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  HP: 3 Glory: 3 -> 4 Skill: Jousting, Guarding (being used) Vist was impressed by Ringo's plan. She was even more impressed by his very long, very sharp wendigo prod. She almost asked if she could borrow it to goad that obstinate beast into following her into battle, but she doubted that would be very appreciated by its "friends". "RINGO!" she yelled, throwing her arm around him companionably, "Thassa great idea!" The warriors crested a steep hill, its crown hidden by a small copse of evergreens. "Allit be needing is an ambush tae follow it up, and I've just tha' plan." She poked him in the ribs playfully. "If only all thieves was as valiant as ye, ay?" The prospect of battle, the anticipation of the charge - when everything filtered down to a single point, a single speck, a flickering moment of life, blood, and death - made her breath come fast. She was in her element. Ringo's plan really was good, utilizing the ringed rogues' skills perfectly. It lacked only something particularly SCINTILLANT to cap it off. Something that glittered and gleamed in the darkness. Something that would bring them all to that singular, beautiful point in time - the impact. She had exactly the thing. The squad crested the hill, staying hidden among the pines. They had a good vantage point here, and Vist viewed the scenery as if she were planning a defense. "If we find any Fröman forces, they'll need to head to our south to reach Fostis," she told Ringo, indicating with a sweep of her hand, "And if they decide to take another route, Gabber will spot them, especially if they're foolish enough to try and take us sleeping." The mute Töman grinned gruesomely through his stitched lips. Vist knew him to be not quite as ferocious as his visage implied, but he was a stalwart warrior so she liked him despite herself - and his senses were second to none. He was an excellent scout, and she was sure he would make a fine horseman. "Ye can use ye voice to draw 'em down below instead, where they'll need be ta snake around the hill ina much narrow'r line, an' we can break 'em with a f'rocious charge to they center and circle back ta mop up the remains, or just nae stop 'til we're out of sight, drawing 'em intae the foothills and away from tha town." Vist grinned, the scar bisecting her eye crinkling in her good mood, "From there, we can circle 'round and back, and hit 'em when the Warlord an' tha rest of the Horde've joined us." She eyed Mason's dynamite thoughtfully. "Or mayhaps we can set up another surprise for when they chase us..." "The only thing we be lackin' is mounts, but I think I've found something we might be usin' instead." She gestured to the Unexpectables behind her. They rolled the cargo wagon out from behind the branches of a particularly large pine, four iron shod wheels rattling over roots. Sunlight gleamed off of the crude spearpoints lashed hurriedly to the tips of the staves in front. Ringo looked dubious. It was hard to tell what Gabber thought. "We crowd intae this, with ye and mine pikes backed up by a thicket of wood spears, an' we'll break 'em in half!" She laughed delightedly at the thought of it. The wagon was not her father's broad, strong shoulders. Ringo was not her dear brother, dead for so many years. Gabber was no Crant the Vise. And her grandmother, dead too, would have shaken her head at this motley crew. But she believed in them now, and her confidence and expertise in the mounted charge energized her companions. Their determination crackled in the cool mountain air! Moving and fixing my roll here. Thanks Task Manager! Vist is loading a wagon with anyone who comes Looking for Trouble. Gabber will locate the enemy, then when Ringo lures the enemy to the right spot under the hill, they'll all crash down upon them in a ferocious charge! (If I can't commandeer a wagon like this, let me know. I don't expect it to give me a bonus to the roll or anything.) Look for trouble: 1d100+13 74 Okay, so that's my Guarding bonus and my glory (3). That SHOULD be right, I think. Let me know if I've done anything wrong! Edit: apparently this isn't combat yet, so I swapped my skillcores and am saving Jousting for the actual fight. Hope that's okay. Also added a mention of mason. F*CK! Edited because I missed Gabber's post. Sorry Gabber! I've included you now. gowb fucked around with this message at 03:35 on Dec 15, 2017 |
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Nov 22, 2017 01:04
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    Name: Neebs Skill(s): Sales (+10), Drinking (+10) (used this turn) HP: 3/3 Glory: 3 -> 4 When they arrived in Fostis, Neebs watched as all her fellow little hordelings packed around the mine entrance trying to convince Grimper to let them go with him to the vault. It wasn't unlike watching a ton of puppies mob a mother dög for milk. No. That wouldn't be her. She had no desire to be that close to Grimper for that long; even if he had helped her out. She had voted for returning to this place due to the Old Guys Vault, but now that she was here...she didn't know what the use of it was. This dingy mining town with nothing but dust and dirt. The towns-people here still wouldn't know anything. Even if she still had an inventory to sell, this was no place to try to hawk wares. Screw it, she could go for a drink. The only person that had volunteered to guard the wagons was that creepy Fröan clown they'd picked up at Nägel. She didn't trust the clown not to release Zapanda and the rest as a joke. Nope. Not going to happen. She was going to grab something to drink, and guard those wagons. Nice. Easy. Out of the way. Low risk too, if she had to guess. The drinking would make sure she stayed engaged while at her post. No chance of falling asleep, no sir. Guarding the Wagons and Drinking like a Proper Guard would drink: 1d100+3+10 103
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Nov 22, 2017 01:17
