roll for a skillcore AND roll for a Downtime or Looting action!

E: That means:

Biggo, Splut, Noggins, Portha, Hob, and Hat, you can still roll for a skillcore!

Gabber, Mason, Neebs, and Gigs, you can still roll for Loot or take a Downtime action!

Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 23:31 on Oct 31, 2017

Half-wit
Aug 31, 2005

Half a wit more than baby Asahel, or half a wit less? You decide.
Battlebrüm is too beautiful, gonna have to edit my post to replace the iron sword. Sorry Noggins.

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

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


Noggins
Skill: Carpentry
HP: 3
Glory: 14->15
Ritual Glory: 2->4?->0

The prosthetics hadn't taken nearly as long as Noggins had thought they would. Tharbad's...unusual... request had been simple enough, even if it meant that she'd had to go to the same smith she'd tried to rob just a few days prior to obtain the iron rods. It hadn't been the most comfortable request to make, but the Fröman had lightened up somewhat when she asked for something other than weapons. He still clearly hated her--not that she could blame him--but he could at least do this without feeling guilty about arming the enemy. When she decided afterwards, on a whim, to request some fastenings for signs, he'd soured somewhat at the additional work, but had ultimately relented. She left a carved tchotchke as thanks, even though she knew it was doubtlessly headed straight for the trash once she was gone.

As she worked, wood moving through her hands in relaxing, familiar patterns, she couldn't help but fall into memory.

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

"Not bad work, kid. Stands out. I mean, I could do better, but it's good for a novice." Dovetail clapped her on the back as they looked up at the sign. "Noggins' Joinery" it proclaimed in bold, silver letters, "Construction, Furnishing, and Finishing". A small insignia of a hammer and saw sat at the bottom, quietly indicating that she was not merely trained in her craft, but Cored as well.

"Hey, I gave you the chance to help out!"

"And rob you of this? Never. That's more than just a sign to hang outside your shop, Noggins. It's a sign for your *craft*. A sign for *you*. When you and I are long gone, and it's your apprentices' apprentices working the shop, that sign's still going to be there. And people will look at it, and even if they know nothing else, they'll know that Noggins was one hell of a carpenter."

"Couldn't've done it without you, Dovetail."

"Without me? Hah. You're cored, kiddo. You'd've made it one way or another. I was just there to sand things down, smooth the path. And here you are."

"Here I am."


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

Noggins paused, and set down Tharbad's new leg, sticking the rod into the ground to let the finish dry evenly on the fitting. The horde had only lost two people, but already she was having a hard time remembering them. It wasn't like she'd ever worked with Flutter or Graxon closely--there hadn't really been time for that to happen--so she couldn't exactly speak to their character, but... they were people. Good people. And now all they had were unmarked graves in the middle of nowhere. They deserved better than that. And sure, Grimper wasn't about to let them stop for a big funeral every time, or even properly bury them. But that didn't mean there was nothing she could do about it. She was going to need paint for this, but it's not like it would be needed for something else...



Hours later, walking away from the wagon she'd nailed the signs to the side of, she passed the loot pile, and noted a wealth of skillcores still there. Sure, she didn't have a use for any of them... but that didn't mean someone else didn't. In fact... Spleen would be rather disappointed if he missed out on this one, wouldn't he?

Claiming Blasting for Spleen: 1d100 93

Contributing 4 Ritual Glory to Luck's Fickle Gaze

((I really need to figure out how to get rid of all that excess space in GIMP. I'll get around to it!))

HiHo ChiRho
Oct 23, 2010

HiHo ChiRho posted:

Potrait:


Naim: Mason
Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin'
HeeP: Mason Mason Mason
Glury: Masonx6 -> 7


Mason claims armor!

Mason and a Sentient Bottle of Rum (Drinking Skillcore): 1d100 60

Purdy Skarf: 1d100 81

In addition to the above, Mason realizes he was once again victorious, and to the victors go shiny things. But he has to work for it. It's nothing new to Mason, who usually has to fend off the rest of the Mason clan during the holidays as they hoot and holler over the last good bits of whatever Cousin Cletus Mason ran over that week. Sure, it had mange and smelled like Nana Mason and her million cats at her home, but it's still meat.

And so Mason raises his fists and starts barreling towards his comrades-in-arms, screaming general nonsense in the hopes they disperse enough for Mason to get something better than home-cooked roadkill.

"'EY YOO! GIT EWAY FRUM MAI VALLEYBALLS! EYE FUGHT DEM MOL PEEPLE SEW EYE DEESURVE THEM VALLEYBALLS!"
Holla fer dem Valleyballs!: 1d100+10 79

ooc: nice

HiHo ChiRho fucked around with this message at 00:50 on Nov 1, 2017

Cloud Potato
Jan 9, 2011

"I'm... happy!"

Prince of Space posted:

:siren:ANNOUNCEMENT:siren:
... Hat, you can still roll for a skillcore!


Name: Hat
Skill: Millinery
HP: 3/3
Equipment: Spear (+1), Leather Armour (+1)
Glory: 12

Oh! Actually, just before Hat went into the medical tent, she noticed a lack of people standing around the small skillcore display stand. Usually one of the busiest parts of the camp post-battle, with lots of Töans seeking to improve themselves in all manner of useful and semi-useful ways. Hat had always avoided the scrum; unless there was something like "Haberdashery", she was happy to let the others take what they wanted. But no-one was paying the stand much attention, and there looked to be a few skillcores still available. Hat walked over and looked at the labels someone had drawn up. (How did they know what skills the skillcore contained? The Nail only spoke of how to take them out of people, nothing about discerning their properties.) One label in particular caught her eye: Backflips.

Imagine! Jumping out of tricky situations with an unexpected (unexpectable!) spring! Climbing made much easier! Outflanking enemies by thinking vertically! This skill core might be a good idea. Hat reached out her hand...

Rolling for the Backflips skillcore: 1d100 50 :geno:

Magnusth
Sep 25, 2014

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




HP: 2

Glory: 1->2

As the loot came back, Flitter grabbed the first, best Froman cuirass she could. and then... she saw the scarf. She loved scarves. they looked dashing in the wind, and were usefull to keep bugs out of your face when flying. She had to get one!

