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       Noggins Skillcores: Carpentry +35, Precision, Aiming, Leadership (Unconsumed) HP: 3 Glory: 50->ASCENSION Ritual Glory: 4 Noggins felt her stomach drop as she saw her fellow defenders fall under the sheer weight of the massed Inhabited. Many she'd never learned the names of, others she knew only in passing, but she felt the loss all the same. She was attributing the pain to the loss and grief, at least. There was only one other explanation that came to mind, for the way she could feel her organs shifting, for the growing ache in her limbs that she hadn't felt since she'd been a child, and that was that the madmist was taking her. Either way, it didn't change what she had to do. The barricades were holding for now, but they'd been made in a rush of necessity. She smashed the handful of limbs that were starting to poke through in odd spots and got to work. It was funny--even in the midst of the carnage-filled deathtrap that was Noostra, the simple act of hammering boards in place, two confident strikes per nail, was relaxing. A reminder of happier times, when her biggest concern was trying to impress Dovetail. Set, strike, strike. Set, strike, strike. It was as if all other sound was bleeding away, and it was just her, her work, and the rising rushing sound in her ears. It was tempting, oh so very tempting, to just lose herself in it. But she knew she couldn't. People were depending on her. Not just for craftsmanship, but for protection. For reassurance. For inspiration. Gritting her teeth, she straightened herself, her body protesting at the act, and shouted. "EVERYONE! We have to stem the tide! Forget their sniper for now! Man the barricades and keep up your guard! If we allow a single gap, it's going to get nasty! COME ON, UNEXPECTABLES! PUSH! THEM! BACK!" Rampart Rampage (Keep Up Your Guard): 1d100+50+35+5 107
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Mar 13, 2018 02:53
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     Name: Waesh Skills: Piracy +20, Grappling (using) HP: 3/3 Glory: 7 -> 8 Well, curses! Not a single magical doodad in sight! And after he'd just been promoted to Infiltrator, too... hopefully the First Mate didn't chew him out for this! As it stood, the most useful thing Waesh could find himself doing would probably be fighting off the remaining uninhabited and push further. Fighting these things was a darn pain, and his usual dirty tactics didn't work against the bastards. Instead, he decided to follow Humbug's example and throw the blighters off the stairwell. While Humbug's action was all elegance and efficiency of movement, Waesh's attempt came across a bit more thuggish and brutal, but hopefully effective, nonetheless. Fighting Through with Grapples: 1d100+8+12+10 83
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Mar 13, 2018 04:23
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            Name: Verika HP: 2/2 Skills: Perception +30 (active), Sniping +15 (cooling), Smithing +55 Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Iron Shield, Arrow Flatpack, Ornate Bowharp (+2), Ruddy Charger, Blixthäst (+5) Cosmetics: Nail and Fist Token, Agenou's Cape Sash, Sikatris Scarf, Basker Cloak, Slightly-Cracked Telescope, Jaune's Broken Nails Glory: 17 -> 18 Ritual Chits: 2 (artwork bonus) Noostra (Part 9): That thrice-damned sniper - he was too well-positioned up the thumbscrew's edifice to make an accurate mark. That makes three hordemembers he's killed, all by himself! Verika couldn't let this ongoing aggression stand unanswered, needed to fire a salvo of arrows back to keep the sniper occupied. She was about to return fire from her ineffective vantage point near the Thumbscrew's broken doors when an urgent call from Captain Noggins stole her attentions elsewhere. The Lord of Hats posted:"EVERYONE! We have to stem the tide! Forget their sniper for now! Man the barricades and keep up your guard!" Verika snapped to heightened attention as her Perception Core flared. She looked all around her across the courtyard and saw the horde's many losses - friends and allies aplenty who had fallen to the unyielding masses of the Inhabited. While Verika had been busy occupying herself with Lieutenant Knock, the unending throngs of masked warrior-citizens had managed to surround them in nearly all directions. Not good! It was important that the Unexpectables hold on and fight back, just as it was necessary for the Unexpectables to stay prepared for anything in a pitched battle. That meant that Verika's heightened senses were a necessary asset for helping out the Horde. With her bow drawn and ready, fully alert, Verika was ready to fire upon any Inhabited that attempted taking less conventional methods of reaching them. No more would any Inhabited get the jump on them! Verika Versus the Inhospitable Inhabited - Keep Your Guard Up!: 1d100+30+17+7+10 148
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Mar 13, 2018 06:48
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    Cosmetic Items:   Name: Neebs Skill(s): Sales (+15) (on cooldown) Drinking (+20) Surgery (+15) (used this turn) HP: 2/3 Glory: 13 + 1 posting glory => 14 Ahhh Grimper. Grimper never changed. She could never decide if she loved him or if he was an OG incarnate. She wasn't the most keen on heights, and her warlord had just removed the safety railing from the side of the stairwell. She nervously shuffled along the remaining edge, with a steely grip on the wall (or, as steely a grip as one COULD have on a wall, anyhow). At least the Inhabited HAD been taken care of; that was an improvement from a few other times where Grimper had acted. Neebs had definitely had enough of these stairs by the time they reached the broadcast room. It looked like Sucy and Splut were going to handle the workers; so Neebs readied herself to be the first to charge into the room after that (and get off these stairs). The Inhabited inside moved as they always did...mechanically, predictably. Her surgery skillcore whispered that bodies themselves were predictable; the heart always in the same spot, doing the same work. Same with the kidneys and spleen. Never serious deviation, all Töan and Fröan were built basically the same way. Knowing that the Inhabited she had fought at the base of the tower seemed to ignore hits to the less critical organs; she focused her battlebrüm attacks (jabbing, this time, rather than swinging) on the heart, lungs, and face. The spine would have been ideal too, but it was pretty hard to hit when the Inhabited were facing you. Something seemed to have clicked this time, and she made a decent showing of Fighting Your Way Through: (1d100ro2e100)+13+15+2! 115. Maybe the Inhabited weren't so tough after all?
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Mar 13, 2018 10:57
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           Name: Stårn Skills: Siege Weapons +20, Butterfly Beastmaster, Timing +25 HP: 3 Glory: 13->14 Stårn gritted his teeth on top of his steed. The Inhabited were advancing on inexorably, their numbers were simply too great. They couldn't hold on forever. Then again, every Sieger worth their salt knew that no fortress, no defense was impregnable. Yes, that was just common sense. But the true Sieger also knew that wasn't the point anyway. All they had to do was hold long enough. "HOLD THE LINE!", he merely hollered as he set loose a volley from his portable önäger. Siege Team Six orders: Sucy and Gado have standing orders, the rest must either Hold On or Keep Their Guard Up Siege Weapons and Tiny Önäger to Hold On: 1d100+44=86
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Mar 13, 2018 20:41
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      /// Cosmetic Items: /// Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry {cooldown}, Listening(+30, using) Night Vision HP: 3/3 Glory: 16->17 Short on time this week, following orders and keeping Gabber's guard up. Gabber Listening Gallantly - Keep Your Guard Up!: 1d100+30+16+10+6 146 - Heavyweight Plate is -4 this round. The streak of high rolls continues!
