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Dog Kisser posted:You sacrificers are so gallant! They're breaking Rule One. 
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Nov 10, 2017 20:29
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    Name: Gawp HP: 3 Skill: Perception (cooling) Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Sikatris Scarf, Sharp Stick (+0) Glory: 11 Ritual Chits: 20 (artwork bonus) Nägel Corrections Facility (part 3) - The Vault: Gawp was utterly amazed. The General Grimper was stepping up on behalf of the Horde to square off against the terrifying Wendigos himself! But - even so - it didn't look as though the great Warlord's power - incredible as it was - would be enough to stop and destroy all three of the ferocious beasts all at once! Grimper would surely save the Horde from a certain defeat, but even so not even Grimper was strong enough to prevent them all from suffering at the horrible hands, claws, teeth, and feet of the Wendigos in the process. Having realized reality, Gawp watched from the sidelines, mortified, feeling helpless and small. This wasn't how any of it was supposed to go, not at all! With a sudden jolt, a surge of fiery courage filled Gawp with renewed vigor as he saw even more of his comrades leaping into the fray, taking blows for others and shielding them from harm. They were a team after all, the Unexpectables. They were a Horde. They fought for each other in droves and they died in the same way, all for the greater good of the Töan people. Gawp saw his opportunity when the Loud One reared its ugly, impossibly-long head and screeched, moving as though it intended to lash out at the Unexpectables with its mouthfuls of fangs. He wasn't going to let that thing strike another down in such a way. He wasn't going to let that mutated thing bite Grimper, either! Gawp rushed at the Loud Wendigo with his wooden spear, aiming to hurl himself toward the creature's open, diseased mouth. If mutations came from being bit by this horrid thing, so be it. Better that it happened to Gawp with his own case of abhorrent Monsterism then have it happen to someone else far fairer. Gawp is volunteering to take a Mutation hit from the Loud Wendigo.
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Nov 10, 2017 21:49
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 The Unexpectables lay battered and broken, in some cases partially consumed, and Grimper finally began to move. In a stretched moment, he opted to divide his focus to better handle his foes. The world hung frozen to his greatly-accelerated senses, and despite his general aloofness he had a difficult time watching his Horde in such disarray. Many of them would not survive, and those who did may bear terrible scars. This was fine, for such was the way of war… but he had caused this in his haste to force them in here. This was no battle, this was a meatgrinder, a tight corridor packed with too many bodies and too little light, and one in which heavy losses on both sides were almost certain. drat the Frö! drat them for not simply accepting his dominion, for unleashing these profane creatures without even the dignity of a Brand. He expended his initial burst of power to close the distance, then got to work. His words stretched in the air as he pulled out of their grip and struck the first thing. The laughter was grating on him, and he longed to shut the thing up!
1d5000 + Horde’s Glory! = 1603 vs 2196 - FAIL 1d5000 + Horde’s Glory! = 2512 vs 2196 - BREAK!  He Broke it with his gauntlets and the power he forced through them, his Cores humming like a great engine. The gore hung like mist in the air, boiling away under his power, which ought to be enough to prevent the spread of secondary infection… no guarantees about primary contact however. No time to worry about that now! He drove onwards, plowing through the bloody fog and into the shrieking Fröman derivate. Its eyes focused on him, lightning-fast, and it lashed out even as he struck.
1d5000 + Horde’s Glory! = 1603 vs 2724 - FAIL  He tore its head apart, showering the walls and survivors with its foul blood. He came down from his battle lust and panted in the midst of the carnage. He knew from the pain in his Nail that he’d lost many. More than he’d expected, more than he could bear… but there would be more. Broadly, those who had survived had been those who’d deserved to survive, so the Horde would only grow stronger. That would have to be enough. Those who’d survived immediately shifted into post-battle investigation, sorting out the wounded from the gravely wounded from the dead. The other Wendigo lay slumped against the wall, bled out and shattered from the Horde’s efforts, though it held a crushed body in its meaty grip. Curse them. Curse them all. “My Horde… my Horde, those who have survived, carry the wounded onwards. Leave the dead, for now. We dare not mourn until such time that we know the area is secure… and then we will have our vengeance.” (Alright… the Laughing Wendigo was killed, preventing all damage (but one Mook has Mutated - more on that later), but Grimper failed to overcome the Loud one… the damage there remains. The Ugly Wendigo was unaffected, dealing its damage as listed earlier before dying of its wounds. I'll list everything here for your convenience, taking into account Shields and Cowardclaws and sacrifices people have listed in the thread. I’ll rip the bandaid off quickly:
Neebs, Patsy, Dofro, Laughing Averted… Loud Shiny, Tharbad, Biggo, Rik, Gado, Mason, Grumbus, Gloff and 19 Mooks take 2 Damage! Sacrifices Gabber sacrifices self for Biggo and takes Sucy sacrifices self for Tharbad and takes 2 Damage! Humbug sacrifices self for Flitter and takes 2 Damage! Qwäg sacrifices self to be hit by Mutation! Roll 1d6+1! Gawp sacrifices self to be hit by Mutation! Rol 1d6+1! --- Ringo the Pick panicked, grabbed something off one of the downed Wendigo-herders and ran back down the hall… only to find Grimper and a few survivors walking down the tunnel towards him. Skidding to a halt, he awkwardly swung his capture pole to an upright position and saluted as Grimper walked past. His eyes flicked down the hall, mentally counting those who weren’t moving - and those who were moving but shouldn’t be…  --- Snödis the Poet watched her gaggle of ‘captors’ kneeling before her and suppressed the urge to laugh. Pythag the Mathematician banged on the glass and threatened them, and they looked like they knew he meant it. She couldn’t see down the corridor from here, didn’t know exactly how bad things were out there, but from Pythag’s sorrow and rage she could assume the worst. She swept her eyes down across the people in the room with her. She explained to them in no uncertain terms that the Warlord - her Warlord - had come to claim Nägel and the Neötypes unlawfully sealed within. There would be no hostage situation, either. Snödis herself would provide no leverage, only by freeing her - by cooperating - would the Poet deign to speak on their behalf. Admini- EX-Administrator Zapanda’s eyes narrowed, but she flicked a finger towards a guard and then towards Snödis’ chains. Rubbing her recently-freed wrists, she rose and requested a list of those still here. After a few moments of discussion, one of the researchers presented a partial inventory they’d been working on prior to the invasion. She flicked through a list of unfamiliar names, frowning as she saw how many of them had been crossed out. At last she saw two she recognized - Tö-Pain, her erstwhile lover and rival, and Bolbörf, who she vaguely recalled from Klörf’s frantic plea several days back. She scrounged for further data, but all she turned up was [SENT FOR INHABITANCY] for both of them. For most of them. Nägel was far emptier than she would have thought. She nodded, though - it was a start. The Nägelites would yet earn their keep! --- Grimper swept into the central chamber where the guards had released the Wendigos with a grimmer face than normal. The scrap with the Wendigo had left a mark on him, a deep set of scores across his face and down the leather of his armor. He wasn’t bleeding - they looked like scratches across marble - but it was shocking to see him affected at all. He walked with his hands behind his back, mouth pressed into a straight line. He walked straight to a corner chamber containing a single Fröman woman, her mouth wider than normally possible, covering her eyes with hands bearing mismatched fingers. He tore the door off the hinges, then swept a hand outwards, as though offering that someone could cross a threshold before him. She didn’t move, but a portly Fröman - the warden himself - stepped out, sweating bullets. “Ah, so you, uh, so you’ve come to tour my facility? I, uh, I can help you, you know. I know all sorts of secrets. I know how to get you into the very heart of our mil-”  ”COWARD! IDIOT! RED BASTARD!” Grimper slammed his foot into the messy remains until only a fine paste remained. “As for the rest of you! Wherever you’re hiding, get out here! Open the prison cells, free all your captives, and bring them HERE. NOW! If you go near the Wendigos, I will PUSH. YOU. THROUGH. THE. GRATES!” The few hold outs dropped their weapons and equipment and rushed to do his bidding. He freed Snödis and her group with a lashing kick, then demanded a report. Snödis got a dozen or so words into it before he cut her off. “Later! For now, you, woman - Zapanda - care for my men. If any of them die under your ministrations, I will flay you. UNEXPECTABLES! Stabilize the wounded! If you are able, explore this facility and bring me every scrap of value. Call in Magda! Seal the gate! We aren’t out of this JUST YET!” (BUM BUM BUM! Slight cliffhanger, but I’m out of time. Art later, and potentially other sections that I will post about should they occur. Regardless, you’re now in Downtime. I suggest you spend time healing, but you also need to explore this place more fully. I’m predicting you’ll have two Downtimes in a row here because frankly you need it really badly, so don’t feel like you’re in too much of a rush. Skillcores from the dead will come later on, just wanted to post again before the weekend!) Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 20:39 on Nov 16, 2017 |
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Nov 10, 2017 21:50
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  Name: Patsy Skill: Baking HP: 1 Glory: 8 . Patsy had never, ever, ever felt like this before. He'd suffered the usual burns, nicks, and strained muscles you get in a bakery, but this... this was something else. Fortunately, (hopefully, given his recent string of failures) Patsy remembered one other old traditional recipe. Mold from certain kinds of old, hard breads (like the burned garbage that had been thrown at him all day), coupled with certain kinds of herbs made for a bitter, crunchy bread that was no joy to eat, but could help the sick and injured recover much faster than normal. Patsy started cooking up a batch, setting aside the first piece for one of those selfless enough to save a comrade who otherwise would have died. While the dough was rising, Patsy went down to find something he could use as a weapon and a baking tool. Something he could carry with him, that he was used to, that might help out with his string of terrible luck on and off the battlefield. The armorer grunted once, and pulled out a giant wooden bakers peel... with a razor sharp edge. Patsy finally knew true love. Healing Sucy, as the first person who stepped up to save a life 1d100+18 = 48 Also buying a weapon, the edged peel, which Patsy affectionately names "Fear no Loaf" Mithross fucked around with this message at 23:23 on Nov 24, 2017 |
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Nov 10, 2017 22:14
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    Gado!!! Skill: Digging (+20), Mining (+10) HP: 1/3 Glory: 3->4 Woof. Gado isn't doing too hot in the aftermath, but he supposes it could be worse. He could be one of the steaming piles of gore that was all that remained of the less vocal horde members. No time to complain though! Life in the horde demands you be moving ever forward. Gado isn't exactly the brightest bulb, but he has been blessed with a lifetime under a physical skillcore and he knows how to use his muscles. Rather than attempt to do any of the actual healing, Gado goes about loading the wounded onto makeshift stretchers and moving them where they need to be. He spends time sorting out the lightly wounded and making sure those who are on death's door get first shot at some proper treatment. Doing Triage to help the Healing effort.= 79
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Nov 10, 2017 22:34
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  HP:1 Glory:17 (Carrying the Whistling Skillcore unused) He exhaled. Battered as he was, Grimper had saved his life, though five of their hordemates were not so lucky, to say nothing of the injured and mutated. He carefully cleaned his blade, resheathing his sword cane and securing it, then fishing around in his scant belongings for a certain something. Qwäg had been one of the unlucky ones, but whatever changes occurred changed little else. "Here", he said, Offering Qwäg the Whistling Skillcore. "Secured this back in Fostis, Whistling speciality. Do you reckon you can make use of it? If not, you're probably the best judge to assess where it should go." He turned to look at the wounded, so many of them. Still, he had to help as best he was able, so he strode among them, giving the lie to his own injuries as he tried to give the lie to theirs. "We're alive, we've survived the most horrific things we've ever faced. Some of us didn't, and most all of us aren't unscathed. But to live through that is to be able to live through anything! We are Töans! It did not kill us, and we can shrug off anything that doesn't!" Bluff our many wounded into regenerating their injuries: 80!
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Nov 10, 2017 22:42
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    Noggins Skillcores: Carpentry HP: 3 Glory: 18->19 Ritual Glory: 1 Slowly, groggily, Noggins climbed to her feet, sore all over, but blessedly uninjured--she'd still been gripping the Loud Wendigo's head when Grimper had torn it asunder, and the fall to the ground had knocked the wind out of her. All around her, other people were doing the same, taking stock of their injuries, and the injuries of those around them. Some didn't get up at all, though Noggins was unable to put a name to the faces of any of the fallen. But for awful as it had been, as bad as Noggins felt that she'd failed to protect the rest of the Horde, it was over. Grimper had saved them, roaring into the battle like a wrathful god, and showing that while he may be an aloof, angry drunk, he was still a Warlord, and that meant something. Noggins gave Grimper a sharp salute, and then hurried back out to the wagons to grab her tools and materials, and went to work cutting out splints and supports for stretchers. It wasn't pretty work, but it didn't need to be--needed not to be, time was important here... proper treatment in time could make the difference between a limb healing properly or not at all... --------------- "Well, I have good news, and I've got bad news. What do you want first?" the doctor asked, washing the blood from her hands. Noggins sat woozily, trying to focus on the shifting room. "Give me the... urgh. Give me the bad news." "Well, the bad news is you can say goodbye to binocular vision. Unless you want to try your luck with monsterism, but as your doctor I'm going to have to advise that." Reflexively, Noggins reached up to her left eye, her hand touching bundled gauze, only numbness underneath. "And... the good news?" "Well, I was able to get all the glass out, for starters, so you're not going to have any trouble there. You got in here fast, too, which helps--I've dosed the affected area with Cobaltwing venom... useful stuff. It's a numbing paralytic, so that should keep you from moving your eye before it's healed. You won't be able to see out of it, but at least you'll still have your own eyeball in there. Most people aren't that lucky." Nogglins flopped back down onto the table, staring at the ceiling. "Lucky... right. Yeah, I... I guess you're right." "Who's the drunk that bottled you, anyways? You should take that up with the law." "It was... it's not important. I'll be fine. Thanks, doc." ---------------- Eventually, there was a lull in the work, and Noggins was finally, finally able to rest. She would just have to trust the Horde's doctors, and... whoever it was that Snödis had captured. It was out of her hands, for now. She took a few breaths, and reoriented herself. The fight was over now, and while it had been bad, it could have been so much worse. This wasn't the time to be dismal and gloomy--there was victory to be celebrated. A hard-fought, almost pyrrhic victory, but a victory. "Hey Spleen!" she yelled, seeking out the demolitionist. "I've got something for you!" Finally tracking him down, she smiled and pressed the Blasting skillcore into his hands. "Figured you might like it--there was an un-nailed resistance back in Fostis before we cleared them out. Picked this up off of one of them!" With that taken care of, she found Gabber and Hob, helping with the medical effort. "Hey, guys. I know it might not feel like it right now, but... you guys did good back there. I just want you to know that... well, when there's a situation that you come out of alright, but other people don't... it's going to make you feel guilty. Like it's your fault somehow. But I want--I need to tell you that it's not. You aren't weak, you aren't cowards, and you definitely aren't to blame for anything that happened here. You guys had my back in that fight, you're some of the bravest people I've met, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather be fighting alongside. Now let's help get everyone patched up--we're going to need it before we kick Frö's rear end for what they did here, right?" She smiled as she got back to work. It hadn't been great, yeah... but with friends around you, things never seemed quite as bad. Making Splints: 1d100+28 62
