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Oh god, I hate it. 
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Dec 19, 2017 13:15
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Green Intern posted:Oh god, I
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Dec 19, 2017 15:35
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    Name: Beco Skills:Cowardice(+15), Screaming[c/d] HP:3/3 Glory:2->3 Beco was feeling uncharacteristically good about things, because things hard started to go uncharacteristically well. For the first time since The Unexpectable swept through Fostis and caught him up in it's wake, his inevitable death seemed, well, at least somewhat evitable. He had lived through dicey battles, and was now starting part two of his plan, make himself useful. Grimper had made it abundantly clear that the Fostis traitors more tolerated than liked, and Beco reasoned he should be seen as valuable to the warlord to the extent he was seen at all. With his prisoner/volunteers in tow, he had now done something undeniably useful. Aside from the simple value of having more manpower, they were also soldiers and surely brought their own skills and crucial intelligence about the enemies. Never mind that they were found crying and playing dead on the battlefield, that was just good sense on their part. He even made sure to grab one of the better conditioned suits of armor he saw on his way back. Drummer's garber, better something plain then one of the fancier pieces of gear. Beco had no intention of standing out more then necessary. Passing by The Carpenter he stopped and paid a quick respect to the dead encouraging the followers to due the same. He hadn't really known any of them except by reputation, nor had he ever had any real loyalty to anything in his life. All the same, he knew in his gut that he would likely join them, and when that time came he hoped someone would do the same for him. Moment passed, he turned back toward the bar Gimper was in. Seeing the destruction the warlord had done to the buiding, his heart sank and his left eye twitched. The realization that he would have to actually approach and talk to Grimper suddenly dawned on him in all its horror. Deep breath. He attempted to steel his courage, and finding he had none, considered other options. Splut the silvertongued! He seemed a good sort. Hadn't minded or at least didn't say anything when Beco tried to hide behind him, and he also went out and tried to recruit Agenou's soldiers as well. Surely, he would help. Trying to keep a safe distance from the wendigos, Beco called out, "Splut! These fine Froman have surrendered and volunteered to join our just cause. Since you are so eloquent, would you be so generous as to present their case to Gimper?" With that out of the way he made sure to grab a sash since he never turned down something free. Then set about helping to treat the wounded. Again, not out of duty, but a coward's calculation that sooner or later he would need medical treatment himself and the more he helped now the fewer wounded to compete with him later. Tend to the wounded: 1d100+2 75 [fixed, thanks] I dont know fucked around with this message at 22:31 on Dec 19, 2017 |
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Dec 19, 2017 21:54
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   Name: Patsy Skill: Baking Skillcores: Regeneration HP: 2 Glory: 9 I am sick as a dog and still going to work, I can't bring myself to do flavor right now, sorry Claiming a timing +10 core 1d100 = 38 Using regeneration skillcore to make a healing roll 1d100+19= 21 another 2! Are you kidding me with this?!
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Dec 19, 2017 21:59
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I dont know posted:[ooc: Just to confirm the rules. Since this is part of the same downtime, I do not get an additional point of glory since I already got one on my last action, correct?] You should get a point. Generally each major post from DogKisser starting with the big Break Down that Gate banner counts as a start of a new turn. You can gain one(1) glory per turn by posting.
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Dec 19, 2017 22:01
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I dont know posted:[ooc: Just to confirm the rules. Since this is part of the same downtime, I do not get an additional point of glory since I already got one on my last action, correct?] ((Wrong! It's two consecutive turns of downtime. So you've got one for the battle, one for the downtime period where you recruited people, and one for this post!))
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Dec 19, 2017 22:02
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   Name: Bamboo HP: 2/3 Glory: 26 + 1 (Story Glory) + 2 (DK 'not a chicken' Glory) > 29 Skill: 'Basket' Weaving (Resonated LVL 1: +15) [READY] -[Fostis - Before descending into the Old Guys Vault]- Patsy posted:Claiming a timing +10 core 1d100 = 38 Bamboo noted Patsy's latest struggle with a wiry smile and a sympathetic sigh; she'd been there before, and, she understands the frustration of not being able to secure a skillcore. Bamboo had been keeping an eye on the Baker since her talk with Humbug; if she really was going to reconstitute the Queens Pawn, she'd have to start putting out 'feelers'. And Patsy, well, unnoticed tradesmen who everyone takes for granted was the 'bread and butter' of the Pawn's, pun fully intended. She had tried to speak with Patsy before, to no avail. Time to try again. Bamboo strolled up ever so casually, "Patsy, never had a chance to thank you for baking for The Horde. Tell me, did you ever delivery your baked goods around the camp?" Mithross posted:I am sick as a dog and still going to work, I can't bring myself to do flavor right now, sorry Feel better Forum Friend! CourValant fucked around with this message at 00:57 on Dec 20, 2017 |
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Dec 19, 2017 22:28
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 Enjoying their extended break after their victory, the Unexpectables diligently avoided thinking about the Vile Mechanism. It was waiting down there for them, and even if they'd somehow forgotten, Grimper had ordered them to figure it out. One way or another, whether they had to force prisoners into the chairs or choose lots, someone was going to do it. But… but not yet. There was so much to do, first! --- Despite a well fed Horde, Cause the Archaeologist decided to try their hand at cooking for the group. Just a snack, a tiny portion of their supplies, but enough to brighten their days and prepare them for the march ahead.