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Mar 13, 2018 20:41
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     ||   Name: Trinh Skills: Taxidermy(+50, corrupted, using), Jumping(+15), Dodging(+25, cooldown) HP: 1/1 Glory: 17 -> 18 Ritual Glory: 1  Trinh's arms ached all over. It was messy work but the hides had to all come off today so they could be tanned in time. But did she have to carry them all with her? Now that she thought about it, she did not. She dumped the stack of rawhides for a mook to carry, and went to get more. Keep Your Guard Up: 1d500+17+2+50 168 Jvie fucked around with this message at 22:16 on Mar 13, 2018 |
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Mar 13, 2018 22:08
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   ; Name: Hat Skills: Millinery (+15), Backflips (+20) HP: 3/3 Equipment: Knightly Spear (+3), String-Slayer Armour (+2), Tuned Shield, Lucky Pearl; Glory: 40 -> 41 Ritual Glory: 1 The Inhabited were everywhere. The dozen volunteers could hear the rest of the Horde fighting valiantly through the few small windows in the tower's walls. Of course, the Inhabited made very little sound as they fought, giving the combat an eerie feel, the sounds of battle only half as intense. And then the realisation; every blood-curdling scream was one of the Horde's own, giving their life for this message to be sent. And still, the Inhabited were everywhere. It seemed the entirety of the non-essential Thumbscrew staff had taken the mask, and were spilling out of every door, desperate to stop the invaders from reaching the top. But the ThumbsCrew were ready. First Stronk, then Humbug, Waesh and Neebs ran up to the enemy with their weapons flying, grabbing the injured and tossing them crudely down the stairs. Hat quickly climbed up one of the pillars to get some height over the inpromptu arena, then backflipped into a crowd of Inhabited, her spear spinning in a deadly arc. Using Backflips to Fight Through The Inhabited: 1d100+41+20+3 128
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Mar 14, 2018 01:14
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   Cause HP 2/3 Skills: Archeology (cooldown), Balance (using) Glory14 -> 15 Cause's eyes, and his many pupils, were open. Danger could be coming from any direction, any detail could be the final warning of a lethal trap, no matter that they were supposedly unexpected, at least to this place. Every corner, every precipice, every hiding place felt the wrath of his drubsticks, but just yet none found purchase with the sinister threads of Sikatris. Cause was grateful to the former owner of his skillcore, the poor dancy bastard. Whatever direction danger came from, Cause would be ready. Keeping eyes open: 1d100+15+10+2 49 ...Probably.
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Mar 14, 2018 03:13
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     Skills:Spreading Disease (+15) [CD], Cursing, Patience(+25) HP: 3/3 Glory: 6 Grumbus let out a groan of frustration; these creeps just kept coming! Whatever Grimper was doing, he needed to hurry up! He dodged a series of blows from one of the Inhabited and waited patiently for an opportunity to counterattack. Patiently Keep Guard Up: 1d100+44 71 There it was! He swung his bag at the bag, catching the masked assailant with one of the horse hooves sticking out of it. The Inhabited went down like a sack of potatoes and Grumbus followed it up with some Underneath Style Curb Stomps.
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Mar 14, 2018 18:36
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   Name: Bamboo HP: 2/2 Glory: 42 + 1 (Action Glory) > 43 Skills: Virtuoso (+10) [COOLDOWN] Interior Decorating (+20) [ACTIVATE] -[Noostra]- Bamboo gathered the remaining Nailbound around her in a defensive alleyway position and pondered her situation. She had yet to discover Sikatris’s great trap, which meant that either she too had fallen deep into those woven webs, or, there wasn’t anything to find. If the former, it would mean her life (which frankly was just another day in this callous crusade); if the latter, then Bamboo would have failed yet again. Some Pawn she had turned out to be. “No, stop it”; she chided herself mentally. Self-pity wasn’t a luxury she can afford right now. Her ‘run’ had uncovered two find thus far; those weird chrysalis things, and more cut Slipknot Tango Lines. It was time to consolidate and wrap things up; from the sounds of things near the Thumbscrew, this battle would soon be at an end, one way or another. Bamboo stalked back into a nearby house where she knew there was one of those weird chrysalis things. Talking a common, rough burlap sack from the kitchen, she gingerly placed the weird chrysalis thing into the carrier (touching it as little as possible), and took it with her as she once again exited the building. Maybe Magda can make some sense of this weird chrysalis thing. Action > Bamboo loots a weird chrysalis thing. As for the remnants of the Slipknot Tango Lines, well, here is where she’d really have to take a ‘leap’. That puppet could not be operating by itself; one of those threads must be held by Sikatris, the master puppeteer and Spider Queen in the middle of this web. Sikatris had to be directing this battle from somewhere, and while those lines weren’t active anymore, one had to lead back to wherever the enemy Commander was hiding. If Bamboo could find her, perhaps she can still identify the nature of this Trap, and secure a safe way out of the city for The Horde. Laying a hand on a nearby bundle of Slipknot Tango Lines, she whispered to herself, “You’ve decorated your parlor with these strands, Sikatris, and for what it’s worth, you wear this obfuscation well. Perhaps you can share with me your insights and secrets over some tea and sweets, you know, girl talk, between two weavers. Welcome me into your parlor, Would-Be Queen of Threads, this little Pawn-Fly walks in willingly.” Action > Something Else – Bamboo deconstructs the ‘decorations’ to find Sikatris. She takes the Nailbound with her, and stays out of the Madmist:: 1d100+42+20 113 [1d100=51] The heck, Bamboo can’t seem to roll anything other than a 50-something.
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Mar 14, 2018 19:43
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 Added pictures to last update - next update either late tonight or tomorrow, so if you're waiting to post... don't? Because you might get shot by this saucy character!
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Mar 14, 2018 21:18
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Dog Kisser posted:
He does look ridiculously saucy.
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Mar 14, 2018 21:44
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CourValant posted:He does look ridiculously saucy. Fun fact! A lot of the Frömen have curly fun shoes because I hate drawing feet and am bad at them!