Roll for scarf:
SCAAAARF: 1d100+2 99

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"

(Will go with Gelia, and as a skill I have Histöry, or the history of the Tö. F11, and yes, it's one of the people from the town. Bit of a Weeatöo Start with Team Prison)


HP: 3
:Glory: 0

Celia had always been enamoured by the stories of the Tö kingdom. She'd listen to every story, read every book about them, and scoffed at the mentions of them being barbaric, tyrants. Quite frankly, anything that wasn't being in the rear end-end of her mining village town had to be better. So when some new Tö people entered, she was eager to talk to them. Oh, and the stories they told her. Perfidious regicide. Adventure. Daring do. For the Cause of Justice. It was her chance to be more than an admirer of history, but be part of it. And so, she'd ended joining the hallowed ranks of the Unexpectables, despite the blue blood running through her veins.

She had come with the others towards the prison, eager to make right the injustice. How tragic it was to see their comrades be caught. She could only imagine the pain going through their commander now, forced to leave his men to a terrible fate out of duty and care for those who live. But How grand Owäg's defense. "Wow, really? I should have known that you had a grand scheme in mind, Ms. Owäg. No wonder our town fell to you so easily."

She'd also tried to acquire one of the Skillspheres. A way to imagine the glories of past present and future even better, how could she go against it? Roll for Daydreaming: 1d100 88

She looked at one of the warden's armors. "If you allow me. Wearing the perfidious colours of Frö" She spat vehemently. "would make me a more plausible agent to infiltrate in a possible situation? " Roll for Guard Armor: 1d100 70

Shogeton fucked around with this message at 04:12 on Nov 1, 2017

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

Prince of Space posted:

^^^argh, beaten!

:siren:ANNOUNCEMENT:siren:


From here on out, if you're in one of the victorious parties, you can make a single skillcore roll for free!

That's right - this round you can roll for a skillcore AND roll for a Downtime or Looting action!

E: That means:

Biggo, Splut, Noggins, Portha, Hob, and Hat, you can still roll for a skillcore!

Gabber, Mason, Neebs, and Gigs, you can still roll for Loot or take a Downtime action!

Claiming the imagine core then.

Imagine a new core 1d100=22

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum

Dog Kisser posted:

The Lantern Guards swept the surroundings for whatever the hell was making that noise. In the darkness, their beams of light cut the night like blades, seeking out the source. They eventually happened upon Snödis the Poet, sitting cross legged on a stone, watching them eerily from the darkness, and Ringo the Thief nearby making spooky sounds. The Guards paused, considering them warily. They’d seen all kinds of crazy stuff within Nägel’s walls, but this was suspicious in a far more immediate way. They spread out and made to corral the gaggle of strangers.

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:1
Glory:13

Sadly the scarves proved too popular, all of them snatched away before he could act on his musings. So, perhaps something else, then? He looked at the selection of skillcores available. Perhaps whistling? Sometimes a whistle was the natural response to finding out the odds or value of something, so maybe it had some resonance. If not, she'd probably know where to deploy it to best effect amongst their colleagues.

Claim the whistling skillcore as a gift for Qwäg: 1

Hm. It was definitely a bit of a stretch, wasn't it?

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: 5

Task Manager posted:

Magda was pleased, and that meant Gabber was pleased. For the time being, they'd be able to rest knowing Grimper wouldn't throttle them for almost losing the town. Getting down to brass tacks, Gabber went about getting a suitable weapon from the crates his comrades had seized, taking a sword similar to the one Noggins carried. He also tried to grab himself one of those fashionable scarves, too. They sure looked swell!

Suddenly a cry went up from somewhere in the Horde - new rules! 2 for 1 while supplies last! Not one to ever miss an opportunity for more loot, Gabber grabbed for some sort of armor - a Fröman cuirass would do if he could manage to find one that didn't cost any glory, but if not maybe he could find something else close enough - maybe some sort of patchwork armor?

OOC: So for this round then - free skillcore, free sword, rollin' for free scarf, rollin' for some armor. That's a lot of loot!

Rolling for armor - something patchwork?: 1d100 69

Task Manager fucked around with this message at 19:46 on Nov 1, 2017

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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


-[Nägel]-
Grimper listened to the impassioned pleas of his men and women, some transparently designed to appeal to his empathy, some hooking at his tactical inclinations. Eventually he flicked his hand, annoyed. "Fine. While I don't believe for a second that they got themselves caught on purpose - Qwäg, you prevaricator - your points are well taken. We have folk on the inside, and one way or another that's a distraction. We'll lean on this place until it cracks, and either we'll take it from them or we'll let the prisoners shake loose. Let them deal with that."

"One way or another, we're going in."
  • Killed Lantern Guards -3 Difficulty
  • Distracted Staff - 2 Difficulty
    Break INTO A Prison - Difficulty 45 Threat 45 Capture

(Alright outside-of-Nagel-folk - all your rolls are funnelling into this action. If you see this before the update, go ahead and roll. If not, I'll autoroll. I won't use your items in that case, naturally. Hope it works out!)

Shogeton
Apr 26, 2007

"Little by little the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him"


HP: 3
:Glory: 1
Skill: Daydreaming

Dressed in her new armour, and with the new core, Gelia stood with her allies, a real Töan soldier now, not just someone who'd supported the army in a confused melee. Today was the day, she'd prove herself. Like how the humble Felaör had stood with the Förtan at the battle of Salchasm, fighting the horde of Monstrism ravaged... monsters, and supported him in victory. Yes, she'd be the first one through the breach, causing confusion as the guards would suspect eachother, and though she'd be wounded, the Töans would recognize her as one of their own and she'd know their ways and get to visit their capital and she'd pay her respects to the grave of the queen and it'd all be very touching and...

Oh wait, yeah, the battle.

Prison Break: 1d100+1 42

Shogeton fucked around with this message at 22:21 on Nov 1, 2017

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?


Name: Bamboo
HP: 3
Glory: 13 + 1 (Story Glory) > 14
Skill: Basket Weaving [Ready]

-[In-Town]-

Bamboo walked up to Magda’s shop wordlessly and began looking over the spoils of war.

While she wasn’t keen to do more fighting, and especially, killing, she also didn’t want to be ground up by all the violence surrounding her either; she needed some protection.

That being said, Bamboo wasn’t about to wear Fröman clothes either, no matter the need.

Rummaging through the stacks and piles of gear, she at last found something acceptable, a suit of Nondescript Leather Armor that would categorize her as perhaps a passing Soldier of Fortune, and nothing more.

