|
       Noggins Skillcores: Carpentry, Precision, Aiming, Leadership (Unconsumed) HP: 3 Glory: 39->40 Ritual Glory: 4 Grabbing a Valuables and Leadership from Belmysut, taking off my armor and forgoing its benefits for the purposes of this update Öxnyard. They'd finally arrived. And while the town was clearly expecting a fight at some point, they didn't actually know that the Unexpectables were there yet. That meant there was still time. It would be dangerous, but if she didn't do this here, then she doubted she'd have another opportunity. She'd been preparing for this since Fostis, had received a few pointers from Splut, and now it was time to put the plan into action. But first... "Alright, knights... Huh, that sounds kind of off. Anyways. There's something I'm going to have to do in Öxnyard proper, so I'm unfortunately not going to be able to join you for this, but I want you all to take out the second patrol. I trust your judgment, so if you think you've got a better plan, go for it, but if we let those patrols spot us out early, this is going to get a hell of a lot messier than it needs to be. Don't worry about me, I'll be back before you know it." With those orders relayed, Noggins removed her armor, poured her loot into her Glory chest--where most people gathered mementoes, Noggins preferred to commit her memories into wood, and it was quite intricately carved at this point--dressed in looted Belmysut clothing, and carried the bundle into town. It didn't take long to find the forge--the building was large, and the armor prominently displayed in the window left little doubt that this was where Öxnyard's cavaliers went for their equipment. Taking a breath, she stepped inside. Alright. Just like Splut told you... "Excuse me, is the Forgemaster in? I've got a... well, a bit of an odd request to make." The burly apprentice at the counter looked her over, and then called over an even burlier bearded Frö she had to assume was the man himself. "Hello! I'm Noggins, and... well... it's a long story. This is my grandpa's armor from when he was in the army, and this..." she opened the chest "Was his loot. He said it was more valuable for the memories than for what it was, but... sorry, I'm getting distracted. When my grandpa passed away, my dad got the loot, and my drunken excuse for an uncle got the armor. Should've been the other way around, really--dad was never willing to sell the stuff out of respect for his old man, even though it's pretty meaningless now, and my uncle sold off bits of the armor as scrap for booze money. My dad died a while back, passed the loot to me. My uncle didn't have any kids, so what was left of the armor passed to me when his liver finally gave out." "The point is... the gold is meaningless to me and, well, kind of gross, the armor isn't. I know that Öxnyard has the finest smiths in all of Frö, so I came here to see if you could restore my grandpa's armor to it's former glory. And, well... if you could embellish that glory a little, I can't say I'd mind. He deserved more recognition than he got, really." She hoped the man would buy the story. And if he didn't... well, hopefully he'd buy the fact that a giant pile of loot was worth his time and discretion. Barter for Armor Repairs: 1d100+25+25+50+39 142 The Lord of Hats fucked around with this message at 18:13 on Jan 8, 2018 |
#
?
Jan 8, 2018 17:38
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 24, 2024 20:53 |
|
|
        Vault KeySucy HP: 3 Glory: 21 -> 22 Skills: Mushrooms +15 Kicking +45 Actions this turn: Claim the saddle Claim Fishing skill core Ambush Second Patrol with ST6 Kick some butt: 1d100+21+45+1+10: 109 Fish for OG tech using the ring: 1d100+10+21: 101 sheep-dodger fucked around with this message at 14:03 on Jan 12, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 8, 2018 18:03
|
|
|
    Pythag HP: (3) of (3) Skills: * Math (available) * Headshotting (using) * Fearlessness (charging) Equipment: * Armor (+5) * Iron Shield * Bowharp * Arrow Flatpack Cosmetics * Nail and Fist Token Glory: 7>8 Ritual Glory: 1 Yvonmukluk posted:Seeing Pythag moving to grab all five, she immediately challenges him. 'HEY! You don't get to take all of them!' "First come, first served, no limit." Pythag reminds Marra of the new raiding rules for loot from on high. "I like the old way better myself, but it is what it is. Anyway - I'm dropping them off with Magda. Just go tell her you deserve one, I'm sure she'll hand it over." The Lord of Hats posted:I want you all to take out the second patrol. Headshot the first fool to come in range on the 2nd Patrol: 1d100 + 27 = 109
|
|
#
?
Jan 8, 2018 18:06
|
|
|
     Name: Trinh Skills: taxidermy(+50, corrupted, in use), jumping(cooldown), Dodging(+25) HP: 1/1 Glory: 22 -> 23 Ritual Glory: 3 Swedish Thaumocracy posted:Snödis is delivering the following orders to the Neötypes: "That's a good plan captain. I'd never been sure about our chances of sieging down Noostra." She looked up and scratched her chin thoughtfully, leaving shallow gashes in the skin. "Leave the preparation of the animal to me." ---- Trinh set down what little tools she could scrounge up safe distance away from Öxnyard. She'd be ready the moment someone could bring a horse or whatever over. She'd gutted weirder in her time. Monsterist animals were no exception. Funny thing. A number of times she had cut open a perfectly healthy looking carcass only to find it was a grotesque mess of hair and teeth on the inside. The common factor seemed to be that the internal mutations all spread from one particular organ. Monsterism should be able to develop very far in the pancreas before bursting through the skin. So, just put something nasty on a stick and stab it into the right place. Nothing could go wrong. She set Bäbï to sit on a tree stump and watch. This would be educational. Insuspicious Infection: 1d500+50+10+22 571 Also, claiming the Basker Beak. Jvie fucked around with this message at 22:55 on Jan 8, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 8, 2018 18:58
|
|
|
     /// Cosmetic Items: /// Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry, Listening(+25?) (using), Night Vision {cooldown} HP: 3/3 Glory: 14 -> 15 By the time their march was over and they'd finally reached Oxnyard Gabber was sweaty, muddy, wet, and just plain exhausted. During the day they'd marched and fought off all manner of foe both organic and natural. During the night he recuperated, when he wasn't on watch. He'd been thankful for any chance he'd had to take off his armor and just lay back, giving his aching muscles a rest. That beautiful magnificent, somewhat bizarre armor. As the days of the march wore on and he became more accustomed to his new armor, it had become more and more clear that what Hob had made was truly special. The faster Gabber moved the lighter the armor would become. At first he thought it was in his head. However, he soon found rather than keeping a slower pace to conserve energy, it benefited him to continue moving as fast as he could. It made no sense, but as soon as he began to pick up his pace his armor became almost translucent, and it felt (and looked) like he didn't have any armor on at all. While that was wonderful for marching, he worried greatly about it's combat capabilities. Days later on his Second Shift watch his armor had it's first chance against an actual foe. While running down some refugees Gabber had tripped and fell, face-planting into the mud. Sensing a chance to strike back at the Horde, one of the refugees had gained some courage and took a swing at his prone form with a wooden club. The refugee's club had shattered on impact, with Gabber no worse for the wear and not so much as a scratch on his plate mail. It had taken everything he had to stand back up and strike down his foe as he now felt twice as heavy, but thankfully the poor soul had been struck dumb by the sheer stopping power of his hardened heavyweight plate and posed no further threat. The slower he moved, or possibly even the more he screwed things up, the better his armor protected him in battle. Quite bizarre! Having received his orders from the Captain, he moved off to intercept the Second Patrol with the other members of the Order. He considered briefly ignoring Noggins' request and tailing her secretly, to try and make sure she didn't go and get herself killed alone trying to be a hero. His unspoken promise to Hob fresh in his head, he declined tailing her for now. This was the first real order she'd given them, and he didn't wish to upset her by disobeying right out of the gate. He'd check in on her later once the Second Patrol went down. He'd recently gathered and incorporated another Listening skillcore, with himself having felt no worse for the wear. No evil voices this time. Putting his even more adept hearing to good use in ambushing the Second Patrol, he waited for the perfect time to strike. Ambush the Second Patrol - Listen for an Opening: 1d100+14(glory)+25(listening)+10(Captain Orders)+1(sword) 76 --- Base roll of 26 -  so add +10 to my armor for a total of +13 this round! All that waiting resulted in him not giving the enemy his best strike - however, he could already feel his Heavyweight Plate increasing in resistance to counterbalance things. No way would an enemy unit be able to penetrate it! Actions posted:
|
|
#
?
Jan 8, 2018 20:36
|
|
|
Yvonmukluk posted:I didn't add an order bonus, I'm still not 100% on how that works. +10 to a roll which obeys an order (Combat actions only for Knights, Neos and Siegers, Noncombat only for us in the Infiltrators)
|
|
#
?
