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Harlee posted:"Show me your moves!" 
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Nov 29, 2017 10:00
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super sweet best pal posted:RIP Vist. Here's holding out some small hope he rolls really low. I'm mostly hoping there's some issue with him fighting + danceboosting his army at the same time, I don't really have a chance otherwise. And Vist needs some sort of gloriously risky action to either win big or go home (to heaven (because she ded))
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Nov 29, 2017 10:13
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Nov 29, 2017 13:14
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  Sucy HP: 3 Glory: 19 -> 20 Skill: Mushrooms Sucy rejoined the Horde visibly disgusted. Grumbus and his lack of basic hygiene was bad enough on a regular day, but deliberately infecting the townspeople was a step too far in her opinion, while she hadn't had the time to count, she hoped he hadn't gotten to too many of them. Back amidst the horde, she noticed that Pythag was wearing the mask from the OG vault, and she had an idea about the function of the ring. Perhaps it was linked to the mask and would allow its wearer to access the sensory input of the person that wore the mask? She called out to Pythag: Hey Pythag, could you come over for a second and look at me, there's something I want to try out! As soon as he stood in front of her,  she slipped on the ring Later on, facing the enemy horde, Sucy joined Pythag in the charge towards the enemy archers. While she didn't have a shield or a bow, her wounds had healed completely, so it likely wouldn't be life threatening, merely incredibly dangerous. Close distance with the archers: 1d100+19+1: 84
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Nov 29, 2017 20:18
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Not an update, but some relevant info: I spaced on updating the people who Resonated! So let's go through the list because I'm too lazy to formally jam it into the last update.
Ringo's Whistling has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Hat's Millinery has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Gabber's Listening has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Gryph's Medicine has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Humbugs’s Skillcores have Resonated - decide whether to keep Science or Sleuthing. The one you choose rises to +20, and the other vanishes, freeing up the slot. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 05:23 on Nov 30, 2017 |
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Nov 30, 2017 05:06
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Dog Kisser posted:For those who still haven't Resonated... it'll come in time, sweeties! Don't worry about it, you're just late bloomers! Consider doing more suicidal actions. It seems to help with the power creep.
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Nov 30, 2017 05:24
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Green Intern posted:Consider doing more suicidal actions. It seems to help with the power creep. For Patsy, every action is suicidal lately
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Nov 30, 2017 07:54
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Dack posted:This wasn't the time to worry about how painful his Brand was, this was his chance to prove he isn't useless! Already Qwag was hurling herself at the enemy line, and while Dack wasn't a full Wendigo yet, he still felt a rush of exhilaration as he sprinted towards the drummers in the way only a true Töan Athlete could. 
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Nov 30, 2017 10:21
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Switching to team drums since no one else wants to try and bait them into the traps, will update my post.Green Intern posted:Consider doing more suicidal actions. It seems to help with the power creep. Maybe lucky rolls and effort posting play into it too? Not sure.
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Nov 30, 2017 11:33
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Dog Kisser posted:Not an update, but some relevant info: I spaced on updating the people who Resonated! So let's go through the list because I'm too lazy to formally jam it into the last update. As Green Intern pointed out, taking somewhat riskier options does seem to help with speeding along things - the entire "Bloody Their Noses" crew (minus Mason, who ran early) all self-resonated. We didn't roll straight 100s either - they were all fairly good rolls, but nothing automatic. Seems that deciding to take a suicidal distraction effort, then roll a wagon filled with dynamite towards an enemy army led by a colossus may have aided the resonating. Either way - Gabber's an adult now, yay!
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Nov 30, 2017 14:51
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Oh that Ringo, so handsome and mature.
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Nov 30, 2017 15:05
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Dog Kisser posted:[/i]For those who still haven't Resonated... it'll come in time, sweeties! Don't worry about it, you're just late bloomers! Listen kids, maybe you are jealous of your hordemates resonating. You feel scrawny, weak. You want to be as good as them, strong, powerful. You want to take shortcuts. That was me. When the dealer came round with performance enhancing Wendigo Ichor I said no, but then others tried it. The cool kids. I wanted to fit in so I swallowed a Wendigo core whole. Yeah, that's right, a whole core. Now one of the Ichor guys is dead, OD'd on Wendigo juice, and I'm addicted to monsterist singing, doctors say I've only got days before I'm a gonner. Don't make my mistake, just say No to Wendigo .
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Nov 30, 2017 15:17
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WereGoat posted:Listen kids, maybe you are jealous of your hordemates resonating. You feel scrawny, weak. You want to be as good as them, strong, powerful. You want to take shortcuts. As a counterpoint, before consuming a Wendigo core Dack was nothing. Didn't do anything cool, didn't have any equipment or items, and was never even mentioned in passing by any of the other Unexpectables. Now, Dack is part of a cool squad with his own cool hat, people actually recognize him, and he's got cool fan art! (Prince of Space is amazing, by the way) Alright sure, there's a chance he just falls over and dies soon, but that's the risk you need to take to be successful, right?
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Nov 30, 2017 16:12
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Tch, who needs to (self) resonate when you can kill a warlord and take their fully upgraded ones all for yourself? 
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Nov 30, 2017 16:29
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WereGoat posted:Listen kids, maybe you are jealous of your hordemates resonating. You feel scrawny, weak. You want to be as good as them, strong, powerful. You want to take shortcuts. Astus posted:As a counterpoint, before consuming a Wendigo core Dack was nothing. Didn't do anything cool, didn't have any equipment or items, and was never even mentioned in passing by any of the other Unexpectables. Now, Dack is part of a cool squad with his own cool hat, people actually recognize him, and he's got cool fan art! (Prince of Space is amazing, by the way)  As the medical specialist, or at least the last person, to make sure these two aren't dead, Please consult a medical specialist (me, definitely not Doc.) about whether or not Wendigo is right for you. (It isn't, and if you ask me, I will give you a retroactive concussion, since that's the only explanation for fooling around with Monsterism. Either that or being drat stupid, which, hey, you're in the Horde.)