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Mar 14, 2018 21:51
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   \ Name: Gryph HP: 3/3 Glory: 21 => 22 Skill: Medicine (20), Wrestling (10), They kept coming. Grimper may have toasted the first wave, but the Inhabited just kept coming. In the confines of the Thumbscrew, Grimper's team had the edge: Qwag's size and strength, Grimper and the battle-hardened were a force much stronger than simple To. But Gryph knew that the sooner they could finish this, the faster they could rejoin the Horde. And so he lunged forward, looking to tip the odds and help force their way through the Inhabited. Fight Your Way Through: Wrestle the Inhabited!: 1d100+10+21 71
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Mar 14, 2018 22:47
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Dog Kisser posted:Fun fact! A lot of the Frömen have curly fun shoes because I hate drawing feet and am bad at them! I just thought it was because they're Djinns-cendants.  
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Mar 15, 2018 00:02
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CourValant posted:I just thought it was because they're Djinns-cendants. My next character, Djimmy, is going to have a Wishing skillcore.
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Mar 15, 2018 01:33
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super sweet best pal posted:My next character, Djimmy, is going to have a Wishing skillcore. Nice. Djimmy and Bamboo can go on a magic carpet ride.
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Mar 15, 2018 01:42
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CourValant posted:Nice. Djimmy and Bamboo can go on a magic carpet ride. Sure. After Bamboo gets back from the big farm upstate she's going to visit, where she can run around with the other Pawns and
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Mar 15, 2018 01:56
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Dog Kisser posted:
Toe to tip, that's a Bart.
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Mar 15, 2018 02:06
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 Humbug glanced to his left as he let his armlock drive an Inhabited over the bannister. He saw Waesh seizing another enemy roughly by both arms, twisting and turning, Grappling them towards the edge of the stairwell while laughing in an excessively jolly - and somewhat diabolical - manner. The Sleuth raised an eyebrow and reflected that there was probably a non-zero chance the crusty pirate was re-enacting, with relish, making someone walk the plank. Glancing to his right Humbug then saw Gryph duck under another foe's claws to Wrestle its lower half, lifting it up and tossing it forwards as it tore at his pink-and-white armored back, failing to realize it should've been aiming for a grip and not shielded vitals as it went over. A few steps ahead he saw that Skronk had seized hold of an Inhabited and with incredible ferocity Wrestled it bodily into the air above his head, its arms and legs finding no purchase, merely flailing mechanically, fruitlessly. The stodgy, square-jawed Tö held it still for a moment and roared his macho madness, before throwing the doomed creature at another and watching them both tumble and topple over the edge to disappear into the depths. Humbug grinned and marvelled at the happenstance of four of the Twelve suddenly and unconsciously deciding to coordinate the approach of simply sweeping the Inhabited off the stairs - if nothing else it felt good to have landed on the same wavelength. Meanwhile Neebs and Pythag moved in to fill the gaps between the wrestling wedge, shoving bristles and firing arrows into the back row of Inhabited with surgical precision. Hat, left with little room to maneuver, flipped in from whatever temporary perch she could ascend, diving with aplomb, her spear piercing through an Inhabited here and skewering another to the stairs there. Infiltrator she might be, but The Milliner knew how to wield a needle - be it big or small. Humbug nodded to himself as he turned to face the next mechanical-minded monstrosity. Things were going well, the Unexpectables in the melee hitting far above their weight grade. Though the Warlord would - hopefully - make the big difference, the Töan detective felt as if there was a chance the Thumbcrew could've pushed onwards unmolested, even on their own. A tiny chance perhaps, but a potential one nonetheless! I felt the regular ol' wrestlemania going on here all of a sudden deserved its own flavorpost! Also stats! The 7 current Thumbcrew fighters: 704 (+ Grimper?) Inhabited range: 686-983 (from -14 collective armor)
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Mar 15, 2018 02:13
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Dog Kisser posted:Sure. After Bamboo gets back from the big farm upstate she's going to visit, where she can run around with the other Pawns and  Meanie GM, bullying a poor orphan girl like Bamboo.
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Mar 15, 2018 02:52
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CourValant posted:
Maybe start rolling up another character just in case? Just saying! Sikatris is as mean and ruthless as they come, as Grimper would tell you.
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Mar 15, 2018 04:40
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Dog Kisser posted:Maybe start rolling up another character just in case? Welp, guess that's game for Bamboo. When the GM tells you to roll another toon, the message is fairly clear. Where's that reference sheet with the Mooks and Glory restart rules again? Front page? Dog Kisser posted:Just saying! Sikatris is as mean and ruthless as they come, as Grimper would tell you. Yeah, which is why my intention has always been for Bamboo to garrote her head off and claim the reward from Grimper. 
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Mar 15, 2018 05:27
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   Name: Somnö Skills: BIGNESS +20 (cooldown), Jumping +25 (using), Smashing +20 HP 3/3 Gear: Ball and Chain (+1), Drummers Garb XXXL (+2), Iron Shield, Armored Charger Cosmetics: Nail and Fist Token, A shitload of Jaune Nails Status: Captain's Orders (+10 to Keep Your Guard Up) Glory: 20 Ritual Glory: 1 Noggins said to keep our guard up, so that means I should jump, right? Ascend Above the Adequate: 1d100+20+10+25+3+1 86
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Mar 15, 2018 07:07
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       Name: Dack Skills: A̵̕t̷͢͡͏̡h̷͟͡͏ļ̵̶̧̀ę̷̢͡t̨̧͘i̵̕҉̴͡c̢͘͜͠s͏̨́̕ (Using), Ą̀͠c̵̢͡͠͏r̴̸̛͝͡o͘͢͜͡b͜à̵̡̕t̷̢̀͜i̸̸͞c͘͟s̀͜͟, Laughing +25 (used last round) Unused Skillcores: E̸n͜҉̛͡ģ̛̕i̡̕͟͡͠n̢͘͢e̶͝e̵̵̡͢ŗ̕͏í̶̧͞͡n҉̴̢́̕g̷̛͢ HP: 1 Glory: 26>27 The worse part about having the fight the swarm of Inhabited was that there simply wasn't enough room for a Wendigo to safely fight without risking hitting another horde member on the backswing. The improvisedbarricades helped channel the Inhabited, sure, but...wait. Whose said barricades couldn't be used on the offense? Grabbing hold of one of the barricades (a metal door turned on its side and propped up with various junk), Dack used it to bash the swarm back slightly, giving himself just enough room to toss it at around head height into the mass of Inhabited. Keep Your Guard Up: 1d500+50+26+1 181 ...which still leaves a few hundred or so more to go. Hopefully Grimper will finish up soon.