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  //         Name: Gawp HP: 1/1 Skills: Perception, Gazing (active) Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1) (removed), Sikatris Scarf (removed), Neötype Beret (removed), Sharp Stick (+0), Iron Shield Glory: 2 -> 3 Ritual Chits: 10 -> 12 (artwork bonus) The Return to Fostis: No sooner had Gawp etched the finishing touches onto his shield's face than the Olivite Pin suddenly darted out of his pocket as if pulled by an incredible force, careening through air and zipping though the concrete wall like a flaming arrow through six feet of molten butter. He stared after the smoking hole in the wall, forlornly. What cruel fates had orchestrated this turn of events for Gawp? He had made so many plans for what to do with that unbreakable rod of mysterious metal, and now it was gone forever, due to some foul Old Guys' trickery. How unfair! Curse the Old Guys, Gawp thought - those filthy thieves! That Olivite Pin was his! Gawp sulked on the road back to Fostis. He was so glad to see that Qwäg had survived her Wendigo transformation, but if anything it only reminded Gawp of his own count down to the end of his mortal coil. How much longer did that leave him and Trinh before they either died or were changed forever into hideous monstrosities? Snödis had suggested that the two of them stay apart when the time for their transformations came, and Gawp had silently agreed - he wouldn't be able to bear seeing Trinh in such pain like the kind he'd heard from Qwäg, not while wracked in the throes of agony from his own horrific monsterization. Sometimes it was best to keep two potent chemicals separated, or else they might react violently when brought together. It was better this way, Gawp realized. Nonetheless, the trek was still all the more arduous than it had been on the approach, all due to the Wendigo Ichor infection. Gawp's thirst only seemed to increase, and dramatically so. He kept getting hot flashes that washed over his body in sloshing, stomach-churning waves, flooding him with cold sweats and then bathing his nerves in a raw, blazing heat immediately after. He didn't want to complain to the doctors (or worse yet, to Grimper!), but he felt like he needed to break rank to go jump in a lake, or better yet off the top of a waterfall. It was his own dumb fault he'd gotten bitten by the Loud Wendigo in the first place; his own rampant Gob-blasted foolishness. It was only his lot in life that he'd likely waste his final waking moments alive marching down an endless road, steeped in agony... The pulses of extreme heat were driving Gawp's mind to madness! By the time he'd arrived at Fostis with the rest of the Unexpectable Horde, he knew exactly what he was doing. He couldn't (wouldn't!) join Qwäg, Trinh, Dack, Snödis and Hob in the caves with the other Old Guys' vault-seekers, nor would he consider it. He knew better than to mess with the Old Guys and their trickery, and besides there was a lake in the Morrskag Forest, and rivers that ran through it. Gawp was going to run to that lake, transform into a Wendigo, jump inside, and drink as much of that ice-cold lake water as he possibly could until he either burst, drowned, or cooled off entirely, one way or the other. Then, Gawp resolved, he was going to return to that strange spot in the Morrskag Forest where he and the others had found the Sungazer, and he was going to tame it. Before Gawp could finish setting up his campsite, he had already stripped down to his skivvies and doused himself with five full canteens of water. Water! He needed more water - it just wasn't enough - he was still too hot inside! He chugged until he was full to the gills. He chugged until he almost puked. His eyes started to swim from all the water - then he heard Grimper's call to action. It was time to move out! Quickly, as everyone gathered in their groups, Gawp took a large empty sack and placed inside of it his leather breastplate, his fancy blue striped scarf, and the impressive new hat that Snödis had given him. He stowed these articles underneath a large bush several paces away from his pup-tent and set off to find his team. Gawp wouldn't need these fine clothes, not unless he returned to Fostis alive. Gawp leaves his Fröman Cuirass, Sikatris Scarf, and Neötype Beret behind at camp, for later. On a hunch, he grabbed a sackful of the last rock-solid loaves of stale Töan Combat Bread, and he marched into the forest. Gazing about his party for anything of interest, Gawp sets off into the wilderness outside Fostis with the rest of the explorers. Many of them he recognized from their first fateful trip into the woods - a good sign.They knew what to expect, and they were hungry for victory. This time, they weren't going to come back empty-handed. Explore the Surroundings: 1d100+12 53 Whether or not he survived his Wendigo transformation, Gawp was entirely confident that the others would yet succeed in their mission. All things considered, Gawp couldn't have picked a more beautiful day to die on even if he'd tried. Gawp was happy he'd get to see the verdant wildernesses of Morrskag Forest with his own eyes one last time, before everything changed and Gawp became something else entirely different. Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 21:55 on Nov 23, 2017 |
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Nov 22, 2017 02:59
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  Name: Börk Skills: Kissing, Listening (using) HP: 3 Glory: 1 -> 2 Börk wasn't exactly pleased that they were heading back to Fostis, but at least the horde hadn't gon running off to smash themselves on possibly alerted city walls, when taking an off-guard mining town by surprise had been such a difficult task. As for the Wendingo along the way... Well, he would keep his distance for the time being. Wendingoes scared him, and he refused to feel bad about acting on that fear. Instead of heading down the mine, he resolved to guard the wagons He'd hoped that Vist would be taking guard duty with him - there was just something about her that suggested a natural knack for keeping attention during the long grinding hours of sentry duty - but she had immediately headed over to the Wendingo, and he wasn't going to go running after her to change her mind there. Instead, he went over to the wagons. Neebs was already into her first drink, reclined with a good view of the wagon entries and Harlee mumming around in front of the barred doors, sipping lazily from a clay jug of what could have been scrumpy. Harlee's mirth didn't seem to be going over too well, but Neebs looked to be settling in for the long haul. That was encouraging. Where the two ladies were seemed to be mostly focused on stopping prisoners escaping, Börk thought he would take himself to watch out for saboteurs approaching. Börk clambered up to a wagon roof, from where he'd get a better line of sight, and listened out for danger. ------------------------------------------------------------ Guarding the wagons: 1d100+10(listening)+2(glory) = 31 (ouch) simplefish fucked around with this message at 05:52 on Nov 22, 2017 |
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Nov 22, 2017 05:17