Jan 8, 2018 21:55
|
|
|
    Name: Dack Skills: A̵̕t̷͢͡͏̡h̷͟͡͏ļ̵̶̧̀ę̷̢͡t̨̧͘i̵̕҉̴͡c̢͘͜͠s͏̨́̕ (using), Ą̀͠c̵̢͡͠͏r̴̸̛͝͡o͘͢͜͡b͜à̵̡̕t̷̢̀͜i̸̸͞c͘͟s̀͜͟, Laughing +25 HP: 1 Glory: 19>20 Swedish Thaumocracy posted:Snödis is proposing a many-stepped plan to Infiltration squad and Neötype Squad both. The Captain's plan was a little too complex for Dack to follow, but at least he got that someone needed to capture the stablemaster. And while his size didn't really help with sneaking around, Dack figured if he moved fast enough, it wouldn't matter if the Frömen thought they heard a sound. Setting up some distance from what he was told was the stable (and with a vague description of what a stablemaster should look like), Dack crouched down and waited for his target to move into an open space. After some time had passed, Dack finally sees his opening and pounces forward. Kidnapping the Stablemaster: 313 Once he tackles the Fröman to the ground, Dack quickly bounds back towards the others, hopefully without anyone noticing. It would also be good if he managed to nab the right target, that would be just embarrassing if he messed that part up.
|
|
#
?
Jan 8, 2018 22:38
|
|
|
  Squad: Infiltration Skill: Sleuthing +20 (using), Watching (used). HP: 3/3 Glory: 8 ----> 9 The First Day Humbug walked the night, gazing up at the Constellations while doing his favorite thing - thinking. He'd always had a fondness for The Hungry One. Oh, sure, some said that it represented a slavering all-consuming maw, but Humbug didn't think in such simple superstitious terms (besides, he'd always thought of it more as a drooling, lop-sided grin). The Hungry One represented those who wanted or desired or hungered for a lack of something, be it food or power or glory - or even answers, in his own case. He idly wondered what happened to the ruined farmhouses the First Watch had found earlier - and why the chest with the pearls and the herbs had been left where they'd found it, buried under a couple of collapsed floorboard. The place had had a conspicious lack of bodies, but if the inhabitants simply left, why hadn't they taken their stash with them? A minor mystery - one he would sadly never solve. While he'd been in a reverie over the deeper implications of the find, the others had been quick to snatch at the valuables, with Pythag greedily grasping most of the Cowardclaw flowers - although seeming almost offended at their presence. All that had been left when Humbug had taken a look had been a single, forgotten sprig of Hookseed... which the Sleuth had happily snatched up. Never knew when it might come in handy, as seasoning or alchemical additive. He considered chewing on it right away, as he was both hungry and weary, but it'd be a waste. Besides, what he was really aching for was answers to his big Whodunnit. His most recent lead, Bamboo's testimony, was very interesting - and would be a hell of a lot more useful if he was still in the Capitol where he could try following up on it! He'd have to hang in there, survive this mess, and get back intact enough to follow up on his hunches. ---------------------------- The Second Day Humbug paid rapt attention to the Warlord's laughably peppy description of Madmist - the Sleuth already knew a little about it, but he hadn't known all of the details the Warlord was now sharing nor the Töan military's feelings on it. When the Warlord admitted that attempts had been made to weaponize it, Humbug's mood fell. When he learned the substance had been - by the most violently practical people imaginable, the Töan High Command - deemed 'too risky to use', he sucked in air through his teeth and hummed deeply. If Bamboo - and his own hunch - was right, someone had apparently made use of it against the Queen, regardless. It was worrying. Humbug considered the matter. Given the Warlord's reaction to Wendigoes in general, coming from him this information was likely the pure, unsullied truth of things as Grimper knew them - but if there had been an attempt at weaponizing madmist a few decades back, it wasn't impossible that someone else had continued that research in secret, officially sanctioned or not. Humbug also had to wonder whether the Outbreak in the Old Tö-Town district of the Capitol five years ago had originated as reported - by accident, as some poor idiot had let the madmold fester and grow wild in their cellar - or if there had been more to it. Experimentation by necessity required access to the substance, and if the mold required such specific conditions in which to thrive - and most farmers knew to set fire to it the moment it showed, so much so that it was almost extinct these days - it seemed very likely that someone had made a concerted effort to keep the Outbreak-mold thriving in town. Perhaps that attempt had continued. Watch Captain Badbrass might know more. He'd been instrumental in not letting the rest of the Watch burn the district to the ground on pure principle during the crisis - saving countless lives and properties - and had followed up on the clean-up... the very one from which a number of oddly reticent Watchtö had emerged. The detective shook his head before paranoia got the better of him - he had a lot of leads for now, new and old, to look into once he returned home. If he survived. At least Grimper seemed like an unlikely candidate for being behind a plot against the Queen involving weaponized Madmist - although there was still something odd about the Warlord being stuck here in the boonies of Frö. --------------- Later that day, after they'd fought their way through the town of Smelybut, Humbug considered himself lucky to come away from the battle with another Watching skillcore - it was an excellent find, since his current core would likely integrate with it. He needed the edge and hoped everything would turn out well when he swallowed it. ---------------------------- The Third Day Humbug was still chortling at the mad display Magda had made of herself - and all the Horde with her - to keep their spirits enlivened through the miserable rain (made slightly less miserable for the wisetö who'd picked up a proper coat to go with his hat). The woman had spirit and fire, and as bitter and spiteful as the old Asskicker was, she obviously couldn't help but care a little at this fledgeling new Horde of hers. With a tip of his hat at the wheezing woman, he stepped into the line of Nailbound hauling her wagon and spent a few hours helping out. ---------------------------- Arrival AJ_Impy posted:"Convoluted, but that seems necessary in order to be Unexpected. Very well, Captain: Our squads will collaborate in this endeavour. I'll see about charming the Charger personally. Infiltrators! Your orders are as follows. Forge or obtain an Öxnyard Stablehand uniform. Investigate the documents here to learn the identity of the Noostran Stablemaster. Obtain the correct Öxnyard stationery. Infiltrate Noostra with the infected horse, disguise and forged documents. Any questions?" "Hum, seems like we could've skipped a couple of steps here, if we just looted this stuff after we conquered the place, and saved our efforts to help with that. And while Noostra's the bigger danger, I'm not happy about unleashing a Wendigo on a town, Splut - even if there's a bunch of rich Frömen assholes there. Remember the debacle in Old Tö-Town five years ago? Took some hardcore fighting to get that outbreak under control, both by civvies and Watchtö. Worst-case scenario, if those soft Frö cock up the response we might end up having to fight a bunch of Wendigoes ourselves just to get to the Thumbscrew - but I admit that's unlikely. We COULD probably use the distraction an unexpected Wendigo scare could give us." He shrugged, willing himself to not care overly for people who'd probably be happy see them all dead. "Mind you, it's a fair ways to Noostra yet. If one of us goes haring off now to deliver this poison pill, they'll likely end up going solo for a while - and might even risk the horse going Wendigo on them on the way. While it would be neat to have someone on the inside when we get there, there's a chance they could be discovered on their own, which would be bad. Might just want to consider foisting this infected beast off on someone already heading for the safety of Noostra - like some of these refugees passing by. No big loss of our part if it all goes wrong in their hands," he suggested while eyeing Marra, whose reputation he recalled left something to be desired. No doubt she'd be happy to deliver this beast into the waiting hands of some unsuspecting Frömen travellers - it was right up her alley. The detective suddenly snapped his fingers, remembering something. He reached into his coat's pockets and withdrew a ruddy shape.  "Almost forgot. Splut, you've got to make a decision on who's to keep hold of - or use - Pythag's Old Guy artifact for now. Don't forget he suggested we rotate using the damned thing. It gives me the creeps, so I'll happily pass on it for now if you want - or keep it if you don't." Barbed Tongues posted:Pythag follows his Captain's lead, arguing for the trip to Oxnyard for the Horde Vote. A side trip is next on his agenda, a walk taking him toward the newly minted Infiltration squad. "I think this Mask will serve your group better than the Order. Be careful in affixing it too much to a single person - I suspect it does more than make you look like an enemy. I think it starts to change you completely. And if your Squad would consider tossing some glory toward Captain Noggins in trade for it, that would be more than fair. Either way, though, it's yours." After the meeting wrapped up, Humbug waltzed into the ranch, bold as brass. The place was obviously on alert (there had been those patrols he'd avoided on the way in, after all), but they obviously didn't expect some lone wanderer to just slip in like he belonged - that wasn't Tö's STYLE after all. Too bad for the Frömen it was the Unexpectables' style and that the Unexpectables wisely hadn't let anyone live to inform Oxnyard of it. The detective engaged a couple of the ranchers in a chat about the lousy state of the weather - mentioning he'd come in with a passing refugee group. He made up some story about being the wealthy heir of a landowner looking to buy a mount to ease the journey and scattered some of his valuables around, chatting everyone up on the latest news - worrying as they were - and then moved on to local gossip, steering the conversation towards the Stablemaster and his habits. He bought a newsrag (filled with filthy lies about the war and how Tö was losing it) and then went outside to hang around the stables, reading the rag - while secretly observing the local workers and stablehands come and go, finally catching a glimpse of the person he'd been looking for. It took some doing, but with enough cash for petty bribes and conversations, by the time Humbug left town again, he'd acquired a satchel of Öxnyard's stationary and knew enough to tell Dack PRECISELY where and when to head to retrieve the poor Frö - apparently one of the more isolated stables was host to a sick animal, quarantined, and the caring fool went to check on the beast every hour or so. Reminding AJ that the +50 Disguise Mask was given to the Infiltration squad. Feel free to assign it to someone other than Humbug. Grabbing the final free sprig of Hookseed and the Watching skillcore, and supporting the Convoluted Plan, as ordered, by locating the Stablemaster and some Öxnyard stationary. Snooping around and spending the Valuables on minor bribes to locate the things we need for the Convoluted Plan 1d100+28+25+10 (order) 101
|
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 01:04
|
|
|
   Name: Neebs Skill(s): Sales (+15) (used this turn), Drinking (+10) HP: 3/3 Glory: 2 + 1 posting glory => 3 Neebs picked up the slack that the "squads" were leaving and sold the promise of earning glory to a few mooks if they would join her in an Attack on the third patrol: 1d100+3+15 57
|
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 01:14
|
|
|
   Cosmetics:  Skill 2: Amputation Skill 3: Spinning+30 HP: 1/1 Glory 16 Qwäg stepped back from the padded crate containing a tiny baby swaddled in cloth and strapped into a makeshift crash harness among the provisions. Between that and corking the points on everything within five yards, her Wendigo Risk Assessment left her convinced that the child was as safe as she could make it. The only remaining threat was the patrols currently jeopardizing the Horde's sack of Oxnyard. Time to get to work. There were Frömen out there with far too many limbs for safety. Take Out The First Patrol!: 115
|
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 03:30
|
|
|
   Name: Somnö Skills: BIGNESS +20 (using), Jumping +25 (cooldown), Smashing +10 HP 3/3 Gear: Ball and Chain (+1), Drummers Garb XXXL (+2), Iron Shield, Mushbrëwm, Jerky (not pictured) Cosmetics: Nail and Fist Token Status: Captain's Orders (+10 to taking out the Second Patrol) Glory: 9 Ritual Glory: 1 *************** Following Noggins' orders, Somnö joins the other knights to take out the 2nd patrol, using BIGNESS +20. Pummel the Penultimate Patrol with Prodigious Power: 1d100+20+10+9: 122 [1d100=83] ooc: I'll write some fluff later if I have time.
|
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 04:04
|
|
|
   HP:3 Glory:34 Lying Charm +25 Ritual Glory:0 Infiltrator Captain Scribbleykins posted:
He nodded to the detective, fingers steepled. He paused, weighing his thoughts and words, and answered, "Your concerns are valid and reasonable, Humbug: I'm not best pleased with the concept of unleashed monsterism in a populated area." For some reason, his eyes momentarily glanced over to where Qwäg was securing Bäbï in her crate. "But in many ways this is an exercise in inter-squad trust and cooperation. Captain Snödis is on point for this, and in the dock if it goes wrong as per the terms of Captaincy. We back her up, we back the Neötypes up, because that principle of unity is more important to the horde than the lives of the potential Fröman casualties. If there are Töan casualties, she knows full well the risk and the price that may be exacted from her. We play our part - and I like your idea of using the refugees as the vector of infection, I suspect we'll go with that once the dust is settled, all the parts of the mission prior are in order and we are in striking range of Noostra - because doing so, and showing the Horde the value of our skills, might open up new avenues, new ideas and ways to cause maximum pain to the enemy and maximum gain to Grimper, the Horde and Tö as a whole. I'll see about bringing the Captains together after this, see if we can get some bigger ideas rolling, in time to face our biggest obstacle. And I know full well of the mask, it has not been forgotten. I consider it a resource for the whole squad, to be used as needed but never on consecutive operations by the same Tö. Old Guy powers..." He could not suppress a shudder, looking over at Bäbï, at legless and part-flayed horde members, at the memorial planks both present and in preparation. "Are not to be trifled with lightly. We will use it, it is available for use by any member of the squad who wishes, including yourself if you're going in facefirst, but always with awareness of the risks and taking what precautions we can as a Squad."
|
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 05:04
|
|
|
 / /  / /          Name: Verika HP: 2/2 Skills: Perception +15(?), Keen Sight (active), Hunting +15(?) Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Iron Shield, Arrow Flatpack, Ornate Bowharp (+2), Fostis Ale Cosmetics: Nail and Fist Token, Agenou's Cape Sash, Sikatris Scarf, Basker Cloak, Telescope Glory: 8 -> 9 Ritual Chits: 16 -> 18 (artwork bonus) The Road to Öxnyard (Part 2): Verika Verika consumes Börk's old Listening skillcore and combines it with Perception to make ...Perception +15(?)! Verika claims the Hunting skillcore and combines it with Sniping to make Hunting +15(?)! Verika claims a Basker Cloak! Verika finds a Telescope! Öxnyard (Part 1): Verika stiffened bolt upright before any of the others had noticed that something was coming their way. The second patrol was approaching, and with reasonable speed! Verika signaled for the groups' attention and silence, and everyone drew themselves into their battle formations. The Knights of the Nail and Fist were coordinating with Siege Team Six for this particular mission, which was exciting enough to fray Verika's nerves. Little did Verika realize that going into battle without her trusted Captain around would have such a detrimental effect on her ability to aim! Using Keen Sight to predict the movements of the Second Patrol: 1d100+10+10+8+2 56 Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 02:05 on Jan 12, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 08:39
|
|
|
Prince of Space posted:Verika consumes Börk's old Listening skillcore and combines it with Perception to make ...Perception +15(?)! Wait we can just unilaterally resonate alien skillcores with our own for a +5 holy shiiit IF THAT IS THE CASE Stårn claims Cooking and combines it with Butterfly Beastmaster to make Butterfly Beastmaster +15 (due to knowledge on how to cook better butterfly treats..!) Stårn claims Painting and combines it with Timing to make Timing +30 (you have to know how to time your pain layers on top of each other to not make a mess so there is definitely a connection there) [i]Well maybe not, I bet DK would make me explode out of spite[ or something/i] I like this new ruling 
Theantero fucked around with this message at 09:55 on Jan 9, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 09:03
|
|
|
   Skills:Spreading Disease, Cursing HP: 3/3 Glory: 6 "You got it boss.", a tired Grumbus saluted. He was a city Tö at heart, so long marches through the wilderness were not his favorite. With the fast pace of the march, he didn't even have time to work on the special ammo the boss wanted. Instead he used his limited free time to sharpen some sturdy sticks and coat the tips in rat dung. He set up the punji spikes in a place where he thought the second patrol would walk through, even digging the pit himself. Spreading Disease to set a trap for the second patrol: 1d100+10+10+6+2 = 37 Grumbus climbed out of his hole and examined his handiwork. Hmm, didn't quite look like the spike pit he saw in that book on guerilla warfare he read forever ago. Oh well.
|
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 09:10
|
|
|
Still working through both the next update and last update. Added item cards to last post as well as - duh - Threat for the combat missions. Make sure to double check stuff! Also as mentioned before you can absolutely try to take in a fourth core, but unless it's identical you run the risk of barfing your face off (with a hefty -50 roll penalty for next turn). We'll just have to see what happens this time!