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Nov 10, 2017 22:46
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     Spleen the Volatile Skills: 'Splosions, Blasting. (Masonry passed to Noggins) HP: 3/3 Glory: 7 -> 2 -> 3 For a moment there it looked pretty bad. And then it looked pretty great. And then it quickly became bad again, with Spleen looking like he was one interception via angry and overpowered Grimper away from getting hurt pretty badly in that fight. That was close, Spleen valued his own skin. --- Matters to hand required seeing to before Spleen continued further. First, he replaced his Boomstick at the store with the giant woman who secretly terrified Spleen more than anyone else with the possible exception of Grimper and Spleen's dear old mother (May she rest in peace). Perhaps in hindsight saving it for Wendigos would have been a better idea. Then, he saw to the wounded, he wasn't wounded, other people were, it was important that the Horde was restored to health before they continued, it's always important to this that. Spleen will assist the healing effort, 1d100+6 = 72 And finally, with Masonry core in hand he traded with fellow Horde member Noggins for the Blasting core she had in her hands, transaction completed, he looked at the strange organ he had in his hand, forgetting how exactly this process worked. Oh well, one way to find out. He inserted it into himself through vague means, and felt a great and emphatic sense of, Enlightenment Blasting skill acquired! TheNabster fucked around with this message at 01:07 on Nov 12, 2017 |
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Nov 10, 2017 22:50
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  Skill 2: Amputation HP: 3 Glory 14 Qwäg sagged against the blood-spattered corridor wall, catching her breath. She was grimly satisfied to still be among the living, but that had never truly been in doubt. Qwäg had perused the forbidden Table W406 only briefly, but from even that glance, she knew she was not destined to die here among the wretched of Nägel. Examining her ichor-soaked limbs for signs of injury, she noted one scrape in particular seemed a bit...off. Seen from the corner of her eyes, the edges almost seemed to undulate, writhing toward one another in a struggle to rejoin. Choking back a surge of dread, she pulled down the sleeve of her guard tunic to cover the wound, and strode into the carnage to inspect the wounded. MUTATE!: 1d6+1 2 Before surveying the damage, the Assessor first paid a brief visit to the weapons stockpile; none of the gross, who-knows-what infested weapons dropped by the guards would do to operate on her fellow hordelings. In the end, she decided to pick up a nasty little number with a serrated blade. Good for getting through bones, small trees, or enemy morale! Picking up some kind of weaponized bonesaw from Magda! The casualties...weren't as bad as she feared. Still, though, Qwäg went among the wounded, offering to remove any truly mangled member or suspicious growth. In truth, much of the "gangrene" and "monsterist buds" were probably just hangnails and skin tags, but one couldn't be too careful when dealing with wendigos! The procedures helped to calm the fears of some of the more paranoid among the horde, anyway. The Cutting Edge of Medicine!: 1d100+24 65 On her rounds, Qwäg managed to come across Gawp the Looker, poring through the enemy remains with his bouquet of eyes. "Gawp," she called, reaching into her pouch to withdraw the Gazing skillcore, crystaline and gleaming eye-like. "I've run the numbers, and you should stick this in your face." Glancing down at her torn guard uniform, she scowled. "Perhaps you could help me get this mess fixed up, in return." Exchanging Gazing Skillcore to Gawp for an Armor Upgrade! Finally, after much procrastination, she found unable to avoid talking to Splut any longer. Something churned in her belly that hopefully wasn't emergent monsterism. "Splut," she coughed, glancing down at her notebook to 'check a figure', "you seem...alive. It's...ah...a good thing you listen as well as you talk." A long pause, thankfully broken by Splut's offer of a skillcore. "Yes," she admits, regaining a bit of her calm in the face of statistics, "I can determine where this could best be applied. I appreciate your insight in the matter." Another long pause, long enough for panic to begin to set in again. "Well, keep it up, Splut," she blurts, whirling to hide her furious blush and quickly escape, but slipping in a puddle of gore and sliding into Splut. "Gak!"
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Nov 10, 2017 22:50
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Noggins Skillcores: Carpentry HP: 3 Glory: 19 Ritual Glory: 1 As she walked among the wounded, providing what additional assistance she could, Noggins came across Mason, injured and nursing his side, but hanging in there all the same. She thought for a moment, and then fished the Masonry skillcore she'd received from Spleen out of her pocket, setting it carefully in his lap. "Got a gift for you! You... might have one of these already, but it just seemed fitting for you to get this one. You get better, alright?" Giving Masonry to Mason. Trade chains ahoy!
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Nov 10, 2017 23:00
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Gado!!! Skill: Digging (+20), Mining (+10) HP: 1/3 Glory: 4->0 In between his hours of hauling around the injured Gado takes a brief moment to approach Magda's cart, a pensive look on his face, obscured my his mask of course but there. The horde wasn't in a good place at all, they needed to become more than they were. The nail currently jabbed in his shoulder had been a start, but it was clear they needed more. Digging through his pouch Gado pulls out 2 Glory tokens and drops them in the nearly half full container for Luck's Fickle Gaze Not twenty feet away from the cart after depositing his donation, a delayed shiver of fear shoots up the Digger's spine. The power of monsterism was terrifying when left to it's own devices, but what if the horde harnessed it for their own gain? Gado is more hesistant as he approaches Magda's cart again, but in the end he drops the last 2 of his Glory into the jar for the Monsterist's Enervating Brew. 2 Glory each to Luck's Fickle Gaze and Monsterist's Enervating Brew.
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Nov 10, 2017 23:22
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HP:1 Glory:17 He reacted instinctively, reaching out to catch and steady her, inwardly wincing as that compressed some of his bruises, but adeptly maintaining his poker face. "Careful there, those things... they did not go to their ends cleanly. Are you all right?" His poker face slipped a little, a touch more concern than would be usual overriding his cherished sangfroid.
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Nov 10, 2017 23:24
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  HP: 2/2 Glory:14->15->11->7 Biggo was alive. He had no doubts as to how that happened, he had messed up and had to be saved again. Still useless even after all these years, after all his training... He punched the ground in dejected rage. It wasn't supposed to go like this anymore, he should be the one doing the protecting, but it seems that somewhere along the way he had forgotten all about it in search for Glory. Well, no longer. Biggo walked up to Magda and quietly bought a shield. Thinking some more, he bought another one. Biggo had never really paid much attention to Gabber, he had always been a quiet one, usually in the sidelines. Well, his opinion on him had certainly gone up a lot. Previously Biggo thought he was shy, or perhaps a coward afraid to make himself noticed, but now he knew that he was simply doing his job quietly, like any proper Tö should, not calling attention to himself. Truly an example to look up to. Biggo respected his quiet resolve too much to try and talk to him, so he instead merely pushed a Shield into his arms, not taking no for an answer, then gave him a firm nod and walked away to help with the wounded. He was no expert at healing, but surely he could use his raw physical strength to pop arms back into sockets and the like. He had been helped too much by the Horde without giving back, time to make up for lost time. Brute force healing 1d100+7= 69 (Nice.)