Bamboo also tried to find an unclaimed Sikatris Scarf; it was a beautiful thing, completely unsuited for war. It reminded her of simpler times, when her life revolved around things other than this Horde.

Action:

> Roll to claim a Sikatris Scarf: 1d100 44

Slipping away again, Bamboo walked and walked and walked, trying to lose herself in the alleys and passages of the town. She was looking for something, to be sure, although she has no idea exactly what it is she was trying to find.

Just, something, anything, to help her Family.

Action:

> Roll to find ‘something, anything’: 1d100 29

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.
Alright, I'm pretty sure that's everyone's portraits updated! Go take a look; don't bother updating your portraits in your last posts, because for the most part these updates only apply AFTER this coming update, I just wanted to get them ready.

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....
I knew that the moment Stårn wasn't there to hold your hand on the basic tenets of sieging you would send half the horde on an extremely unlikely to succeed suicide charge at a fortified enemy position.

YOU MANIACS YOU BLEW IT UP etc.

Yvonmukluk
Oct 10, 2012

Everything is Sinister


Huzzah, I got a scarf! And all I had to do was catch Monsterism.

Edit: Or should that be 'I got Monsterism and all I got was this lousy nifty scarf'?

Might as well update my profile for the next turn. Is it OK to pick a sword cane as my weapon of choice?

Bully
Skills: Oratory, Climbing
HP:3
Glory: 13

Yvonmukluk fucked around with this message at 21:31 on Nov 1, 2017

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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

Yvonmukluk posted:

Huzzah, I got a scarf! And all I had to do was catch Monsterism.

Edit: Or should that be 'I got Monsterism and all I got was this lousy nifty scarf'?

Might as well update my profile for the next turn. Is it OK to pick a sword cane as my weapon of choice?

Bully
Skills: Oratory, Climbing
HP:3
Glory: 13

Yeah, of course - generally you can assume when I draw items that people request that there's multiples, unless stated otherwise. Also Skinkekellomas isn't Monsterism :goonsay: though that isn't to say it has nothing to do with Monsterism...

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: 6

Grabbing armor
I'm cooking for lowest reroll and don't consume ration again during downtime, unless someone else has a better idea. I'll edit in flavor later, job stuff is finally taken care of, I started at the new place today, and I should be able to participate more going forward

1d100+16 = 18

Ok orokos hates me now, good to know.

Mithross fucked around with this message at 05:00 on Nov 2, 2017

HiHo ChiRho
Oct 23, 2010



This good Mason

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

HiHo ChiRho posted:



This good Mason

Mason is the best of us.

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum

Mithross posted:

I'm cooking for lowest reroll and don't consume ration again during downtime, unless someone else has a better idea.

Low roll notwithstanding, you do realize that by attempting to cook two different effects you're rolling your 1d100 against 2d100 and using up two of the army's rations in the process?

So, while there's no real loss in trying to add the 'Preserve Ration' effect to food, attempting to add multiple effects when you're cooking all by yourself is a fairly irresponsible use of the army's resources.

In the future, I'd advise adding only the "Preserve Rations" effect to food until the army's combined cooking roll breaks 100.

e: Also, Patsy's Glory was at 5 at the start of the round, so I'm afraid your roll was actually a 17 (odd) instead of an 18 (even). Orokos really must dislike you!

e: Also also, grab a weapon or an armor piece!

Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 05:54 on Nov 2, 2017

paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007


Skills: Spreading Disease
HP: 3/3
Glory: 4

A pale and spent Grumbus stumbled out of a nearby bush, wiping vomit from his mouth, "Don't go back there, it's vile even by my standards." He bent over to pick up a dead fly from the trail that followed him everywhere he went and thoughtfully popped it in his mouth, "You weren't supposed to kill all of them, you lot. Now they're all out here rotting instead of high-fouring and slapping each other on the back inside. We're doing an all out assault? Well, okay then."

Grumbus opened his case and smeared his stick with a foul, oily substance.

GET DAT FUKKEN JAIL: 1d100+14 = 46

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:

Low roll notwithstanding, you do realize that by attempting to cook two different effects you're rolling your 1d100 against 2d100 and using up two of the army's rations in the process?

So, while there's no real loss in trying to add the 'Preserve Ration' effect to food, attempting to add multiple effects when you're cooking all by yourself is a fairly irresponsible use of the army's resources.

In the future, I'd advise adding only the "Preserve Rations" effect to food until the army's combined cooking roll breaks 100.

e: Also, Patsy's Glory was at 5 at the start of the round, so I'm afraid your roll was actually a 17 (odd) instead of an 18 (even). Orokos really must dislike you!

e: Also also, grab a weapon or an armor piece!

My glory should have been 6 at the start of the round, going back and checking my action order. My last roll was made at a +5, the roll before that at a +8(after which I should have gained 1 glory and given away 4, for a net loss of 3), before that I rolled at a +7, and so on.

I'm happy to only preserve rations until we get another regular cook going, but as a personal rule I decide what I'm doing, type a post (although not this time), then roll, which keeps me from deciding if I should be trying to add two effects based on how I did. I know not everyone is going to do that, but I think it adds a certain amusement value to my failures (as well as making my rare success more fun)

And I will do that last thing.

Mithross fucked around with this message at 05:08 on Nov 2, 2017

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum

Mithross posted:

My glory should have been 6 at the start of the round, going back and checking my action order. My last roll was made at a +5, the roll before that at a +8(after which I should have gained 1 glory and given away 4, for a net loss of 3), before that I rolled at a +7, and so on.

I'm happy to only preserve rations until we get another regular cook going, but as a personal rule I decide what I'm doing, type a post (although not this time), then roll, which keeps me from deciding if I should be trying to add two effects based on how I did. I know not everyone is going to do that, but I think it adds a certain amusement value to my failures (as well as making my rare success more fun)

And I will do that last thing.

My mistake then! I forgot that there have been times where bonus Glory was awarded during downtimes. All's well.

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: 13 -> 14

Stårn stomped his foot, puffing and hissing and raging and jumping on place very angrily/comically.

The idiots! The fools! They were ruining his beautiful siege! They WERE RUINING HIS MASTERPIECE! Terrible, totally intolerable! Asinine! Stupid!

