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Does he have anything Foresty?
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Jul 14, 2022 04:39
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Swedish Thaumocracy posted:
Might be metagaming, but this is Khat. Basically similar effects as coca leaves, might be mildly useful for staying alert if we need to but it also makes you a Chatty Cathy. Swedish Thaumocracy posted:
The crystals are Selenite, which woo people claim:
 Regardless, who knows. Might help us commune with our inner cow. Get the leaves, get a loving explanation on the crystals or skip them Volmarias fucked around with this message at 04:54 on Jul 14, 2022 |
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Jul 14, 2022 04:51
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Snort the crystals IronironScrpitscript This is a doctor
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Jul 14, 2022 06:29
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D FGJK Hey mister inebriation expert. Got anything that will make our rations taste better?
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Aug 26, 2022 06:59
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So, how bout that trouble on the rim?
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Oct 23, 2022 03:27
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Don't we have some murder hornets to murder?
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Oct 23, 2022 17:49
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Volmarias posted:So, how bout that trouble on the rim? Outrail posted:Don't we have some murder hornets to murder? Please watch this motivational religious play whilst we get the Kobolds sorted. Do not fear, murderhornetmurdersimulator will return. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1si6M-vDEzI
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Oct 27, 2022 10:24
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Trouble on the Rim, Book 2, Chapter 9 Attack on Whale The Fourteenth of December, 347 A.R. City of Whale Part 10: Interlude - Reminiscing. You have but a fuzzy recollection of the next few hours. Something about the scents lingering in the fabric of the tent making you dizzy, or perhaps it was something you ate? Your purse is definitely lighter than before, but all the receipts check out against your expanded inventory, even if you can't really explain the reasoning behind every purchase. An oversized pillow, a barrel of lettuce, a small pile of soil used for gardening... well, your spontaneous purchases did not break the bank and you have the items you actually set out to get, so no real harm done. Except the day has come and gone and your place in line was lost, the clerkic you were supposed to meet up with having gone home for the night, or left his usual spot at any rate. You suppose even the clerkgy of Quackeen have to eat at some point. It might even be a commandment for all you know, condiment. Hahaha. Wait, what were you doing? You look at your hands for a minute too long, the colours are sharper, the air fuzzier. Wasps. Yes. Well, Vespids. You were preparing for what might be the largest, most dangerous fight of your life and career. The city was going to War against the monsters. More so that usual. You think it is early in the morning the day before the attack. You had so much planned but getting up at all is difficult to justify what with the pillow being so comfortable. You yawn and grasp an owlbearcub closer. How did they get out? It looks like the other two are sleeping in the corner, a pile of papaya scraps littered all around your office like blood on a crime scene. But they are content, well fed and slumbering. Not really a problem then, for now.  Despite yourself you get up and wash your face in a basin (you were also smeared with papaya) and pick some lettuce out of your beard. Looking in the mirror (when did you get a mirror?) you do a double take when you see someone else stare back, someone familiar who sighs and shakes their head, but you blink and oh, it was only you.  Deciding that some fresh air might do you good you step out onto the gravel path connecting the various buildings of [ISTEC] HQ, looking out over what little view of the city your newly installed fence offers you, mostly the facade of the factory across the street. Some street lights, bathing the thoroughfare in flickering yellow. Far above the smoke filled sky the stars dance, filling the space between the Rim of the Wall that surrounds all of existence. The comforting embrace of the old Emperor still protecting the world even all these years later. A barrier of impossible size, that can never be breached. Taller than any mountainhome. Visible from everywhere that isn't underground or inside, though you are sure it would be if it could, if that makes sense.  Now that you think about it, you are but a few days away from the beginning of the end of the year celebrations that erupt Rimwide annually. Perhaps that is why this counter attack feels rushed. The Lord of Whale, whoever he is, does not want to lose face by having the Imperial Holy Days ruined by an angry swarm of anomalous bees. Not that he could wait even if circumstances were different. Though monsters probe the cities defences constantly, massed and coordinated attacks are rarer in your very limited experience. Perhaps it is different this close to The Forest? Whales Walls are pretty thick and sturdy, and from what you've seen on maps of the city (such as the one on the wall of your office) it looks to be but one layer of several, securing the city from threats without. With you and yours being the final, more mobile layer of protection. The stalwart, proactive, defenders of society. That's what the brochures say anyway. See the world, earn wealth and do your duty. Make your Gods and families proud. Though it might feel like years or even a lifetime at this point, you know it was but a scant few months ago that those words were nothing but a promise of paper, an idle dream to occupy your thoughts during the off hours of accountancy, a job you performed like clockwork until the coil sprang lose of its bindings and collapsed your stability into chaos, uncertainty and war. Well, war might be a bit of an exaggeration, at least up until a few days ago. But your time ever since you were forced from your home has certainly been interesting, and bloody. You've changed, too. In more ways than should strictly be possible. You've gained friends and lost others, you've even talked to the Gods themselves! Though that is not strictly speaking a rarity, they are rather active in the affairs of the world after all, but to be in contact with them so often without being directly employed by the church or in their service? Well, you should count yourself lucky to be so blessed. Ah, but the stars are fading now with dawn at hand. Smog colours the sky a burnt ombre and you hear the morning gulls screech from everywhere, along the din of horse drawn carriages delivering goods to store-fronts or marketplaces and the people's of Whale waking for work. Your headache returns with the morning light, and it is only now that it is back that you realize it had been absent. So it goes. You really should get that geas sorted, you suppose, but that will have to wait. Another day awaits, and then? You go to war.