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Nov 10, 2017 23:28
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  Name: Bamboo HP: 3/3 Glory: 16 + 1 (Story Glory) > 17 Skill: Basket Weaving [Ready] -[Nägel]- Bamboo slumped down to the cold floor of the vault and sat there, unmoving. Once again, she was covered in blood, gore, and ichor. Bodily fluids which weren’t hers. She stared at the palms of her hands. ”Familiar?” ”By the actions of The Horde, yes.” ”Just the Horde?” ”Yes. What else?” ”Think back?” ”Back when?” ”We still playing this game huh?” ”What game? My family needs me, that’s the only thing which matters.” ”And what of your Family then? Tell me about them?” ”What’s to tell? They’re waiting for me back home. They only reason I’m here with this Horde is to save them.” ”Back Home. Sounds nice, who else are they with, back home?” ”They’re with Queen Reina. They’ll always be with Queen Reina . . . ” ”And how is Queen Reina?” Bamboo began to shake violently, as if something inside her was trying to break free. She screamed, ”Dead! Dead!! DEAD!!!”. She began crawling around on the floor, picking over limbs, bodies, the living and the dead. ”Must! Save!! FAMILY!!!”. Action: > Bamboo tries to assist (in her way) with healing the Horde: 1d100+16 66 [1d100=50]
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Nov 11, 2017 00:26
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 Skill: Sleuthing (using) HP: 1/3 Glory: 11 ----> 12 Humbug walked away from the battle with a limp and large bruises. The madly chattering - and hideously Ugly - Wendigo had smacked him aside like a poorly-made stick ogre, his own punch hardly even making a dent in its thick hide. As he rubbed his hip (Dislocated? Perhaps slightly cracked? Painful, certainly!), he could at least take satisfaction in that the death blow that had surely been meant for Flitter had never manifested and that the Warlord had finished off those drat Wendigos - he was amazed that the Glory-hungry old man had cared enough to step in. But victory had come at a cost. Five Hordemates lay dead, and many more were sorely wounded - the price of glory, of military service (and conscription, he mutely reminded himself). As much as it pained him, as much as he wanted to go over Nägel with a fine-toothed comb and a looking glass to search for Clues and Mysteries... he owed these people, now. They'd died coming here, been almost slaughtered coming here - and it had all been his suggestion in the first place. With a stiff upper lip and the weight of responsibility, Humbug the Sleuth slowly made his way around the facility, taking note of everything there was in the way of medical supplies - things that might lie forgotten now that almost the entire facility lay dead, wounded or had been press-ganged into stressful and immediate triage service. On his way around saw Magda distributing pieces of gear and he did not pass up on the opportunity to pick out a a nice leather coat. It wouldn't be easily ruined and wasn't too restrictive - and it might even soften a blow like the one he'd just took a fraction. Of course, it was no Watch jerkin, but it'd do for now. Snooping around to find medical supplies (heal roll): 1d100+21 56 Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at 00:49 on Nov 11, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 00:35
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 Name: Gryph HP: 3 Glory: 3 Skill: Bandaging/Medicine Gryph dropped the siege weapon, his arms aching. No time to rest. The wounded needed triage. He wished he had time to set up the white tent, but right now,people were dying. Or worse. First things first, the dazed To in front of him. Gryph pulled Gabber free of the corpse. He'd seen the To get between the flailing arm and Biggo, sacrificing self for the horde. Crazy, but smart all the same. The shield had buckled, now hanging useless from his arm, but Gabber was alright, dazed but unbloodied. Gryph bandaged his head, directed him to form a queue that would make up the less wounded triage units, those who could still walk and weren't a danger. Not that there were many. Bodies lay all over, many of them with limbs at wrong angles or with obvious wounds. But only a few lay still, and even those were obviously alive, their fellows quickly insuring their survival. Gryph swelled with pride. Charged with survival faced against a foe so vicious even the warlord had been marked, The Horde survived. Some animal instinct or shared will had saved them, bowed and hurt, but unbroken. Medic! Setting Up triage and directing Aid!: 1d100+13 84 (forgot to add my bandage/Medicine skill) Gryph grimaced as he heard Splut's 'encouraging' calls. Third time. Gryph tamped down on his desire to strangle Splut with bandages. Honestly, the morale might actually improved. Splut's calls were at least getting better at encouragement. All around him were To, making splints, Hauling wounded, and attempting triage. At least the basic skills were still learned. To looks out for To. Gryph kept moving, picking up to, responding to calls setting limbs moving within the ranks. But bigger dangers reared their head. Gryph pulled out two unnamed To, only to drop them and as he watched their flesh surge, moving unpredictably. Scrabbling backwards, Gryph realised the danger. Mutates. The wendigos were contagious. Gryph quietly marked the two in his mind, making sure that their treatment should be kept separate from the others. No telling if it spreads, and the mutates might appreciate the extra privacy as they adapt to whatever had happened to them. Should probably make sure that others didn't have the same problem. Might want to spread the word. Downtime The hustle and bustle of a resting army echoed in the halls. Not that Gryph would notice. He was too busy triaging, doctoring, providing medicine, Whatever was needed to heal the Unexpectables and get them back on their feet and in fighting shape. He hadn't sat down since the assault began, there were still wounded to treat. There would always be wounded to treat. Downtime. Healing Roll!: 1d100+13 52 OOC:eeugh.
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Nov 11, 2017 01:11
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   Name: Hat Skills: Millinery, Backflips HP: 1/3 Equipment: Spear (+1), Leather Armour (+1), Sikatris Scarf Glory: 16 Spear back in hand, Hat and the others kept on fighting the Ugly Wendigo. As Grimper powered his way through the other monsters, a burst of light emanated from him and for one brief second it all made sense; Hat's shadow standing proud over the Wendigo's body, a symbol of Tö's inevitable triumph in this war. The light faded, and reality presented itself once again. The Wendigos were dead. They'd won, but at a heavy cost. Not one of the Horde who had fought the Ugly Wendigo was uninjured. And three of them had perished, one still in the monster's horrible grip. A pang of sadness washed over Hat; they'd protected her from the beast's worst blows, had given up their lives for the Horde, and she had absolutely no idea who they were, what skills they possessed, where they came from. She struggled to recall seeing their faces before now; one had been part of her infiltration team on the caravan that held Magda, and one had helped intercept the Fostis shipment. Hearing Grimper's orders, Hat quicked muttered a half-remembered version of the Töan funeral liturgy, and then sought out the Warlord. "Sir, before I forget. The shipment interception went well, we got 50 weapons, 50 armour, 10 of these scarves, and some other stuff. The convoy leader mentioned travelling to Noostra and Skelivanch, and the enemy's leader in this area is a Commander Sikatris. Now, if you'll-" With her final task complete, the adrenaline in her body wore off and Hat's injuries finally caught up with her. She collapsed where she stood. She felt a Hordemate's hands pick her up and put her on a makeshift stretcher, heading for the medic's temporary setup. The long march, the fight with the fleeing guards and the horrendous Wendigo battle had all taken their toll. Time, finally, to sleep. ----- Hat awoke, lying in a cot in the medic's camp. She looked over at the bed next to her; a Töan, another one of the people she didn't know. That ends now, she thought. No more unknown soldiers. Hat gingerly eased her right arm out of the bed and held it out for a handshake. "Hey, I don't think we've met. I'm (points at her hat) Hat. What's your name?" Healing mooks with the power of friendship!: 1d100+16 109 
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Nov 11, 2017 01:21
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  Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry, Listening, Night Vision HP: 2/3 Glory: 7->8 And so, did the Unexpectables glorious leader begin his rampage. Screaming out in rage, their glorious leader burst forward at an unnatural tilt, bowling directly into the Laughing Wendigo! However, there was no time to gape in wonder as they still had to manage the Loud One in front of them a bit longer until help could arrive. Duck down, slight pause, stab now! Block right, push forward, slash now! A burst of bloody fog to his left - Grimper had killed the Laughing One as if it was nothing! Was there anything he could not do? Just hang on a bit longer, and this nightmare would be over! Move lef- Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it happen. Saw Biggo stumble, his new legs giving out on him. Saw the Wendigo suddenly tear its focus from Gabber, spying an easier target, unhinging its jaws and making a desperate lunge towards the Punching expert. Saw Grimper burst through the bloody mess that used to be the Laughing Wendigo, charging towards them. All Gabber had to do was remain where he was, safe behind his shield, and any second he'd be fine. He was so exhausted, wasn't self-preservation his only real goal up until this point? All he had to do was make it through this war, alive, and he could go back home, see his friends and family again....but weren't these people now his friends as well? His body acted as if on autopilot, taking a few steps and making a desperate leap towards the prone form of his comrade. Raising his shield in front of him as his body flew through the air, he saw the Loud Wendigo's jaws moving for the kill. As they came slamming down towards Biggo, he just managed to get himself in the way in time, taking the blow on his shield.  