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  Name: Doc HP: 3 Glory: 3 Skill: Surgery (Resonated. +15) Doc was upset. She'd been upset for a long time now. So many of the others were expanding their skills. There had only been one skillcore she had ever wanted. It was perfect for her, and nobody else had even wanted it! Then HE showed up. Showed up and snatched it from her hands. He hadn't even had the decency to at least use it afterward! He didn't deserve it! What a lucky coincidence, then, that some of the others had asked for more information on skillcores. And to learn that they settled inside the body in not-so-hard-to-find spots. If they really were just sitting there inside the body, that meant they could be removed. And who better to perform such a procedure than Doc? Everyone was focused on that vault. Surely they wouldn't notice a little Surgery being done off to the side somewhere. And that idiot was definitely dumb enough to listen if a medic told him to come somewhere quiet for a checkup. Carve the Bonegineering Skillcore from Cornbread's body. Maybe fix him after, if Doc feels like it: 1d100+19 = 91 Kyyp fucked around with this message at 06:05 on Nov 22, 2017 |
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Nov 22, 2017 06:01
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   Name: Portha Skills: Rummaging, Cleaning (cooldown), Imagining HP: 2/3 Glory: 10 As much as Portha wanted to go down into the mines and see what was in the vault, defending the town took priority. There was no way to know how many enemies would be coming or if they'd be here by the time Grimper was done gaining whatever power the vault had, so the safest bet would be to fortify the town as much as possible. The Horde had gotten pretty good at building traps, so that's what they'd do. Since she was still hurting from all the fighting, Portha decided to take charge and have the mooks do all the heavy lifting. "Grab anything that looks like it'd make a halfway passable trap. No, wait, grab everything. EVERYTHING!" Sharp objects, heavy objects, tarps, ropes, jars, oil, explosives. It'd still be a huge task sifting through everything the mining town had to offer and figuring out what they could build as quickly as possible Rummage through the town looking for trap components 1d100+20=115
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Nov 22, 2017 08:04
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 Images plucked out of time; Snödis contemplates her captainship.
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Nov 22, 2017 13:06
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Potrait:    Naim: Mason Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin' Mason Masonry HeeP: Mason Mason Mason Glury: Masonx12 -> 13 Mason plans to Go Out Looking For Trouble, because Trouble is his middle name. Except it's actually Mason, but Mason doesn't care about things like that. Trubble Ez Masun's Medal Neym: 1d100+13 24
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Nov 22, 2017 14:13
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        Name: Stårn Additional skills: Butterfly Beastmaster HP: 3 Glory: 20 -> 21 Swedish Thaumocracy posted:
Stårn nodded in agreement at the captain's thoughts. A siege was a group effort after all, and who better to lead such a thing than him? A thing to consider, for sure! -- At base camp, Stårn busied himself with dragging tables, poles, and all kinds of other furniture and assorted paraphernalia around the wagons. As a sieger, he was an expert in siege defense as well, and naturally would be the best one suited for making their wagons truly unassailable by enemy forces. He leered at passers-by from behind his makeshift fort, portapult at the ready, grilling any who approached for passwords to access the wagons. Who knows, they could be Fröan spies in bodypaint! Or just stained by their blood. Siege Weapons to establish a perimeter around the wagons to guard them from intrusion: 1d100+30=114
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Nov 22, 2017 15:05
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   Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry, Listening, Night Vision {cooldown} HP: 2/3 Glory: 5 Outwardly, Gabber stared in mute shock as Vist wheeled her death wagon out from behind some nearby pines. Inwardly, he couldn't help but wish he had a mouth so that he could scream. He liked Ringo's idea of using his new skillcore to lead any approaching enemy into a trap well enough. He was also a big fan of ambushes, him having been part of two so far in his time with the Horde and having had both of them go smoothly. He was even glad to see that Mason had joined them, as the man's head was a force of nature. However, the part he wanted to scream about was Vist's suggestion that they pile into her makeshift death wagon and fling themselves down the hill at any approaching enemy. Something in the way her eyes glittered as she detailed breaking the enemy in half and then heartily laughing to herself - the mimic wondered if she minded if she herself was broken in two, as long as it resulted in a glorious impact of destruction. Walking up to the wagon itself, Gabber gave the wheels a few experimental kicks. It looked sturdy enough, but it was a converted mercantile wagon usually used for lugging their supplies over stable, even terrain. He wouldn't be shocked if they hit a bump going down the hill and the whole thing didn't just fling them through the air, shattering into a million pieces. Had Noggins helped Vist with the modifications? He sure hoped so... Inhaling briefly, he maintained a steady gaze as he turned back towards Vist, pointing first to his own two eyes; he then blinked the left, the right, and and both at once, his eyes opening to show a faint glow as a result of him having switched on his Night Vision skillcore. He pointed at his chest, pointed over towards the other side of the hill and then placed his four fingers in a straight line on his forehead, scanning his head left and right.1 He then walked off to get into position, starting his watch for any approaching enemies as they had planned earlier. Silently, he hoped against hope that the enemy came from the side of the hill with a sheer cliff face so he wouldn't have to climb into the mobile death trap. ------------- 1) "I....I'm going to go use my Night Vision and keep watch for now." OOC: For the record, I'm really hoping that we do end up in the wagon careening down the hill towards the enemy as the imagery alone is fantastic. Gabber however....Gabber's hoping it doesn't come to that. 