What were they thinking!? The basic tenets of sieging CLEARLY STATED that you were to bleed the enemy whilst conserving your own resources. They had managed to bleed the enemy of choice troops as per his plan, but now these gibbering wastrels had undone all their progress by offering themselves to the slaughter themselves. And if that was not bad enough, one of his foolish hordemates had managed to convince the Warlord to order an assault on the fort while he was having a well deserved nap. But they were unmanned! They were nowhere near ready!

They were marching to near certain defeat, his keen Sieging Sense could tell.

Nevertheless, orders were orders. With a grim sigh, Stårn grabbed the head of the Ram, ordering a couple of standby Mooks or other volunteers to grab it also.

All they could do now was to do their best and pray for a miracle.

Siege Weaponing /w Ram to Break Down That Gate to Nägel I GUESS: 1d100+43=140

Astus
Nov 11, 2008


Name: Dack
Skill: Athletics
HP: 3
Glory: 4

Everything past taking the town was a blur to Dack. He simply just wasn't able to handle that this wasn't the most elaborate olympics in history, but a war he was drafted into. As a result, he just aimlessly followed whoever was giving orders at the time, lost in a daze. Suddenly becoming a prisoner snapped him out of it, however, and he tried to figure out how the hell he got here.

Eventually he also became aware that he was being questioned about his Monsterism. When did his symptoms first show up? At birth, actually, he's always been like this. Yes, all of his eyes do work. No, he has never sought treatment. He was always focused on sports, so he never had any errant violent thoughts. He has no idea what Skinkellelomas is. Really, the only problem Dack's ever had with his Monsterism is his tongue...

...oh wait, right. His tongue makes it impossible to speak intelligibly, so this woman would have no idea what he was saying at all. Come to think of it, that's probably why everyone else in the Horde always ignored Dack...

Well, hopefully he can use gestures to get across that he only has mild Monsterism, and definitely does not need any additional security whatsoever.

Dack sucks at Charades, rolled a 9.

Astus fucked around with this message at 23:20 on Nov 2, 2017

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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


-[Fostis]-
With Grimper gone, the last dregs of revolution in Fostis crushed, and a treasure trove of cool, free stuff, the Unexpectables were in a party mood. The Horde laughed and cavorted and drank, showing off their new equipment. Magda spread it around dutifully, fulfilling her duty as Quartermaster, and took out her annoyance on those who tried to sneak more by pelting them with handfuls of gravel. Slowly but surely they were kitted out - they were beginning to look like a proper Horde, now, a riot of color and mismatched armor. A far bit better than the stick wielding morons they'd been a week or so ago! Hoist the Slinker Flag and cheer!

(Alright, all you dudes who bought stuff, you got it. Surprise! Your portraits are updated, and I think all your item cards are available. Mason gets the Loot, Bamboo and Gado get the Valuables. As far as Skillcores, Gado and a Mook get Mining, Noggins gets Blasting, Gigs gets Triangulation, Hat gets Backflips, Splut gets Whistling, Neebs gets Drinking, Portha gets Imagining, and Gabber gets Night Vision. Phew!)

---
The loss of Sungazer and the associated reagents was a bit of a downer, as was the uncomfortable stigma of Slinkekelomas, but for most part the itchy rash faded away. For those unfortunates who had it develop further, a scatter of disfiguring pox spread across their face and upper body. Once the fever broke, that seemed to be the worst of it. When a brave sufferer asked Magda about it, she sneered. “It won't kill you if it hasn't already. Sometimes it can take a bad turn, but mostly it just makes you look like a warty gourd. As long as you steer clear of Madmist you'll be fine enough. Now gently caress off, you're grossing me out.’

(If you were infected and your first roll was odd, you've got the pox! It actually has no mechanical effects, not outright, but it may cause some… issues down the line. It's also not terribly contagious, luckily, but you won’t always be so lucky. If you're hit, it'll be reflected in your portrait, but so far only Bully and Flitter (and some Mooks) got hit. If you didn’t act this turn, it’ll trigger the next time you DO act.)

---
Hob the Bee-Keeper successfully bent a stick into a bow! It wasn't great, but it was still exciting to make something with his own two hands. It looked like a bow, and it shot out the few sticks he tested well enough. Hopefully it would hold up in a real fight!


---
The wounded were piling up, and there were precious few doctors to go around. Doc the Surgeon and company had to make due with a mixture of folk medicine, placebos, and outright lies. They gathered them into town square and did their best to minister to all of them...
...but instead they opted to deal with only the most badly wounded. The others would probably be fine, right?
But between injuries and illnesses, their ‘expertise’ simply wasn’t enough. Many went away still hurting, not quite convinced that their fingers were supposed to look like that, or that their sores were supposed to be bleeding clear slime. Them’s the breaks!

(Yikes. Like I said last time, healers will first try to heal all wounded, then a number of wounded equivalent to their number. They botched it, so people are staying hurt!)

---
Tharbad and Biggo’s leg… situation drew widespread pity and curiosity from the crowd. The cut had been more than clean, it had been perfect - neither of them had felt any pain then OR now, but it had been intensely disturbing. Not just the act, but the sense that something, someone, had wanted them to feel misery, not just pain. What if they'd been down there alone? Starving to death helplessly… the others refused to let them think on it - they'd make them new legs! Better ones! Their old ones were around here somewhere, but they were already starting to get a little ripe - and they wouldn't exactly stick back on even if they had been fresh. No, it was up to Noggins the Carpenter and a few helpers to make something new and appropriate for their allies.
It wasn't much different than building a table leg, really. I mean, the principles of 'a thing you can put weight on without breaking it’ were Carpentry 101. And luckily the cuts were below the knee, so they could just strap them onto the stumps. When all was said and done, they looked pretty good! In fact, she could think of ways to make them better… but probably it'd be better to let them get used to em’ first.

(They’re legs! They don’t remove the Crippling, but they do improve the leg… situation. Maybe they can be upgraded, too?)