His shield managed to take the brunt of the blow, but crumpled against his arm. The jaws of the Wendigo hit him with full force, flinging him across the room and slamming against the closest wall of the hallway. The wind had been knocked out him and his head flared with pain. He was out of the fight and he knew it, as his eyes fought to stay open. Just before they closed, he watched as Grimper managed to tear the Loud Wendigo in two. He'd....he'd saved us...... ... Eyes snapping back open, Gabber instinctively recoiled, rolling out of the cot he was in and falling to the ground. Were they dead?! Was he dead?! Taking a moment to catch his breath, he realized that no, he was not dead. Someone appeared to have bandaged his head. Gryph! It came back to him now - he'd been dazed, walking but out on his feet, as he stumbled into the nearest cell and.... that's all he could remember. He'd been knocked out it seemed. Glancing around at some of the nearby cells, he saw others that had been wounded, likely far worse than himself. Gathering himself to his feet, he walked out into the hallway, looking back down the hall to where the battle had been. Seeing several immobile Unexpectables among the carnage, he realized how lucky he had been indeed...Biggo! Scanning the bodies, Gabber tried to make out if the Puncher was among them. He didn't see him - had his effort been for naught? Then suddenly, rounding the bend he saw the Tö walking towards him on his wooden legs, clutching a shield in front of him. Infinity Gaia posted:Biggo respected his quiet resolve too much to try and talk to him, so he instead merely pushed a Shield into his arms, not taking no for an answer, then gave him a firm nod and walked away to help with the wounded. Momentarily taken aback, all Gabber could really do was nod back at him prior to his turning and walking away. Looking down at his new shield, a smile came to his face. The shield was nice and Gabber was not one to shy away from a good skillcore or some shiny piece of loot - but he realized he was smiling more in knowing that he 'd saved someone. It was not all that long ago he'd callously stepped over Flutter's corpse, pouting over not getting any salvage. Had this war changed him already? Slinging his new shield to his back, Gabber made his way back towards those that were worse off than himself, seeing what he could do to help. They were all in this together, he realized; he didn't know the first thing about first aid, but maybe someone could show him the proper way to bandage, and he could do his best to imitate them? Seeing Gryph getting a triage center going, Gabber made his way over doing his best to try and mimic the man's medical skill. Mirror Gryph's first aid efforts.: 1d100+17 62 (First Aid Roll) After a few minutes spent watching him, Gabber set himself to aiding those that were hurt as best he could. He wasn't an expert, but he could fake it, if he tried. Whilst going about this the Unexpectables 2nd greatest hero (Warlord Grimper clearly being the 1st), Noggins, made her way over to Gabber. The Lord of Hats posted:With that taken care of, she found Gabber and Hob, helping with the medical effort. "Hey, guys. I know it might not feel like it right now, but... you guys did good back there. I just want you to know that... well, when there's a situation that you come out of alright, but other people don't... it's going to make you feel guilty. Like it's your fault somehow. But I want--I need to tell you that it's not. You aren't weak, you aren't cowards, and you definitely aren't to blame for anything that happened here. Gabber took a moment to reflect as Noggins kept speaking. Out of her kind words, he couldn't help but hone in on a few: "you aren't weak, you aren't cowards". If Gabber was honest with himself, he'd always been a bit of a coward, quick to avoid an issue rather than face it head on. He'd also considered himself fairly weak; he cringed thinking of his attempts to injure a stick ogre only to have left it standing none worse for the wear. As he took the brave Tö's words to heart, he began thinking back over what he'd accomplished in the short amount of time he'd been conscripted. He'd ambushed a caravan; knocked some sense into the citizenry of Fostis; routed the FFA; steamrolled a bunch of messengers trying to flee from the prison; he'd even faced a Wendigo head on despite his fear, saving one of the Horde's best fighters in the process. Without even realizing it, it seemed he wasn't that weak or much of a coward anymore! quote:You guys had my back in that fight, you're some of the bravest people I've met, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather be fighting alongside. Now let's help get everyone patched up--we're going to need it before we kick Frö's rear end for what they did here, right?" Nodding vigorously (as his ears turned a slight shade of red), Gabber clapped Noggins on the shoulder, a sense of warmth spreading through him. Twice now he'd gone into battle directly alongside the one eyed warrior - against the FFA and now here again against the Loud Wendigo - and to hear her words of praise gave him a boost of energy despite the long and weary day he'd had. To think that he'd ever be considered brave! But he kind of was now, wasn't he? Task Manager fucked around with this message at 02:28 on Nov 11, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 01:27
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  Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly HP: 3 Glory: 16 -> 17 -> 13 (free armour + 4 glory spent on upgrade) Ritual Glory: 2 -> 3 -> 0 (Lucks Fickle Gaze) The first thing Snödis did when she finally got out, well, the second thing after handing off her hostages and attempting to give a report to Grimpner, was to head to Magda to get outfitted. It was obvious from the way everyone was still alive that they had come into quiet the score of spare bits of kit, and if she was to be the Face of the monsterist movement as she so fervently believed herself to be (weather it was true or not) she needed to look the part. Surviving until that part could be looked was also a small concern of hers. But try as she might, she could not amongst the Fröian armour pieces find the one outfit that perfectly suited her desire. To be both fashionable and secure. Somewhat grumpily, she removed four of her precious glory-tokens from her wallet and gave them to the quartermaster, purchasing a sweet looking leather jacket to go with the standard issue fröian breastplate that was hers for the taking. As an after-thought, she dumped another three in the pot for Lucks Fickle Gaze, thinking it couldn't hurt to at least pay lip service to the Horde that had gotten her out of her bind. Not that she was ever worried...  +  After a night of tinkering, she finally had something to be proud of. For a finishing touch, she wrapped her old prisoners-chains around the sleeves and took and old, rusty nail to one of the shoulder-guards to inscribe the Neötype She wanted to leave no doubts to any who beheld her beautiful visage as to what her true agenda was.  -- Though most of her time was spent tinkering with her new armour, Snödis did wander the make-shift camp of Nägel during the night, if only to introduce herself to the gaggle of grateful new ex-prisoner Monsterist horde-members. She also made sure to find Klörf, showing him the list and nodding solemnly.  "Those Fröian butchers must've taken them to another facility. Don't worry comrade, we'll find your friend. And mine. We will make them pay for this." -- When she could no longer sew nor walk, she retired to the doctors quarters, setting herself down in a corner to while away the darkest hours, berating the medics for their poor workstöianship. Disapproving Poetry to berate the medics into working better: 1d100+15+13 38 It was, perhaps, not the best thought of plans, To rush into wendingo hands, and maws and teeth and tails and claws, for now it seems we're out of gauze! And you do know you cannot punch his bad blood out? nor mend that bone and broken snout, with your words alone, he will black-out! Your methods frankly make me doubt, that for this job you are cut-out What, me leave? But I'm helping out! Fine, be that way, you sauerkraut! >::(
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Nov 11, 2017 02:02
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  Name: Neebs Skill(s): Sales, Drinking (used this turn) HP: 3 -> 1 Glory: 4 -> 5 Neebs shuddered as Grimper ripped through the Wendigos. As fearsome as they were, she still feared Grimper more. Neebs joined the rest in the central chamber. She knew how much damage everyone had taken (and she felt it herself), and she knew at least something that would help all of them. It seemed quite a few of them had lost a bit of blood. It wasn't well known to her before, but her drinking skillcore helped her realize that a pre-requisite of healing was proper hydration; especially for those who had lost blood. She spent the downtime making rounds ensuring everyone that was injured was drinking enough to stay hydrated; which, while it wouldn't directly heal anyone, would ensure that everyone's bodies would have the best chance of healing themselves. Making sure the wounded are drinking enough: 1d100+4+10 81
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Nov 11, 2017 04:23
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Guess who finally managed to figure out how to make actually straight lines without laboriously drawing them pixel by pixel? This guy! Note: By this guy I do not mean Gigs, as he is clearly too intelligent to blunder through as much as I have without looking it up. When I say 'this guy', I am referring to myself. Also, DK, how many cards per point of ritual glory, do you think? The first one I took a point for because I spent all the time making the template, but given that these are now basically a writing exercise... somewhere between 2-4 cards per point, maybe?