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Mar 15, 2018 22:13
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  Hat the Milliner sprang off her spear, flipping over the head of an encroaching Inhabited with the mastery pumping hot and golden out of her Core. So expert were her motions that her hat never even wobbled as she moved. Naturally! As she tumbled, she slammed another with her shield, rolling over it and using the motion to drive the edge of her blade into another damned mask. She felt them clutching and grabbing at her, but she was too fast for them. Fighting on a staircase was never ideal, but they were almost there. She slammed the haft of her weapon against the shield (unleashing a pleasantly musical clatter) and charged for the top! The others fared more or less the same, but they were getting tired. As if climbing in armor wasn’t hard enough, fighting while climbing was just too much. Hat encouraged them every step of the way as they approached the circular landing, but once they arrived they found that the Inhabited had made it up as well. Grimper, bored by the whole thing, stomped once, hard, on one of the staircases.
(Easy peasy. It turns out Grimper is just fine at destroying a bunch of peons - which you ought to recall should you want to challenge his rule!) --- The Unexpectables were bent, but unbroken! Forming a shield wall before the onslaught, they pulled their dead within their mass. With practiced ease, they removed the Skillcores of the fallen, so that the Horde - whatever remained of it when this was all over - would grow stronger from their loss. Then it was back to business…. The business of survival in the face of overwhelming odds! Snorkus the Pigilante wiped blood from his broken lip. His shield had broken in that last attack, but without it it would have been his bacon in the fire! But, as it stood, he was still alive. He whipped a Pigarang at a nearby Inhabited, the bladed edge sinking into its mask and dropping it. He watched in disgust, lip curling as it pawed weakly at the thing sticking out of its eye, looking more inconvenienced than agonised. Foul beasts! Have at you!
Ringo, bleeding from dozens of scrapes and shallow cuts, was relieved to see that Snorkus was still standing. The strange little man seemed to be reveling in his continued existence, against the odds, and he couldn't help a smile from spreading across his wide face. His third eye twitched, alerting him to another push. He swiveled all three eyes forward. The Inhabited, to be perfectly frank, were not a danger to him. In their ones and twos, he could slay them for hours without tiring… but he couldn't protect everyone. He’d just have to trust that they knew what they were doing.
Another white streak split the air, and Gelia the Scholar of Töan Culture went down, her life ended instantly by an unopposed shot from Lieutenant Knock. He shouts “Four!” over the din before vanishing behind cover on a rooftop, beyond the thick red mist that still clung to the air like a swarm of insects. (Well done! You pushed them back and took no damage! Except Gelia, who takes two damage from Tap Root and dies. However, since Knock was an optional objective, that’s all it does. The Inhabited are very badly hacked up now, and the presence of the mangled (but still fighting!) bodies slows the ability of the enemy to replace them. This may be a good chance to escape!) --- Noggins the Carpenter felt something release inside of her. She coughed and hacked, but it wasn't in her Cores - it wasn't Resonation, it was something else. She reflected on all her victories and failures over the past few weeks, all her turmoil and trauma. For better or for worse, she'd been changed by the events. She wasn't broken or improved by them, or at least it was too early to tell, but she had been changed. The old Noggins was dead, killed by the past, present and future of the Unexpectables. Her armor felt tight. She clawed for the straps as she felt her muscles straining, but then the pressure eased. The armor had been cleverly overlapped and jointed to allow for future growth. She felt tears sting her eye as she drew in ragged breaths. The others looked at her in mute concern, but she waved them off. She felt fine.  She felt just fine. (Noggins is the first to ascend! I mentioned it earlier, but having made your choice you now roll 2d100. Glory accrual continues as normal from this point on.) --- Portha the Rummager had a very strange idea. Her prototype weapon depended heavily on air pressure, both negative and positive… and Madmist was a very light vapor. She quickly modified her device and pointed it down an alley choked with Mist. Here goes nothing, she thought, and pulled the trigger. A choking red vortex swirled into the mouth of her ersatz vacuum. Portha coughed and wheezed - but the alley was cleared! An escape route! She cheered softly, her lungs raw from the red stuff. Had she taken the brunt of it? (Okay, here's a weird one. Portha, this is your situation: you've cleared the alley, freeing up one Spread Out action to be performed without fear of Madmist. However, in doing so you've done one of two things. Either you were hit, so roll Madmist as usual BUT your weapon’s pressure vessel contained the Madmist for future use… or you WEREN'T hit, but your weapon’s pressure vessel is overpressurized, and it’ll blow in 1d4 turns unless you eject it or toss it like a bomb. Either way, I strongly suggest against trying to use it as a weapon in the normal way right now! Regardless, you have the knowledge and combat experience to reproduce your crossbow, so don’t fret too much. This is just for fun and frolics!) --- Up high in the Thumbscrew, Spl-Craic led the way. There was a sealed door between him and the control room, but the others would leave that to him. He was, after all, a captain of Infiltrators for a reason. He knocked on the door, insistently but not as though he was trying to bash it down. It would sound strange to those inside, expecting an attack. Curiousity would rack them - what if someone outside needed help? These weren’t warriors, they were office workers. Technicians. They would need to know what was- “Hello?” A slit opened in the door at eye level, and Craic immediately began his act. The enemy was contained - for now - but they needed to escape, he’d cleared an evacuation route, etcetera, etcetera. The door creaked open and they drew him in, excited and afraid. “Craic! Are we glad to see you! We thought you’d died out there. Your niece was worried sick about you - don’t worry, she’s in stasis like the others.” Craic nodded absently, by now used to making it up as he went along… only he remembered her now. Shalla, his sister’s daughter. Splut didn’t have a niece, but Craic did. He smiled warmly, again tried to usher them out. Most went, but one held back. “Craic died. I saw him die. You’re not Craic.” Cr-Splut reeled back suddenly, his vision spider webbed with cracks as the Mask broke down the center. He recovered quickly, hefting his hammer.