Task Manager fucked around with this message at 18:50 on Nov 22, 2017 |
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Nov 22, 2017 18:48
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gowb posted:For now, her HUGENESS could be more mundane. Certainly there would be armor here in the prison, armor fitting of the first Virtue. Armor to make her HUGE! 
WereGoat fucked around with this message at 20:19 on Nov 23, 2017 |
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Nov 22, 2017 22:46
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   Name: Hat Skills: HP: 3/3 Equipment: Spear (+1), Leather Armour (+1), Sikatris Scarf Glory: 19 Ritual Glory: 1 The crown of the new Captain's hat was still soaking in the dye when the call to move out echoed through the prison. Hat quickly sewed it back onto the brim, covering her hands in the red liquid. As she reported to the caravan of wagons that was the Unexpectables' mobile base, Snödis immediately found her, cap in hand. Hat started to speak, "Don't put it on just yet, the dye is still wet, you'll get-" but Captain Snödis put a finger over the Milliner's lips. "Oh yes, this is terrific. Great job! Now don't forget, the rank-and-file members of Neötype Squadron will be needing berets too, like this, but less captain-y. Five should do for a start. I knew I could count on you! See you in Fostis!" And with a salute, the new Captain disappeared. Five berets? Oh no! Hat thought, before seeing one of the wagons with the door still ajar. Praying that no-one important was looking, she hopped in. The cart was half-full of still-unclaimed weapons and basic armour that she'd diverted from the enemy caravan. But there was space to sit and work. It'd use up all her red dye, but berets were quite simple things. So with her skillcore still complaining of overuse, Hat sat in the back of a wagon being pulled by her fellow hordemates, cutting circles and strips out of her remaining fabric stash. Thankfully, the Horde wasn't marching at the same break-neck pace they had used getting to Nägel, so there was plenty of time to work. Hat was just putting the finishing touches to the stretchy brims as the caravan crested the hill and caught sight of their old stomping grounds. As the wagons came to a stop, Hat snuck out of hers and rejoined the group. Captain Snödis was easy to find in the crowd, and was delighted to see the berets ready for her squad. Hat watched from afar as she handed out the caps to her chosen soldiers: poor, brave Qwäg, already transformed, her expression unreadable; Gawp, putting his hat straight into his pack and grabbing another waterskin; Hob, his mouth moving oddly, like he was muttering a song to himself; Trinh, raring to explore the vault, a bounce in her every step; and Dack, standing to attention like he was hearing the Töan anthem on a distant podium. Fine choices all, and they all seemed pleased with their new hats, so Hat was happy about that. When Grimper announced the missions that the Horde were about to undertake, Hat volunteered for exploring the surroundings, deciding to explore the town interior. She looked around, trying to discern any differences between her last visit and this one, any new instances of pro-Fröan graffiti, maybe something obvious like an FFA hideout with the conspicuous sign "Nail Salön". And if her patrol just so happened to take her past some fabric warehouses where the staff could be compelled to give her free samples, well, where's the harm in that? Exploring the town for unusual activity: 1d100+19 58
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Nov 22, 2017 23:28
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I would like the record to reflect that this owns especially the shoes
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Nov 22, 2017 23:34
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I would like to help out! Name: Cause Portrait: A-13 Skill: Archeology Backstory: A fledging career delving into the ruins of the past was cut short by monsterism. What twisting of the mind has brought this creature to serve the implacable Toans?? Or does vengeance still lurk in his monstery heart? Will he ever find that sweet whip and fedora he dreams of? Investigate the Old Guy vault vorebane fucked around with this message at 02:01 on Nov 23, 2017 |
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Nov 23, 2017 01:54
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 Name: Gloff Skills:Lifting, Swimming, Smithing(using) HP: 2 Glory: 9 Gloff really wanted to see what was in that vault, but he really did not want to enter any tunnels or tunnel-like areas with a bunch of wendigoes waiting to happen. Marked or otherwise, that's just good sense. Instead he would prepare for the enemy. Gathering up bits of broken machinery and discarded tools, he started forming them into traps. Teeth, he was thinking, teeth and spikes. 1d100+19=53 Sax Battler fucked around with this message at 02:07 on Nov 23, 2017 |
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Nov 23, 2017 02:02
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 Sucy HP: 3 Glory: 17 -> 18 Skill: Mushrooms Half-wit posted:"No...here'sh whut I'm thinking, " Neebs said with some emphasis on the whut. "Sho...I'm no brewer, but I've been noticing a lot of different flavors recently, and I think you and I, I think we should try to brew our own beer. You sheem to know a lot about mushrooms; and I'm thinking with just the right mushrooms we can make a beer that tastes nothing like any others...but better of course! I'll have to shave up some glory to buy some Fostis Ale to get a good keg, and we'll have to empty the keg together, of course; but then we should be able to make something worth drinking that help us wash down thesh meals. No...no, I don't need an answer now. Just...think about it. It'sh a, longer term plan, if you will. If you do decide to help...and if you happen to shee any good batchesh of mushrooms while we're travelling that will add a...shpicy tang...try to grab them for me or show me where they are so I can grab them. You won't be disappointed." Sucy listened politely as Neebs drunkenly introduced her plan. Her first instinct was to reject it out of hand, she knew nothing about brewing beer after all, but as she thought about it, she came to like the idea more and more. After all, how better to test the effect of a specific mushroom on a large population than by convincing them to imbibe it voluntarily? And how hard could this brewing business really be? Töans had done so for centuries, and if those idiots in Föstis were capable of it, then clearly she had to be as well. With excitement now gleaming in her eyes, Sucy grabbed one of Neebs hands and shook it vigorously. You've got yourself a deal Neebs, and it's fortuitous that we seem to be heading back to Föstis, the mines and forests there are positively teeming with mushrooms. Now what should we call it? How about Mushbrewms? High on anticipation, Sucy barely even noticed the march back to Föstis and as soon as she arrived, she headed straight for the mines to start cataloging which mushrooms grew where. Only about halfway down the mine shaft did she notice that she had been joined by Grimper and a small band of others that were headed to inspect the OG vault. Under the watchful eye of the warlord she did not dare to pursue her previous plans, so she tagged along to try and unveil the vault's secrets. Open the OG Vault: 1d100+17: 99
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Nov 23, 2017 02:31
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vorebane posted:I would like to help out! Welcome to the party! Two things: first, pick a +1 armor or weapon from the third post in the thread OR something you could conceivably find in the area to use. Second, pick literally any mission except the vault because that one is full! I'll add your portrait to the first post in a few hours.