Cooking Success! 1 Ration Retained! 4 Rations Remain! (You successfully feed people who are already full! Which, really, is what the holidays are all about - +1 to everyone's next roll because you're psyched about snacks!) --- There were still quite a few Skillcores floating around... no harm in taking seconds, right!? The Horde squabbled and bit and fought over the precious things, but eventually each of them found a home in a new body. Most of them slotted in in the expected ways, but - for some reason emboldened by Ringo's illness - a group decided to see what would happen if they continued stacking identical Cores into a single Hordemate! Magda thought about shouting them down, but eh - let them learn by doing. (Alright, Skillcores were claimed as follows! Somnö gains Smashing, Patsy claims Timing, Sucy gains Kii͟i͠iiiií̧͜i̡͠i̛͢iiiiiì̵̡́i̸҉͟i҉̛͘͠ Kicking +45, Pythag gains Fearlessness, Vist gains Balance, Cause gains Balance, Marra gains Performing, Bamboo gains Virtuoso, Verika gains Sniping (and holds it, for the moment), Gryph gains Slamming, Gado gains Climbing... and Mooks claim the rest!) --- Gado the Digger considered his options carefully, and found he had… not very many. His body still ached from the surgery and subsequent infection, and without the Brand to stabilize things it would only get worse. On the other hand, Zapanda could be - almost certainly was - lying to him. Could he trust a hostile prisoner? In the end, his choice was made for him. The Horde pitched in and acquired the needed chemicals from Magda's stash for him, then took up a loose guard around him to ensure no funny business. He shrugged and scratched his head with implanted claws, then told Zapanda to do it. She smiled a (seemingly) genuinely warm smile, then recruited a few of her fellows (and nearby Horde members) to gather some equipment for her. She sent things back several times to be sterilized in boiling water, but eventually she had a decent-looking set up spread out in a semi-circle around him. She chattered as she worked. “This blue chemical is Monsterism Inoculant, and if taken before interaction with Monsterists it ought to prevent contact infection. Hell, it should even counteract Madmist or bite-transmission of the disease. It's, perfectly safe - my team and I I were inoculated, naturally - and it's 75% effective. That seems low, but it's a hell of a lot better than nothing. Of course, at your stage it's too late - you weren't inoculated prior to infection, so you'd normally be out of luck. HOWEVER… we'd been experimenting with a decoction of a solution of the two, with promising results.” She worked as she talked, moving with a brisk and practiced efficiency. She seemed to be in her element, and she was smiling faintly. “We've never tested it on a higher-order organism, but it worked well enough on insects and birds. It should just be a matter of tweaking the concentration…” It took the better part of three hours, but at last she presented him with a syringe of faintly luminous violet liquid. “This is the 'Wendigo Cure’” - she made air quotes while grimacing - “which is too grand a name for it, really. I'm uncertain what it would do for a full Wendigo, but for someone in late-stage Rampant Monsterism it should fend off the change temporarily. I can make more with this set-up, though certainly I'd need more of the 'goo’ - so much is wasted in the distillation process…”  She looked at the needle in her hand, then at Gado, then placed it carefully into his hand. “Put the tip right against the fleshy hollow in your neck, right here. Depress the plunger and wait two seconds. Not yet… wait until you feel the change is about to happen. Too soon and you'll reduce the effectiveness, or worse.” She packed up her things, nodded at him, then left him behind with a fistful of experimental drugs and a mind full of questions. (Gado receives a dose of AntiMon-M37. Zapanda can create more, given time and resources. She claims that taking it right as you're about to turn will extend your countdown, but you're have no real reason to trust her. It could just as easily trigger your transformation… at any rate, you have options now which you didn't before.) --- With Zapanda occupied, it fell to Beco the Coward to lead the heali- oh, wait, no, Pog the Easily Forgotten lead the healing. Bandages just showed up where they needed to be, a kind word here and there whispered on the wind.
Healing Failure!
Healing Failure! --- It was pretty obvious what Flutter wanted to eat. Like most butterflies, he lusted after the delectable flavor of untested and potentially dangerous technology stolen from the fragment of a Warlord’s shattered gauntlet. That must be so, because when the thing was proffered to the Cobaltwing, it snatched it with its proboscis, yanked it into an opening in its cocoon, then sealed itself in with brilliant pink silk. Strange, very loud sounds came from within, as well as flashes of what looked like hot pink fire. Uh, that would be fine, right? They asked Stårn, who shrugged, and Flitter, whose gag was too tight to speak and who didn't seem to want to answer anyhow. Oh well! They'd have to wait and see. (Flutter will emerge next turn!) --- Sonior and Cowardclaw were both powerful reagents in their own right, so logically combining them would make something even better! At least, Portha the Rummager hoped so - from the smells coming from her cooking pot, she could tell SOMETHING was happening. She jerked her head back from the fumes when she felt her lips involuntarily puckering, and spent a few frantic moments trying to massage feeling back into her face. When she managed it, she smiled - good stuff! She bottled the vibrant stuff, then poured the leftovers onto a nearby bush, which immediately lost all its leaves.  (Portha makes three portions of Whistling Flower, a poison of quite some effectiveness. It can be used as a free action prior to combat to poison your weapons to harm your foe.) --- Hob the Beekeeper owed Gabber a suit of armor. Well, owed was a strong word, but he wanted to make use of his Orichalcum and Regentrock before he sat in the chair… anyhow, no use fretting. He knew little about armoring himself, but he'd seen the others do it, and with his greater strength he was certain he could make something. He worked for hours, pausing every once in a while to ask questions of those more knowledgeable, and humming to himself and the bees that lived within. Never alone, now. No, he had friends. Colleagues. It was nice. He contorted the sheet of red hot metal with his bare hands, the outer layer of exoskeleton sloughing off harmlessly. He took a step back to admire his work with a buzz of appreciation.  It was tough material to work with. Both of them, really, and he wasn't certain how suitable Orichalcum was to make armor, but the Regentrock had improved the alloy greatly. It retained strength while reducing the inconvenient properties of the bronze-green metal. As long as Gabber didn't rush into combat too quickly, it should keep him safe. He nodded to himself, then carried over his gift. --- Gabber had a question for Magda that he related through gestures and drawings. To his surprise, she replied in kind - though extremely quickly, her flabby arms flashing through gestures almost too fast to be understood. Sometimes you can force Resonating by taking a core matching one you already have attuned. The closer in Aspect, the better the chance, with identical cores almost certain. Otherwise you get sick and waste everyone's time like you're wasting my time. She punctuated the flurry by slinging a failed Nail at him, nicking his cheek and sending him scurrying away. He made his way over to Stårn’s claimed territory. The Sieger been clamouring about a new design for a siege engine, and he was loud and insistent enough that he'd somehow managed to have convinced the others to cut trees down for his creation. Gabber went over to help, curious to see what the excitable, difficult genius had come up with. The Ram was quite popular within the Horde - insofar as a metal-covered log could be popular - but this Onāger was a whole other level of complexity. Pulleys, gears, and counterweights all had to work at large scale - the method was proven with his small functional model - and it also had to be wheeled so it could be connected to the wagons. It was going to be a bitch and a half to transport, but it would be worth its weight in a siege… if they could get it done.  