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Nov 14, 2022 18:01
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Nov 15, 2022 07:15
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Beautiful. So enough drugs can remove the geas. It really is all in our head. Can we remove the curse with therapy?
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Nov 20, 2022 21:20
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I mean we will powered ourselves into some kind of frankendwarf -- we could probably willpower ourselves out of a geas.
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Nov 20, 2022 22:12
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What if we give ourselves another geas to not? Two curses cancel each other out, right?
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Nov 20, 2022 23:13
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Outrail posted:What if we give ourselves another geas to not? Two curses cancel each other out, right? I don't think they'll cancel each other out, so much as tear is in half each tugging at a side. 
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Nov 21, 2022 03:02
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Volmarias posted:I don't think they'll cancel each other out, so much as tear is in half each tugging at a side. What about a geas to not be affected by the other geas? No. Geas in general are just bad 
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Nov 21, 2022 03:29
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We still rimming here? Still going to do a rim job?
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Jan 8, 2023 00:09
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Trouble on the Rim - Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
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Jan 8, 2023 03:38
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Trouble on the Rim, Book 2, Chapter 9 Attack on Whale The Fourteenth of December, 347 A.R. City of Whale Part 11: Another day... Another day... that you don't have, you realize as your memory returns in pieces and you see your recruits waving to you from the training grounds. The attack is happening later today, not tomorrow. You stumble with the shock but manage to catch yourself before any embarrassing tumble, before heading to the armoury to suit up. Your own armoury! Though admittedly sparse at the moment, only really stocked with training gear as everything actually useful has already been claimed and is currently worn and wielded by your team, it is still a joyous feeling for your dwarrov heart to own a stockpile that could, one day, potentially be filled with wonders and mastercrafted arms and armour. Strapping on some basic leathers and fetching your cousinself axe from its new place of honour, doing so you notice an armourstand that you do not remember buying. Official looking paperwork hangs from a string surrounding the neck, placed over a curious jar. "Dear Mr. Ironironscriptscript. We would once again like to thank you for your patronage and discretion. For our part, we are quiet confident in the continued value of our partnership even despite the difficulties endured in the wake of our previous contract. As agreed upon, please find enclosed a full suit of prototype Vespid chitin scale mail, patent pending, brandname as of yet determined, fit to the specifications provided by your employee. May it serve your company well. In addition, word on the grapevine is that you are planning another sortie into the hives? Whilst the current situation finds our humble workshop somewhat compromised, we would still like to make it known to you and yours especially that any unusual salvage from such an endeavour would get premium rates should such items be directed our way. PS, if you do bring the Vespid suit into a real combat situation, any data you can provide on its performance would help us enormously for further future iteration. You will of course be compensated accordingly. DS. PPS, though our stock is limited, we feel it most prudent to leave our first batch of synthetic royal pheromones in your care, for the battles ahead, as a sign of our continued mutually beneficial cooperation. " +1 Jar of Synthetic Royal Vespid Pheremones Get! The letter ends with an appropriately unreadable signature and another page or so of legalese that accompanies most intercorporate correspondence though you do note that it is written on parchment, stiffer than the paper to which you are accustomed from your days in the mountainhome. Thinking about it further, you suppose it makes sense. Whilst the woodlands around your homeland make for decent lumber, and thus paper, it is further from the centre of the Empire and thus more sparsely protected, meaning less herds that might one day be slaughtered for their hides. Whale on the other hand is much closer to the Forest than any city in the region of Karg ever was, so close you could see it should you climb far enough up the nearby mountain or wander too far into the jungle. This means any trek outside of the extensive fortifications is a dangerous prospect indeed, to the point that boy wood at all would be considered a luxury, with the available space being divided between farmland and housing, with cattle grazing somewhere in tin middle and the burgeoning Slimegineering Industry picking up the slack, supplying