 He wasn’t altogether suprised when they joined back up perfectly, but he was surprised to see that the mask itself looked different now. Who would he be when he put it on next, he wondered? (Awkward shutdown averted by some judicous rear end-kicking. The Lifemask broke because the Craic identity was revealed, but it’s all better now. Splut, on the other hand, is a little disoriented. Well, a lot disoriented. Roll twice next turn and choose the worse roll - bonuses and whatnot apply to both, don’t worry. More to come in bit…) --- Bamboo the Virtuoso collected the Strange Chrysalis and hoisted it. It did not explode or spawn some foul beast to tear her face off, as she quietly feared. Instead, it just felt like a large, flexible hot water bottle, a figure jostling about off-balance inside of it. She couldn't see them through the darkly translucent membrane, but it was flexible enough that she could press a hand against and feel hidden contours. It was unpleasantly like some soft, giant fruit. Though it was nearly a quarter of her weight, she hoisted it easily - it might come in handy later.  Next she moved onto the experimental part of her plan. Logically, Sikatris had a connection through these strands of yarn. That's how she'd controlled the puppet, clearly. When the puppet had gone down, the lines had mostly gone slack - but some sort of connection had to remain. She picked one up and thought a message through it. quote:“You’ve decorated your parlor with these strands, Sikatris, and for what it’s worth, you wear this obfuscation well. Perhaps you can share with me your insights and secrets over some tea and sweets, you know, girl talk, between two weavers. Welcome me into your parlor, Would-Be Queen of Threads, this little Pawn-Fly walks in willingly.” Then nothing continued to happen. She sighed in annoyance - and had the rest of her breath forced out of her as the thread tightened and yanked her off her feet. Others wove into it, pulling it tighter and drawing her rapidly away from her dumbfounded crew of Nailbound. She called out for them but couldn't get a word on edgewise as she was dragged across the cobbles with startling rapidity. The massive tower looming above grew smaller as she was dragged further away, and through a haze of blood she suddenly realized she was being dragged out of the city! The thread pulled her up and over the wall, dropping her against the stiff, cold grass on the other side with a shock that knocked her unconscious. When she came to, she felt broken and disoriented. She groaned in the tall grass, certain her ribs - and certainly one leg - was broken. But she also wasn't dead. She rolled over, pulling off now-slack strands weakly… and saw Commander Sikatris watching her, the hat discarded in the grass beside her as she sat cross-legged. She smiled and stood as she saw Bamboo stir, walking over to look over her. She extended a hand with fingers as long as the Virtuoso’s arms. When Bamboo hesitated, she shrugged and gestured in the air with one hand, making a gentle tugging motion. The prone Unexpectable instantly felt pressure surrounding her limbs and she was lifted - gently - up to the Commander's eye level. She was… impressive.  She inclined her head towards the city and spoke melodiously. “So. Grimper has come for the Thumbscrew, as expected. He always has to do things the hard way.” She stayed silent for a long time afterwards as Bamboo shivered in the chill breeze. Then she glanced back at her with her two Monsterist's eyes. “So. What did you want to talk about, little weaver?” (She seems receptive to talking, but she's also insane and murderous. You might want to try to distract her and escape? Or maybe you get her talking, knowing full well she'll kill you the instant you give her the excuse, in an attempt to somehow leave a message with crucial info behind for your compatriots?) --- Qwag the Risk Assessor assessed the situation, under a fair bit of strain with Grimper watching her like a particularly impatient hawk. There WAS something here, something hidden, a pattern or the absence of a pattern in the way the technicians had laid out their things. Why was that there, when it would have been more sensible to put it there? Why were there no footprints past this point in the floor? Why… she acted instinctively
Her arm aching from the strain, Qwāg gave a sharp tug, yanking the trap in precisely the wrong direction and disarming it. If they'd blundered into Sikatris’ web, they would have first cut those unlucky enough to touch them, then lashed out at the others. As it stood though, they were a harmless bundle of twine. Qwāg saluted, her heart thudding in her ears. (Coulda been worse! Well done.) --- Jö the Butcher and Snödis the Poet shared a strangely touching exploration of the toy store. The walls were red and oozing with (they hoped) inert condensation, but the toys were in decent condition for the moment. Mostly wooden dolls and toy horses, adorable plush Slinkers and even keychains of the Thumbscrew Relay itself. The store was empty of enemies or civilians and appeared to have been sealed well enough from the outside that the air wasn’t cloudy. Snödis sighed in relief and marvelled at all the toys on display. But mostly she had her eyes on the figurines of the Commanders. She pointed at them excitedly and Jö walked about to find a full set of them.
 With no better plan in mind, she and Jö jammed them in a bag and went back outside. As childish as it might be, the rank and file of the Horde had precious little information about the enemy forces or their capabilities - and either Grimper didn’t either or he wasn’t willing to share. This sack of toys represented a fair bit of intelligence for the Horde, and they needed to get back there unscathed. But with Jö infected with Rampant Monsterism, getting back would be a risky proposition - if he so much as breathed in another lungful of the stuff, it could kill him, or worse. (No one’s stopping you from robbing toy stores, it seems! You get a full set, though a full examination of them will have to wait for a less incredibly inappropriate time! How in the hell are you going to get back without either dying or Wendigoing?) --- With the workers out of the way, Grimper and the Twelve took a quick breather to examine their surroundings. The Thumbscrew Control Centre maintained the aesthetic they saw downstairs and as they climbed, with clean, sweeping lines that reminded one eerily of the chair chamber in Fostis. Here and there were consoles with dials and glowing readouts displaying numbers that changed constantly and according to some arcane purpose. In the center of the room was a pillar approximately Grimper's height covered in a complex grid of knobs. Many - but not all - turned constantly, and when they did tiny lights on their tips flickered in time with the movement. Ah, thumbscrews - screws you turn with your thumb - not ‘thumbscrews’, the torture instrument. The felt momentarily silly for worrying that some great sacrifice would be required to fire up the Relay, but given their prior experiences with strange old technology it was better to assume the worst! The Warlord placed a hand flat upon a bare surface and smiled. “Yes, my Horde, this is the heart of the operation. A communication device powerful enough to cross the world entire, powerful enough to cut through the very air in the blink of an eye. With some adjustments, we can speak to the Regency Council about our findings in Nagel and the surrounding area, tell them what the Frömen have unleashed. We’ll be heroes, my Unexpectables.” He reached out and turned a knob - one of the surrounding consoles made a soft ‘ping’ sound. He frowned, then turned another, then pointed at six of his subordinates at random. “You, you, you four - man the consoles. Do what I tell you, when I tell you.” They leapt to do so. The others stood by the door - the scraping, dragging sounds of broken Inhabited coming for them could be heard from below. They’d need to protect Grimper and the others so that the signal could be sent out. And then, they supposed, they’d have to trust that the Warlord’s trump card (well, trump Nail) would provide enough of a distraction that they could all get the hell out of here! Sucy had given up on the ring on their way up here, but as the Warlord fiddled with the controls she couldn’t help looking. The rhythmic thrumming and blinding ‘light’ of the Thumbscrew had died away, replaced with a sort of patient hum. She could see the Grimper-shape rotating and flexing in its uncanny way, only now she saw letters curling out of him and twisting into shapes that fed into the heart of the machine. This is what she saw. TESTING TESTING CHECK ONE TWO THREE - WARLORD GRIMPER BREAKER-09 CONVEYING @ NOOSTRA THUMBSCREW PLEASE ADVISE... It hurt her head to watch it, so she snatched the ring back off. Grimper looked frustrated - he needed those controls manned! (Tactical message-sending action! If this goes well, next turn will be the message - and then you can all get the hell out of here! If not, he’ll have to try again, which means more will die defending you. No pressure!)  Bamboo’s Dangerous Adventure Jamboree [No Banner] So, this is an interesting situation. Have any brilliant plans? I sure don’t. The Nailbound are out there somewhere, waiting for commands.