Eventually they came up with something they were - Stårn was - reasonably pleased with. It was untested and the settings were mostly guessed at, but using it in a fight would take care of any lingering defects like that thing where the swing arm would suddenly lurch to the side and break some mook’s finger. He'd walk it off, though. (The Onäger, prototype or not, is a powerful weapon of war. You can use it once per conflict, but when you do use it successfully it'll almost certainly mess with the enemy plans. As listed, using it requires ten people and (optionally) up to three Items. Being a siege weapon, it's far more useful in stationary or slow moving targets, so either hit buildings with it - or something you've managed to slow down!) --- Splut the Bluffer, in his sharp new suit, cut a sharp contrast to the armored and battered legions that surrounded him. It didn't matter. He'd carved himself out quite a niche within the Horde - his words themselves were weapons. With this in mind, he'd respectfully requested a captainship - of sorts - from the Warlord. After a moment’s thought (or, perhaps, a pulse of hangover headache), Grimper had aquiesced. Already making a mental list of likely Töans, he sidled up next to a wounded Fröman soldier and wheedled his way through the man's mental defenses. It wasn't a hard sell, really: joining up with the Unexpectables would save his life, sure, but cooperation would also make their invasion (which was after all a very limited affair) as quick and painless for the Fröman population as possible. After all, most of the real violence on the Horde's part was self defence (not a total lie) and due to lack of intelligence (true in more than one way). Cooperation was better for everyone. The addled man agreed and allowed Splut to help him to his feet. Splut directed him towards Magda for further information, then moved onto the next one. (Splut successfully argues for captaincy, becoming the Horde's fourth captain. The infiltration squad gains +10 to rolls following his orders in non-Combat conflicts. Additionally, he converts two survivors of Agenou's men, who will be addressed later on.) --- Neebs and Sucy opted to try their hand at brewing. Well, why not? They had a little time, and they kinda knew what they were doing. They found a brewery in town and helped themselves to the equipment as the owners gritted their teeth in enforced smiles. A couple of mushrooms, some other neat stuff, a pinch of this and that for flavor… and Mushbrëwm was born. And, hell, it was pretty good!  (You made enough for the rest of the class! Due to Fostis’ actual facilities, the first one is on the house! Each player can take one for free, though in subsequent Downtimes they'll cost 2 Glory a pop at Magda’s Grumpy Shop. Well done.) --- Before the Ritual, the Horde took a moment to repurpose Agenou's Baton into something more their style. It had been his weapon, or at least a symbol of his power, and now he was dead! They wrapped it in a flag made freshly for the purpose and now it was a symbol of their power! They waved it while whooping, and felt a great thrill of energy run up their spines. UN-EX-PECTA-BLES! UN-EX-PECTA-BLES!  But then it was time to put it away and stand in the circle once more. Magda passed out the Nails, and ordered them to stand in a chain, facing one another's backs. These would be going into the shoulder blade, on the same side as the first, so they'd need to hold the Nail in position on their neighbor's back. They had only a moment of awkwardness at the uncomfortable position before the Ritual took hold and they locked in place. Grimper took a breath, obviously struggling with the pain in his missing hand, which sparked and flared with light. The ritual proceeded as before, until... TAKE THIS NAIL INTO YOURSELF AND GROW STRONG, MY HORDE! And they did. Adrenaline rushed through their bodies, making their hair stand on end with the restless power in their muscles. The Ritual was done… and yet they stayed there, frozen. Grimper held the silence for a long moment, then continued. “Bring them.” Magda brought forth a group of healthy looking young Fostisians, the captured deserters, and the few survivors so recently turned to the cause by the Bluffer's words. The lucid ones tried to escape, but the Nailed Fostisians held them, even as they struggled against their own bodies, their eyes rolling. Grimper held his truncated hand above the group and intoned. “As the Horde goes into battle, whether against our hated foes or against the cruel devices of the Oh-Gee, the heat of our bloodlust is diminished one spark at a time. If we wish to win, we'll need that fire blazing hot! You have betrayed us, fought us, or impeded us. No longer. We have need of your flesh - but not your minds!” The struggles intensified, but so did the pressure, until at last each of them drew out a Nail and held it to their brow. Grimper spoke with a voice like thunder.
THEN, BE REBORN. (Well done on your third Ritual! Monsterists Enervating Extract allows you to roll again on a roll of 100 and add that to your roll. Only once, mind you, even if you luck out and roll out again. Beyond that, Grimper's secondary ritual bound an additional 20 people to the group. These individuals are Nailbound, their memories utterly erased and their personalities compliant. They take a -10 penalty to all rolls, but they will take orders from other members of the Horde without question. The more Glory they accrue, the more the memories may return, but otherwise they're basically automatons. It's not a pretty business, ethically, but the Horde needs bodies. Them’s the breaks. Speaking of bodies…) --- Solemnly, the Ten marched down into the caves to seek the Vault. A smattering of the Horde went with them, though most stayed above. Some were too afraid of the Old Guys’ magic, some were too afraid to see their friends being hurt, and some simply didn’t care one way or another. There’s lots of people in the Horde, after all. Warlord Grimper naturally opted to attend, and excitement was plain on his face. He talked the entire way down. “Ah, my Horde, I must impress upon how auspicious a find this is. Don’t let the fact that Nagel had another Vault confuse you, these places are rare and powerful, and unopened ones rarer still. I do not know what will happen to you once you place yourselves around that unholy table, but I do know that your sacrifices for your country will be remembered!” This was not altogether reassuring, but there was no turning back now.  