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Nov 11, 2017 04:24
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Name: Gawp HP: 3 Skills: Perception, Gazing (Active) Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Sikatris Scarf, Sharp Stick (+0) Glory: 11 -> 12 -> 8 Ritual Chits: 20 (artwork bonus) Nägel Corrections Facility (part 4): When at last the Loud One stopped twitching and stirring, Gawp uncurled from the protective stance he was holding and carefully extricated himself from the remains of the creature's gaping maw. Glowing monsterist viscera was everywhere. Gawp himself was covered from head to toe in a fluorescent, bioluminescent film of the wendigo's saliva. He looked across the room at the field of injured Töans, similarly drenched as they were in technicolor blood and guts. He checked himself for wounds or any signs of lasting damage... Just as he feared - he'd been bit. In the terrifying tumble and scrape of that monsterist's final wretched moments alive, Gawp just had to throw himself directly in harm's way! Whatever - from the lightly-pulsing pain that was radiating from it, Gawp judged that the bite was but a flesh wound at the worst. Mutation!: 1d6+1 3 A minor trifle. It was simply not a matter to be concerned with. Time heals all wounds, after all! Best to put a clean bandage on it and then forget about it - that had always worked in Gawp's experience! Before he could do anything like that, though, Gawp had to get himself cleaned off from all this bright blue salivary slime... Gawp had a sudden moment of inspiration, and he located his empty bread sack and started scooping up heaping gobs of the monsterist goop off himself and unloading it all into the sack. Gawp fervently hoped that the massive amount of faintly-glowing Wendigo offal would work as a suitable substitute for all the slinkers that he and the others had failed to catch in Morrskag Forest. If Magda would be pleased, then Grimper would be pleased, then no one would have to get Punished for what happened in the forest with the Sungazer... Gawp's reverie was broken by the appearance of Qwäg. She caught him off-guard as he was trying to stuff an overgrown Wendigo liver into his moderately-sized bread sack. "Oh?" Gawp was taken aback by the symmetry and size of her eyes. He tried not to stare, opting instead to focus on the glowing tear in the fabric draping her arm. big bag of nacho cheese posted:"Gawp," she called, reaching into her pouch to withdraw the Gazing skillcore, crystaline and gleaming eye-like. "I've run the numbers, and you should stick this in your face." Glancing down at her torn guard uniform, she scowled. "Perhaps you could help me get this mess fixed up, in return." Gawp pays 4 Glory toward the upgrade of Qwäg's Guard Uniform Gawp was speechless after that. He couldn't believe his eyes! A real, honest-to-Gob Gazing skillcore, just like kind he'd wished for after his encounter with the Sungazer! Gawp couldn't contain himself any further. He had to look for a private place to put in his new skillcore right away, and he found himself climbing the ladder back towards the Warden's quarters, back by the entrance to the Old Guy's vault. He took the crystalline spheroid - the Gazing skillcore - and held it up to the light. He looked at its pearlescent-layered sheen, inspecting it impossibly close, until the thing started to blur and lose focus in his eye - and then it was somehow gone. Gawp knew it when he felt the skillcore slotting into place from somewhere within his skull: he had incorporated the ability to Gaze directly into his being. Simple! Gawp Gazed lazily around himself, looking at nothing for nothing in particular. Finally, he could relax for once when he took in his surroundings! Without prompting, Gawp's eyes lifted and drifted about the room, ultimately landing upon the most obvious piece of unguarded treasure he'd ever seen, simply sitting out there in the open, squarely in the middle of room: a part off the Old Guys' broken Olivite door! Wow! Looting Olivite Material from Broken Vault Door: 1d100+10 109
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Nov 11, 2017 06:04
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   Name: Doc HP: 3 Glory: 3 Skill: Surgery Doc had been performing unusually well recently. Maybe if she was lucky that would hold out now that she needed to put her "professional" skills to their intended use of healing people. (Edit: slightly different numbers) Being Mostly Average at Surgery: 1d100+13 = 64 Kyyp fucked around with this message at 08:38 on Nov 11, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 06:27
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(^^^ Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 15:59 on Nov 11, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 06:34
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   Name: Hob HP: 3/3 Glory: 9>10 Ritual Glory : 2>0 Skill: Bee keeping(in use), Contortion Hob launched himself forward from where he fell, falling more than running towards the Wendigo, stumbling past the warlord charging up whatever weird Grimping powers he was using. And slipped in some gore, conking his head. Saving Flitter? A dream. How embarrassing. At least no one knew. Miraculously Hob was one of the few unscathed horde members,. His shooting keeping him safe. wonder if Magda would add bows to the store, they seem easy to make He asked Magda on his way to grab his pack where he had dropped it at the entrance, dropping off two ritual specific glory for luck's fickle gaze "Hey, don't suppose you could make Some kind of ranged weaponry? My bow here keep me safe from the Wendigoes, the rest of the horde could use some range too." Hob smiled at Magda, even as she grabbed him by his armour and threw him up the hall. Hob picked himself up from where Magda had thrown him, dusting himself off, and grabbing his pack. Gloves. The remaining honeycomb he had grabbed en route. Propolis. Bees wax. Much more than he meant to take from the wild hive. He felt a pang of guilt at the bees plight. Then a hollow feeling. He felt more for those bees than he did for the fallen. He didn't even know the dead's names. Focus on the living. Mixing the honey with wax, he made an antiseptic ointment for the healers. Setting some bandages in the wax, he prepared some waxy seals, wound plugs really for the more open wounds. Propolis for grazes. He made sure Doc had enough for her surgeries, pressed a bundle into Spleen's hands. Splut was given some soothing propolis to better convince the horde of their minor wounds heal-osity. Hob was sat alongside Gryph passing him what he needed when Noggins approached. Help with the healing with bee products: 1d100+19 111 The Lord of Hats posted:Nice things Hob nodded to Noggins. He reached to his bee products and passed her some Wax. "Thanks Noggins. Appreciate it. Here, for the splints. Seal them up, stop them going gooey. And this is yours. You need it more than me". Transfer Shield to Noggins. As she gestured in protest, Hob sproinged the bow string sitting against his shoulder, Hob was safe, Noggins takes risks. Hob continued to go healer to healer, being where he was needed. Spying Grimper, Hob approached. "Warlord, Sir, your face." He held out a handful of the honey ointment. Hob offers Grimper some healing balm with a concerned look on his face WereGoat fucked around with this message at 17:07 on Nov 11, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 10:58
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 [Thief's Armor +3]Name: Ringo! HP: 2/2 (Crippled) Glory: 16 > 17 - 8 > 9 Skill: Lockpicking Ringo forgoes the traditional looting in favor of helping all of the medics save the brave heroes who faced off against the wendigos and lived. He tightens his grip on his new goading staff, before dashing about, asking who needs what. A guilty lump sits in his chest as a reminder that it could easily have been him on the ground right now. Assist the medics as a runner: 1d100+16 45 When he had a spare moment, he stopped by the armory, and picked out some good-looking leather armor. A bit of flexible padding and some strategically placed metal plates on the legs and arms to block and parry blows! And it all fit nicely under his cloak. The element of surprise was worth its weight in gold. Ringo looks over the available skillcores, and makes a grab at Ventriloquism! Ventriloquism Skillcore: 1d100+8 34 IDK if this should have my initial glory bonus from the start of this turn, in which case this would be 42 instead OOC: Edited in picking up free armor, and upgrading it twice. How do I get an item card for that? Also my skillcore roll. Green Intern fucked around with this message at 22:36 on Nov 11, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 13:49
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 Sucy HP: 1 Glory: 14 Skill: Mushrooms Fück, that hurt! Groaning from the thrashing she had just received, Sucy picked herself up from the ground and immediately nearly collapsed again from the pain emanating from her ribs. She had jumped in front of a tongue lashing out against Tharbad and was flung across the room as a result, but Tharbad had lived, so it was worth it. Rummaging around in her mushroom satchel, she found what she was looking for and popped two small red mushrooms. That should help with the pain. Looking around the room, it seemed that much of the horde was in equally dire straits, so she began slowly trudging across the room, feeding half conscious Töans mushrooms of questionable origins that should help against the most immediate problems: red round heads against the pain, yellow morels to help with blood clotting, blue sponges to disinfect wounds. Heal the wounded through the power of mushrooms: 1d100+24: 89
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Nov 11, 2017 18:18
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Magda parked her wagons inside Nägel's entrance, as close as she could bring it in. She didn't want any interlopers spotting it and asking questions. She really ought to get around to painting them, at some point. She squeezed herself through narrow halls towards the sounds of battle - or of the aftermath of battle - and frowned at what she saw. Dead guards staining clean halls, a broken hatch (another Vault!?) and the smell of tainted blood. Something had gone terribly wrong in here. She held her breath as she descended, and was startled to see three Wendigos smashed and hacked apart... And several Unexpectables scattered in pieces around them. Not as many as she'd expected, though, not by half. She whistled through her teeth, and continued on until she found Grimper and the others. Oho, he'd been wounded. Not badly, but the fact that he had at all meant he'd engaged. And the fact that he'd engaged meant he'd released Esprit... Which means that their stealth mission had gone rather louder than they'd wanted. Well, it couldn't be helped now - they'd just have to be ready for it. She unpacked her wares and prepared herself. Items  People who were stuck in Nägel -each of you can take 1 (one) Weapon or Armor for free! Also people who weren't around or paying attention last time! Also, cursory inspection of the area has revealed some extra items for purchase.