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Nov 30, 2017 17:26
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What? GABBER is evolving!    Congratulations! Your GABBER evolved into BIG EARED GABBER...
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Nov 30, 2017 18:48
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  Skill: Sleuthing +20 (using), HP: 3/3 Glory: 6 ----> 7 In the middle of approaching the dance-fighters after connecting the dots on Doc's crime, Humbug yelled out in sudden pain - his sour gut feeling transforming into stabbing stomach pains, into churning, molten glass. After agonizing seconds, the fire in his belly clicked audibly. Eyes glowing, red smoke bursting from his mouth, roaring in pain as he unfurled himself, the Sleuth moved just in time to dodge a boot to the head. Then another, stepping aside moments before the synchronized dance moves could send him sprawling. He coughed, red smoke belching out of his mouth still - yet feeling strangely invigorated - and punched one of his surprised attackers square in the jaw. The music, the beat - it made more sense now that his cores had resonated. A mere series of beats and oscillations, patterns within patterns - and the subtle cues the dance-fighters took from them. The Sleuth frowned, stepping back from his opponent's counterattack. It was going to be tough making them dance to a different tune. Sleuthing gets +20, Science is absorbed. Taking out Sleuth-inspired frustrations on Dancers: 1d100+
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Nov 30, 2017 21:19
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Vist 3d, per request.
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Dec 1, 2017 03:38
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 In the calm moments before the battle, Sucy the Mushroom Farmer and Pythag the Mathematician took a brief moment to examine their vault relics. Don't want something suddenly activating in the midst of combat, after all. Plus... this might be their last chance to experiement. Sucy took a breath and slipped the ring onto her finger. Again, she went deaf and blind. The world fell away from her, the war and the conflict reduced to nothingness. She couldn't 'feel' the ring, but she knew where it was relative to her ego, if that made any sense. She felt a strange sort of comfort, here. She didn't really want to leave, but... holy poo poo the fight! She ripped the ring off her finger - to find that the situation had hardly changed. No, hadn't changed at all. She picked an incoming warrior, tracked her with her eyes, then slipped the ring back on. Counted to fifty. When she removed it, the warrior hadn't moved an inch. Somehow, the ring was... stopping time? But only for her, and only while she was wearing it? That really wasn't all that useful! Pythag hesitated a moment before slipping on the mask. He considered his past desires to hide and avoid, considered what a mask meant. He could could be someone different wearing this. He held his breath, faced down the coming conflict with only a hint of his usual anxiety, and slipped on the mask.  Wha-what!? Red skin? He touched his stranger's flesh with unfamiliar hands and felt his anxiety return manyfold. He reached up for the tie of his mask and could not find it, panicked, then felt a tiny seam against his skin, almost hidden in his hair. He dug his nails into it and pulled, and the mask disconnected with a wet slurp, leaving him panting for breath. What the gently caress! No time to think about it now - they were coming! (Alright - Sucy discovers that her ring stops time (or speeds up her mind immensely?) but doesn't actually allow her to, like, do anything. It currently doesn't seem all that useful. Pythag, on the other hand, has discovered that his mask allows him to look Fröman for all intents and purposes. It also confers a +50 to rolls to disguise himself as a run of the mill civilian while wearing it. It makes him feel a little weird to have it on.) --- The infernal music crashed over them like a physical force, making it hard to hear each others shouted instructions. The Unexpectables were unaccustomed to encountering such an overwhelming and disciplined group, but they'd faced Wendigos! They could certainly take down a few dancers. And yet to watch them move it was clear they were no mere dancers. Despite some Horde members’ near certainty that the Commander was coordinating their actions through some fell ritual, up close tiny imperfections in their synchronicity made it clear they were simply incredibly, incredibly well trained. Every drumbeat elicited a motion, every tiny flourish revealing itself at length to be part of a fiercely graceful whole. Between their motion and the complexity of the driving drum rhythms, the Horde found their attention wavering at crucial moments. --- Agenou Squadron Special Technique - Pounding Beat! As long as the Drummers are active, Horde rolls that are both below --- Looming above his army, Agenou the Dancer raised an eyebrow and spoke in a resonant tenor without skipping a beat. “Ah, it's been you tapping at our door. An angry old cat, scratching at the gateway of its betters. Come now, my good man, call off your little mice and let's talk about this like reasonable gentleme-” It was here Grimper threw a tree at him. Agenou stepped lightly to the side, brushing his hand alongside the wooden missile like he was petting a particularly poorly-groomed dog. His gentle but insistent touch stripped away branches, bark and sap all, and he flicked his hand clean to the rhythm of the song. “You’ll have to be quite a bit faster than that, fellow! I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything more from a Töan stooge!” His army gave out an “Ooooooooh!” of feigned shock the instant before the forces collided. --- Fighting them was unusual. Oh, the melee was never clean, no matter how disciplined the opponent, but the Dance-Fighters seemed to be locked to some internal rhythm that guided their actions. While that ought to mean their actions were predictable, in practice the Unexpectables found themselves unconsciously following their lead - and one should never let the opponent lead the dance! --- Agenou Squadron Special Technique - Choreography The Dance-Fighters take their cues from their Commander. As long as Agenou is dancing, he'll generate a boogy aura that synchronizes their actions. Mechanically, at the beginning of each round he'll roll 1d100. Any Dance-Fighter rolling below that number will be set to that number! Additionally, that number will be added as his bonus to his own attacks!
The Dance-Fighters wielded long, thin blades that shrilled as they cut through the air, adding to the cacophony in a way that seemed intentional. Suddenly uncertain, the Unexpectables tested their mettle.