Burnie, Pog, Bamboo, Ringo, Snorkus, Verika, Gloff, Börk, Grani and Hob took their seats at their chosen chairs, having discovered through investigation that they were each precisely identical in all respects. As with Snödis earlier, their legs went numb entirely, and the seats seemed to cradle them somewhat uncomfortably. Even with numb limbs, sitting here for a prolonged period of time would quickly feel awful. ‘Luckily’, they didn’t have to sit there long before the seats tilted themselves forwards, bringing them all face to face in a circle. Almost as one, they raised their hands and placed them on the palm pads, feeling a thousand tiny hooks pierce through their flesh… and go deeper. They screamed, and as they screamed messages flashed before their eyes.  quote:Ì̴̡͢Ņ̀͠͡V̶̧̕͟͠Ơ͜͏͝K̢҉̀I̢̛͘͜N̨̢͢͞G̸̛͘ ͠͝͡D҉͜E̷̸̢͝҉F͞͡R̀͘͘͡Á̢̡͡Ǵ̴̡̀M҉͏̢E̷͘͡N̶̴͜͡T̛͡A̸̛͟͞͡T̶͘͡͡I̧Ò̶͜͡N͞͏͢ ̵̢P̵̵̨̨R̨͘͟O͞Ć̨̢͜È͘Ś̸̶̵S̛͝ One fell silent. And another. And another and another and another and another and another and another and another and… Ringo the Pick ripped his hand away from the console, retching with terror and agony but feeling better than he had in… ever. Indeed, his palm where the pins had cut him was sealing already, even the blood creeping back into his body. The chairs retracted suddenly, slamming back into the floor and lying flush with the surface as though they’d never been and flinging the ashes and bones of the others around the room. Not Ringo, though. He landed on his feet, as smoothly and easily as if he’d stepped off a curb. Grimper walked towards him excitedly, reaching out his good hand towards him. More messages like he’d seen during the Process flickered around Grimper, indicating mundane things like his speed and coordinates as well as other things like the concentration of alcohol on his breath. With exaggerated slowness, Ringo shook Grimper’s hand, and Grimper’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement at the force of it. “You, my good fellow, are something new. You will be our weapon. Welcome to the Horde, Ringo the Slayer.” His smile twitched as he took in the bodies of the others. “Clean this up, the rest of you. The Vault will need time to recharge, but we have no time to linger. Take the wounded, if they can be moved, and strip the dead.” He swept out of the room, but no one was watching him anyhow. Ringo brushed his fingers against his newly perfect topknot, and resisted the urge to scream. (Well! Ringo - again - pulls it out. As you probably noticed, the object was to get the lowest roll. The position at the table didn’t matter a whit except for the art, and you each had an equal chance at it. This was an unfair event to be sure, but Vile Mechanisms always will be, should you encounter another one. But, naturally, there’s a reward for the winner! Ringo is now a… there’s no word for what he is. Pick one and we’ll stick with that! Either way, he looks approximately like he did before, only slightly larger and more physically ‘perfect’. He now also has 4 HP, rolls 10d100, and can reroll the lowest of these. He retains his normal Skillcores, but once per Downtime he can also swap out his primary core (Lockpicking) for any of theirs (Kissing, Cross Stitching, Accuracy, Bee Keeping, Lifting +15, Pigilante Justice, Firestarting, Weaving +15, Avoiding Notice). Their other Cores fall to the ground, available to be harvested.) Sucy alone stood frozen in shock, hands over her mouth. She’d slipped her ring on during the process, momentarily wishing that she could have the peace and quiet of that dark, slow space she went to when she put it on… but she found that she was neither deaf nor blind in this place. She saw them at the table, only it wasn’t them. It was the essence of them, maybe, primitive shapes or textures or colors of each of them being twisted and rotated in ways she didn’t understand, then - one by one - slamming into the Ringo-being in a way that made him look more whole than he was before, like the pieces belonged together. She pulled the ring off as soon as she could, but she saw far too much. Far too much. She didn’t understand. She looked at Ringo and imagined she saw that monstrous shape, that Ringo-shaped-shape and wondered… did she have a shape? (Sucy’s ring did some weird poo poo when the Old Guy mechanism activated?) --- Back on the surface, the Horde lined up. Though they’d taken a hit to their sanity down in the vault, they had to move on. With their new ‘recruits’, they were larger than ever before, and with… Ringo… they had a powerful new weapon against their enemies. Grimper spoke, beaming with pride and fanatical bloodlust. “O my Horde, hearken to me! They sent one of their best against us, and he broke like a wave against the shore! We took his things and made them our things, better than he ever had! We are ready, my Horde, to take on greater things! But, I wonder… what ought we do? [HORDE VOTE]
“Noostra and its Thumbscrew beckons - home must learn of what we’ve done and what they will face in the coming weeks and months. The Inhabited menace must not be discounted, even though our armies are sufficient to crush them all! ” “But, ah, they’re expecting us to go to Noostra. They’ll be waiting, because every indication will dictate that we’re heading that way next. So we could ignore it entirely and go to the Fortress directly! Ahead of schedule, but timelines mean nothing in a real fight! It will be a tough go, but odds are they’ve sent the bulk of their forces to intercept us elsewhere. What an upset that would be!” “No one will ever expect us to go there! Because it makes no sense at all!” “Or we could stay here! Live in the mines like mushrooms until the Fröman bloody Guard comes down here and crushes us under a tide of bodies!” “I'm not sure what our other options are, here...” Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 21:22 on Dec 22, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 03:30
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I assume I missed about a million things, but I'll patch it up tomorrow as Discord tells me all the ways I've failed! A bunch more portraits coming for the Nailbound, too. Also I forgot to post the Battlebrum +2:
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Dec 20, 2017 03:46
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   Name: Jö, the Nailed Fostis Butcher Skills: Butchery (Used), Impatience (Was to be claimed by mook, nobody rolled for it) HP:3/3 Glory: 0 > 1 Roll Modifiers: -10 all rolls, Must obey all orders Items: -Shield of Meat (free Fostis caravan, iron shield as stand in) -Drum (Battle loot) Background: One of Fostis' Nailed civvies. He doesn't remember much anymore, other than he likes cutting meat. ----- Jö jolted awake. His head hurt and he didn't know why. He saw a big guy in front of him. He liked him for some reason, but thinking about the reason also made his head hurt. "Hi. I'm Jö!" Jö liked making friends, and friends traveled together. Maybe he should invite him on a trip? He'd ask him after drinking some of the great beer that was being passed out among the big group of guys he was in. "I hear that Skelivanch is really nice this time of year! Booze! 1d4: 3 [1d4=3] -------- While marching, Jo saw some clothes on the ground. It was covered in blood. He liked things covered in blood. He picked it up and hacked off some of the meat bits still attached to it. 1d100-10-5: 20 [1d100=35] +10, forgot to add skillcore Drummer's Garb +2 Looting: 30 Slaan fucked around with this message at 22:25 on Dec 27, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 04:02
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     Sucy HP: 3 Glory: 25 -> 23 (Noggins) -> 23 -> 21 (Starn) -> 21 -> 19 (Ringo) -> 20 Skills: Mushrooms +15 Kicking +25 -> +45 Just updating my character sheet for now, will cast a vote for our next target after I had some sleep
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Dec 20, 2017 04:12
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Potrait:   Naim: Mason Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin' +15 Mason MasonryMasonFlailing +25 HeeP: Mason Mason Mason Glury: Masonx19 -> 20 Horde Vote: Go To The Gateway Fortress
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Dec 20, 2017 04:17
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My. Precious. Bamboo!!! VAPORIZED!!! Well Merry Christmas To You Too!!!