cheap alternatives to the illustrious, evasive flora. Certainly the mighty cargo-ships in the harbour still creak with ancient lumber, but they are remnants of past glories of the age of sail, before the advent of Slimegineering and the restrictions and regulations imposed by the Imperial Bureaucracy in the post-aboreal world, when long distance trade was slightly less hazardous and losses of equipment more easily replaced. Heading out again with your gear now gathered, you begin the mornings inspection and the debrief of your troops. ---  Abigail is sporting a cheap training Claymore with great enthusiasm. It is taller than she is, but she doesn't seem to mind. You don't even bother questioning the sense of it, ducks have surprising strength hidden in their limber forms and Abigail is a dynamo in her own right, half glee and half fury that is hard to distinguish between. She wears the Vespid Prototype over a cotton gambison, which should offer her decent all around physical protection, with the notable exception of acid and the more elemental types of harm one might encounter fighting monsters. Her morale is unwavering as is her loyalty, though her reliability in battle highly depends on what you ask her to do and she is prone to bouts of selfinitiative, which has admittedly saved you more times than it has had you killed thus far. Her biggest weakness is her size and inexperience, being light as a feather both literally and figuratively speaking she cannot take much punishment and could easily be knocked around.  Skvababt, your company Archer wears her own set of custom leather armour, tight and drab in equal measure and currently covered in a curious collection of mosses and leaves, giving you the impression of a nymph in bloom. She wields a longbow to great effect outdoors, though it's use in confined spaces is dubious. Still, against fliers she is an invaluable ranged asset. Her morale is, as far as you can tell in decent shape and her loyalty in unquestioning. She will mostly do what you ask of her in combat as long as she is able. With only the most basic of protection from the elements, enemies and the environment offered by her armour, she relies more on her considerable dexterity to dodge attacks that come her way and is thus vulnerable to being swarmed or charged.  Khami, in and with chains is a man of few words and tends to play support. He is not a frontline fighter, even though his armour and thick robes provides better cover than most of your other recruits. His morale is shaky and he seems concerned about the coming battle, though he will follow regardless out of his own inscrutable reasons. He has shown nothing but loyalty so far, and follows your commands as best as he is able. Though slower than your other troops and with less direct damage potential, he is none the less considered a core part of ISTEC battle doctrine, snaring and disarming foes and holding up your flank.  Lastly, Mr. Hobbson, your first real officer whom only recently decided to join you is also present. He appears for all intents and purposes to be a formidable fighter, with real metal armour and an actual military grade sword to go with his higher education and various bureaucratic trappings. As an officer, he will only take broader objectives and overarching commands from you, but on the flipside can also ease the burden of micromanaging by issuing orders to other members of the squad you assign him to, in your stead, freeing you up to deal with other issues if you wish. If he has any general weakness is yet to be seen, but his loyalty is dubious at best as he is technically your Warden, charged with bringing you to Rim (the city, not the Wall) for... reasons as complicated as they are unclear. Crimes against the nature of reality? None the less, he is technically on your side in that he cares about the Empire and wants to keep you alive, and is as stuck with you as you are with him. You cannot speak as to his morale, but his mood is sombre, his gaze thoughtful. His sword, sharp and deadly. Is there anything you would like to do or ask before you depart for War, Mr ironironscriptscript? --- [ISTEC] ISTEC Roster ISTEC Inventory ISTEC Reputation [Whale] Districts of Whale Monster Hunters Guild Strategic Level Battle Map
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Jan 18, 2023 19:27
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Resisting the CYOA curse, nice! Can we do the following? - Ask the current roster what gear they would like for this mission - Ask the current roster what gear they would like for this mission, within reason - Find an actual, real greatsword for Abigail. A wooden greatsword-themed training club is an insulting weapon for ducks, girls and berserker-paladins-in-training-when-not-training. - Scrape up a few handfuls of dirt from the ISTEC company grounds into a mason jar and take this with us. Just in case someone needs unrestricted access to company grounds. - Have Mr Hobbson run some team combat training, taking into consideration the staff's capabilities, limitations and predictability. Include basic scenarios, protocols and contingency plans would be a good idea. - Stand in a field with some cows and stare into the middle distance. Comment on the roster: I don't see the cow in the graveyard? Is this because they were not on the roster prior to expiration, or is their mortality in question?