VS 50d100 = 2777 [CHOREOGRAPHY BONUS raised all rolls below 87 to 87!] = 4350 (Those cheaters! Valthax, Biggo, Spanks, Humbug, Gorb, Grag, Tharbad, Gopher, Dummy, Dofro, Rik, Spleen, Flitter, Klorf, Gloff and 14 Mooks take 1 Damage!) Vist the Jouster was sick of their bullshit. With a roar, she broke ranks and charged at Commander Agenou…. Then broke off her feint to strike at the nearest Dancer!
(So Vist beat their roll, somehow… but then Choreography triggered and beat her in turn. Due to this I rule that she takes 1 Damage instead of 2!) --- Agenou and Grimper sparred, wading through ankle deep warfare. Agenou simply would not shut up, and it was pissing the Warlord off! “Couldn't help but notice my men are dancing circles around yours. Care to comment on their incompetence and lack of discipline while we dance?” “This ISN'T A DANCE!” A glancing blow tore open Grimper's cheek, letting loose a torrent of boiling neon before it staunched itself. He flinched late, dodging into a blow that slid him backwards, scattering Unexpectables and Dancers alike. “EVERYTHING is a dance, Grimper! Push and pull, action and reaction! You think I don’t know why you’re here? You think I don’t know what you’re trying to start!? Once I tear you down, once I stomp these worthless children you’ve swayed to your cause, I’m going to save the day! Frö will end this foolish war soon enough, and your petty rebellion will end!” “Holy poo poo, shut up!” Grimper wasn’t going to give up that easy, not to this clown! He was about to follow up with something more painful when Harlee the Clown rolled into view. She squeaked out some challenge at the Commander, then launched into an offensive dance. Grimper felt a grin crack out across his aching face - then he saw a flicker of motion.
 Agenou wiped his foot off theatrically, and his Dancers mirrored the motion all around him. The pipes played a rude five note tune before continuing with their warsong. Grimper snarled and launched himself back into the fray. (Harlee you died - and wow Agenou rolled terribly too!) --- “Argh you band geek fuckers c’mon over here!” Mason the Hollerer did not like band geeks. He really, really hated them, and while the rest of the Horde didn't fully understand his hatred they couldn't help but be inspired by the results! While the drumming was distracting and annoying and, sure, some of the others were getting all confused and bumping into eachother, all Mason could see was that poor goat, all those years ago! He saw red and blue - red, Fröman flesh; blue, Fröman blood. “It was you, wasn’t it! You all along! That’s why mah pal Tölan wouldn’t talk to me no more!” In the moment before impact, confusion was plain on the War Drummers’ faces.
VS 30d100 = 1395 The War Drummers kept their eyes on their attackers, but kept their attention on their drums. Big mistake - the Unexpectables weren’t done yet! Splut somehow slunk in behind them, whispering syrupy lies into their ears and melting back into the melee before they could find him. Dack needed to show everyone that he belonged in the Neötype Squadron, and one of the fastest way of doing that was BEING fast! A diving kick drove the wind out of another drummer, and then he was gone. Noggins brought her new hammer, Nailbreaker, to bear. When she dropped it down through the chest cavity of a soldier too slow to dodge, she felt a thrill pass through her, and her weapon… grumbled. But then it passed, and she was left with only the satisfaction of a job well done. And then… there was Qwäg. Just the sight of her caused the drums to taper off into a shuddering staccato silence, but then she really opened up. Her saw scraped against the stony ground, drawing up sparks and dulling the blade. But she didn’t need the blade sharp. Not for this. She smiled, too-wide, and roared: quote:"F̵̸̕͜A̶͜C̢̢̕È̴̷̛̕ TÖ ̡̛͠ ̸̶҉B̷̨͞͞L̶̢̨O͞͞Ǫ̸҉̛D̸̶͡S̕̕͟͡H͏̵͢͟͟E͢҉͝͏D̸̛͟͠͝ ."  The War Drummers forgot their drums, forgot their duties. All they could do was run. Run, and die. (Big win against the Drummers! They haven't been totally wiped out, but they - and the effect they were supporting - are severely hampered. Their Difficulty drops to 18, and Pounding Beat now affects only rolls below 30 - and enemy rolls below 20!) --- Hob the Beekeeper felt his breath catch in his throat as he harrassed the Drummers and knew his time had come. He tried to keep his eyes on his opponents, but his vision was swimming and he felt heat and frost coruscating through him. He heard music, not the mundane pap playing all around him, but singing. Ş̀̕̕͜i̷n̢g̸̵̨i̸̧͜ņ̢̨͝g̛. His Brand pulsed in time.