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Dec 20, 2017 04:46
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   Name: Portha Skills: Rummaging, Cleaning, Imagining (in use) HP: 3/3 Glory: 10 "Memo to self: Have someone else do the cooking next time." With the cooking done it was time to honor her end of the bargain. Portha decided since Snödis was acting kind of funny it might be better to leave Neötype's cut with someone else. Terrifying as they were, the Wendigos were still relatively "safe" being branded, so she decided to go looking for them. "Hey guys, I finished mixing that stuff for Snödis but she was acting kind of odd, so could you hold onto them for her?" Transfering 2x Whistling Flower to Neötype Squad Having finished that she decided to check out what all the commotion was over at the town brewery. Apparently, she hadn't been the only one making something. Free beer! Something to drink besides that Fostian poo poo that tasted... unclean somehow. Portha snatched a bottle as soon as she could make her way to the front of the crowd. Portha recognized the way she felt holding it in her hand, the same feeling she felt whenever she came across someone's stash of good stuff; something like this should probably be saved for a special occasion, like getting blackout drunk after a long battle. Unfortunately, there was no room in her pack for it. Only one thing to do, get rid of something useless. There was one thing she definitely didn't need anymore now that she was working archery, the pickaxe she'd planed to attack Gateway's gate with. Best to just give it a good home with someone who knew how to use it. Gado was the best at digging through stuff, so he'd be able to put it to use. Giving the mining pick to Gado Horde vote: We're the Unexpectables, so let's do something unexpected and Go To Skelivanch
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Dec 20, 2017 04:54
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       Noggins Skillcores: Carpentry, Precision, Aiming HP: 3 Glory: 37->38 Ritual Glory: 4 The Rituals This time, Noggins was excited for the ritual. Not because the name “Monsterist’s Enervating Brew” was particularly reassuring (it really wasn’t), but just because of what a Nail ritual meant. The Horde was renewing their bonds with each other, drawing strength from their common goal. This was right. This was why she’d named the Order of the Nail the way she had. To think, that she’d been so frightened the first ti-- Grimper posted:
Noggins’ jaw dropped as the Nails drove into the skulls of the new recruits. The Nailing of Fostis had been one thing—just a set of magically-enforced commands, leaving their minds, their free wills otherwise intact. But this… this was just monstrous. Hadn’t Grimper denounced Frö’s use of the Inhabited? That had been reassuring, a demonstration of her Warlord’s principles, that there were lines that were not to be crossed. But now… she watched the Nailbound stand there, blank, as Grimper began directing people down towards the Vault. Now she didn’t know what to believe. Old Guy Vault Still conflicted, Noggins watched. Truth be told, she didn't want to be here--she'd seen enough of the mechanism the last time she'd been down here, she'd seen the aftermath of the initial expedition, she knew that whatever happened down in the vault, suffering was going to be involved. And before the ritual, the fact that Grimper had deemed this to be necessary had let her tell herself that it was all going to be okay, but that faith had been shaken to its core. Not shattered, not yet, but fractured. No, she was down here out a sense of duty to her Hordemates. She had to see this through, for Hob's sake, for Verika's... for everyone that had chosen to throw their fate to the winds. She waved as they walked by, taking their seats. And then... Expecting it didn't make it any easier. While it wasn’t at all clear what exactly was going on—as with so much about the Old Guys, they could only guess—it was clear that it was agony. One by one they were falling limp in their seats. Dead? Unconscious? Something else? She wanted so badly to go and check on them, but she couldn’t will herself to move until the lights stopped flashing, and the chairs retracted into the ground. As Ringo got up from the machine, Noggins rushed over to Hob, blinking away the lights that were still dancing in front of her eyes. He was going to be okay. He had to be okay. There he was, lying on the ground and… cured? She turned him over, confused, as she checked his pulse. Alive. But… he wasn’t a wendigo anymore. That wasn’t the same as being whole—he was clearly deeply scarred by the aftermath of whatever the machine had done. But he was normal. And alive. Her mind swimming with questions, she turned to Verika. A pulse, but a weak one… it wasn’t clear if she would pull through. Noggins’ heart surged with relief, but then she turned and saw that not everyone had been so fortunate. Gloff was spread-eagled on the ground, dead eyes staring blankly into space, and the way that Gräni was slumped made it clear she hadn’t made it, either. Was it worth it? She needed air. Air, and space, and time to think. Pushing past the crowd gathering around Ringo, she headed back into the mines, and out towards Fostis. The Surface She was feeling strangely sick now, an unfamiliar mix of relief and guilt and shame coursing through her. She reached the lumber cart, her home away from home, and grabbed a stick ogre, as her stomach churned. She walked to a small clearing a short ways into the nearby forest--it must have been logged recently--and planted the stick ogre in the grand. Breathe. Breathe. Don’t think about anything but what you’re doing right now. Focus. Just focus on your skillcores. Focus on Nailbreaker. Spot the weak joint, aim, be precise... be Slick... be Hard... With a cry of frustration she swung the hammer, and the stick ogre exploded into splinters from the sheer force of the impact. Suddenly exhausted, she dropped onto her back, staring up at the sky. She felt rudderless, set adrift with no land in sight. "What now?" ((Giving my share of the booze to Verika, assuming she's still alive. I think she could use a pick-me-up.)) Also, Horde Vote: Oxnyard, where the great warbeasts of Frö are raised. Many Fröman cavaliers reside here--in times of peace it is the home to a great many friendly competitions between knights. But in war, the forges pound away ceaselessly as they craft more armor for their heavy cavalry, and the most dangerous steeds are prepared for battle. The Lord of Hats fucked around with this message at 20:13 on Dec 20, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 04:55
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Hey I just got back from seeing The Last Jedi what’s happ— 
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Dec 20, 2017 05:09