|
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 18:18
|
|
|
   Name: Brumble Skills: Taking (using), painting HP: 3/3 Stuff: Dance-Fighter Garb, Reedblade, Tuned Shield, Mushbrëwm, Agenou’s Cape Sash, Basker Cloak, Valuables Glory: 13 Four eyes darting constantly, Brumble chuckles to himself. Finally here after all that walking, it was time to grab something to avoid walking again. Making his way to the paddocks, he starts humming faintly. Let's see what we've got, and how many we can get away with. Stealing some animals: 1d100+13+10 97 Claiming Basker cloak, one valuable, painting skillcore. Sax Battler fucked around with this message at 23:07 on Jan 9, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 9, 2018 18:35
|
|
|
   ;Name: Hat Skills: Millinery (+15), HP: 3/3 Equipment: Spear (+1), String-Slayer Armour (+2), Tuned Shield, Lucky Pearl; Sikatris Scarf, Mushbrëwm, Wagnag Jerky Glory: 29 -> 30 Yvonmukluk posted:'Hmm...' Marra ponders. 'Something...inconspicuous.' recalling her travails while hunting for a scarf, she is struck by inspiration. 'A hood or a cowl, I think. Something I can use to conceal my face, but I could easily pass off as a scarf in a hurry. Perhaps a nice earthy tone...' "Inconspicuous, cowl-esque, like a scarf, earthy colour... OK. Leave it with me, Marra, and I'll knock something up the next time we get some downtime. See you soon!" The pace of the marching was hard, but not as difficult as the Nägel trip. Hat managed to keep up with the rest of the army without too many problems. Öxnyard was quite a distance away, so it was simply a matter of keeping your head down, your belly full of Patsy's bread, and putting one foot in front of the other. And then just keep doing that. One step at a time, one Unit at a time. Hat looked at the Wagnag jerky with some trepidation. Wagnags weren't usually on the menu, at least not anywhere Hat had heard of. She wrapped the small piece of meat in some spare pattern paper and stuffed it in her sack next to the Mushbrëwm, saving it for another time. Hopefully it'd keep. Thankfully, First Watch was mostly uneventful, the only spark of interest being the ruins they'd had the good fortune to stumble upon. It was while digging through what used to be a fireplace that Hat heard Gado's gasp in surprise at the buried box's contents. A Lucky Pearl! Hat saw Gado quickly grab one and stuff it into his pocket; the poor Töan was infected, and his time of reckoning was fast approaching. Anything that might help increase his odds of survival were to be grasped quickly. Of course, that left another pearl in the box. Hat quickly grabbed it for herself. Well, anything that might help increase her odds of survival might come in handy too... More marching. There was a Marsh Basker; the Horde killed it. There was a newly-constructed town; the Horde ransacked it, killing who they could. They camped on a tidal bay; Second Watch managed to rasie the alarm in the nick of time, and casualties were minimised. Magda cursed the sky and started an impromptu mud-fight, and some sneaky Hordemember with And, finally, Öxnyard. Hat listened carefully to Snödis's plan and Splut's orders. AJ_Impy posted:Infiltrators! Your orders are as follows. Forge or obtain an Öxnyard Stablehand uniform. Investigate the documents here to learn the identity of the Noostran Stablemaster. Obtain the correct Öxnyard stationery. Infiltrate Noostra with the infected horse, disguise and forged documents. Any questions?" Hat raised her hand. "Do we know who'll be doing the Noostra infiltration? If I'm grabbing the uniform, it'd be easier if I know what size we're after." ----- Hat watched as Pythag strolled into the ranch and struck up conversations. While the ranchers were distracted, Hat made a grab for one of the uniforms hanging on a hook nearby. Praying it was a good size, or big enough to be easily altered, she took the bundle back to the Unexpecables' camp and started work. Grabbing and adjusting stable-worker's uniform and hat: 1d100+30+15+10 82 As to what a stable-worker's uniform looks like, maybe this will help.
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2018 00:56
|
|
|
Cause HP 3/3   Skill: Archeology, Balance Glory 7->8 Cause snatched for the Colbaltwing Chrysalis. http://orokos.com/roll/583524 Watching that mad sieger swoop about had made him realize how much easier it could be to conduct preliminary assessing of a site, with the proper vantage point. Plus archeology in general is maybe 9% aerial combat, if you count fighting in and around various aerial conveyances. Ooooooooh yah. Cause only regretted leaping viciously upon the first patrol a little. http://orokos.com/roll/583526 Even so, overcoming enemy patrols could be considered archeology, but only if the patrol in question was comprised of despotic thugs, and Cause wasn't actually sure Froans qualified. Well there'd be other chances.
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2018 04:07
|
|
|
vorebane posted:
This update was a first come first served free for all, so Mason has the chrysalis already. Bad luck! Also, for your orokos rolls, if you click in the bb code button below your roll, you'll get a copy pastable text box that will display your roll like this: Seizing the Chrysalis!: 1d100 93 fighting the first patrol!: 1d100+8+2 82
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2018 11:55
|
|
|
Oh cool, I didn't notice those. That'll save me some time in the future.
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2018 20:12
|
|
|
WereGoat posted:
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2018 21:16
|
|
|
Dog Kisser posted:what Somehow I both am yet am not at all surprised by this
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2018 21:27
|
|
|
Dog Kisser posted:what *record scratch*
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2018 21:52
|
|
|
Dog Kisser posted:what Lmao
|
|
#
?
Jan 10, 2018 21:56
|
|
|
 ~*~*SOME TIME IN THE PAST FEW DAYS*~*~ Undeterred by Ringo’s failed attempt to do the same earlier, some of the Horde greedily attempted to incorporate a fourth Skillcore. Verika the Perceiver attempted to incorporate Hunting, and after a few uncomfortable minutes seemed to have survived the attempt, though she remained nauseous for hours afterwards as the Core ground into place within her Sniping Core. Noggins took a fourth, but sensibly decided to hold onto it for the time being. Others prioritized Cores that matched their current specialties, and managed to integrate those as well. There were even resonations over the long trek, both in combat and otherwise, as they were forced to push themselves to the brink. Whatever the discomfort associated, the Unexpectables welcomed it, because it meant growing strong. (Book keeping, may as well do it here rather than update last post. Skillcores were claimed as follows! Waesh gains Yelling, Bamboo gains Interior Decorating, Verika gains Patsy’s Baking has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Splut’s Skillcores have Resonated - decide whether to keep Bluffing or Lying. The one you choose rises to +20, and the other vanishes, freeing up the slot. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Neeb’s Drinking has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Grumbus' Spreading Disease has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also.) --- Warlord Grimper hung back with the wagons as usual after delegating the various tasks. He watched Gado go off by himself with a frown, then turned to face the rest of the troops. He pointed towards the ranch and they went off. For his part, he dropped to sit cross-legged and stared fixedly at the Thumbscrew Relay, so close but so far away. This wasn’t the only Thumbscrew in Frö, naturally, nor was it the closest to Fostis (though he would naturally never reveal that to the Horde), but in addition to being closer to the Gateway Fortress there was a certain… prestige in seizing Noostra’s communication array. They couldn’t dream to hold it, not with such a small crew, but he didn’t need to. He just needed to get in and out, ideally sacrificing as few of his men as possible. It wasn’t that he’d grown unduly attached to the little ankle-biters, at least not entirely, but if the Frömen didn’t already want his head they surely would after he busted their ‘southern jewel’ - he’d need them to cover his escape and to (somehow) crack the significantly tougher shell of the Gateway. But, ah, he was getting ahead of himself. First Oxnyard, home of the Noostra Derby, home of the… his eyes rolled back in his head in boredom. Whatever. His men wanted mounts, as though their own two legs weren’t enough, so he’d indulge them… as long as they were quick. There was nothing here for him, so he’d wait. The Thumbscrew Relay blinked on and off in the darkened distance. --- Qwag and Portha the Rummager had gone off to seek the first patrol, and had little difficulty finding them. They were alert, but distracted, talking amongst themselves. Clearly, they had no expectation that they’d ACTUALLY find someone out here. But the Horde had learned not to underestimate even easy-looking targets - Graxon had been the first of them to die in combat against someone who by all rights he should have trounced. They wouldn’t let Grimper down here by being too hasty. They stalked them in the darkness, Qwag’s many eyes easily piercing the night, and then-
--- Marra the Backstabber went off on her own, infiltrating and trying to look like just another refugee. And why not? There wasn’t a shortage of them around here, and with the fabric and sashes from Agenou’s army, she could conceivably pass for one of them if she was caught. That didn’t mean she WANTED to be caught, naturally. She’d take things as they came.