Wendigo Conversion Initiating  (Hob has become a Branded Wendigo. His Bee Keeping Skillcore is corrupted, though Contortion remains untouched. His base roll becomes 1d500. In addition, B̴̷̛́̀é̸̡͠è̴̛͞ ̶͜Ķ̕e͝͡è̢̢̡̨p̵̢̛҉͞i͏͠ń̷̡g̷͘͝ becomes +50 - but if he rolls a 1 while using it (or Ş̀̕̕͜i̷n̢g̸̵̨i̸̧͜ņ̢̨͝g̛), he either attacks his allies or dies instantaneously. It goes without saying that his use in social situations is also extremely curtailed!) --- “You've brought Wendigos into our territory? You utter madman! Do you have any idea what you’ve exposed the people of Fostis too!?” “BIG TALK from you! These Wendigos are childer of those unleashed from Nägel, you scum. I’m simply making USE of the resources presented to me!” The fight between the Commander and the Warlord had ranged across the battlefield, tearing up trees, boulders and occasionally loose soldiers for use as improvised weaponry. Grimper was hurting, flames leaking from dozens of scores and cuts across his body that weren’t healing properly. Agenou, on the other hand, looked fresh and playful, save for the wrath twisting his face. “Those creatures were detained for the greater good, you fool! If you’ve harmed them, you’ll set the cure back a decade or more!” “I KILLED THEM! I CRUSHED THEM ALL TO DEATH WITH A DOOR!” “AARRRGH!”Agenou kicked high, narrowly missing Grimper’s skull, then axed back down to break his hand. The Warlord roared in pain, rocking back away from the conflict. The Dancer stalked towards him, unconcerned. “I was going to kill you for being unfashionable. Then I was going to kill you to save my people. Now? Now I’m going to kill you because you’re weak. You were always a disappointment, and if anything you’ve gotten worse. Come at me, if you haven’t tired of the dance. Although, if you have… kneel. I’ll give you the honorable finally you don’t deserve.” (Alright, Grimper lost three of three encounters. He’s going to be smarting after this (if he survives), but luckily he’s not tied himself to you mystically as strongly as Agenou did to his men. If Agenou is rattled or injured (if Grimper ever manages to win a clash!), his sway over his army will weaken!) --- The String-Slayers kept the melody going, sustaining the magic even when the War-Drummers were dispersed. In between their individual performances, they took the opportunity to fire arrows into the fray. For the most part these probing attacks served merely as a distraction, but they were getting too close for comfort. Bamboo threw herself into the fray, recklessly closing the distance between them with the garrotte held taut between her fists. One of them spotted her, grinned, then fired two arrows into both her thighs, bringing her to the ground. Gado made his way closer, burrowing trenches in the soil to hide from their musical darts - but there was a pattern to his movement, and they knew patterns better than any other. He, too, was stricken. Their laughter at their pitiful opponents evaporated when Trinh the T͢a͘x̶͘i̶͜d͟҉̷ę̷r͘mist rose up before them, sweeping an entire tree through the air and deflecting their arrows harmlessly. The melody rose in intensity at the entire group sent a wall of arrows towards her.
VS 20d100 = 968 (Their ability to attack from range is eliminated, though they do not lose any strength just yet! Push their faces into the mud and rob them, my Horde!) --- In the melee, they couldn’t hear commands, not that Grimper was in any position to give any. It didn’t matter - the Unexpectables could improvise, and they already had a pretty drat good idea who they wanted to murder in the next few moments!
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 01:32 on Dec 4, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 06:32
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Adding to it tomorrow - still missing a section for Pythag putting on the Mask and Sucy putting on the ring, still need art... I think that's mostly it. Check my math and stuff, but I don't think there's anything so egregiously wrong that it'll change results. And if there is, let me know! Probably I won't change it, but i'll give you a nickel or something
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 13:27 on Dec 1, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 06:35
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     Gado!!! Skill: Digging (+20, available next turn), Mining (+10 used this turn) HP: 2/2 Glory: 4->5 Gado isn't happy that his surprise attack had failed, but it's hard to argue that it didn't help. While they'd been busy punching holes in him and Bamboo, the horde had managed to close the distancr soundly. While he was content to have done his part against the archers, hr wasn't particularly suicidal. Tearing a strip of his jacket away the Digger binds the largest of his wounds in a rough manner and retreats back down the holes he'd come from. In spite of the still leaking puncture wounds on his body, Gado can't bring himself to flee the battlefield just yet. Tightening his grip on thr Bone Tö Pick he seeks out the softened drummers of the opposing army. Popping back out of the earth Gado's arms get back to work; a tune once known to the previous owner of his mining skillcore coming to his lips in an unbidden whistle. The rhythm of the enemy drums is drat near infectious, but Gado's core keeps him on task, weapon colliding against the enemy on their off beat in a mechanical and steady fashion. Gado cripples himself to go from 1/3 hp to 2/2. Can't go dying now. Attacking the Drummers 108
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Dec 1, 2017 07:24
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   Name: Portha Skills: Rummaging (cooldown), Cleaning (in use), Imagining HP: 2/3 Glory: 13 Portha was barely able to think straight, all the forest garbage she threw had hit the ground or bouncing harmlessly off the drums, but the rest of the horde was managing to push through and the drums' constant thumping had nearly ceased. It was time to focus on mopping up the last few stragglers and if there was one thing she was good at, it was looting change out of pockets in the dirty laundry mopping. Mop them up, wipe them out, polish them off, brush them away, just clean out the rest of the drum section. 1d100+23=53 e: edit does not equal quote super sweet best pal fucked around with this message at 01:18 on Dec 5, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 07:33
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  Name: Börk Skills: Kissing (available), Listening (cooldown) HP: 3 Glory: 4 -> 5 Börk tore into the drumline - literally. While it was true that others were more effective at caving in heads, a drumskin is quite vulnerable, and a fine large round target when facing the point of a short dagger. It had shocked him to see Grimper getting worked over so easily. The giants were fighting behind him, but Börk was drawn to look over his shoulder at the fracas, especially when Grimper took a solid blow and the nail in Börkas shoulder seemed to sharpen. Now was the time to make a decision. Börk had planned to fall upon the String-Slayers next, but thoughts of Grimper nagged at him now. Still, that didn't make the floppy-mopped Tö suicidal. Scared as he was of Wendingos, Börk understood their power. To be entirely fair, that was why he was scared of them. The ragdolled Frö thrown in the air in a flurry of drumsticks had left no doubt. And now there was another one - that beekeeper chap in the fancy red cap had almost burst, exploded, into his terrifying new form. Börk was scared of Wendingos, but so should the enemy be. In this particular case, staying closer to them might be safer than not. So it was that Börk resolved he would attack Agenou - only if both Wendingos did. Otherwise, he would continue on his way to get stabby on the String-Slayers. CONDITIONAL attack on String Slayers Edit: Since Börk saw that the fearsome Wendingkes were not peeling off to attack Agenou, he picked up a second wind, and pressed his attack on the String Slayers Running raw dice stats: 4 rolls; min 12; max 35; median 25.5; mean 24.5 Historical glory: 5 simplefish fucked around with this message at 11:04 on Dec 2, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 07:50