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   Gado!!! Skill: Digging (+35), Climbing (+10) HP: 1/2 Glory: 3->4 Mutation Countdown: [x] [ ] [ ] Shaken thanks are given to Humbug and Gryph for helping watch over him and Zapanda as she worked, Gado isn't ready to out and out say he trusts Zapanda yet, but she likewise gets a stiff thank you. He's not sure whether the enthusiasm she's exhibiting is over having finally gotten to do some real science or because she's finally gotten the chance to get one over on the horde that's imprisoned her, but he'd like to believe it was the former. "I can't say I really understand this stuff, but if you're being earnest in trying to help I'll try to pay back your kindness in time. It's not like he'd help her escape, but assuming he survived his ordeals he could at least try to make camp life a little more scientifically productive in return. "It seems like the best we can do is stave this off for now, so at least you'll have a willing test subject for a bit." With the meeting of the minds over, Gado walks off gingerly holding the needle full of his new medicine gingerly between his claws. There was no doubt he'd have to try something, but the idea of waiting until the very last second to inject himself with some kind of mysterious chemical was certainly daunting. Wrapping the syringe in some cloth and stashing it in his pack, Gado takes a seat and ponders what he's planning to do next. It was looking like he'd be wandering off in a few days to test Zapanda's serum and perhaps if it worked Grimper would come around to the idea of branding him so he wouldn't have to live a life under the thumb of a doctor who could betray him at any moment by tweaking a few steps in the production of her "cure" Caught up in his own mind, Gado is pleasantly surprised when Portha strolls up to his pity party and tosses a Pickax in his lap "Oh!" A genuine smile splits across his feverish face, perhaps a little too enthusiastic in appearance "Thank you very much Portha, this is a nice surprise I really needed." Claws clatter against the haft as he spins it about, it had only been gone a short while but he'd missed the weight of the Bone To Pick resting in his hand, and while this mining tool wasn't nearly sturdy enough for combat it was familiar enough to be a comfort. In the aftermath of the Vault's happening all eyes inevitably turn to the returning members of the horde who had been there to oversee things. "Gods..." Gado recoils a bit as Vault team's wounded are hauled out from the Vault caves, but his shock is doubled when Ringo's new form is revealed. The Old Guy's technology was a terrifying thing to be sure and Gado is just glad he'd managed to survive going down into that hellish cave on more than one occasion. Looking at the mass of maimed hordemates hobbling out of the Vault, Gado gives his head a shake, slams the Mushbrewm sample he'd been handed and with a small fire in his guts he gets to doing what he can to help out. When talk comes around as to what to do next, Gado just gives a little shrug "The sooner we deal with Noostra and report in about all this weirdness the better." quote:Didn't see anyone else rolling against Climbing, so adding it on. Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at 20:16 on Dec 20, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 06:13
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Eh, I'm rethinking the Vile Mechanism somewhat. Here's my issue. It needs to be something dangerous and cruel, something that shows that the Old Guys are giant assholes who extract disproportionate pain for their boons. Plus, killing you guys is fun... But not quite like this. I've had a few complaints that the real severity of the punishment was unknown, and while, yeah, ancient deathtrap, this is also a game and you're investing time and feeling into it. It's leaving a sour taste in my mouth to have it go down like this. I can think of three solutions:
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Dec 20, 2017 06:38
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I appreciate it - the only one that meaningfully matters to me is the first possibility, but the opinions of those who have been playing for longer should carry more weight. I'll sleep on it and see how I feel tomorrow. Edit: retaining the items doesn't matter that much for me without the core, which was pretty much the crux of Snorkus' character/joke. Podima fucked around with this message at 06:53 on Dec 20, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 06:49
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I feel there's a symmetry between starting with 3 HP and having 3 Skillcore slots, and since they got their core stripped, maybe the punishment should be -1 max HP (like a crippling, I guess this will kill Hob since he's already at 1/1?) and -1 max skillcore slot.
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Dec 20, 2017 06:59
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   Skills:Spreading Disease, Cursing[CD] HP: 2/3 Glory: 4 There was an old saying in the Underneath, the sprawling sewers beneath the Capitöl, "There are two types of people who go into the Old Guys' domain: the ones who wanna look, and the ones who wanna touch. There is only one type of person who gets to leave." That was a lesson Grumbus had taken to heart; the Underneath intersected in some places with OG ruins and although they were looted ages ago, they never stopped being dangerous. So when only Grimper and that ring guy walked out, Grumbus knew something bad had went down. And where bad things happen, there's bound to be loot. Working on the Onager filled Grumbus both with a desire to impress his new boss and a case of the rare and deadly Sieging Bug. One of the people who didn't come out, the bee fellow, brought in Agenou's skull, which Grumbus figured could be very useful to the newly formed Siege Team Six. Sure, it was the perfect shape and size and really heavy, but there was more to it than that. Stårn lectured/ranted about sieging while they were building the onager together, and Grumbus learned there was more to sieging than throwing big, heavy objects at big, immovable objects. The skull was demoralizing! And most importantly, it was stylish! Grumbus had to have it, so he gathered up a couple of mooks to help him carry it back up the stairs, and crept into the vault. As he descended, he recalled all the stories he had heard about the vaults. A couple of years back, some guy went into Site Alpha and lucked out, finding a hidden compartment containing only a small bell. Unfortunately, the poor bastard decided to ring it, and shattered like glass. And then there was the story of the Wallpaper Tö. Grumbus shuddered at the thought. The Wallpaper Tö gave him nightmares as a kid for a reason. Inside the vault, he saw only piles of ash. Grumbus wasn't sure if their deaths were painless or not, but at least they were quick. When he stepped inside, Grumbus caught a whiff of the smell, that godawful smell, and instantly he felt his insides begin to turn. He carefully crept across the room to where the skull, grinning like nothing happened, was set down. By the time he reached it, Grumbus was feeling well and truly ill, moreso than usual. He gripped the skull and projectile vomited inside one of its eyeholes. He didn't even bother wiping his mouth, getting it out of there was all that mattered. Looting Agenou's Skull: 1d100 = 36 - - - Grumbus sat around one of the horde's many campfires, the physical illness had passed, but the malaise remained. He uncorked one of the bottles of Mushbrewm that Sucy was passing out and pounded it down. Mushbrewm: 1d4 = 2 Woo! Good stuff! Grumbus leaned back and let his thoughts wander. He thought about the vault, how he had thrown up in the skull. Could that be useful somehow? He'd need some kind of sealant, something that would keep a bunch of Filth inside without degrading. Something durable enough for transport but breaks apart or disintegrates on impact. Wax, perhaps? As he pondered sealants, he removed a few vials from his collection and dumped them into The Sack, giving it a good shake. If he was going to make a plague skull, it would be best to get things incubating in advance. Horde Vote: Noostra Clearly the most unexpected thing we can do is do the most expected thing possible. oh dang it this post may or may not apply, other than the mushbrewm drinking paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at 07:50 on Dec 20, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 07:06
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Lone Goat posted:I feel there's a symmetry between starting with 3 HP and having 3 Skillcore slots, and since they got their core stripped, maybe the punishment should be -1 max HP (like a crippling, I guess this will kill Hob since he's already at 1/1?) and -1 max skillcore slot. Hob's already getting -400 to his die range if his corruption stays gone; that and a skillcore slot is punishment enough.