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Nov 23, 2017 02:34
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^^^ whoops! beaten by the OPvorebane posted:Name: Cause You're welcome to join the Horde, but unfortunately the Vault is a closed action limited to 10 people, and it's already full! Dog Kisser posted:
^^^ The brackets around certain challenges denote a [closed event], and slots are filled on a first-come-first-serve basis. Feel free to join in and roll your character's action for any of the other groups, if you'd like! (Also, all new characters are entitled to a either free +1 armor or +1 weapon item, so be sure to pick one up from the first page or ask Dog Kisser to make you one!)
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Nov 23, 2017 02:35
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    Name: Bamboo HP: 3/3 Glory: 19 + 1 (Action Glory) > 20 Skill: Basket Weaving [Ready] -[Fostis]- Climbing onto the top of Magda's wagon, Bamboo raised her hands above her head and tilted her head back. In a loud, clear, and non-canonical voice, she declared, "Happy! Thanks!! Giving!!! My! Fellow!! Hordlings!!!"
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Nov 23, 2017 07:13
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Name: Gawp HP: 1/1 Skills: Perception, Gazing (active) Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1) (removed), Sikatris Scarf (removed), Neötype Beret (removed), Sharp Stick (+0), Iron Shield Glory: 3 Ritual Chits: 12 -> 13 (artwork bonus) The Return to Morrskag Forest: Gawp didn't have time to wait for the others. When he heard the sound of a rushing stream, he launched himself through the undergrowth and fell to his knees by the river's bank, gasping for breath. He splashed some water on his face to refresh himself, but it did no good. Nothing was any good at all. He wasn't dreadfully thirsty, not any more - he was being visited instead by the most excruciating head pains he'd ever experienced. Worse than the searing of the Brand, this was a splitting sensation unto his skull like no other. Painful arcs of lightning flashed and crackled through his mind, lancing his every thought like so many bitter, twisted knives. His partially healed bite wounds started to weep openly with a viscous pink fluid, and Gawp knew: IT was HAPPENING. There was no stopping it, now.  He would become a Wendigo or die. Gob rest his soul. Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 21:44 on Nov 23, 2017 |
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Nov 23, 2017 07:15
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vorebane posted:I would like to help out! As was said above, that mission's full, but please consider coming help guard the wagons, we've been rolling kinda low!
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Nov 23, 2017 08:28
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drat, too late, then. There is a little more vengeance in Cause's heart now. And also I will probably more often fail to resist to claim that since Indiana Jones did a thing, it's archeology and therefore I get a bonus to it. Guard the wagons! One time Indiana Jones rode in a mine cart while fighting, that's probably relevant here.
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Nov 23, 2017 08:39
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Don't forget to roll for your actions, and it's a good idea to track your HP and glory and stuff at the top of a character post. Also your portrait was A12, right? That's one of the Nägel Frömen, and I'm not too sure but I think those are the prisoners that Grimper got to join us, (whereas the ones locked in the wagons are the Science Team, unnailed, I think?), so think about how you got jailed in Nägel too maybe? I dunno, I'm not the boss of you or anything, and I'm new to the game myself, and you're enthusiastic which is great, just trying to help you get up to speed and stuff
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Nov 23, 2017 09:18
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I'll think about it, but the op did say to not go overboard on backstories. I thought I implied clearly enough it was cuz of the monsterism that Cause was in Nagel. And I totally chose A13 and don't you forget it, my multiple pupils will come in very handy. I will use orokos then, I guess I thought DK was covering that. Name: Cause Portrait: A-13 Skill: Archeology Guarding those wagons! http://orokos.com/roll/571308 1d100 = 62! Glory: 0 > 1 Freebie starter item: Froman Cuirass
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Nov 23, 2017 10:52
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Yeah as I said I'm not the rulesmaster or anything, not trying to act above my station or boss you around. Don't want to get off on the wrong foot!