Alright, you have some decent intelligence - now you need to get it back.
Guard Grimper while he sends the message. Nothing else matters.
It’s going well, actually! The enemy is on the back foot, and the Horde is kicking their asses while they’re back there!
So… you maybe have a very pressurized tank of Madmist! You want to do something about that?
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 15:40 on Mar 16, 2018 |
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Mar 16, 2018 03:25
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   COSMETIC ITEMS: Name: Snorkus Skills: Pigilante Justice+10, Gazing+10 (using), Rolling+25 (cooldown) Item Cooldowns: Utility "Belt" (available next downtime) HP: 1/1 Glory: 6 -> 7 Notes: Vile Mechanism Survivor Snorkus whirled in his tracks, a grim frown spreading across his face. Another senseless death, un-avenged - but not for long. "Unexpectables! That vile sniper cannot be allowed to boar holes through our brave compatriots any longer! Hold the masked ones off - but those bold few who would help me roast this swine, follow my lead!" The next time Knock pokes his head out of hiding to line up another shot, his eyes will meet the enraged (and fashionably masked) gaze of a Pigilante. Also a Pigarang, more pertinently. Down With Knock!: 1d100+7+10+1 92 Podima fucked around with this message at 05:21 on Mar 16, 2018 |
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Mar 16, 2018 03:50
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    (d6+3)Gado!!! Skill: Digging (+35 avaliable next turn), Climbing (+10), HP: 2/2 Glory: 8->9 Mutation Countdown: [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] Gado was surprised with how accustomed he was becoming to the ebb and flow of the monsterism trying to run rampant through his body. Sure he was wracked with terrible pain each time he took a dose, but the turn around seemed to be getting shorter, he'd have to have a chat with Zapanda about that once this scuffle was over. As he ponders his fate, Gado's arms are pumping mechanically the Bone Tö Pick flailing through the inhabited ranks. The poor creatures weren't exactly a challenge in these numbers and it was hard for the digger to really exert his all in the task. quote:Thumbscrew Action: Keep your guard up 58
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Mar 16, 2018 04:00
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Dog Kisser posted:“So. What did you want to talk about, little weaver?”     
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Mar 16, 2018 06:38
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Name: Verika HP: 2/2 Skills: Perception +30 (cooling), Sniping +15 (active), Smithing +55 Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Iron Shield, Arrow Flatpack, Ornate Bowharp (+2), Ruddy Charger, Blixthäst (+5) Cosmetics: Nail and Fist Token, Agenou's Cape Sash, Sikatris Scarf, Basker Cloak, Slightly-Cracked Telescope, Jaune's Broken Nails Glory: 18 -> 19 Ritual Chits: 2 (artwork bonus) Noostra (Part 10): Verika flinched and Blixthäst nearly spooked when Gelia suddenly lurched in place and couldn't move, pierced through to the ground as she was by an unholy crossbow lance fired from above. The look on the red historian's face was a sick blend of pain, confusion, and horror as she was drained of her vital fluids in an instant. The blossom on the end of the Tap Root flourished blue this time. Gelia had been one of the good ones - no more. That's it, Verika decided. This sniper "Knock the Lieutenant" had been lucky thus far but he was going to pay for the hordemembers he'd killed with his foul Old Guys weaponry. If there's going to be a showdown of shots, then Verika will always be game for a match in marksmanship! She drew aim on the fiendish Fröman with her Ornate Bowharp and let the arrows sing for her once again. Verika Versus Knock the Arbalist - Snipe that Sneaky Sniper 2: A Crack Shot Boogaloo!: 1d100+18+15+7 101 (111 with orders)
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Mar 16, 2018 07:45
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Cause HP 2/3 Skills: Archeology (using), Balance (cooldown) Glory15->16 Oh good. The toughest guy in the room was busy having a chat with command, leaving his minions to fight the mooks charging adequately towards them. But fighting those under the control of strange magics had been the subject of the only second year class Cause had aced, in a moral, if not an actual sense, and these guys, aggressively mediocre though they were, matched the puppeteer archetype of control. The key was to think about cutting strings as you smacked them! Fighting in the thumbscrew!: 1d100+16+10+2 72
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Mar 16, 2018 09:12
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[quote="super sweet best pal" post="482099920"]   Name: Portha Skills: Rummaging (in use), Cleaning, Imagining HP: 3/3 Glory: 16 Portha looked on in horror as the hydraulics pumped madmist into the gun. [i]No, this was wrong *cough* the exact opposite *cough* the mist was choking! Madmist roll: 1d10 10 Portha felt sick but that was about it. Well, at least the mist was contained for now, but she'd need protection if she wanted to shoot it again, or a different bow entirely. Fortunately there was a jerk running around with both. Portha couldn't risk firing the crossbow right now, so the only option was her classic Plan B: grab anything she could find and just throw it at him. Throw random garbage at Knock: 1d100+26 62
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Mar 16, 2018 09:13
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Name: Waesh Skills: Piracy +20, Grappling HP: 3/3 Glory: 8 -> 9 Ohhhhhh, THAT'S why they call it a thumbscrew! A whole lot less threating than they had been expecting! Waesh figured he wasn't the best at all this fiddly control nonsense and better stick to what he does best. Now, defending a stairwell or ladder or hatch or hallway is classic piracy! Why, he could remember back when he served on the Maidtö's Delight under Captain Falamar, his ol' pal Rattling Shoaks flattened five men in a single shot of his blunderböss! Ah, poor Shoaks, lost him eventually when a great sea butterfly picked him clean up and soared off, right in the middle of a storm! Keeping my Guard Up, pirate style: 1d100+20+9+11 81
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Mar 16, 2018 14:14