---
Flitter the Butterfly Rider felt itchy and annoyed. The Slinker Pox was a real pain in the neck, and one that her new scarf did not entirely assuage. It did help a little, though. It was a very nice scarf. High quality wool, softer and finer than anything she'd ever seen. She nestled in the Cobaltwing Chrysalis, keeping it warm in the folds of fabric. It had to be almost ready, she knew it. There wasn’t much else she could do at this point other than wait and hope it was viable. She drew a finger along the emerald chitin of the fist sized thing, and felt something give. She froze in alarm, then relaxed as she felt motion. Here it comes…

Flutter was beautiful and fully formed. Still small, sure, but over the next few days it would eat ravenously until it tripled in size. Still not big enough to ride, even then, but plenty strong enough to glide her around if she held onto its legs. It gnashed at her with angry mandibles, its lashing proboscus drawing a welt across her arm. Adorable!

(It’s a little butterfly! Still small and weak, but allows you access to Flight, at least a little bit, which is pretty convenient for a variety of reasons. I wouldn’t recommend trying to do long-distance flying, but you’ll have a much easier time getting from high elevations to low (and a slightly easier time in the other direction). Keep it safe, though - in Combat, if you take Damage you can opt to say that the blow hit it instead, preventing 1 Damage to you and killing it outright.)

---
Patsy the Baker may have bit off more than he could chew. Sure, half the army was gone, and therefore it should have been half as hard… but so were his helpers, and it turned out baking bread for a huge group was much tougher to manage without them.
    Cooking = 18 vs 2d100 = 173
    2 Rations Wasted! 5 Rations Remain!

In the end, he burned the bread badly, and the ungrateful louts whipped the hardened crusts at him. Well! Someone had to feed them, and if they weren't going to help they'd get what they got!

---
Magda watched the horizon and waited. She had a bad feeling that these reinforcements were needed, but there was no way she was going to take command of the Horde unless explicitly ordered to. Until Grimper told her otherwise, they’d wait in Fostis and arm themselves and wait. What would she even do if he was taken prisoner - or killed? At least when she’d been captured she’d been merely held hostage. If they found her again they’d probably just hit her over the head with a mallet and be done with it. She kept packing her wagons - they’d be ready if they needed to go soon. She hoped they’d hear from them soon, or that they’d come back. She felt exposed without the Warlord’s presence, and she hated it.

-[Nägel Interior]-
The woman watched both of the new prisoners, jotting down quick notes. Two quad-eyes. Symmetrical. Malformation of the tongue on one of them. He answered her questions plainly enough, though she couldn’t understand him very well. The other… The woman listened to Snödis with at first a quiet irritation that quickly grew into annoyance. Every time she thought the poet was done and tried to break in, she'd get louder and more acerbic. Worse, she was beginning to hear chuckles from the cells outside. Flustered, Administrator Zapanda slammed her palm against the table. “Please! I'm trying to help you, here! You're riling up the other patients, and you're making it difficult to - oh!”
    1d100 = 107 vs ???
    Prison Unrest! Difficulty Decreased by 2d100!

A hint of pink mist trickled out between Snödis’ teeth as she spewed rhyming invective. She felt a pain in her chest, but she couldn’t stop. She could hear the people outside laughing - laughing at her interviewer, could see their mockery wreathing around her like smoke. Then she coughed a cloud of fog and couldn’t go on. Zapanda tapped her pen against the table in thought. “Hmm. Self-Resonation in a time of great stress. Promising! Take her out to her chamber to rest for a while. It’s the middle of the night, and I don’t need this right now - and calm those drat Wendigos down! We can’t afford another incident!” Snodis couldn’t resist as they dragged her off towards an enclosure like the others. They laid her down on a bed, and she sat there, stunned, while the others around her laughed and hooted and roared. Dack was dropped in a room across from her, his protests ignored.

(Snödis’ Disapproving Poetry has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also.)

---
Inside one of Nägel's regular cells, seemingly abandoned, Shiny, Otter, Humbug and Ringo watched the latter throw his not inconsiderable skill at the locked cell door. Of course, it was pitch black, he didn't have a lockpick, and the other three were shouting unhelpful encouragement at him.
The lock snicked open, and they all held their breath to see if anyone would come check on them. Five minutes passed unmolested, so they gently slid the door open and walked out. The hall was empty and dusty, but the dust looked like disuse rather than the expected filth of a prison. Where was everyone? There was precious little to work with in here, but at least they were free! No sense escaping just yet, certainly not without their stuff - they'd been stripped when they came in. Of course, it wouldn't be easy to get their gear back. Probably they'd have to fight their way to it, and that meant getting out of this hall. Ringo prepared to unlock the gate, and the others put up their dukes in case they needed to rumble.

Only, the door was unlocked. Humbug creaked it open a fraction, revealing another nearly empty guard room. No guards in here, either… but there was a pile of their stuff tossed loosely in a corner. They picked it up uncertainly and donned it, paranoia screaming that it must be a trap. Again, five minutes passed in silence. The prison was ghostly quiet, with seemingly a skeleton crew of guards AND prisoners. Shiny found a discarded clipboard on one of the desks, a scrawled note still pinned to it:

quote:

Cells 150-250 allocated to Inhabited program
Something felt wrong, terribly wrong… but was that just paranoia once again? Where did they all go?
    Skeleton Crew? Difficulty Decreased by 3d100! Threat Decreased by 2d100!
-[Nägel Exterior]-
The Horde outside geared up with the spoils of their skirmish, faces and actions grimly serious. This would be tough enough with their numbers limited, and the captured further complicated things. Hopefully they were making their captors lives just as difficult, though that was maybe too much to hope. “Listen, we have one shot at this. If I need to go back and get the others to bust you out of here it'll throw off our schedule and give them a chance to get a message out to their forces. We can't afford to attract the attention of their Commanders just yet, not before we hit the Gateway. So… don't gently caress it up, or I'll have to get active, and we'll definitely have some heat coming down on us. Get going.”

(Alright, Spleen, Gelia and Qwäg get Guard Uniforms, and Mooks claim the lanterns. Skillcore-wise, Qwäg gets Gazing, Gelia claims Daydreaming, Spleen claims Masonry, and Mooks claim Guarding, Listening, Screaming, Grappling, Cooking, and Smithing. At least they’re not going to waste!)