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Skill: Sleuthing +20 (used) HP: 2/3 Glory: 7 ----> 8 Humbug drew back, dazed and feeling an itching at his collar. He put a hand to it - Ow! - and it came back red. Stabbed in the neck? When had that happened?! Humbug had no idea - in this cacophony it could easily have been his opponent sneaking in a blow, or it could have been some other Frömen he hadn't kept his eyes on. The wound seemed dangerously close to a major artery, too. drat those dancers and their reedblades! drat those drums - and, hah, thankfully nearly half of them already looked ground to mincemeat! Still, this wasn't looking good. The noises all around were too overwhelming! Even with the pieces of cloth he'd stuffed in his ears, he felt the effect of those pounding drums. It made it so drat hard to gather his thoughts! Furious, without thinking clearly, he tried punching the dancers again. Töhdear - better hit harder this time! 1d100+7 29  Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at 16:32 on Dec 1, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 08:12
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   Name: Bamboo HP: 1/3 Glory: 22 + 1 (Action Glory) > 23 Skill: Basket Weaving [ACTIVATE] -[ Fostis Outskirts]- Bamboo lifted her head off the ground and observed the swirling chaos around her. The Unexpectables where hurting. Dying. Even Grimper, it seems, was being bested by the enemy Warlord. She tried to push herself up, and failed. With a light thud, her face hit the dirt again. A faint, "Oww", escaped from her lips. She turned her head, tried to find Gado; she recalled him charging the Stringers along with her. Struggling to focus through the pain, Bamboo saw him, disappearing down a hole. For a moment, she was sorely tempted to follow him. It would be safe down there. Nothing would hurt her anymore. She could just curl up, go to sleep, let her blood slowly seep out, and not have to think about The War, The Killing, or, Her Family, anymore. "And so, we come at last, to the moment of choice." "Leave. Me. Alone." "Gladly, if this is what you truly want. Have we made peace with what we are then? What we were? What we have become?" "Stop. Speaking. Riddles." "Why? You were so good at them once." "I. Don't. Remember." "Don't? Or Won't?" "Does. It. Matter?" "You tell me. You're the one who's been talking to yourself." "Stop. Pushing. Me." "I'm not even real, you demented psycho. Remember, don't remember. Hurt, don't hurt. Die in a hole, die in a battle, die for your queen, die for your family. In these final moments we have, I just want to see you be honest with yourself once more." "Truth. Too. Painful." "Ahh. So, you do remember." Bamboo took a deep breath. She pushed herself off the ground, and knelt on her good knee. Placing one wooden handle of the garrote between her teeth, she bite down hard and grunted as she ripped one, then the other, arrow out of her thigh. Standing up, she straightened her back despite the shooting pain in her injured leg. The wound didn't matter, not anymore; most likely, the remainder of her life would be measured in mere seconds. "Yes. I remember." Pulling the garrote taunt, she launched herself once again at the Archer Commander. Bamboo would 'weave' again, in this life, or the next. Action > Reckless Assault at the String-Slayers Commander 2: 1d100+22+10+1 121 [1d100=88]
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Dec 1, 2017 09:58
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    Name: Verika HP: 3/3 Skills: Accuracy (active), Perception (cooling) Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Sharp Stick (+0), Shield Glory: 2 -> 3 Ritual Chits: 17 -> 20 (artwork bonus) Battle of Fostis (part 2): In stilted hops and jagged swerves, Verika awkwardly launched herself at the enemy archers' position, shield held high in defiance. She was seething with rage. As the sound of the drums and the thrums of the enemy's bows grew louder and more desperate, Verika only picked up her pace. What had started as a brand new shield only seven minutes prior was a veritable pincushion of arrows by now - it would take forever and a day to buff all that damage out! Again and again, with every single singing arrow she seemed to duck or dodge, another one would find a way to plant itself directly into her shield of metal and wood like so many feather-tipped flowers. By the time she had made it within charging distance of the String-Slayers' front lines, her shield was weighed down by a dense thicket's worth of arrows. Verika was absolutely pissed. She gritted her teeth and charged headlong at the enemy archers as they were in the middle of nocking their bows. She swung with her spear's nailed end and she gouged with its sharpened tip and she stabbed for the exposed necks of the enemy, her shield raised and ready for crossfire. Attack the Archers!: 1d100+12 44 At the first opportunity she had, she attempted to wrest the ranged weapon out of the the hands of the nearest fallen String-Slayer. "Argh no, let GO!" Verika pleaded, planting a foot in the offending archer's face and yanking with all her might. The bow cracked and snapped in half. She'll have to try again later, and with a better, less clingy target. Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 04:43 on Dec 2, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 11:07
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  Name: Neebs Skill(s): Sales (+10) (used this turn), Drinking (+10) (on cooldown) HP: 3/3 Glory: 6 -> 7 With the same violence Neebs had recently visited upon the escapee, she atttempted to use the battlebrüm upon the war drummers. Except it seemed to be the drummers were dodging her swings and using the brüm as an additional drum-stick, using Neebs as part of thier dance. This just made Neebs angry; so she decided that she'd be better served using her brüm-stick against something that wouldn't help the enemy. The dancers needed a very aggressive sales pitch, with mandatory demonstration; on how useful the battlebrüm is in battle. Mandatory aggressive battlebrum sales demonstration: 1d100+6+10+1 96 OOC: math concerns: Based on DK's post, it looks like we're missing people (52+1+1+25+15 => 94? missing 22?) Spreadsheet indicates 25 attacking war drummers; but spreadsheet is using a >0 count; there's actually 33 people attacking the war drummers (8 of which subtracted from rolls (so there's 8 of the missing people)); so this was really 33d100 vs 30d100 (ignoring that wendigos aren't really 1d100) Also, the reckless assault against war drums wasn't added to the 'war drum' attack? War drums attack looks to be 1405 by the spreadsheet, with an additional 733 from reckless assault. War drums total from DK was only 1405. It seems this should have been 1405+733 => 2138 against the war drums. Maybe I just don't understand how reckless asault works. Looks like we have flavor-text for it, but no mechanical benefit? There were 4 people doing reckless assault against the war drums. (so this is 4 more of the missing people) Similar concerns with the string slayers. It wasn't 15d100 vs 20d100, it was 23d100 vs 20d100 (ignorning that wendigos aren't really 1d100). (8 rolls here also subtracted from the total instead of adding, bringing us 8 more missing people) I'm also not sure where the reckless assault rolls against the string slayers get added. This is another 2 people. (bringing us 2 more missing people) If we total up these missing people, 8+4+8+2 => 22; I think that gets everyone. Is it actually intended that 'reckless assault' rolls don't get added to the respective attacks?