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    HP:3/3 Glory:46 Bluffing +20 (Using) Charm +25 (Cooldown) Camouflage +10 Ritual Glory:0 Infiltrator Captain Urgh. That redefined 'Splitting headache', and not in any good way. He blinked, blearily, and tried to focus: There was a mission to complete, and it wasn't going to wait for him to pull himself together. He cleaned the hammer on Fröman garb as he took stock. Oh, Craic, Craic... He clamped down on that, hard. Craic was gone, had apparently died a while back, had genuinely existed unless the death was also an implanted memory. He had been a Fröman hero, a beloved champion to their soldiery, which mean that the ruddy bastard was fully culpable, and deserved his fate, deserved the ignominies of the many treacheries performed in his name during his time as Splut's thrall. He was no brother or friend, just another great bluff, another great scam to gull the enemy, to pay them back for their unforgivable crime. It was time to put down the Craic-mask forever, and never look back, whoever the new persona might be. Right now, that mask needed putting away entirely, as the Warlord gave his orders. "You heard the Warlord, Infiltrators! Tö the Consoles, or defend those who do on your own initiative." He winced, still distracted by the headache, not trusting himself to manage fine manipulations right now. He srode purposely towards the door, using every iota of his primary skillcore to make it look like he was fully in control, fully fit and entirely unharmed,all the while taking that pain and using it to wildly smash at the Inhabited as they tried to break through. Bluff to seem entirely fine and unimpeded whilst hammering the Inhabited (roll twice take lowest): 2#1d100+69 108
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Mar 16, 2018 14:25
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Potrait:      Naim: Mason Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin' +15 Mason MasonryMasonFlailing +25 HeeP: Mason Mason Mason Glury: Masonx7 -> 8 Mason just keeps chugging along! Hootin' and Hollerin' through to Oh Excellent There's More Of Them: 1d100+22 80 +5 for reedblade = 85
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Mar 16, 2018 15:42
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      Extra Skillcores: Fashion +25, Secretly Murdering Innocents HP: 3/3 (3 wire) Glory: 26-27 Ignomity: -9 Ritual Glory: 1 Wow! Together they had managed to score the entire set! The other Little Monsters at her orphanage were going to be so jelou... Wait, what was she doing? She looked around, madmist creeping around every corner. Toystore looted of valuable child-friendly intelligence and a nailbound Frö minutes away from turning. Far, far from the rest of the Unexpectables and with an army of Inhabited filling every street between them. On the face of it, things weren't going to well for them. She shrugged, tugging at her memories to figure out where her little episode had left her this time. She had ordered Jö along because of his knowledge of Noostra, and though they had ended up nowhere near where she had hoped perhaps it was all for the better. Now all she needed was somewhere safe-enough for what was bound to happen next. An idea struck her, perhaps there was a way to kill two of her most pressing börds with one stone. "Uh, Jö, was it? Yes. There was one other place I wanted to visit before we got back to the caravan. The local Prison." She allowed herself to blush and sigh. A ruse, or genuine emotion? "My... my boyfriend got into some trouble a while ago, they locked him up in Nägel. That's why I was in Fostis you see... I was going to visit him. But they shipped him out, and I haven't been this far into Frö before and I honestly don't know where else he could have ended up. He's not a bad guy, maybe a little rough around the edges. Monsterist, like me. I just wanted to see him again... tell him we have a Bäbï now. I'm sorry, I know this is a lot to just pour on you, things have been crazy lately... do you think we could go there? Just to see? Maybe the warden knows where they sent him... maybe he's right there right now. I can't in good conscience just go back without checking... " -- After her spiel, she set of down the roads and alleyways, the infected nailbound her only guide. She knew it was imperative to keep the charade up for just a little while longer, because she couldn't afford to have any extra stresses on Jö's system with his ascendancy already so close at hand lest it get out of control. Not that her charade was entierly untruthful, she Knew Tö-Päin had been shipped away and she DID have a Bäbï, even if it wasn't technically his. Or hers. Or even here, at the moment. Safe in the care of Magda back by the wagons. She swiftly hid her bow from view, looking as innocent as can be as Jö turned towards her to explain some important historical piece of Frö architecture that they had just passed. Statues of long dead commanders, advances in reversed-engineered technology of which they were so proud. She stifled a yawn and mouthed an "mhhmm" at him, suddenly distracting him by pointing in the opposite direction and asking about whatever was over there, only to fire of another volley from her Bow-Harp, hoping to take out any inhabited before they noticed their small group. Secretly Murdering Innocents to Murder Secretly, whilst appearing Innocent: 1d100+26+10-9 +3 (weapon) = 66 --- Neötype Orders: Jö; Take me to Prison! The Rest: N/A
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Mar 16, 2018 15:54
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   Squad: Infiltration Skill: Sleuthing +20 (), Watching +20 (), Submission Holds (Used). HP: 2/3 Glory: 8----> 9 "Well done, Qwäg!" As he met a few of the once-timid Töwoman's eyes Humbug gave an appreciative nod in the direction of the once-hidden bundle of inert thread. Not everyone could appreciate quite how much damage those strings could've wrought on the group, but Humbug knew something of the pain the wendigo's expert Assessment had spared them. It was something to give anyone warm thanks for, be they wendigo or not! Turning to the beeping, blinking machinery that was so like, but unlike, the strange machinery of the Old Guys, the Sleuth frowned outwardly at the challenge of manipulating them, while mentally salivating on the inside. He could hardly believe they were here at last, right in the middle of the beating heart of Frö's information central - a central that now had its defenses and defenders down! If Humbug could tap into the network in the way Sucy's Ring seemed to allow - the way Grimper and Sikatris had Messaged him - what would he learn? There was an itching sensation in the back of his mind that told him he'd be the most giant of fools to waste this opportunity. Looking back to Qwäg, the Sleuth spoke up, hoping to direct her considerable brutal prowess back to where they had so often fit her of late - to a battle. "Look, I know you're probably eager to take some of these knobs for a spin, but would you consider lopping limbs off of the remaining Inhabited wretches again? I am going to have to do a thing and why, I think-- Hum. I... think... humm." He paused, blinking in surprise, as if the noir record track of his mind had just skipped, not once, but twice. Humming deeply to himself, he eyed the branded wendigo, cocking his head sideways and looking thoughtful. "Nevermind, I'm