Encompasses swords, spears, gauntlets, etc. Adds +1 to Combat rolls. Can be used to upgrade existing weapons by 1 each time this is purchased. Describe it when you buy it, though weapons purchased from the quartermaster are of workman-like quality only. Armour [ Encompasses leather armour, plate, etc. Removes 1 from the enemy Combat rolls. Can be used to upgrade existing armour by 1 each time this is purchased. Describe it when you buy it, though armour purchased from the quartermaster are of workman-like quality only. Shield [ Blocks 1 Damage (to yourself) in Combat, then breaks. Cowardclaw [5 Glory] - A sickly-yellow flower. Its smell is repulsive and cloying - perhaps that will be enough to turn the blade away from you and towards your ally? If you would take Damage during Combat, reroll. If you roll higher than another above you, they take your place. Makeshift Sacrifire [10 Glory] - A foul concoction of volatile chemicals, much rougher than a proper formulation would be. It ought to do the trick! Can be used during any combat to instantly roll a natural 100 - and then die. However, due to its unfinished nature, roll 1d100 (no modifier) when you use it. On a 1, it backfires, sending the deadly energy at your allies! Despite the mess, harvesting of Skillcores and Gear proceeds as normal. Boomstick [5 Glory] - A canister of compressed explosive, easily activated with a small flame. Risky in enclosed areas, but deadly against structures or slow-moving creatures! Explosives +25, One Use Mining Pick [5 Glory] - A simple pick used to break up rock in mines or to dig holes. Mining +25, One Use Grappling Hook [5 Glory] - A hook attached to a length of rope, making climbing tall ledges a breeze! Climbing +25, One Use Fostis Ale [5 Glory] - A delicious cask of (lightly contaminated) local Fostis Ale! Share it with your friends! Bribe your enemies! Or bribe your friends and share it with your enemies, I'm not your mother! Camaradery +25, One Use Stained Bandages [5 Glory] - These look like they've been used already, but they're good enough, right? Healing +10, One Use Strange Red Goo [5 Glory] - A jar of red goo, warm to the touch? Found with the other medical stuff. ??? +50, One Use Strange Blue Goo [5 Glory] - A jar of blue goo, warm to the touch? Found with the other medical ointments. ??? +50, One Use Heartshock [10 Glory] 3 in Stock - A powerful drug that speeds recovery sharply. Slightly addictive. Restores 1-2 HP, One Use Expensive, dangerous, magic. Not easy to perform, not easy to afford, but well worth it to increase the Horde’s survivability. Only a few are available now, but exploring ruins and sacking libraries can discover new ones. The Horde can pay into these gradually, activating them eventually once the required total is met.
Gain and additional 1d6 bonus Skillcore drops after combat - and a chance of finding advanced cores. Luck’s Fickle Gaze [23/50 Glory] - Ritual causing luck to smile on the Horde in their darkest moments - but not in their second-darkest moments. Reroll Combat and Conflict rolls on a 1 Monsterist’s Enervating Brew [2/50 Glory] - Monsterism is a blight on the land - but it grants a ferocious power. This Ritual emphasizes this strength without causing the users to succumb. If 100 is rolled naturally, roll again and add the result --- With things a little less crazy, the Horde was able to make a proper search of the dead. Several Skillcores had been shattered in the melee, but they were still able to pull out the bulk of them. In addition... The Wendigos had Cores, didn't they? A few of the braver or more foolish checked on them, too. (You find Cursing, Spinning, Ventriloquism, Science, Precision AND Lying, Regeneration, Kicking and Snoring on the dead guards. The Wendigos yield Ḿ̧͘͟è̸̸̛͝r̷̛͘͡c̢h͜͟͜a̷̢͘n͢͟͡͠t̸̡͠,̷̢͟͠ ̷͠͝, Ş̀̕̕͜i̷n̢g̸̵̨i̸̧͜ņ̢̨͝g̛, and Ą̀͠c̵̢͡͠͏r̴̸̛͝͡o͘͢͜͡b͜à̵̡̕t̷̢̀͜i̸̸͞c͘͟s̀͜͟. You have no idea what incorporating one of them will do, if anything, but you suspect Grimper won't be pleased if he notices you trying. That's if he notices, of course...) --- Grimper himself seems a little shaken, though it's difficult to tell under his simmering rage. He's already started drinking, carrying handfuls of liquor from the Warden's office and even some of the sterilizing fluid from the researcher's work space. It's going to be a long night... But he'd probably be willing to open up a bit once he gets a bit tipsier... (Grimper story time! Same as before, pick a bolded text anywhere and he'll expand on it. Probably. Unless he gets TOO drunk.)
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Nov 11, 2017 19:12
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That wasn't an update for the purpose of resetting Skills, think of it as more like a continuation of the last one! Happy weekend y'all!
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Nov 11, 2017 19:22
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 Name: Patsy Skill: Baking HP: 1 Glory: 4 (still at 4 because it's the same turn) Having done as much as he could for the wounded right now, Patsy started another batch of healthy herb bread rising, then went to look at the captured skillcores. He'd heard there was one that could help him bolster the effects of his baking and hopefully help him take care of the horde... and there it was! Patsy picked it up and dashed back to his bread, hoping to incorporate new insights into his next batch. Claiming Regeneration Skill Core 1d100 Sometime later, he walked by Magda's wagons, donating the remainder of his glory to Luck's Fickle Gaze, before walking down to watch a drunk Grimper talk about the Brand. 4 Glory to Luck's Fickle Gaze Mithross fucked around with this message at 23:23 on Nov 24, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 19:38
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Skill: Sleuthing (using) HP: 1/3 ----> 2/3 Glory: 12 ----> 2 Humbug helped Magda collect many of the medical supplies, which is why he was one of the first to line up to secure a precious vial of Heartshock. He chatted, as he always did, amicably with the sneering old woman, ignoring her looks and stepping out of her reach whenever she seemed about to clobber him. "Oh yes, I can recognize proper Heartshock. Watch Captain Badbrass used to swear by this stuff whenever he got himself torn up - and now I think I understand why. Frightfully expensive habit - but perfect for a Tö on the go, and well, there's much to do - and the less folks the medic need to look after the better. I'll take one!" 10 glory to buy 1x Heartshock As he readied himself to quaff the drug, the sleuth noticed that one of the Frömen bodies that hadn't been cleaned up yet had died in a different manner than many of the rest. Where most had died in poses of fighting or running, the Frömen scientist had been broken across a laboratory table - as if she'd been trying to defend her experiments and papers from the Wendigos - and she still had a skillcore stuck in her. That particular scene indicated an interesting core, so the Sleuth tried to limp over to retrieve it. Looting Science skillcore for more CSI Humbug: 1d100 57 e: Then he quaffed the Heartshock. Eyes widening, he dropped the vial, and bent over to clutch at his chest as it stacatto drummed in response to the drug. He felt a rush of heated blood warm his body - making everything tingle, but not unpleasantly so. Sadly, the effects faded quickly - almost far too quickly. Smacking his lips together, the sleuth wished he could have bought some more - his aches and pains were growing weaker, but had not been completely removed by the wondrous effect of the drug. Heartshock: 1d2 1 Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at 03:00 on Nov 12, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 19:52
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 Name: Dack Skill: Athletics HP: 3 Glory: 7 Somehow, despite being the one the Wendigos were chasing and having no equipment of his own, Dack survived the battle unscathed. And felt miserable at that fact, as he saw the dead and severely injured Unexpectables lying around. Even the Warlord was hurt. While he knew nothing would have changed if he was never captured, and the horde would have stumbled on the Wendigos eventually even if the creatures didn't follow Dack to the exit, that didn't help him feel any better. After doing what he could to help heal the injured (which mostly involved listening to those who actually knew what the hell they were doing), Dack stares at the corpses of the Wendigos. Even he knows that what he's about to do is stupid, but he still hoped that maybe something good could come from this disaster. Taking a chance when he thinks no one is looking, Dack reaches for one of the Wendigos' skillcores. First, helping out with the healing: 55. Taking the Ą̀͠c̵̢͡͠͏r̴̸̛͝͡o͘͢͜͡b͜à̵̡̕t̷̢̀͜i̸̸͞c͘͟s̀͜͟ skillcore: rolled a 68 (didn't realize I shouldn't include glory, ignore that +7). Also going to get some leather armor for free if this doesn't kill me. Astus fucked around with this message at 06:58 on Nov 12, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 20:09
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Name: Hob HP: 3/3 Glory: 10 Ritual Glory : 0>1 Skill: Bee keeping, Contortion After Hob Offered Grimper the healing balm at the bar, he had other, pressing concerns. "Sir, could you tell us about Skillcores? Like, what happened with Gado? Hob was nearvous. He had foolishly Brought the Wendigo Ş̀̕̕͜i̷n̢g̸̵̨i̸̧͜ņ̢̨͝g̛ Skillcore to Grimper: 1d100 67 wrapped up, hidden safely in his pack. Thinking back to when he extracted it, he remembered the other two Hordemates meeting his gaze as they pulled their own Wendigo cores out of the bodies. Later Hob mouthed silently. Away from the others  He hoped Grimper wouldn't notice. WereGoat fucked around with this message at 23:02 on Nov 12, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 21:30