The darkness was starting to lighten a trifle, and the Unexpectables began to realize how tired and hungry they were. Marching out here then quietly sieging this place was surprisingly exhausting. But Grimper was right - they needed to do this now, or else things would get real complicated for them, really quickly. They flashed back to that first gate the Warlord had had them vanquish - was this really any different? Sure, they didn't have that dude who was just crazy about digging holes, but surely they could figure it out! They approached the gate with shovels, mining charges, and a good hunch about the relative compactness of the surrounding loam. They got to work, quietly at first, then with increasing vigor as no one came out to bother them. When a commotion arose inside, they got louder and more boisterous, laughing and clanking as they worked.
The guards charged out of the gates, waving lanterns… and charged, night blind, into the trench the Unexpectables had dug. They toppled in and were set upon by the waiting Horde. The gate behind them slammed shut with frantic abandon, but it was too late - the Terrible Ram was hauled up and over the lip of the trench and thrust into the unprepared and unlocked door. The sheer weight of the Orichalcum Mason blasted the gate open, smashing one gatekeeper flat behind it. The Unexpectables were in! The handful of guards within the entrance fled before their might, disappearing deeper into the maze of chambers. The chase was on!

(Get wrecked idiots!)
---
Grimper breathed a sigh of relief as his men penetrated the secure facility, then emerged from his hiding spot and began to advance on it. The easy part was done. He hoped his messenger had arrived in a timely fashion - he'd need everyone for what came next.

---
The ex-captive Unexpectables walked through dark and empty halls with increasing confusion. They'd found other notes in other halls, speaking of prisoners sent 'to be Inhabited’. All in all, it was equal parts creepy and disappointing - the place was nothing like they expected, nothing like they'd heard. It was too sterile to imagine the atrocities and abuse they'd heard rumoured… unless they were missing som- a scream roused them from their investigation, and they froze… until they heard “UNEXPECTABLESSSSS” echo through the halls. That hadn't taken long! They made their way towards the sounds, carrying their valuable intel.

(Congrats, you survived your capture pretty easily! If you hadn’t broken out things would have been less good for you! But now you don’t need to worry about possibly being gassed or shipped out! You can assume you’re free to meet up with the incoming dudes.)

---
Down below, Snödis and Dack could hear the barest glimmers of the conflict above, but they could see the effects on their captors through the glass. The Wendigos were riled up by the laughter earlier, their breath showing white in the air despite the warmth down here, puffing through the mesh of their cages as their handlers tried in vain to calm them down. The warden burst in through an overhead hatch with a dozen guards, slamming it shut and locked behind him. “drat them! Don’t they know how important the work we do here is? What do they even want from us? Zapanda, status!” The Administrator broke off from her work and sprinted over, her hair dishevelled and red face redder than normal. “Sir, the Wendigos are going wild, and our patients are laughing at us! In addition, our two newest visitors are being unhelpful, and -” “Are you deaf, woman? We're under attack! Those 'visitors’ were a distraction! Haul them out here and get some answers out of them - by any means necessary.” “But sir! That's - we don't do that anymo-” “SOMETIMES, Zapanda, the old ways are best! Do we have any subjects ready for release?” “I’ll… look into it…”

She snapped her fingers, and guards made their way towards the two caged Unexpectables. Looks like they were in a pickle!

(Snodis and Dack, you’re about to be ‘creatively questioned’ - you can try to fight, try to get a message out to the people above, cooperate and answer their questions or… what? Good luck!)

---
Grimper walked through the ruined gates and took in the scene. The once-spotless prison was spattered with Fröman blood, and the Horde was rummaging through everything they could find. He slammed one hand against the bars of a nearby cell, attracting their attention. “Hey! Where are they? Where is everyone?” They directed his attention towards a great hatch in the floor in the rough centre of the facility, behind the warden’s office. It was sealed tight, made of a green metal that seemed to glow from within. “An Old Guy vault, underneath the prison! What an unexpected development, men! What a fascinating discovery! We need to get in there, we need to crack that thing open, and we need to drag out all that knowledge!”
  • Crack It Open - [Difficulty 30+++ Threat ???]
    “Look, the metal is hard but the bolts are weaker. Hammer at them until they snap off, then we’ll haul the whole lid off.”
  • Break The Floor - Difficulty 50++++
    “Just smash through the concrete and get in there! Go!”
  • Try To Break The Code [Difficulty 1+++++++ Deadly]x3
    “There’s a keypad - press the buttons right and they hatch will just swing open. It should. Probably!”
  • Starve Them Out! - Difficulty 1
    “As long as they’re in there, we’re safe. Even if our break-in is noticed, it’ll be weeks before anyone comes to save them. And then all that will be mine... Ours! Tö’s!”
  • Investigate the Prison - Difficulty ???
    “...Isn’t this prison pretty loving quiet? What the hell? This is supposed to be a Fröman torture-prison, a real hell on earth. Some of you should figure out what’s going on.”
  • A Better Idea!
    “What else have you got?”
-[Fostis]-
Magda was woken from a distracted reverie by a bluebird's song. Annoyed, she was about to crush it until she saw a tiny Nail stuck into the back of its skull. She snatched it from the air and swept a pile of junk off her desk, then placed the thing gently on the surface. She pulled the Nail out and the bird chirped once, then exploded in a pile of feathers and gore. She read the coded entrails with excitement, then burst out of her wagon. "Unexpectables! We're moving out! Grab whatever you need then hook up the wagons, we're heading to Nägel! The Warlord has sent us a message and he needs us there as soon as possible, so we're going to need to run there, as fast as possible! Time is of the essence!"
HORDE (the Horde that's in Fostis, at least) VOTE
  • Quick March - Difficulty 60
    "This isn't a run! You lazy ingrates!"
  • Fast March - Difficulty 60 x2
    "That's more like it, but it's not fast enough!"
  • Sprint - Difficulty 60 x3
    "Yes, good! Run! Your Warlord hails you!"
  • Mad Dash - Difficulty 60 x4
    "Push yourself till you barf, as long as you can still fight while you arrive!"
(This one is a little different - decide how fast you want to run there. Your roll will go to whichever option gets the majority. The harder the run, the more times your combined roll has to beat the roll. If you whiff it, you'll get to Nagel later than required. If you whiff it too many times, you may even get 'unlucky' on the road there. If you succeed multiple times, you'll arrive in the nick of time! Good luck!)

Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 17:52 on Nov 6, 2017

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.
Very late update because I got real real sick and gross. Art later once I'm not asleep good luccccck

also if parts of it don't make sense it's because i'm gross and sick

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010


Gado!!!
Skill: Digging (+20), Mining (+10, unavailable next turn.)
HP: 3
Glory: 0->1

Gado has a long night counting through his small pile of riches, these would make a good pay back gift for Shiny when they say each other again. He's about to turn in for a nap when Magda begins screaming bloody murder about needing to go! Go! GO!