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Dec 20, 2017 07:22
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Dog Kisser posted:I can think of three solutions: From a narrative standpoint, I'm not entirely satisfied with any of the above presented options. I feel as though the loss of a primary skillcore due to the Vile Mechanism should be a significant loss but not necessarily lethal. My suggestion/idea is this:
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Dec 20, 2017 07:30
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Dog Kisser posted:Eh, I'm rethinking the Vile Mechanism somewhat. Here's my issue. It needs to be something dangerous and cruel, something that shows that the Old Guys are giant assholes who extract disproportionate pain for their boons. Thanks for reconsidering DK, I wasn't prepared for how deeply I've become attached to my little damaged psychopathic street rat Bamboo. Let's work this out, its Christmas after all!  Dog Kisser posted:Plus, killing you guys is fun... But not quite like this. I've had a few complaints that the real severity of the punishment was unknown, and while, yeah, ancient deathtrap, this is also a game and you're investing time and feeling into it. It's leaving a sour taste in my mouth to have it go down like this. This does feel rather punitive and cruel; if you had told us the 'gamble' was 9/10 chance for outright, straight-up, permanent insta death, well, let's just say none of us would have sat down. Probably would have just feed the mooks to the Vile Mechanism and create a 'super' replacement body for the next death. Dog Kisser posted:Plus other ideas, if you have any. Mostly I want to hear from the dead, but I welcome input from the others too. Maybe there isn't a 'one-size-fits-all' solution to this; how about one major and one minor penalty to the Character, to be determined between DK and the Player? For Bamboo, I'd be willing to give up 'Basket' Weaving as the major penalty (assuming you'll retroactively grant 'Virtuoso' as I don't think anyone else rolled to claim that core). On the minor penalty, perhaps give Bamboo a scar or other role-playing hinderance? Just, don't reduce me/her to 1 HP Max, the little psycho would never survive the next battle. Prince of Space posted:If they have no secondary skillcore available, they die. This still kills Bamboo; not for a lack of trying, I haven't been able to win a second skillcore, unless DK wants to retroactively grant the 'Virtuoso' skillcore which Bamboo should win as nobody else rolled for it.
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Dec 20, 2017 08:18
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Alternate suggestion: group vote from all ten test subjects on what Ringo does, with Green Intern's vote counting more heavily.
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Dec 20, 2017 08:42
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super sweet best pal posted:Alternate suggestion: group vote from all ten test subjects on what Ringo does, with Green Intern's vote counting more heavily. ASsuming this isn't actually going to happen, I like the idea of reducing them to 1 hp/ crippled and -1 or -2 skillcore slots
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Dec 20, 2017 08:52
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Mind you all, I am also biased.  Dogkisser, I would much rather you keep your game fair and balanced for all players involved as it was meant to be played and to let us start characters anew if you feel so inclined. We have all been learning over time that the awful Old Guys' and their Vile Mechanisms can bestow great (personal) power but at great expense in the form of pain. This is the ultimate example of such a tradeoff - but the problem is, in its current form the Vile Mechanism at Fostis has been a horrible net loss for the army. Numerically, the Vile Mechanism converted 10d100 of the army into 10d100 in another form. The problem is in all that Glory that gets destroyed in the process, in all the individual skillcore bonuses that are negated, and in all the personalities that are permanently removed from the Horde in the blink of an eye. For our hubris, we've got 9 dead players and a megatöan. From a gameplay standpoint it simply wasn't a terribly rewarding tradeoff in the end, especially given the time and trouble it took to get the thing open and investigated in the first place. At the very least make it easier for returning players to recover some of their old stuff.
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Dec 20, 2017 09:10
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Prince of Space posted:Numerically, the Vile Mechanism converted 10d100 of the army into 10d100 in another form. 9d100+1d500 into 10d100. 