(Marra is in position.) --- Captain Noggins the Carpenter circled round the ranch until she was certain her direction of provenance was obfuscated then… walked towards the front gate. She bit her tongue as she struggled to keep her face neutral, line Splut had taught her. She belonged here. She wasn't an infiltrator. She was a citizen of Frö, and she had a legitimate reason to be here. Only the latter had a grain of truth to it, and she clung to it like a drowning woman. The door opened before she could knock, and she was surrounded by armed and suspicious-looking guards. She delivered her rehearsed speech flawlessly and managed to look only as nervous as a regular person surrounded by hostile guards. They consulted with each other in hushed voices, keeping her under watch as they did so. She WAS bearing Fröman issue clothing and armor… and she carried herself with an officer's grace, whatever she claimed… not to mention that beastly hammer of hers… also, she was clearly loaded. Beyond all that, why the hell would an enemy even risk themselves in this way? After several long moments, they nodded and let her pass through - though they escorted her to the smithy. She marvelled at what she saw inside, though she kept her opinions off her face. The place had obviously been conceived as a place of leisure, and it still showed on the fixtures and workmanship on the walls. Recently - since the war, she presumed - it had been converted into a cross between a factory and a training facility, though even this had been done with care. The place was packed, though mostly with apprentices - at least, she couldn’t imagine they were knights. After all, this wasn’t a barracks, as far as their intelligence knew, it was just a supply house for Noostra’s actual defenders. That didn’t mean she could let down her guard, because at any minut- “Hey, we’re here.” Noggins blinked up at the largest Fröman she’d ever seen - besides Agenou. He wasn’t quite up to the Commander’s lithe height, but she could easily imagine him matching up with Magda. He squinted at her, rings in his beard jingling. She gulped, as much for effect as out of sheer terror, and gave her speech about her grandfather and her bastard uncle… and dumped out her ‘savings’ to punctuate her point. The man’s eyebrows rose, and he scratched his chin… then swept the gold into a sack, took the armor and began to examine it. “Fostis, eh? I can tell by the smell and by the patina. Not from there, though… well, the army could use more men like your grandfather, and I’m sure he’d be proud you’re following in his footsteps. Unfortunately, I’m pretty busy right at the moment - I could have it done for you in a few days.” Noggins froze, a sick grin plastered on her face. What could she say? She’d rather not do without it, but he’d already taken her money. She opened her mouth and - “I can take care of it, Pendelo.” A young Fröwoman gestured for the armor and the Forgemaster froze in his tracks, then gave it to her. He nodded, then hurried off to whatever he was doing. The slouching figure took her armor plate, turning it this way and that, rubbing gloved and oily fingers over the surface. She mumbled, low and quick, as she worked, and Noggins strained to listen, only to be waved off. “Stand back, I’ll be quick about this. The armor itself is in decent shape, and it has one hell of a story to tell, but I don’t have time to learn about it. I’ll fix up the dents and reinforce it for you, and it’ll do just fine. Better than fine, really. I could care less about the money, though I’m sure the others feel differently. Me, all I care about is this.”  She reached out and touched Noggins on the chest, below her collarbone, with a gloved fingertip. The Carpenter stood transfixed, and it had nothing to do with her words. “You have the heart of a warrior, of a knight, whatever your upbringing. Frö needs more of that.” Her eyes blazed with a sickeningly bright blue light, but they were kind as she continued. “Now hold tight, and smile - it’s not every day a soldier gets armor made special by Jaune the Wall.” She turned to the forge and began to work with such speed and intensity that the hammer strikes sounded as a single tone.    (Uh, Noggins makes first contact with the local Commander! She also gets a drat nice piece of armor in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money! Stolen money, sure, but still a sacrifice! Also, Noggins is in position!) --- Mason, Somnö, and Pythag led a group towards the second patrol. This one swept low around a picturesque dock facing a small lake. A smattering of chairs were set up facing the water, and in peace time the Horde could easily imagine the place being quite peaceful. But right now the dock and boardwalk were covered in dust and grime, disused though not decrepit. The patrol was taking a break nearby, some lounging on the chairs, some merely smoking and talking as though they hadn’t anything to worry about. Mason’s face broke into a grin as he rushed out and swung his brutal weapon down into a recumbent soldier’s neck and kicked him into the water. Shock rippled through the group and they charged for him - but he wasn’t alone.
--- Bamboo the Virtuoso strummed her garotte like a harp, considering her options. She hadn’t the foggiest who the ‘important’ people were, so she watched them. She watched who people spoke to, she watched who people deferred to, and - the old standby - she watched who was dressed the nicest. She’d managed to shimmy up into the rafters of a satellite building, watching people filter in and out. That was the one, right there. A bulky Töan, they laughed at her jokes, accepted pats on the back with grateful smiles, and listened to her thoughts on war and death as though they were religious texts. She only half listened, because she had her own thoughts on both. Finally, she was alone. She hooked her legs around the rafters, then levered herself down.
She was on the roof before she heard the screams. Music to her ears. (Bamboo has killed a High Value Target. She’s in position.) --- The Many-Stepped-Plan was underway! Brainchild of Snödis the Poet and her compatriots, it depended on a lot of moving parts working out perfectly. She had not the least bit of fear that it wouldn’t! Steal a charger, infect the charger, forge a letter, disguise a stablehand, kidnap a stablemaster, acquire the other stuff to make all this go perfectly! Easy! First, Splut and Hob made their way into the herd and wrangled themselves up some Öxnyard Chargers. Getting them to come with them proved to be...
1d100 = 48 VS 1d100 = 14
1d100 = 101 VS 1d100 = 32 (Well! Every single step, every single roll of this, went completely perfectly. I don’t even know what to say. You are all in position, and your plan goes off as you wanted it to. Discuss with me what you want your next steps to be after the rest of the Horde’s actions go down.) --- Gado the Digger shivered at the bottom of the hole he’d dug. His grave, probably. Waves of heat and cold poured over him, like hot oil and ice water in turn. He retched, though mercifully nothing came up to clog his mask. He held the experimental treatment in a clawed, mangled hand and considered his options. He tapped the syringe and saw a tiny luminescent bubble pop through the glass. He didn’t have any options. He injected himself as he was taught, and suddenly his heart stopped and he fell to the ground, dead. (Psyche! Zapanda hates you and she wanted to make you think you could trust her. And, like a sucker, you did. She’s probably laughing it up up th)He jackknifed up off the ground, gasping as though he’d been under water for hours. The hot and cold subsided, leaving in its wake a profound and existential terror. He’d felt himself turning. He’d seen himself, from the inside out, overwritten like a book soaked in ink, the pages that were him curling and twisting and burning into something else. But then it reversed, winding backwards, and here he was, whole. Not cured, though - he could feel it tickling away at his thoughts like a hungry Slinker. But gently caress it, stay of execution! He’d need to talk to Zapanda as he promised, need to try to remember all he could - but first he needed to help! (Gado survived! And is apparently dependant on expensive drugs to continue surviving! Hurrah! His clock is pushed back another three turns, which will hopefully be enough (or else he’ll have to do something drastic), and he’s free to do whatever else he can to help the Horde… or to leave? They already think he’s dead, he could just… wander off and take his chances out there…) --- Neebs the Salestöan had only just managed to convince several of her fellows to join her in the hunt of the third patrol when Ringo the Pick voiced his desire to take them on. Her mouth tightened a little bit, but when Grimper had agreed wholeheartedly with his desire to go and crush them, she bit back a complaint. It wasn’t as though she had anything against the Dekatö, but it was increasingly tough to sell things to her hapless Hordemates when they were all so smitten with Ringo’s sudden power. Maybe she could sell autographs for him, or action figures. Snorkus had taken a shine to him most of all, though oddly he seemed to think that Ringo was his subordinate, which was simply bizarre as all hell. She followed along, grudgingly, until Ringo spotted them. He put his fingers to his lips and whispered. She didn’t hear anything - felt like the sound dropped out around their group, actually - but the Patrol immediately wheeled around to face every direction but theirs. The Horde prowled towards them and pounced.