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Nov 23, 2017 18:19
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Doop dee doo, just got back to office, writing update. For the moment, here's our new soldier and an old item I forgot to post for Harlee! 
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Nov 23, 2017 19:56
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  Name: Patsy Skill: Baking Skillcores: Regeneration HP: 2 Glory: 2 It had been a long road back from Nagel, and Patsy spent most of it in thought. He had been failing the horde lately, ever since he went into the forest... even with his new skillcore his last batch of bread had turned out... well, edible was the nicest thing one could say about it. He wasn't sure what he'd forgotten, or maybe he'd used the wrong proportions... but still, it hadn't really helped much. It had all started in the forests around Fostis, and maybe he should go back there. Explore the surroundings: 1d100+2 = 4 What the actual hell
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Nov 23, 2017 20:05
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Prince of Space posted:
I am jealous of your artliness, that is awesome.
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Nov 23, 2017 20:15
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Mithross posted:
what the heck man
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Nov 23, 2017 20:23
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Dog Kisser posted:what the heck man In my head, Patsy decided to walk back out into that forest to try and turn his luck around, and immediately walked directly into a tree, knocked himself out, and then rolled down a hill. Proud moment in his story, let me tell you. Also I think Orokos wants me dead. Patsy is going to start thinking he's actually cursed by something.
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Nov 23, 2017 20:35
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Patsy rolled as poorly as he could without getting the benefit from that reroll ritual. So literally as poorly as possible.
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Nov 23, 2017 21:29
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Green Intern posted:Patsy rolled as poorly as he could without getting the benefit from that reroll ritual. So literally as poorly as possible. And I think he's the first non-mook to do so! Poor guy.
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Nov 23, 2017 22:28
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  Name: Gryph HP: 3 Glory: 4 -> 5 Skill: Bandaging/Medicine The train of wagons and troops marched upon Fostis, with Gryph squarely in the middle keeping check on a number of wounded members. Arriving, the horde splintered, some moving towards the vault while other still moved for townspeople, interrogating them. Gryph, however, lingered near the wagons, helping set up a perimeter and guard them against sabotage. He wanted a word with Zapanda... Guarding the wagon: 1d100+4 91 Torchlighter fucked around with this message at 20:52 on Nov 28, 2017 |
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Nov 24, 2017 03:06
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Could use some more people to Look for Trouble, I think, if there are some undecided players out there.
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Nov 24, 2017 03:08
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Green Intern posted:Could use some more people to Look for Trouble, I think, if there are some undecided players out there. Agreed you fuckers!!!
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Nov 24, 2017 03:11
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   Bully Skills: Oratory, Climbing (in use) HP:3 Glory: 18 Bully decides to explore the surroundings - more specifically, scaling the mountainside to find a good lookout point. A-climbing I shall go!: 1d100+28=98
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Nov 24, 2017 13:56
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Oh, IDK of Looking For Trouble counts as combat, but I neglected to add +2 from Ringo’s weapon.
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Nov 24, 2017 15:30
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 Name: Gigs Skills: Unflappability (+15), Triangulation (+10) HP: 3 Glory: 17 Strategy: Keep Guard On Our Wagons Dropping his game of mental hopscotch, Gigs realizes all too late he's missed his bid to investigate the Old Guy Vault Proper. Ah well, them's the breaks. Surveying the scene, Gigs decides to throw his lot in with the caravan guards, triangulating the most likely avenues of attack and preparing accordingly (1d100+27 = 43). After that run-in with the wendigo, he certainly wouldn't say no to an easier post.
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Nov 24, 2017 20:04
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 With a few moment’s discussion, the Horde split up and went their seperate ways to prepare for the inevitable assault. They’d roused some minor suspicion in the area, but if Grimper managed to open the Vault the suspicion would explode into certainty. Even if they were expected at Noostra, the eyes of the Fröman army would eventually swing Fostis-wards. Well, then the Unexpectable Horde would just have to poke them out! The Warlord listened carefully to his war party, then sent the Horde off to scatter into the wilds. He himself would go down below, and he rubbed his hands together in greedy anticipation. He snapped out of his revery briefly to address those crowding around him demanding their own captaincy, in the vein of Snödis the Poet’s recently minted Neötype Squadron. “Impress me. Then we’ll see. And, don’t forget: Snödis is on thin ice herself. ONE SCREW UP and she’s out, right, Poet? Now don’t you have something better to do? Get out there and do your jobs. I’m going to squeeze my giant rear end into this mousehole they scratched into the mountain.” And with that, he turned and swept towards the tunnel. The others scattered - they had jobs to do. (As far as captaincy goes, more will be portioned out in time, but for now let’s see how one goes!) [Fostis Outskirts] While they'd seen the outskirts of Fostis on their way in, they hadn't been really looking at them - how could they, as nervous as they'd been about their first real assault? But now it all seemed so mundane! After the Wendigos, after seeing Grimper cut loose, what were a few unruly miners? So it was that the scouting outside of town was undertaken with a critical but not panicked eye, more attention paid to strategic positioning than a fear or hidden enemies.