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Dec 20, 2017 09:20
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Putting on the Devil's A**hole hat: If people knew exactly what was going to happen with the Vile Mechanism, there wouldn't be much of a choice involved. Most of us would either automatically say yes, or automatically say no and then who cares? This move was all about a risk. It's easy to say now that no one would have sat down at a 9in10 death odds. Well, probably. But plenty of people didn't sit down because of the unknown odds. I didn't, even though I was torn. Even though I figured someone was going to be rewarded pretty heavily. 10d100+1hp+Xcores is awesome for a single character. It's basically a Warlord upgrade. Like - I don't think my personal assessment when choosing to sit or not to sit was unfair. The odds in my head were: * Highly Likely: Everyone takes 1hp Damage (remember the legs) * Highly Likely: Low roller dies outright * Medium Likely: You're risking your glory * Medium Likely: You're risking your skillcores * Medium Likely: You're risking some DK style OG blessing/curse like being Nailed * Medium Likely: Mosterism/Wendigos could short circuit things in a bad way * Unlikely but Possible: Multiple low-rollers die * Unlikelier but still possible: Everyone dies Like - yeah, if we knew outright the risks, few would do it. But I also feel like anyone who was sleeping on the possibility of mutliple casualties was fooling themselves. Anyone who sat down without thinking "I am risking death" was fooling themselves. I get that people see 9 folks dying as a risk too far. But I think if you sat down expecting you could actually die, then you went in eyes wide open and should maybe consider - Am I upset lots of people died, or am I more just upset that I died? So how do you 'fix' this issue? As pointed out, people's investments in their characters are different. Some people don't want to die. Some people see losing a unique skillcore as just as bad. Some people see losing their items as just as bad. Some people see losing their portrait as a step too far. Now the game has to thread the retcon needle without looking like it's just acquiescing to sour grapes. Gonna be tough. My suggestion is complicated, but whatever. 1) Ringo's player can decide it was mostly a dream-vision, the ring or something actually stopped the process. He keeps the +1hp max and full healing as a reward, but otherwise - no harm, no foul. 2) If Ringo keeps the results (or if DK feels it's unfair to put that pressure on Ringo's player), people who died should: * Choose an unused face from the Roster to die in your place from a weird short-circuit or whatever. * Say that Ringo got copies of people's skillcores. But each one copied is on a like a 5 turn cooldown starting now (something significant but appropriate for however many turns DK suspects are left in the game). * Lose Glory equal to some percentage of your base die. So like, 25%. Meaning Normies lose 25 Glory and Wendigos lose 125. This can take you negative. 3) If the above consequences are too much: * Reroll a gobbo with DK's very generous reroll mechanics. Then, for people with Glory deficits, other players can donate or not. For the dead, other players can use their loot rolls to help outfit them or not. Devil's A**hole hat removed. I'm gonna keep playing either way, so obviously I'm not as invested as the people that took hits. But people who realized the risk and played it safe should be considered in some way for their choice in playing it safe. Barbed Tongues fucked around with this message at 13:37 on Dec 20, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 12:30
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CourValant posted:Words Pasty has a response (he's feeling a bit down, but he's really come to appreciate the importance of being part of the horde through his failures), but it's going to have to wait. Also if you have tried talking to Patsy before and I missed it, I'm sorry! (This goes for anyone) For the holidays I've been working 50 to 60 hour weeks, as I am a cook at a casino, and we are both busy and short staffed. I frequently just quickly skim the thread. I am hoping after the holidays I can engage more fully again
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Dec 20, 2017 12:35
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I'm not super attached to Gränï, seeing as how I rerolled like 5 mins after the post went up, but some people obviously are. I think letting people choose to lose portrait, skillcore, hp and/or items is fine. That way everyone loses something important but nobody loses the most important thing about their gobbo, unless they want to. I want to, bring on the meat shield
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Dec 20, 2017 12:51
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Hey hi it’s me the Lucky One. So as pleased as I am that Ringo has become some kind of supergod, if the circumstances are going to make players upset (and leave the GM feeling like he’s done a bad thing), I am fine with rolling it back/toning it down. How I am valuing the outcome: 1. Ringo Lived 2. Ringo was fully healed (and then some) 3. All the other bonuses So if it comes down to stripping some of the benefits from Ringo in exchange for letting some people keep playing a character they are invested in/don’t feel has reached a place where death would be satisfying, that’s fine.
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Dec 20, 2017 13:12
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Eat my gobbo RinGod
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Dec 20, 2017 13:19
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Alternate suggestion: everyone who died in the vile mechanism dies in real life
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Dec 20, 2017 13:29
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super sweet best pal posted:Hob's already getting -400 to his die range if his corruption stays gone; that and a skillcore slot is punishment enough. Maybe the the incredibly fragile, overpowered abomination shouldn't have sat in the pain chair? He's the one I have the least sympathy for because what the gently caress did he think would happen?
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Dec 20, 2017 13:34
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I like the idea of those who would die instead giving some part of themselves, maybe even a skillcore slot (but I think losing the primary skill they picked when they made the character is a bit too extreme). It would be like if Ringo became whatever he is now by siphoning the potential of the other nine characters. But I definitely think just having everyone die isn't the right way to go. For one, this is actually a net negative to the horde as losing Hob's 1d500 and most of everyone's glory means the horde is less effective even with Ringo's 10d100. So this was great for Ringo, sucks for any of the others that cared about their character, and is still not that great for everyone else in the horde. Which...seems really against the spirit of this game, where everyone has to work together in order to even have a chance at success. And as a personal opinion, it all just seems a little too depressing to be honest.
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Dec 20, 2017 13:39
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Given that the OG cut off some legs for knocking at their front door, I think if it's not flat out death it has to be reduced to 1hp permanently/main skillcore gone. They've been painted as brutal assholes, so whatever happens should suck real bad and not be something one can recover from easily. A slap on the wrist isn't their style. I'll be honest though, I wasn't expecting outright death for 9/10 people. It was clearly "bad news" for all involved, and I definitely thought the last place finisher was probably a gonner, but I didn't think 9 out of 10 were going down. If you're second guessing yourself and the people who sat at the table seem a bit raw about it, cripple them at 1hp, add a scar to their portrait, and take their main skillcore is my vote. That allows people to continue on with their character while showing once again that the OG do not gently caress around.
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Dec 20, 2017 13:53
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My thoughts are that I 100% thought hob we gonna die, had put in previous posts about preparing for dying after the previous stupid thing Hob did. And someone silly enough to eat a Wendigo core for power is likely to do further stupid things to the same end (I submit as evidence- from discord, of I had not picked chair 5, Astus-Dack was going to). So I had Hob sit in the chair fully knowing that death was on the cards, especially due to 1hp/ Wendigo status. That said, for Prince of Space this is the second time a mystery mechanic has Grimped their character (like they, and new players being hit with this might nor be happy with results, so I understand my view won't be shared. Not everyone went in with a 1hp 0 glory Wendigo. I'm happy with whatever decision is reached, but hope that PoS etc get an outcome they are happy with too WereGoat fucked around with this message at 14:32 on Dec 20, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 14:27
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It clearly was shown to be bad news bears, but I didn't expect only one to survive either. My suggestion would be for the 9 to lose 2hp instead of immediate death, and if they die they die but they have a chance of survival.
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Dec 20, 2017 15:01
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Not properly fixing things until I'm at the office (on job site currently), but this is what I settled on.
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Dec 20, 2017 15:06
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