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Dec 1, 2017 11:23
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A reminder to everyone that we have  a Discord channel!Come chat, plan and pester Dog Kisser for rule clarifications.
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Dec 1, 2017 13:14
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Re: Reckless assault - yes, that's not added to the total of the main attack because you aren't attacking with the Horde, you're explicitly going off on your own. There is a mechanical benefit to doing so (successes dealing additional damage to the target beyond the success or failure of the main assault), but it wasn't pointed out specifically. As for the math issues, I'll do another pass today regardless, but I appreciate your guidelines for where specifically to look! I believe the totals for the groups should be fine, barring typos, but it does sound like I may have missed some reckless assaults - I'll double check!
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Dec 1, 2017 13:18
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Potrait:  Naim: Mason Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin' Mason Masonry HeeP: Mason Mason Mason Glury: Masonx15 -> 16 Mason sees only blood. Well, blood and drums. Mason Endz deh Fite!: 1d100+15 44
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Dec 1, 2017 13:42
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   Name: Ringo! HP: 2/2 (Crippled) Glory: 13>14 Skill: Lockpicking, Ventriloquism (cooldown), Whistling+ (using now) Ringo batted away another Froman sword with his wendigoad, and glanced at the battle around him. Things could be better. All around him, his hordemates were getting beaten down. Humbug was bleeding! drat! Ringo liked the old Toan, even if they were probably on opposite sides of the law back in the day. And Grimper...the warlord looked like he'd been through hell. If Ringo hadn't already thrown away any real grudge over the whole disobeying-orders-and-being-partially-crushed thing, the sight of Grimper getting his rear end handed to him would have done the trick. Ringo couldn't have done anything worse to the old man than what's already happened to him. So much better to just file off the hard edges of a grudge, and turn it to a nice soft memory you can all laugh about in the end. His chest felt hot and tight, like it was stuffed full of rocks. "Getting distracted, To?" The Froman Ringo was engaged with gyrated his hips, preparing to attack. "Agenou was right. You're all graceless lumps!" Ringo didn't speak. Instead he started tapping and shuffling his own feet. Rhythm and song were bubbling up inside him like never before. When he pursed his lips and started to whistle, hot red smoke came out in a jet. His reply was obvious: Dance or die, you better keep up Recklessly Attack the Dance Fighters (to my own whistling rhythm): 1d100+13+15 80 +2 = 82 Edit: forgot to add my Wendigoad's bonus!
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Dec 1, 2017 14:03
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   Name: Hob HP 1/1 Glory: 11>12 Ritual Glory : 5>6 Skill: B̴̷̛́̀é̸̡͠è̴̛͞ ̶͜Ķ̕e͝͡è̢̢̡̨p̵̢̛҉͞i͏͠ń̷̡g̷͘͝, Contortion, Ş̀̕̕͜i̷n̢g̸̵̨i̸̧͜ņ̢̨͝g̛(cooldown) Hob felt the horrendous pain n his chest. The feeling like his arm was being ripped in half. His face felt weird, numb, wrong. His eye, god his eye! Separating! Auuugh! But at the same time, it felt right. The fire and ice in his body was gone now, and he was left feeling... different. Amazing! He truly understood B̴̷̛́̀é̸̡͠è̴̛͞ ̶͜Ķ̕e͝͡è̢̢̡̨p̵̢̛҉͞i͏͠ń̷̡g̷͘͝. Before he was a Neophyte, now a Neotype! The Ş̀̕̕͜i̷n̢g̸̵̨i̸̧͜ņ̢̨͝g̛ didn't pull so much, it was balanced, offset by his new, awesome power! No wait. I know this feeling, the draw of the corrupt core. I remember the old beekeeping knowledge. This new understanding is off, somehow. Wrong. I don't understand. Hob opened his eyes depth perception, nice. His body felt tingly and odd. Everything felt new. He looked at his hands. All three of them. !? A nearby failed trap caught his attention, an oily puddle mean to make the enemy slip. He looked at his reflection. His new face. His new body.  As he let out a scream (with both mouths) it was tainted by an unnatural buzzing. A summoning call. Bees. They swarmed towards him, tiny blue bees zipping through the air. They covered him for a moment, before they crawled inside his face/hive. A̻͔̮̱͕͝a̟͉̜͕͘a̲̲͉a̛̻aa̶͖͓̳̮̞a͖̝a̢̪̹̯a͔͈̞͕͍h̝̭̯̘̗͜!̹ ̵B͉z͓̞z̞̼̮͖̼͙̖z͍̳͚͉ẕ̻̹̳͜z̰͙̩̱͉z͕̼̩z̘͎̺̘̩̭̱̕z̲z͖͎̟̫͍͡!͇͇̩̹̭̬́ WereGoat fucked around with this message at 16:15 on Dec 1, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 15:12
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  Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry {cooldown}, Listening+ (using), Night Vision HP: 2/3 Glory: 7 - > 8 While an impartial observer may have been appalled at Gabber's lack of rhythm, he continued dance-fighting as if no one was watching. While this may have boosted his own self-confidence, it didn't stop him from waltzing right into a random mook of the Horde, sending them both crashing to the ground in a tumble of limbs. "Hey! Watch it!" Trying to disentangle himself before he received a drumstick blow to the head, Gabber pushed off the Töan beneath him in a less than elegant manner, reaching his feet and raising his shield to ward off any incoming blows. However, none came - peeking from behind his shield he watched as Splut, Dack, Noggins, and Qwag (especially Qwag) led the charge that began dismantling the drum-line piece by piece. Where did Noggins get that hammer?, he briefly wondered before he was showered in bits of viscera from Qwag's brutal display. Seeing that his fellow horde comrades seemed to have the War-Drums at close to a rout, he tried to scan the battlefield to see if any other groups needed him more. While it was easy enough to see the duel between Grimper and Agenou, the sheer number of bodies throwing themselves about made it tough to determine which groups might be faltering. Tapping his Listening Skillcore to aid him, he suddenly felt a hot burning sensation from deep in his chest. That feeling rose through his lungs up to his mouth