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 Bully Skills: Oratory (in use), Climbing HP:3 Glory: 15 Bully does what he can to aid his comrades, including some of his customary speechifying, both to help cheer the wounded and motivate those administering aid. The power of SPEECH compels you!: 1d100+25:94 Yvonmukluk fucked around with this message at 21:46 on Nov 11, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 21:42
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       Name: Stårn Additional skills: Butterfly Beastmaster HP: 3 Glory: 17 -> 18 So many wounded. The stench of blood and suffering. Why, it was almost like an aftermath of a true mass scale siege! Sure, it could have gone better, and sure, the Warlord was wounded, but such was the Sieging life! Sometimes the boss just ate a bolt from a ballista or something. Stårn pondered upon the fineties of mortality and its relation to sieges, from which his thoughts wondered to any possible afterlives that might have existed and how well they were defended against sieges. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, really, but it didn't stop him from grinding some painkiller from butterflies known to have such qualities. Nor from trying to get an Official Uniform of a Töan Army Sieger like they had in the actual, non-horde armies from the poor quartermaster. Grinding medicines from butterflies: 1d100+27=83 Trying to get an Official Uniform of a Töan Army Sieger as my freebie item from the quartermaster. An approximation will do too 
Theantero fucked around with this message at 22:57 on Nov 11, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 22:17
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Gado!!! Skill: Digging (+20), Mining (+10) HP: 1/3 Glory: 0 There are only so many times you can move around a body until everyone is where they need to be, so relieved of his part in helping out the healers Gado goes off to help with the skillcore removal process from the enemy soldiers. Hunched over a body he stops and listens to the mass of information being fed to him by the nail in his shoulder. Don't damage this bit, for an optimal removal pull this part off first. It's work best left to the surgeons, but Gado has never had problems digging holes in any natural material before and the flesh in front of him parts as easily, if much more messily, than any dirt would. Plucking out the prize was easy enough, but he could see the Precision core clearly and it occured that several people in the horde may want it. Taking out a handkerchief from one of the pockets in his new coat he begins to wipe the thing down in preparation of preserving it. With his work done over the enemy corpses Gado joins Hob at Grimper's pain relief session, the warlord downing prodigious amounts of booze. "I'm pretty interested to hear about that myself. Resonating hurt like hell, I thought I was dying for a minute there, but I'm twice the Digger I used to be, so I can't say it wasn't worth it. If there's a way to make us all strong like that it's probably something we should know about." Free skillcore roll: Rolling Digging to extract skillcores and preserve Precision 105
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Nov 11, 2017 22:31
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Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry, Listening, Night Vision HP: 3 Glory: 8 -> 4 - > 2 Having applied bandages to as many people as he could, Gabber stepped back for a moment. It was fairly shoddy work, but it would keep the important bits in place. That done, the exhausted Mimic promptly found the nearest empty cot and was out before his head hit the straw pillow. He knew the Warlord might be mad that he was taking a nap while there was still important work to be done, but his bandaged head he hoped would gain him at least a few hours of sympathy sleep...ZZzzzZzzzz Gabber woke up what felt like a few hours later, refreshed but still a good bit groggy. Stumbling out of bed, he made his way back out into the hallway. Seemed that the call had gone out for Skillcores while he was out. Normally Gabber was all about wedging his arm elbow deep in a dead body for those sweet, sweet Skillcores, but he already had three at the moment; he'd heard bad things about what happened to average people who tried to incorporate more than three. Instead, he made his way to Magda, lugging the generous new shield Biggo had bought with him. He'd had no combat experience prior to the war - a fist fight or three, but that was the worst - but he'd quickly grown accustomed to the sword and shield style. Unfortunately what was currently available to them was lower tier grade equipment at best - maybe if he spent 4 glory to get Magda to reinforce his iron shield it would last a bit longer this time before shattering? While there, he also did his part and added 2 more glory towards Luck's Fickle Gaze. Had to help the war effort! Later on, once they'd all gathered around Grimper again, Gabber chimed in asking about these Inhabited he'd heard and seen mention of. Task Manager fucked around with this message at 22:50 on Nov 11, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 22:37
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Noggins Skillcores: Carpentry HP: 3 Glory: 19 Ritual Glory: 1->0 As she headed back to the wagons for another load of wood, Noggins noticed Gawp, standing near Magda's cart, doing his best to appear casual as he watched his surroundings, eyes point off in different directions, unfocusing and refocusing on who knows what... was he alright? Something about him seemed... off compared to before. Well, he didn't seem too perturbed, so it couldn't be that bad. Giving him a friendly wave, Noggins dug in her pocket and dropped 1 Ritual Glory into the Luck's Fickle Gaze jar, before scooping up a handful of failed Nails. They were still perfectly good nails, after all, and she could use all the nails she could get her hands on. The Lord of Hats fucked around with this message at 16:09 on Nov 12, 2017 |
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Nov 11, 2017 22:59
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 Name: Gawp HP: 3 Skills: Perception, Gazing (still active) Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Sikatris Scarf, Sharp Stick (+0) Glory: 8 Ritual Chits: 20 -> 3 (artwork bonus) Nägel Corrections Facility (part 5): Gawp Gazed about the dismal corridors of the Old Guys' Vault, surveying the dimly-lit area for any more messes to clean up. Gawp had really gone over it during the last several hours, tackling the massive cleanup fiasco with several empty burlap sacks, an immense push-broom, endless bucketfuls of water, and an innumerable quantity of cleaning rags. Every bit of the monsterist slop that he managed to bag himself he hauled up the ladders and out of the Vault, bringing back Wendigo gibbets and giblets by the sackful to Magda at her wagon train. She clearly knew what to do with the rank stuff better than Gawp did. Case in point: by the time Gawp and the others had fully finished cleaning out the Vault's corridors of Wendigo guts, Magda had already incorporated two new mysterious items into her shop: stockpiles of Red and Blue Goo, both of which carried dubious curative properties. Will Magda's wonders never cease? She knew how to do everything, it seemed! It never occurred to Gawp that the medical facilities at Nägel likely already had the colorful ointments stocked and in ready supply, and that Magda was probably burning the foul stuff that Gawp was bringing her rather than boiling it down into something useable... As he was lingering in front of Magda's shop, Gawp noticed something - a bit of a sublime moment: the brave hero Noggins the Carpenter walked up and smartly placed a single token of hers into the receptacle for the Luck's Fickle Gaze Ritual, then walked off nonchalantly. Gawp felt cowed by the stalwart warrior's thoughtless generosity, and so he dug deep into his own coffers to complete the Ritual's requirements. Gawp reminded himself - there was always more that he could do for the Horde! Gawp places 17 of his Ritual Chits into the receptacle for Luck's Fickle Gaze, putting the Ritual at 50/50 Glory.Another thankless job well done, Gawp poured a couple buckets of lightly-contaminated water all over himself, to wash off all the brightly-colored grime and muck that had built up in various nooks and crannies. Wendigos sure were messy business! Gawp got in line to see what skillcores had been dredged up by the army's harvesters. He saw one in particular that caught his fancy... Skillcore Roll: Precision: 1d100 59 ...But it was far more likely that it would go to another, far more worthy recipient. Gawp was still giddy from the Gazing skillcore he'd gotten from Qwäg the Risk Assessor earlier, so he didn't much mind the loss. When Gawp found himself some free time from setting up his camp outside Nagel's walls (he didn't much care for sleeping in the prison's interior, quite frankly), he made sure to hammer an additional failed Nail into the end of his sharp wooden stick. That makes five downtimes he's survived, by Gawp's quick tally. Gawp didn't tell anybody, but he was getting a little excited to hear more stories from Grimper again. If anything, Gawp wanted to hear Grimper tell them about the Old Guys Vaults.
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Nov 12, 2017 00:05
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HP:1 Glory:17 Even as he waited for Qwäg's answer, his mind drifted to the Lying Skillcore he'd tried to snag earlier. Grab the Lying Skill core: 54 Would it Resonate, he wondered?
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Nov 12, 2017 00:14
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