Partial Failure... Gawp the Perceiver felt strange. He felt hot and cold, and he knew his change was coming. He went a little apart from the rest of the group and took a few deep breaths. It wasn't helping; if anything, it was making it worse. His heart pounded in his chest with startling irregularity, and he opened his mouth to gasp with a sudden pain-
E͞R̸̕͜R͟͠O͝R (Gawp perishes from his rapid mutation. His Skillcores are unaffected by the disease, and can be reclaimed as usual. Ritual Glory is unaffected, so don't fret about that!) [Fostis] The one benefit of a central area to defend meant that enemies had to come to you. And that meant traps, and lots of em’. Portha the Rummager and her crew spent a merry day converting old chains and wagons and grinders and saws and drills into impromptu traps and seeding the inlets into the town. One way or another, the enemy forces would have a hard time getting past their gauntlet, and if they were lucky it would even take some of them down.
Partial Failure... --- Starn the Sieger and a group of other Horde members worked busily in town to secure their wagons. Though the lack of Zapanda was somewhat of a bummer - they’d wanted to talk to her, but instead she’d been brought underground! - they were too pressed for time to think on it. Their needs were twofold: they needed to prevent people from getting in to sabotage their crap, and they needed to be able to cut them down and get out of there at a moment’s notice. Under Starn’s stern, somewhat manic, guidance (building walls is just the other half of SIEGING) the Horde managed so slap together a half-decent perimeter around their wagons. From within, they’d be able to repulse attacks on their equipment from without, and make counterattacks from the safety of their enclosure. And all they’d have to do is remove a few pegs here and there, cut a guy wire, and the thing would spring apart, allowing their wagons a free exit! You could probably even tighten the wire here and there a little extra to make perimetre walls, like, explode when you cut them. Man, the baddies would regret trying to get in h-
Partial Failure...  The wagon containing the Nägel staff suddenly burst open, and the captives poured out, shouting in rage. Weaponless, they were subdued almost instantaneously - but one of them vaulted over Gryph the Medic’s head, scampered up the walls, and sprinted away, free-running up and out of sight amongst the stepped domiciles of the Fostisians. poo poo! It turned out they needed to keep people IN as well as out! They tied their captives up even tighter with leftover wire, and noted that the restraints inside had been breached - the bastard had had an Escape Artist Skillcore! The guards slammed the door shut and nailed boards across that door. They needed to find that escapee - fast! (Oops, one of them got away! Their healing capacity drops to 9d100-9, but worst is what’s going to happen if he manages to get to the enemy! No, wait, worst is what’s going to happen if Grimper finds out you let one of them go!) --- It was difficult not to hate the citizens of Fostis. It wasn't a logical thing, it was a gut instinct hatred; their smiling faces barely disguising the hate beneath, their pleasant obeisance disguising bone-deep thoughts of betrayal. And they had betrayed them last time, by omission of their knowledge of the Fostisian Free Alliance. That wasn’t going to happen this time. Biggo the Fist simply knocked on doors one by one and demanded that the people tell him everything they knew about potential enemies and the forces they might array against the Unexpectables. He watched them unblinking as they spouted on for as long as they could about tangentially related subjects, interrupting with more specific questions whenever they tried to confuse things. Their faces turned from disdain to confusion to grief as they were forced to speak about tactically significant secrets. Gigs simply noted it down and left once the source was exhausted, moving on to the next and leaving them behind. The others did the same with their villagers, one one by one they queried the populace.
Partial Failure...  What they could know with relative certainty was this:
----- Doc the Surgeon coveted her Hordemate's Skillcore. Bonegineering would be far more useful to her than the disgusting clod that now wielded it, and everyone knew it. Except Cornbread himself, naturally, the fool. She needed it, and he didn't, and it was as simple as that. She lured him away from the others - simple enough - then waited for the opportune moment. A simple operation, then she'd have what she needed and he could scamper off to do what he did best a little worse for the wear...
Cornbread Takes 1 Damage! Doc Takes 1 Damage!   (In PVP, it's just a straight roll off between the attacker and defenders. While Cornbread's player is inactive, Cornbread himself gets a chance to defend his organs against involuntary surgery. He rolled pretty well and bopped his attacker. To answer the implicit question, you can absolutely take Skillcores from one another with horrible surgery - but make sure you can pull it off! Now Doc has to decide whether she wants to go all the way on this, beg forgiveness, or hope he doesn't tattle.) [Fostis Caves] If it was tough for the Unexpectables to navigate the narrow tunnels leading to the Vault, it was so much moreso for the Warlord. He didn't complain as he was forced to crawl and squeeze and scrape his way through, but he certainly didn't look pleased. Zapanda didn't have any such reservations, and complained loudly and harshly to her captors the whole time. “-have nothing to do with Old Guy Paleontology, I have no interest in learning about it, and you're putting me at undue risk for no reason. You want your cure? This is a piss poor way of getting it. While I'm down here, I'm not working on anything. All my tools are up-” On and on, until they finally arrived. Despite the earlier reports of it, seeing it in person was shocking. It looked very similar to the one in Nägel's basement, but different enough to be unsettling. For one thing, while Nägel's had borne faint signs of use, this one was flawless. No trace of the leg removal incident remained. The group stood frozen and silent for a moment until Grimper entered the chamber behind them, just able to squat in the small overhead space. “Stop dawdling - the key, the key. Slap it in there and turn it clockwise. Or, no, wait, counter clockwise. One of them. The rest of you, watch the buttons light up. As fast as you can, match the sequence that appears - and don't make a mistake, or that's it for the lot of you. NOW!”