seeking escape; however, finding none through his sealed lips the pressure seemed to build further. Am I dying?! Panic gripping him, he was about to start clawing at his mouth, however suddenly the pressure seemed to *pop*, and he felt whatever it was seem to disperse through his nostrils and ears in a mighty rush. Suddenly finding himself surrounded in a vague reddish haze, panic turned to elation - he'd Self-Resonated!! His parents would be so proud! There'd be time to celebrate later - for now, he focused his senses on the battle around him. His hearing felt even more highly attuned, the red fog having cleared up his ear cannals better than any Tö-tip ever could have. He suddenly heard a familiar voice cut through the music and sounds of battle. Prince of Space posted:"Argh no, let GO!" Verika pleaded, planting a foot in the offending archer's face and yanking with all her might. With his (now enhanced) Listening skillcore he picked out what sounded like Verika shouting in alarm over by the String-Slayers. Making his choice, he charged headfirst towards where the Horde had stepped-up to the String-Slayers, bull-rushing the closest archer still standing near Verika and laying him off his feet. He then proceeded to start swinging away at any archers within his reach. Time to bring it on! Listen to the Faltering Beat to Gain Courage/Bull-rush the Archers with Shield!: 1d100+15+7+1 98  EDIT: Once things calmed down for a moment Gabber realized that Verika had been trying to strip the String-Slayer nearest her of his weapon (instrument?). Thinking this a wonderful idea, he did the same to a fallen foe nearby. Rob the String-Slayers of Their Bow: 1d100 61  Actions: Tap Listening+, Attack the String Slayers, Rob a String-Slayer of their weapon/instrument Task Manager fucked around with this message at 16:15 on Dec 1, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 15:18
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Alright, took a look at math - it's all fine, with the exception of a few typos and some shoddy coding on my part in the spreadsheet. As Half-wit pointed out, I had the 'total soldiers acted' cell counting >0, and some actions had gone negative. Woops! I think everyone is accounted for in the previous update. Now, to see what I missed narratively! The best part of all! Also yes Hob is gross now and I love it!
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Dec 1, 2017 15:34
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 Name: Gryph HP: 3 Glory: 9 -> 10 Skill: Bandaging/Medicine Gryph's chest burned as he charged. The incessant drumbeat make the earth twist and shake, but the burning in his chest propelled him into contact. He swung his fist, barely missing another Tö before planting it squarely in the nose of a drummer. As he moved forward, his hands and elbows flying, Gryph realised. He could SEE.His medicine skillcore had Resonated, even now updating him on where the drummers were hurt. Where they could be hurt more. A repetitive strain injury became a broken wrist, a bad knee was given a swift kick, ribs were shattered. And then the Ş̀̕̕͜i̷n̢g̸̵̨i̸̧͜ņ̢̨͝g̛ started. Hob fell to his knees and shook. Gryph could already see the flesh reshaping. Gryph was surrounded. The Tö advance had ground down the Drummers, but still they held. And then Qwag stepped forward and swung her saw. In one stroke, she broke the drummers, sending some flying and dealing with more in that stroke than any who had fallen prior. As the battle swept away from Gryph, he dropped to one knee, still reeling from the heat in his chest. A cough and some gas, and Gryph was recovered. He was one of the few. He saw Bamboo and Gado go down, their bodies almost sprouting feathered shafts. Worse were the forces who had clashed with the Dance-Fighters. Gryph saw Biggo, Humbug, Glof, Vist, and more reel back, their wounds obvious and red in the light. Worse, Grimper was down, his enemy dancing and laughing as the cohort against them gyrated in time. Harlee, a new member of the Horde leapt forth. And then she was gone. A single boot and she flew back, her head twisted at an unnatural angle. Dead before she hit the ground. But even as she died, Grimper struck. His attack was clumsy, failed to land and was countered almost immediately by the enemy Warlord. But Gryph felt the rhythm pulse, saw the warlord shift, the dance slip for not even half a beat. And Gryph understood. These pansy dancers couldn't stand a prolonged fight. If the Horde could get up, keep fighting, refuse to quit, their enemies would fall. Looking down at his hands, Gryph saw the blood. His knuckles were bleeding, his fingers hurt. These hands were needed for the aftermath, for the time when the Horde licked their wounds. He'd have to stop them from breaking. Wrap them, keep them contained. A quick bandage and he was ready. With a yell, he charged. Reckless Attack: Dance-Fighter Rumble!: 1d100+9+15(skillcore) 110 OOC: I have been on a Yakuza kick lately, and this pretty much describes the horde in my eyes. Torchlighter fucked around with this message at 16:00 on Dec 1, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 15:50
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     Noggins Skillcores: Carpentry, Precision HP: 3 Glory: 24->25 Ritual Glory: 2 Noggins rode high on the wave of adrenaline, raining powerful, percussive blows down on the drummers, smashing drum and bone alike, enemies driven into the dirty like so many nails into wood. One particularly mighty swing crashed right through a soldier's sternum, sending blue blood messily spattering, and she felt an uncharacteristic level of thrill at the act. Nailbreaker was... happy? It grumbled. Displeased? No... It was hungry. Well, if it was hungry for something other than the blood of the enemy, it was going to have to wait. With the drum corps in tatters, Noggins stepped back for a moment, catching her breath and taking another look at the battlefield. Grimper was having a rough time with Agenou which... wasn't as surprising as she'd really hoped. He hadn't given up the fight yet, though, so Noggins wasn't about to throw herself into that particular brawl. Pythag, Gabber and Verika were leading an effective charge