Bursting out from his little hovel Gado immediately begins screaming orders at the Nailed Fostisians, calling for former Miners to come to his side and directing them in assisting with packing up the Unexpectables many belongings. Not particularly fond of the idea of disappointing Grimper again Gado is bouncing heel to heel near the edge of town, ready to take off in a sprint once everything is finished being packed.

quote:

(36)- Ordering around a Nailed Mining Crew to help with our packing so we can get Sprinting all the faster.

It looks like we've got close to 70 folks in Fostis, so a sprint with Glory included shouldn't be too tough.

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:1
Glory:14
(Carrying the Whistling Skillcore unused)

As much as he was still smarting from distracting the last resistance in Fostis, this was more important than that. Time to get the injuries patched up later, for now, it was vital to get there at speed to help their recon elements in their hour of need. It seemed a sprint was required.

He sought out the lollygaggers barely able to make up the pace, and spake, "Feel that? That's the pull of the nail, ever towards the warlord! Keep it in mind as you go, keep that little tug in focus, and you'll be surprised how fast you can go to answer the call! Come on!"

Bluff the hindmost to speed 'em up:33

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009



Name: Portha
Skills: Rummaging, Cleaning, Imagining
HP: 2/3
Glory: 5

Portha had had a change of heart when the corpses were dragged from the mine, "I should get that Imagining core," she thought to herself, "maybe if I think hard about where things are hidden it'll resonate with my own core." So she yanked it out of the corpse. Immediately a flood of ideas rushed into her mind, but they were ideas about all the horrible ways she could die in this war. Stabbings, arrows, execution, infection, attack by beasts, sudden monsterism onset, a ton of nasty ways to die. This was worse than the last core. Fortunately there were a few good ideas mixed in, she had an idea for a new weapon, but unfortunately she was more of an ideas gal and the end result was no more effective than her old pointy stick.

That night she dreamt of thousands of Frömen pouring out of the mine, chopping off legs with Old Guy weapons. They were almost on her and then... Magda's shouting woke her up. Something about running to Nägel? drat, her injuries hadn't healed yet and they expected her to go back into battle. What could be so important they'd have to abandon a location with an Old Guy relic? Was the scouting force all captured? Did they have an army of stitched together Monsterist abominations? Did they capture Grimper?! Were they yanking out his nails one by one?!!!! Was he being fitted with dozens of new nails designed to make him serve the Frömen?!?!?!

Portha had wanted to keep a more reasonable pace but all these ideas she couldn't help but imagine were making her panic and she started Sprinting as fast as she could while still injured.

Sprint! Running to save the horde from imagined horrors! 1d100+15=111

"Monsters! Nosferatu! Shadow Warriors! Nails driven into our soldiers' blue flesh, turning them into cultists! Into psychic warriors! Flaming telepaths, eyes aflame, burning for us from unknown origin! Harvesters of eyes! Töan Crawford risen from the grave!"

super sweet best pal fucked around with this message at 21:25 on Nov 7, 2017

Lux Anima
Apr 17, 2016


Dinosaur Gum


Name: Gawp
HP: 3
Skill: Perception
Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Sikatris Scarf, Sharp Stick (+0)
Glory: 8 -> 9
Ritual Chits: 14 -> 15 (artwork bonus)

Camp, Outside Fostis (part 3): Gawp awoke with a start to the clamorous clanging of Magda's smithing hammer over rows and rows of hanging pots and pans. While the pealing gongs of hammer blows rung out across the foothills of Fostis, Gawp could scarecely contain himself as he gathered his collection of wonderful new things and bounded off toward the center of camp. He could tell that it was urgent, and so he wanted to be one of the first ones there. Magda knew him, after all - knew his face, at least. Gawp had seen the how the High Nailsmith had given him an appreciative glare just the other day, and so he knew he must've impressed her when he'd asked to be her assistant that one time!

At the very least, he wanted to be near the front of the group so that Magda would see him in his brand new leathers and his fancy blue scarf. Gawp had waited patiently in line for that scarf, and he'd managed to snag the very last one! It was the nicest thing that Gawp had ever received, from anyone, ever, and in a way it was also like a gift from Magda herself! Gawp felt a compulsion to show off to Magda how good the scarf made him look and feel. He felt that this was... the polite thing to do? What a strange concept!

When Gawp finally heard the High Nailsmith Magda's orders, he broke into a mad dash. It didn't matter what direction he ran in - he simply followed the flow of the others, anyway - but it was important to Gawp that he make it look like he was running for all he was worth.

The March to Nägel: Once Gawp and the others had made it downhill and onto the flatter roads outside Fostis, he slowed to a sprint and took stock in what exactly he was doing. He was marching triple-time toward Nägel, the famed Fröman jail, home to monsterists and wendigos. His pace slackened a bit as he caught up with some others.

Gawp thought about it: Grimper hadn't returned from Nägel yet, but somehow he must've sent a message to Magda for reinforcements. That meant that Grimper was still alive, and that they were marching straight for him! Gawp gulped, suddenly fearful of the thought. If Grimper found out about Gawp's involvement in the failed slinker-hunting mission, well... it was best not to think about it!

All things considered, Gawp couldn't help but feel that a Fast March to Nägel should be more than adequate for getting them all there on time.

Fast March to Nägel: 1d100+8 41

Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 07:13 on Nov 3, 2017

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?


Name: Bamboo
HP: 3
Glory: 14 + 1 (Action Glory) > 15
Skill: Basket Weaving [Ready]

-[Fostis]-

Bamboo clutched at the valuables she had managed to locate during her wanderings around Fostis.

Against all hope, despite the odds, here at last, she had found something which the other Hordelings had not claimed. Something which may actually help her plight.

"For. My. Family", Bamboo nearly sobbed.

Gathering her still meager belongings, she donned her Non-Descript Leathers and began running towards the main road out of the settlement; she had heard Magda and her commands.