--- Sucy the Mushroom Farmer fingered her Ring idly, which she'd been doing far more often of late. The Vault had frightened her, when she'd seen… whatever she saw in those chairs, but it had left something in her mind, sprouting questions like hyphae. She put the Ring on while she marched, whenever she needed time to think. Sometimes she saw things in the blackness, moving things. She worried they would see her, but whatever they were they moved blind and slow, and then were gone. Looking at the Warlord or Ringo would get more consistent results. Lights and patterns, too dense to understand, in the former case, and simpler in the latter. Magda too, faintly, and brittle, somehow. The other artifacts would flicker according to a specific pattern. While the pattern didn't make any sense consciously, after a while she could tell which was the Mask, which was the Hammer, which was the Wire. Which was really a decent way of tracking those who held them, actually. And that's what she did now. Noggins wielded Nailbreaker, and the pattern of that weapon was 'visible’, walls or not. There was something else in there with her though. She had no idea what it was, but it looked vaguely familiar? The same but different as something else she'd seen. She flicked the Ring off and felt a headache splitting her head from back to front. However interesting this all was, it was distracting from the task at hand. She went out to get her hands dirty. (Sucy practiced with the Ring a bit more. It definitely lets her see stuff she shouldn't be able to, and once she knows what she's looking for she seems to be able to find it regardless of obstructions. It still doesn't seem to be… useful?) --- Brumble the Taker wandered through the paddocks, looking for something to take. Dumb, animal eyes looked up at him, then back to their food, uninterested in this strange Töan. The feeling was mutual. While Oxnyard had countless chickens and goats and feedspiders and cows, these were of limited use to the Horde unless they wanted a feast - which frankly sounded great right now, but was beside the point. Horses roamed the various fields, but almost certainly they weren't the best on offer, and he wanted the best. Something that could breathe fire would be nice, but he'd settle for a Warboar. He heard someone coming and hopped into a stall, pressing himself into the mud among the piglets. They squealed happily and clambered over him, but he stayed silent.
(Uh oh, they made you! Looks like stealing stuff quietly isn’t going to work out. You don’t take any damage, because this isn’t Combat, but you ALSO don’t get an Armor benefit (that could conceivably have tipped the tides) for the same reason. You’re in an awkward spot, if you rolled below 50, take -10 to your roll next turn - this mostly applies to Mooks and NPCs, but make sure you keep it in mind!) --- Once the loss of the three patrols was noticed and the would-be thieves spotted, a great alarm went up, like a dozen screaming cats. Immediately more lights snapped on and half dressed soldiers began pouring out of the various buildings. One of the lights illuminated a flank of the hidden mass of the Horde, sending up a cry, and Grimper cursed. Careful planning, undone by the vagaries of chance! Well, it couldn't be helped - and besides, they only knew that some enemies were here, not how many. He called for an advance, and many ran out to meet the defenders… but the real impact would come from those who’d already embedded themselves, unexpected and unseen by the distracted guards. He trusted that they’d sort themselves out. An alert pinged behind his eyes and he swivelled to face a lone Fröwoman exiting the main building, hammers in both hands. Not warhammers - not her style. Dirty, scuffed things, worn flat by use and heavy enough to make her slouch. His lip curled in disdain and annoyance. Another Commander, here? What poor luck. At least it was only her - she was no fighter… but he couldn’t discount her, either. And if he could see her, odds are she could see him. So much for subterfuge! He rose and allowed his aura to billow out, lighting up the night. She merely inclined her head towards him and slammed her hammers together. 
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 20:54 on Jan 16, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 06:00
|
|
|
HP:3 Glory:35 Bluffing +20 Charm +25 Ritual Glory:0 Infiltrator Captain And there it was: The knowledge that matters had come to a head, the enemy frothing up like an overturned beehive. Perfect. With the Infiltrators and Neötypes both in position to do some real damage here at Öxnyard, it was clear that the Horde needed them to be at their underhanded best to cripple their enemy here and now. Redeploying an infiltrator to Noostra with the infected Charger was still on the table and that prior Order stood, but he trusted his people to use their initiative on choosing that or... "Sabotage them! Before they can properly array themselves for combat. Cripple and diminish them to the best of your ability. One of you may head to Öxnyard with the Charger, use your best judgement." With a nod to Humbug, he took the Mask with him: It was incumbent upon him to lead by example, singling out the hulking, heavily armoured enemy as his intended patsy. From his advanced position, he headed in disguise towards the smithy building, matching the hustle and bustle of those going into battle, and surreptitiously purloined a perfectly ordinary, mundane forge hammer with no distinguishing marks. The face may not have been his own, but his recently-enhanced talent as a Bluffer was as strong as ever behind it. He made his way to the Forgemaster and, following expected Fröman custom to the letter, spake, "Present for you, sir. the Commander has something special planned for this lot, a weapon whose power is so well hidden even their Warlord wouldn't be able to sense it until it was too late, even if it was swinging right at him. Here, this is all yours, you'll know what to do when it starts kicking in. I'm going to need to redistribute your current weapon. Let's drive these stinking vermin back where they came from!" Then it was a matter of melting away with the master-crafted hammer that might otherwise have been used against the Horde, leaving a weapon whose powers were so well hidden as to seem non-existent, ordinary and mundane. Bluff the Forgemaster with a 'New Hammer for Old' routine to Sabotage him before battle is joined, using the OG Mask: 1d100+105 189 (199 with the banner.) AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 03:06 on Jan 12, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 10:36
|
|
|
Name: Verika HP: 2/2 Skills: Perception +15, Keen Sight (cooling), Sniping +15 (active) Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Iron Shield, Arrow Flatpack, Ornate Bowharp (+2), Fostis Ale Cosmetics: Nail and Fist Token, Agenou's Cape Sash, Sikatris Scarf, Basker Cloak, Telescope Glory: 9 -> 10 Ritual Chits: 18 (artwork bonus) Öxnyard (Part 2): Verika steeled herself for the charge of the warboars. These powerful porcine warbeasts might be huge and intimidating, but they were no match for Verika's hunting and shooting skills. Besides, the strategy for beating a herd of angry boars was simple if you had a bow and arrows. All Verika needed to do was to climb to higher ground and she could shoot upon the savage things from up on high with impunity. It was amazing how simple it was to overcome this kind of landlocked opponent. She sneered at the boars' handlers, cracking their whips in the distance. Verika hitched a loop of rope over a hanging branch and clambered up the nearest tree. From up here she had the perfect vantage point to snipe out the biggest, baddest-looking boars charging at them and take them out, one by one. She aimed for their heads, she aimed for their eyes, and she aimed for their necks and their shoulders, preferring quick disabling shots that would blunt their charge and cause them to trip and fall and knock into each other. She felt bad for the massive, enraged creatures that she fired relentlessly upon - almost. She still smirked all the same as she watched the armored creatures lurch and slam into one another and tumble end over end after every shot she took. Poor stupid pigs! Sniping the War Boars in their Piggy Faces: 1d100+15+9+2+10 129 Verika could practically smell the next morning's bacon. Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 07:12 on Jan 12, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 10:43
|
|
|
     Extra Skillcore: Fashion +25 HP: 3/3 (2 wire) Glory: 19-20 Ignomity: -6 Ritual Glory: 1 Hoarded Glory: ? (+1 per Combat Roll Won, ie many Hordemembers vs Horsemen or Individual vs Reckless Charge. Bonus is then doled out in the same manner, +N to Group Attacks or Solo Missions.) The perfect plan executed perfectly, Snödis could not be more proud. And there she was, in the perfect position to do some real damage, when her Fashion Skillcore flared up and she lost herself to memories and hallucinations. -- Little girl Snödis had always wanted to be a Fashionista, but the closest she ever got to dress-making was patching muddy holes in the boots of soldiers. Her 'type' were never allowed near the fineries of the nobles, wether for fear of infection, or more likely according to Snödis, for fear that the Monsterists would look all the more dashing than their supposed betters. Still, if she wanted to eat she would need the coin - so she set off to find the Squires - the people most likely to throw trifling currency at poor orphans without also kicking them in the chest. The Squires she knew would have need of her talents, skillcore or not, because the one thing they lacked for was Time, and the one thing they wanted was Glory, and they couldn't very well polish their own shoes now, right before the big battle, could they? Much less be seen with them sullied! Fashion to Sabotage the Horsemens Equipment: 1d100+19+25-6 = 74 That she was actually a grown woman and not a poor, homless urchin anymore did not really enter her mind, though her ID hoped that neither would it enter theirs. -- Elsewhere, the Neötype Squadron Members (sans Bäbï) opened their wax-sealed envelopes, carefully prepared earlier - all according to the master plan - "Post-Infiltration, you are to caus as much havoc as possible before the lines meet up for Meleé, at which point use your own discretion. Use your overwhelming force and guile to take out high value targets, or to sabotage enemy units as you deem appropiate. Good luck, Comrädes. Please eat this message after reading it." [Standing orders: Sabotage or Reckless Charge as thou wilt. Hit them fast, hit them hard, and for the next round join the battle where necessary!)