against the String-Slayers, and Noggins felt pride in her friends well up in her chest. They were going to do this! Frö would lose this battle. No matter their discipline, their rhythm, their Ş̀̕̕͜i̷n̢g̸̵̨i̸̧͜ņ̢̨͝g... Wait. That was from behind her. Noggins forced herself to look elsewhere. Anywhere but back at Hob. He was alive, and that was all that mattered. If she turned now, she was going to have to face up to the result, and... she just wasn't ready for that. Not now. Instead, she spotted Vist, stuck in with the Dance-Fighters, fighting bravely, but losing ground against the sheer coordination of the Frömen. This... this she could stop. This was within her power. "Mop up the rest of the drummers!" she shouted "Then get the Dance Fighters! They need to go down!" Swapping skillcores, she strode back into the fray, ducking the strikes from the dancers and responding in kind, every careful swing crushing a joint, or throwing off balance. "I've got your back, Vist! Let's show them just how Hard we are!" Precision Strike on the Dance Fighters!: 1d100+24+10+5 119
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Dec 1, 2017 18:16
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   Bully Skills: Oratory (cooldown), Climbing HP:3 Glory: 20 Bully briefly gets disorientated in the melee. He blinks to gather his wits, and take stock of the situation. Grimper himself seems to be struggling, and clearly something must be done. He, alone might not be enough - but he can perhaps buy Grimper time to recover, and the other Unexpectables time to neutralise the rest of the horde. A lone Toän against a Froman Warlord is surely sucide - but it is also Unexpectable. As Bully makes his final charge, he roars a warcry in the hopes it will rally the spirits of the horde. To invoke a desire to avenge the recent passing of a beloved comrade, slain by the foe as surely as if he had met his end by a Froman blade. 'FOR GAWP!' A reckless charge on the enemy warlord!: 1d100+20=81
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Dec 1, 2017 18:53
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       Name: Stårn Additional skills: Butterfly Beastmaster HP: 3 Glory: 23 -> 24 The battle was not going quite as planned. The Warlord was faltering, the enemy fighters were far better trained than they were, and then there was that asinine beat that wouldn't stop. What an absolutely delightful challenge! After all, a big part of Sieging was to make the force multipliers work in your favor, and undermine those of your enemy. No method could be too cruel, and no line could be too sacrosanct to cross if you wished to be the optimal Sieger. So here's a question? How well does one play a drum when harried by poisonous butterflies? Releasing poisonous butterflies amongst the Drummers: 1d100+33=107
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Dec 1, 2017 19:18
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     Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly HP: 3 Glory: 19-20 Ritual Glory: 9 "Qwäg! Great job, but it looks like Trinh could need some help! Go see if you can't de-limb a few of those archers, pull some preasure of from the rest of us!" "Hob! "I Knew you'd make it. Do not despair, the bees must have heard your song. It was lovely by the way. Do not fear your power, embrace it. Use it. Destroy the drummers!" "Dack! "You are on the very edge of your ascendancy, use the burn to drive you, make them pay for your pain! I leave who at your discretion, as long as they bleed blue!" "Trinh "Great going! Keep it up, backup is coming your way!" -- For her own part, Snödis was about to do something very reckless. Rushing out from the browbeaten drummer meleé, she waved her fancy hat in the air and shouted her challenge.  "Hey string-slayers, more like string failures! I heard you are the worst marksfrö in the world, so allow me to give you a challenge more up your alley! See my hat? That means im super important, bet you can't even graze it even when im sitting still!" Taunting Archers by Sitting Quietly: 1d100+19+10 = 79 Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at 23:42 on Dec 1, 2017 |
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Dec 1, 2017 21:49
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Skill: Sleuthing +20 (used) HP: 2/3 Glory: 7 ----> 8 Humbug was not having a good day, his flurry of angry punches wasn't helping and he was being driven back by the stab-happy dancers. He was made somewhat more hopeful as Noggins left the drummer flank and charged into the main fray, joining Vist the Jouster. Encouraged, he punched hard... at empty air - where had that dancer pivoted?! - and then nearly got shivved for his trouble, the blade scraping along his cuirass and ruining the front of his new coat. Swearing under his breath about bringing dumb to a knife fight, he made his way over to the heroic Töan. There was so much bad poo poo going on, but perhaps she could help deal with it. Particularly one thing had him concerned - the whistling, grinning fool stuck up in the middle of the fray. "Noggins! Gah, stop it! No, that wasn't for you. What I want to say is - Cover Ringo! He's moving too far ahead - he's going to get himself killed!" exclaimed the Sleuth, ignorant of the fact that he was currently getting his poo poo kicked in far harder than Ringo and distracting one of the Unexpectables' best warriors to boot. He turned in the direction of another Töan, frantically gesturing at them as they broke off and ran towards the towering figures duelling in the army's midst. "Bully! Let Warlords deal with Warlords! Don't even think of using that climbing skillcore to ascend Agenou's legs! It's suicide!" he cried, his voice nearly lost in the noise of the musical melee, as the Töan forged on regardless. gently caress! He'd miss the sassy orator. Humbug subtracts the maximum amount possible from our victory total thanks to being distracted by the POUNDING BEAT, which is totally because he's ended up losing his focus on killing enemies and is now more focused on who might die in the next few seconds.
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Dec 1, 2017 22:05
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