a silly bugger. Could you hold on a sec, and then follow me over to Splut?" Walking between all the technological gee-gaws until he came to a large window overlooking the city, the Sleuth pressed his face up to it, angling to get a good viewing angle at the mass melee down below - ant-like figures scurrying all over, Tö and Frö, fighting, brawling, dying, with disheaterning many white-shaped shapes pouring in from all across the city. Humming deeply, unhappily, the detective banged the window with one hand. "Bah! Look at them, down there! Warlord Grimper! Those crippled Inhabited left in the Thumbscrew are hardly going to put a dent in us, so how about you help our hordemates below? I mean, how many incoming Inhabited couldn't you fry from on high WHILE sending your message? Be a hero while you're being a hero, eh? Hah! More like an artillery piece!" he said, grinning and tapping his nose - that expression, meaning hitting the nail on its head - and hoping the Warlord would let himself get distracted into helping the Unexpectables. That would, after all, have him looking away from the screws being twirled and the people spinning them. Grinning cheerfully at the Warlord, the detective gestured for Qwäg to follow and hurried over to the stairwell where Splut had taken up position, as if moving to join him there, but when he arrived he grabbed his old acquaintance by the shoulder and spun him around. "Splut. Hear me out - I think we could use the Mask for gathering intel. I know - it kinda broke. Don't care, heck, this might break it more. Could use it anyhow," he stated urgently, before turning to gesture at Sucy and yelling for her to come over. "Sucy! Please hear me out. Accessing the - hum - 'messages' going through this place using screws and the Ring isn't going to be easy, but it could bear fruit and if we use the Ring and the Mask together, maybe that will do a better job of translating things. Can Ohgee tech fool security measures as well as people? Maybe. I hope. Being more Frömen-like when delving into a Frömen-built network probably can't hurt." The detective quivered with excitement and stress as Qwäg provided the small group shade and cover from Grimper. He held up his hands and made a frustrated gesture at the equipment surrounding the group. "Look, we have an entire Frömen long-distance comms network at our fingers and I'd rather chop the oldsdamned things off than be forced to do nothing but twiddle with them. We can do more. We can look for intel. The Queen's Relic! - The Inhabited! - Weaponized Madmist! - A Wendigo Cure! - or just plain old tactical information that'll Help Us Survive, because oldies know Grimp ain't helping much. If using the Artifacts can get us good intel on even just one topic like that before Grimper finishes his message home, maybe this bastard of a mission will have been more worth the sacrifices." He sighed, shaking off some of his excitement, and shed his hat with it, running a blood-stained hand through strands of his hair dark cobalt hair, before looking awkwardly up at the figure looming above them. "Hum... mind that I'm biased and while this is right up my alley, it's a pretty big alley. More a main thoroughfare - like The Queen's Street. I don't think I'll be able to do much on my own, there's too much ground to cover, and we got twiddling to do that Grimper won't let us get away with not doing - and friends that're dying to give us this shot. If I had to rely on just one person to do the job and do it fast... then there's someone I know I can't hold a candle to. Qwäg, if you're willing, I think you could do a fine job of digging up dirt - in a non-Gado metaphorical sense. You certainly have skin in the game for one of the Big Questions, no? I'd trust you to work your rear end off on that grounds alone." Humbug smiled. He'd met - on good and bad terms both - branded wendigoes in the slum of Old Tö-Town, but Qwäg was among the stabler he'd seen. Maybe she'd want to stay the way she was, and walk the knife's edge of being a Branded Wendigo - being a Risker seemd a good fit - but he gave her decent odds of being at least half interested in supproting Gado and Zapanda's search for a Cure. "How about it, Risk Amputator? You willing to act Infiltrator for a day while the rest of us cover for you? We can have the Cap'n here deputize you," he said with an undertone of cheer, nudging Splut with an elbow. Humbug tries to set up decent odds for Something Else and also suggests to Warlord Grimper that he aid the Unexpectables down below. No sir, nothing's wrong just help our buddies down below while we twiddle our thumbs ever harder to send off your message perfectly in a perfect way, sir yessir.
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Mar 16, 2018 21:55
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   Cosmetics:  Skill 2: Amputation+15 Skill 3: Spinning+30 HP: 1/1 Glory 25 Qwäg blinked at Humbug, then blinked a few additional eyes for good measure. "Th̶e̡ ͡rįsk̛ of įnt͜ȩrf̵a͠cin̸g̨ ̨ǪG͜ s͏yst̛ems͜ ͟wi͜t͢h m̛y͟ ̕fragmenta̡ry̢ ͞o̡nes ̵is͞..̴.şub̕stant͞i͞a̵l," she murmured out of one corner of her maw. "Los͠s ̴t͜o the ͘in̴filtr̴ąti͜o̵n̶ c͠ap̸ac̡it҉y of tḩe͝ ̵H͟or̡de̛ ̷sho̷u̧l͟d̢ th̷e̷ artif͡acts̀ b͡e̛ com͝p̴ro̵mísȩd.͞..͠co͘nsi͢de̶r҉a҉b̕le. W̸i͝l҉lin͡g͡ to͝ t̛r̀y҉." She glanced from the Thumscrew controls over to Splut, and does her scaly hide tinge just a bit purple beneath the eyes as she does so? "N̵ee͟d ͏y̸our͝ a͝pprov́al͠ ͞fơr̶ i҉n̛tra͞m̨ur҉a̷l̕ o͢pe͜r͟a͘t҉io͞ns,̵ ͠C͢a̸p͞ţa͞in ͢Sp̡l̕u͘t͞. ̴Odd͢s͜ are g̵o̡od͞ w͜e̸ may ̷c̢om̡p̧el ̴t̀his̸ ̀t͢h̵ing ţo ͘sing̵i̕n͝g, ̵a͏nḑ I̧'͝m co̵nfi̛d͢e̷ńt ̶I̸ ca̴n̨ pre͏s͞e̡nt͞ t͟h̢e ̧ņeçes̶sit̛y̵ ̶t̨o͝ ͟t͘h̸e͝--" A wriggle of a tendril toward Grimper. "Bu͞t́ sho̡uld limįt͟ a̧d̨d͟iti̴on̴aļ ͏int̶e̴l͟ to ̷a sin͘gle͝ ͝pa̛c͟ket i̵f̴ po͘s͝s̷ib͞l̀e͜. ̀N̕oţ i̵nter̷est͟e͠d͢ ͞in p͞et ̢caus͢es̷ ̧o̡ve͟r ma͏x̀imi͟z̨in͠ģ H͞o̷rdé ͏Súcćes͏s..̶.͘S̵e͞n̡s҉i̛bly̢ shoul̷d foc͝ưs ͘on̸ pe͘e̸l̶i͠ng̕ ̧dat̡a ͏fr̡om en͏émy͏ ̛st͝r͠ate̷gi͠c̴ la͢yeŗ.̢.̵.tr̛oop mo̸v̸e҉m̵e͘n͡ts̢,̧ ҉lo̶gist́ics͘,͞ in̴te͘l of̷ t͝ha̢t ͞s͏oŗt̛...B̨ut ope̵n t҉o͡ m͠or͏e̶ d͠ar͠ing su͏g҉g̡est͘io̧ns̨?"
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Mar 16, 2018 22:28
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| # ? Apr 29, 2024 03:35 |
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He handed across the mask without a second thought: It was principally a tool and would be of no use against the Inhabited he was fighting. If it could be used to greater benefit their operations and ensure their success, then to fail to hand it over and let it be unused was a dereliction of duty. Sotto voce, as he did so, "If you believe there is benefit to be had from this, without compromising our primary objective, then permission granted. A target of opportunity, if you will."
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Mar 17, 2018 00:06
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