|
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 11:29
|
|
|
    Gado!!! Skill: Digging (+35- avaliable next turn) Climbing (+10) HP: 1/2 Glory: 6->7 Mutation Countdown: [ ] [ ] [ ] It was all over, Zapanda's betrayal was bearing fruit and Gado could feel nothing but spite as his world collapsed into darkness and pain, and then Gado was struggling for a lungful of air as he snapped back to consciousness. "Gods..." The dreadful feeling of Zapanda's experiment going to work is fully etched into Gado's mind, but that was a nightmare to digest at a later date. While his fever seemed to have subsided to some degree he felt about the same as he had after his initial infection, there wasn't time to sit around feeling sorry for himself or pleased that the gamble at Zapanda actually being benevolent paying off; the horde had work to do. It took Gado slightly longer than he'd have liked to muster the strength to crawl out of his hole, but by the time he'd reached the top strength was beginning to eke its way back into his limbs. Pointing himself in the direction of Oxnyard, Gado took off at a sprint matching the fervor the horde had used on their run between Fostis and Nagel in recent days. It takes some time and a few course corrections, but Gado eventually bolts through the camp, making sure to bang on the side of the cart Zapanda and her crew are stashed in with a shout of "It worked!" Having assured the scientist of her success he bolts toward the battlefield proper in search of Starn, snatching up the nearest weapon he can get his hands on. On finding his Captain Gado snaps off a salute "Gado, surprisingly still alive and reporting for duty!" quote:Mutation Countdown starts the round following it being rolled, so no ticks this time.
|
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 12:03
|
|
|
Name: Neebs Skill(s): Sales (+15) (on cooldown), Drinking (+15) (used this turn) HP: 3/3 Glory: 3 + 1 posting glory => 4 On the way back from Ringo's almost-single-handed dispatch of the patrol, Neebs mind was stuck on the idea of action figures. Not out of the realm of possibility; but were there any good prospective buyers? She wasn't sure the profit margins were there for something that would be a one-off sale. Unlike comestibles, you couldn't continue selling the same action figure to the same buyers. Plus, action figures were hard to find a supplier for. Either you found a clothier or seamstress; and the action figures just ended up being cheap dolls; or you had to find a machinist. And machinists didn't come cheaply. Noggins might have been able to throw something wooden together; but she wasn't around right now and she seemed rather preoccupied with this whole horde business. Almost as if Noggins wanted to become a general or a warlord someday. By the time Neebs had gotten back to the horde, she'd discarded the idea of action figures. Not feasible. But fun to think about. When she heard the alarm ringing...she knew they'd be going to battle already. She wondered who had messed up to trigger the alarm. She was damned if she was going to face another large melee sober. She downed a few drinks and joined the charge against the warboars. Drunkenly Attacking the WarBoars: 1d100+3+2+15 74
|
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 13:09
|
|
|
   Name: Bamboo HP: 1/2 Glory: 32 + 1 (Action Glory) > 33 Skills: Virtuoso [COOLDOWN] Poor Decision Making [READY] Interior Decorating [ACTIVATE] -[Oxnyard]- Bamboo watched the unfolding chaos from her rooftop perch. “Well, that lasted about as long as I thought it would”, she muttered to no one in particular. Direct combat was never her forte, especially now in her diminished state. Shaping the battlefield from the shadows, that was always the mission of The Pawns. The enemy commander had shown herself, dual wielding some rather weighty hammers; Bamboo was glad she wouldn’t be facing down much steel up close. Hopefully, Grimper wouldn’t be losing another hand this fight. She focused on the quickly rousing soliders; if she could delay their involvement, perhaps The Unexpectables can deal with the current threat before being overwhelmed. So, how best to waylay a town’s worth of soldiers. Bamboo smiled. How else? She would Interior Decorate the outside of the town! Leaping from the roof, she got to work, running to each house, down every street and alley, touching all the windows, walls, and doors she could see. The adjustments we minor, subtle; the affect, profound. Potted plants and flowers were shifted, door numbers and signs swapped, shutters and exterior furnishings slightly moved. By the time Bamboo was done, the town looked nothing like itself; the residents of Oxnyard would be as strangers own their own land. They would not be able to find their way to the battle. Hopefully. Action > Sabotage ‘A Whole Bunch More Guys’ with Interior Decorating.: 1d100+32+10 56 [1d100=14] ***** Edit ***** According to Swedish, the Banner adds +10 to solo actions this round, so final roll should be 56 + 10 = 66. Thanks Swedish, would you mind posting the new banner total every round so the rest of the Horde doesn't miss out? CourValant fucked around with this message at 17:16 on Jan 11, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 14:45
|
|
|
/// Cosmetic Items: /// Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry, Listening(+30) {cooldown}, Night Vision (using) HP: 3/3 Glory: 15 -> 16 Under the combined might of most of the Order of the Nail (and friends!) the second patrol met their end with a watery grave. The dock had also been shattered into a million pieces by the sheer BIGNESS of Somnö; no one would be relaxing by the lakeside here any time soon. Their mission accomplished, Gabber passed out congratulatory high-fives to anyone who wanted one then ran back to reconvene with the rest of the Horde before they were discovered. -------------------- Back with the rest of the Horde, an unlucky spotlight had unveiled their location as they had crept through the night towards their prize. Grimper called for the advance, and Gabber did not shy away from his duty, picking up speed towards the foes rising to meet them. The usual mix of fear and nerves were there, but he'd found they were now buried deeper and deeper after every successful battle, less a factor than ever before. He was a knight, he had three Nails, fantastical armor, a sturdy sword and shield, and a bottle of herbal remedy ready to go. He was getting full of himself, and convinced that nothing could stop the combined might of the Unexpectable Horde. Scanning the advancing enemies he saw many formidable foes, however one seemed to stick out like a sore thumb due to his sheer size and The Lord of Hats posted:"KNIGHTS OF THE NAIL!" she shouted. "HEAR ME NOW! Pythag, get the Önager on target! Gabber, keep Pendelo busy! Everyone else, to me! Let's show Frö that beasts are no match for our valor!" Perfect. Blinking his eyes in the practiced pattern, Gabber switched on his Night Vision and began clanging his sword on his shield to try and gather the attention of those nearby. Whomever joined him they'd likely need stout defenses, so he hoped he could gather up those with shields to join his gambit. Forgemaster Pendelo - Night Vision Assist: 1d100+15+10+1 He'd seemed to find a sweet spot where his combat effectiveness was as high as it could be, while his armor remained solid and non-translucent. Good. Time to take this big bastard down! Task Manager fucked around with this message at 14:25 on Jan 17, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 15:13
|
|
|
    Name: Waesh Skills: Piracy, Grappling, Yelling (using) HP: 3/3 Glory: 3->4 As battle joined, Waesh couldn't help but feel the adrenaline rush; truly, this is the best part of being one of The Unexpectables, asuming you didn't get smushed into chunky salsa by someone much larger than you. Spying Verika laying down some sniping fire on the enemy war boars, he had a brilliant idea. He rushed together with his fellows to stand against the warboars, and, reaching deep inside himself, there was only one thing to do - yell so loud as to wake the dead. 'YA THINK YA FRO CAN STAND AGAINST US? WE'RE THE UNEXPECTABLES, DREAD CAPTAIN GRIMPER'S TERRIFYING CREW. YA THINK YA LUBBERS HAVE A CHANCE? THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO RUN AWAY SCREAMING!' Yell at some boar riders: 1d100+16 73
|
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 15:17
|
|
|
According to Dogkisser in the Discord Chanel, the Banner gains one point for every [threat-ratinged] action that succeeds when Snödis (or whoever is holding the banner) is in the field. Thus i calculate that it gains two points from the patrol beatdowns, and eight points for successful Solo Missions in the previous turn. The Banner is now at 10 points, meaning that every Threat Rating'd Action gets +10. This means that; A: Groups participating in Group Battles will receive +10 to the roll total; if thirty people go after the enemy mook horde, their rolls are added together with an extra 10 at the end VS the enemies roll. Ie: [nd100+yBonuses]+10 vs [Enemy Roll] B: Everyone doing Solo Actions will have ten points added to their missions, meaning their roll will be [Their Roll+Their Bonuses]+10 To Arms, Comrädes! For the Grimpner and the Queen!