The glow of the Olivite fell to nothing, leaving the room lit only by the lurid fuschia of Grimper's flames. A tunnel reminiscent of the one they'd seen in Nägel led onwards into the darkness, and they followed it. A few moments of walking brought them to a hemispherical central chamber far smaller than they would have expected. The room consisted of a circular table surrounded by ten chairs - though the chairs were angled and shaped such that they would be extremely uncomfortable for a Töan, and were affixed directly to the floor. On the table before each chair was an indented palm print - and close inspection revealed the concave surface of each print was dotted with tiny needles. Less mysterious was the pile of things scattered loosely on the table. As the lights slowly returned to full brightness, glinting bits of something became visible.  A book (or something like a book), a ring, a mask, a hammer, and a spool of wire. They weren't arranged or otherwise artfully placed - they looked like they'd been dropped haphazardly and allowed to gather dust. Grimper sucked air through his teeth and snatched the book immediately. “I've heard of these, but never seen one: a Ritual Enchiridion! A long buried Ritual guide, all for us! Won't Magda be excited, the fat old girl - it's been ages since a new one was discovered. Let's just hope it's one of the good ones and not, like, water purification or something boring. Fight amongst yourself for the rest of the stuff - you've earned it just by getting in here - but be really careful around the Vile Mechanisms. Every Vault has one, and they're unpredictable and temperamental as hell.”  Zapanda had remained in stunned silence for the last few moments, but she spoke up now. “The Mechanism in Nägel's vault was de-fanged ages ago, long before I arrived… apparently it was a puzzle-trap that killed almost a dozen before they figured it out. It was a hell of a thing - but studying it unveiled something like a coded message about advanced woodworking techniques. That explained all the saws, but not why th-”the Old Guys” chose to relay their message through that medium. I always thought they were trying to tell us something, and we just weren't smart enough to figure it o-” “You're wrong. There's no meaning to any of this besides that the strong inherit what they deserve. Pack everything useful and learn everything you can about this place. We'll see if we can figure out the Mechanism when we have a little more breathing room - it'll be the crowning bullet point in my report!”     (You opened your first Vault successfully! They can be opened without keys, but keys make it FAR easier. Removing the key locks the chamber and (possibly) resets the interior, so having multiple open is difficult. Each Vault contains some random (and mysterious) treasure and one or more Vile Mechanisms. The treasure must be claimed before knowledge of their function can be known, and not all of it is friendly. The Vile Mechanisms vary dramatically in function, but if you can figure them out you can expect a powerful bonus… at a cost. You can attempt to sort out the Mechanism now or leave it and go help the others and try later!) Trinh the Taxidermist had a sore neck. She kept cracking it, but it never felt better. Her Slinkekelomas blisters were aching too, the leathery skin covering the buboes stretched taut by the tension inside them. The space inside the Vault seemed suddenly too tight, and in a fugue state leapt over the table towards the door. She got three steps into the Olivite hallway before her skin writhed hot and cold and her Brand responded in opposition.
Wendigo Conversion Initiating  She drew a needle-sharp talon against the wall, striking sparks, then returned to her duties. Dack the Athlete watched her as she went, tracking her with four eyes. The Warlord addressed him. “Dack, you are yet unbranded. I understand the wish to retain your strength for the Horde, but without a Brand you’re a danger to those around you. I will not force it on you - but if you begin to turn without it, I will crush the life out of you.” (Trinh has become a Branded Wendigo. Her Taxidermy Skillcore is corrupted, though Jumping remains untouched. Her base roll becomes 1d500. In addition, T͢a͘x̶͘i̶͜d͟҉̷ę̷r͘mỳ̛ becomes +50 - but if she rolls a 1 while using it, she either attacks her allies or dies instantaneously. It goes without saying that her use in social situations is also extremely curtailed! Also, Dack still hasn’t got a Brand. Maybe look into that - or escape into the forests and come back if you survive the change? Regardless, Hob is up next for the change.) [Fostis Outskirts Outskirts] Ringo the Pick led his group deep into enemy territory, moving far more quickly than was probably safe. Well, it wasn’t ‘his’ group. And technically they were already ‘in’ enemy territory. But he was still leading them! Because he was first! While the other suckers were stuck climbing mountains and looking under rocks for the enemies, they were going right out to the main road between settlements - not quite out in the open, but certainly a likely place to encounter their enemies. More dangerous, too. Good. Ringo liked danger. And, lo, listen - drums in the distance. He and the others dropped, hiding in the scrub grass and sparse trees and listening. A marching line of enemy troops, strangely garbed (even for Frömen) and banging rhythmically on drums. Not all that stealthy, these chaps. He counted a little north of a hundred of them, but the worst of it was the figure marching behind them. Warlord-scale, it was a hulking figure in interlocking plates of steel armor.  They would drum, and it would step, they would drum, and it would step. Frö had sent in their big guns, which was pretty flattering, if you thought about it. They were also pretty loud, which somewhat obviated the need for his ventriloquism plan. Shame. They marched with a steady rhythm, apparently untired, and the small band of Unexpectables kept still.
(They didn’t see you! You get a bonus 1d100 to whatever you do next because they’ll be flatfooted against you!) With danger on its way, what could the Horde do but defend themselves? They’d done the best they could to prepare their last stand (with mixed results), but at least they’d opened the Vault! And who knows, maybe something inside there would help them against the enemy Commander!
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 07:26 on Nov 26, 2017 |
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Nov 24, 2017 20:52
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Art and inevitable tweaks and edits coming later! Including the stuff from the vault which oh my god I forgot to post duhhhhh
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Nov 24, 2017 20:54
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