Action:

> Bamboo sprints for Nägel: 1d100+14 53 [1d100=39]

WereGoat
Apr 28, 2017



Name: Hob

HP: 3/3

Glory: 6>7

Ritual Glory : 0

Skill: Bee keeping(activated), Contortion

Hob's stick arrow missed the rock again. He pulled another one from the bundle of stick arrows he had gathered. And drew back the bow. The sticks were were rough, and clearly poorly suited for the job, but there was something else. His eye. They were all missing the target on the same side. Turning slightly to compensate, he let the "arrow" fly. It missed again, but was in the right area now at least. Enough for now. Slinging his new bow over his shoulder, we walked back to camp to help with the cooking.

Wait, it was later in the day than he had realised. A dark smoke hung around the cooking fire, as well as a smell of burning. Chunks of inedible bread littered the floor as if thrown at someone, stacks and stacks of the burnt bread piled nearby, untouched.

"How much did you cook!?" Nudging Patsy in the ribs, "Looks like you bit of more than you could chew".

"No, I'm sorry, I know I normally help. I got carried away practicing shootin' stuff. That was to much pressure for one Töan to handle. An entire horde by yourself? You should feel good for even trying."

Leaving Patsy, Hob kneeled over the pile of burnt bread, looking for anything edible.

Tap tap. Tap tap.

"This is like wood" the bread crumbled in his hands. "Bad wood". Hob looked up to see Noggins the hero. "I bet even you couldn't make something out of this."

Why was she taking it seriously, it was a throwaway comment "Uuuh, yeah sure, how about...." I don't even have any valuables, just this gear and some bee stuff "how about this if you manage to make it?" Hob pulls out a small wax paper with some honey wrapped in it, not enough for a horde, only just enough for one. I don't even want anything "and if you don't, uuh... you... could... Carve? Something? A... Honey dipper?"

----

The call went out. Our warlord needs us! Sprinting is the only course of action. "Looks like you were gonna win, here you go" Hob tosses the honey to Noggins with a smile.

----

Hob was tired. A wooden spear was one thing, but now he had a sword, armour, a bow, and worst of all a heavy iron shield slung across his back. Great idea at the time. It was worse even than carrying Tharbad! At least then it was more of a light jog with lots of rests. Yes, it was more the speed that was a problem with all this stuff.

And none of them had eaten. This won't do. It's a long distance, need to keep our energy up if we have any hope of maintaining this pace.

Hob watched for the signs and signals, putting on his gloves as he ran. There's some waggle dancing, there's some buzzing, Hob darts off of the road at an opportune moment. Nothing. He returns to the road, runs. Watching again, he darts of a second time. Nope. Run. Third time lucky he follows the bees dancing to direct him to a wild hive. No time to lose, smash and grab. They could rebuild.

With the handfuls of honeycomb he returns to the road, passing it out to the stragglers as they ran side by side.

Keep the horde moving with a sugary energy boost: 1d100+10+6 56

WereGoat fucked around with this message at 17:32 on Nov 3, 2017

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0
Grimey Drawer
Previously: on Break Down That Gate...



How will Snödis get out of this one?!

Half-wit
Aug 31, 2005

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

Name: Neebs
Skill(s): Sales (on cooldown), Drinking
HP: 3
Glory: 1 -> 2

When waking up the next morning, Neebs decided it was time to integrate the Drinking skillcore she'd obtained yesterday. She grabbed some bread from Patsy (did it look a little burnt today?) and a nice glass of water. Holding the skillcore, it seemed that that the skillcore didn't want to integrate in the usual way. It whispered to her to swallow it whole. The thing was a little large, but she tossed it wholesale into her mouth and pushed it to the back of her throat. There was a little...was that a click?.. and then...she was choking! The skillcore was stuck at the back of her throat! She felt an instinctive need to drink, to wash the skillcore down. She grabbed her glass of water, and poured it down her throat. ?The skillcore didn't seem to be blocking the water? She felt her throat relax a little, but she still felt like she was choking. She made a mad dash to find as much liquid to imbibe as possible. She worked her way through a few more nearby glasses before deciding those weren't enough liquid and moved to a nearby bucket of water. After spending less time downing the bucket of water than stander-bys would have imagined was possible, Neebs new skillcore still wasn't satisfied. She ran to a nearby trough of water (usually reserved for pack animals) and just buried her head in it. She kept drinking, keeping her head underwater for a couple minutes, until the feeling at the back of her throat had returned to a normal level. Well, normal enough. There was a slight pull that she felt was never going to go away now, her body now constantly asking her to drink. The water hadn't quite done it, it seemed; her body was telling her that she needed to drink alcoholic beverages.

With the skillcore integration mostly complete, and her mind no longer wholly focused on just drinking anything and everything...Neebs returned to the breakfast table after picking up some nearby beer. She proceeded to eat her bread (was it this dry because of her new skillcore, or was it just a bad batch of bread? she couldn't tell) and down it with the beer. The beer tasted particularly satisfying and she could tell all of the various ingredients that had gone into making it. She also had an inkling of what could have been done to make the beer taste better.

Halfway through her bread, she heard Magda yell (with some urgency) that it was time to go. She dropped what remained of her bread (and downed the rest of the beer) before taking off in a Mad Dash with the rest of the Unexpectables to Nägel.

Rolls for mad dashing, use as appropriate (if a slower pace is voted on, then ignore the later rolls):
Mad Dash (or slower sprints if that's voted): 4#1d100+1 49 21 44 28

Unfortunately, due to the vast amount of liquid Neebs had imbibed, her stomach kept sloshing around and she didn't run so well.

WereGoat
Apr 28, 2017

Half-wit posted:

Rolls for mad dashing, use as appropriate (if a slower pace is voted on, then ignore the later rolls):
Mad Dash (or slower sprints if that's voted): 4#1d100+1 49 21 44 28

Yo, DK clarified in the discord;

"DogKisser's Discord posted:

DogKisser - Today at 01:54
nope!
roll once, then I'll use your total vs 4 rolls

So only need the first one, which is the best one! :dance:

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Barbed Tongues
Mar 16, 2012






Pythag
HP: (3) of (3)
Skill: Math
Equipment: Armor (+4), Iron Shield
Glory: 1

Pythag jolted awake with the call to arms. A brief burst of adrenaline caused him to take a Mad Dash in the direction of the rushing horde. That lasted all of about twenty yards before the weight of his armor caused him to lessen the pace. Still, he pushed himself. What Would Grimper Do? Sprint, that's what. Anything less would earn his ire.

Action: Sprint! 1d100+1 = 76

Barbed Tongues fucked around with this message at 20:57 on Nov 3, 2017

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