|
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 16:30
|
|
|
    Name: Ringo! HP: 4/4 Glory: 22>23 Skill: Pigilante Justice, Ventriloquism (cooldown), Whistling+15 Hotswap Skillcores: Kissing, Cross Stitching, Accuracy, Bee Keeping, Lifting +15, Lockpicking, Firestarting, Weaving +15, Avoiding Notice Other: Rolls 10d100, may optionally reroll lowest Oxnyard, Battle Sirens squealed and searchlights blazed. Ringo kneeled next to Snorkus. “Looks like we’re in the thick of it now. What do you say we take on the big one?” He pointed over at Pendelo. “You circle around. I’ll take him head on.” Ringo leapt to the roof of a small building, and struck a dashing pose with his wendigoad. He put his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. “Hey big boy, how about you try someone your own size!?” And then with a dive, he was upon Pendelo. Challenge Pendelo Head On (Whistling): 10d100+22+15+2 619 [10d100=39, 29, 68, 7, 92, 87, 70, 30, 68, 90] Rerolling 7 ReRoll Pendelo: 1d100 89 Total 701 Or I guess 711 with the banner bonus.
|
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 16:41
|
|
|
     Cosmetic:  Name: Hob HP 2/2 Glory: 3>4 Ritual Glory : 2>3 Skill: Singing (used), Contortion, Butterfly Riding(cooldown) Hob snuck back to the field of chargers, oblivious to the horrors being inflicted on the three they had rustled. Grab more? Oh yeah, orders. Removing the orders from their protective cover, he read through carefully. Swedish Thaumocracy posted:Please eat this message after reading it." Hob scrunched the paper up as be thought and absentmindedly... Swedish Thaumocracy posted:aaaaargh, Hob you are hideous!! He froze with his hand halfway to his mouth, patted the flank of the docile charger and fed it the message as if it was a treat. The beast chewed happily. Sabotage? A dangerous solo mission? Once he would have jumped at the opportunity, but now it was seeming quite dangerous. And what would he even do? Footsteps. Voices. "-st like we practiced, form up, get the chargers. Juniors grab a heavy and lead the rest of the herd to the stables and get them saddled up, the rest of the riders will get you there. Be quiet, be quick". Hob's hiding place was about to go walkies. Lowing from nearby as dark shapes mounted the chargers, some moving purposefully, others unsteady. Thinking quickly, he clambered on top of the large beast he had only just recently befriended, and prodded it to move. It let out a moo and trotted in the direction of the lights, alongside the other "juniors" delivering steeds to more capable hands. Darkness was his friend, for now, but it would be only moments until the lights revealed who he really was to the stable hands he rode beside. The herd followed them, the stables approached rapidly. It was time to decide. Sabotage the chargers by leading some beasts away? Or climb from the beast's back onto the stable roof, sneak attacking with his bow. Hob drew in a breath. With a shout, he kicked the charger into a, well, a charge. The beast shot forward, but in the wrong direction. Hob held on for dear life. It was no butterfly! The following chargers chased, heading towards the front, exactly where they were ordered to go. Close enough that the riders could just jump on. "Oh noooooo" With another kick, Hob leaped from the beast's back onto a nearby roof. The stampede continued. A figure stood in the beasts' path, and so Hob sang a warning note. "♪ Loooooook oooooooouuut ♫". A distracting, shrill warning note was sent towards Jaune the Wall. And a tiny stampede. Enough, perhaps, to shake her certainty, or make her drop something valuable. Sing at Jaune to warn her that she's about to be trampled (sabotage): 1d100+10+3+10+10 118. (I added the flag to the roll since it was a solo action, is this correct?) Hob lady spreadeagled on the roof. Moving to stand up, there was a crunch. With a sinking feeling, Hob felt for his pouch. That ride had been very aggressive and there was... Oh no. The egg in his pouch was smashed. It's wiggling inhabitant smooshed. He felt a movement on his back, brushing his ear. A tiny, pink, wiggling caterpillar! WereGoat fucked around with this message at 22:13 on Jan 13, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 16:48
|
|
|
         Name: Stårn Additional skills: Butterfly Beastmaster, Timing +25 HP: 3 Glory: 32 -> 33 Stårn nodded in gleeful satisfaction as the enemy patrol was annihilated. But as soon as that threat was dealt with, he turned around on his mount and took a garner at the battlefield spreading out below their little hillock. He sharply returned Gado's salute and grinned. It was good to have him back. "Now listen up, Siege Team Six. The enemy has a variety of formations, but the Önäger only has ONE shot before we have to maintain it so it doesn't fall apart due to structural stress. So we will have to make it count, yeah? That's how you Siege properly you know, you make your resources do more work than the resource of the enemy. It's the heart of sieging, you could say!" he floated back and forth in front of his troop as he spoke, "Now we could wait, but at that point melee will have started and we risk friendly fire, a poor use of our resources. Thus, we strike now", he pointed at the horses, "A good target over there, but they're too fast to reliably hit, and we have no hordemates on assault course to go take advantage of the state we inflict on them", he pointed at the scattering of enemy foot soldiers, "A big blob of fairly easy targets, however, their formation is loose, and they're not worth much as individuals kills. THUS, the objectively best target for our Önäger is", he pointed a finger at the warboars, "The boars. They are heavy cavalry, quite slow. They move in a tight formation to maximize the effects of their momentum on a charge, thus any hit on them will cause more damage", Stårn giggled and rubbed his hands together, eyes twinkling with Sieging glee, "Yes, yes, we will time our shot at when they're fairly close to charging our own troops advancing on them. Thus, we will not only take out their warriors, we will break their formation, and we will halt their charge, thus totally negating the biggest advantage a troop of heavy shock cavalry has. Then our own people can tear them to shreds at their leasure." Stårn nodded to himself. Yes, that is what they would do. "It is decided, men! MAN THE ÖNÄGER!" But they were not enough. Stårn yelled at the other backliners still remaining. "Volunteers needed for Önäger duty! Nailbound stand at attention to make up for any potential manpower shortage!" As for himself, he flew high up on his mount to better estimate the enemy range and movement vectors, and thus to make the most optimal adjustments to their aim. Oh yes. This was a perfect plan, Stårn knew. A worthy maiden Siege for the Önäger, for sure. Siege Team Six takes +10 to MAN THE ÖNÄGER. We will need other people to help out too, but if we don't get enough volunteers to handle the Önäger, I am ordering enough Nailbound as is necessary to fill out the slack to come and do it. Also, if you have any items to donate as specialty ammo, that would be appreciated. Siege Weapons to aim and lead the usage of the Önäger, utilizing mount to fly around for better lines of sight and more optimal sight angles for rangefinding purposes: 1d100+57=114 Also I know I asked for a cool as hell silk sash for my free Cosmetic Item, but I'd rather have that one set of fancy clothes one of the people there had, like a heirloom suit or something. Something that seems fancy and clean enough (well, in terms of the Horde) for an officer to wear but isn't armory enough for an armor bonus. Give me that dogkisser
|
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 17:41
|
|
|
Pythag HP: (3) of (3) Skills: * Math (using) * Headshotting (charging) * Fearlessness (available) Equipment: * Armor (+5) * Iron Shield * Bowharp * Arrow Flatpack Cosmetics * Nail and Fist Token Glory: 8>9 Ritual Glory: 1 "Captain Stårn, sir, my apologies," Pythag wandered forward towards the Siege Team. "My Captain is still inside the town proper, and I'm left without clear directives. I suspect going after the boar-riders might be the command decision, but better to hedge bets now. If you would allow me to assist?" He was offering his mathematical skills. "If you can signal distances, I can start on the force calculations for this beauty." Man the Önäger: 1d100+18 = 110 Barbed Tongues fucked around with this message at 01:02 on Jan 12, 2018 |
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 17:55
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 24, 2024 20:53 |
|
|
Name: Stårn Additional skills: Butterfly Beastmaster, Timing +25 HP: 3 Glory: 32 -> 33 Stårn grinned at Pythag from atop his steed. "Yes, excellent! You know, I was thinking of recruiting you to Siege Team Six for exactly that purpose. Too bad the knights got to you first, haha!" "Now listen up my man, here are the enemy formation distance and current movement vectors, and if you would be so kind as to measure the exact incline of this cliff for me too, we can get started on some Sieging proper!"
|
|
#
?
Jan 11, 2018 18:05
|
|