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Jan 18, 2023 20:17
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Outrail posted:Resisting the CYOA curse, nice! It took some sluething but I remembered you did actually get her an upgrade at some point... a Decent-Quality Calcified Slime Quarterstaff with Metal Reinforcements! Which is not much better, admittedly. Real swords are expensive.
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Jan 18, 2023 20:31
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Buy everyone a coffee and bagel (or fantasy equivalent) for the briefing. And do an ice breaker game like Citizens Knot or Two Truths or Pay Quacker for your Lie. Need to keep that morale up!
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Jan 18, 2023 20:49
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Instruct Mr. Hobbes to assist us in leading everyone in dancing the dance of victory!
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Jan 18, 2023 23:10
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Let's Go
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Jan 19, 2023 11:08
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Slaan posted:Buy everyone a coffee and bagel (or fantasy equivalent) for the briefing. And do an ice breaker game like Citizens Knot or Two Truths or Pay Quacker for your Lie. Need to keep that morale up! Before doing anything else, eat this imposter-Slaan.
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Jan 20, 2023 09:06
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Sorry, it's been too long to remember what things might be most important for us, so let's just move forward and get back into it
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Jan 21, 2023 19:37
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Volmarias posted:Sorry, it's been too long to remember what things might be most important for us, so let's just move forward and get back into it The second most important thing is completing paperwork on time. The third most important thing is staff morale. The fourth most important thing is that our soul is corrupted by our cousin, a cow and one or several curses. Also a wasp country wants us dead, our hovel/headquarters are haunted by a family of friendly rat ghosts, there are owlbear cubs we orphaned in the cellar, we have an irresistible infatuation with a frog, a forest may be coming to kill us all, we're wanted by higher powers and our jailor/escort is our employee, we turned a child into a statue and their sister might hold that against us and we have a multidimensional WMD we built during a drug coma. But. The first, most important thing is we need to get our hands on as much FOOF as dwarvenly possible.
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Feb 8, 2023 04:27
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The Ironironscriptscript experience sure leaves its mark.
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Feb 8, 2023 15:11
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Blasphemaster posted:The Ironironscriptscript experience sure leaves its mark. 
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Feb 8, 2023 17:46
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Hi I only just got caught up! I bookmarked this back in like 2016 but didn't actually start reading until a few months ago. Gotta say I'm real surprised this is (technically) still going.Swedish Thaumocracy posted:. How about some meditation on our cousin? He's in there somewhere, it's more a matter of finding him. Maybe a mirror could help? Or looking at our reflection in the dreaming? Birth Certificate posted:~Mesr Kvelgrim Thorgar Ironironscriptscript~ Interesting that the birth certificate doesn't mention the cow.
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Apr 6, 2023 08:18
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DCBomB posted:How about some meditation on our cousin? He's in there somewhere, it's more a matter of finding him. Maybe a mirror could help? Or looking at our reflection in the dreaming? +1!
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Apr 6, 2023 14:29
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Also +1
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Apr 6, 2023 16:04
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Trouble on the Rim, Book 2, Chapter 9 Attack on Whale The Fourteenth of December, 347 A.R. City of Whale Part 12: To War A certainty of Rimian life is not just the struggle against nature and the elements, but the active stewardship of your place in a world that clearly wants you gone. Outside the fortifications of city states and the protections of the mountainhomes, monsters roam in ever larger numbers, growing bolder or more desperate for the threat of the encroaching Forest. Driven from their unnatural habitats, abominations rise from depth and shadow to wreck havoc on what few safe havens remain, and through it all the world starves as more and more land is ceded, burnt. The Monster Hunters Guild was founded to offer imperial citizens some modicum of hope in self reliance. A means to strike back against the terrors that prey and fray and gnash and bite. To regulate incursions, or at least pad the blow enough for the Imperial Militia and the Knights of the orders of Faith to gather and venture forth to vanquish the numberless foes. Only, there has been less and less of that as of late. With tensions rising and food supplies dwindling, the Militia, forced on the defensive, offer the comfort of their protection not to the Empire as a whole but rather to individuals of power and influence, the Lords and Ladies of city states, in exchange for room, board and creature comforts. Without backup from the mass of spears to guard their rear, the Knights falter or are forced to acts of self sacrifice in desperation, if enough can be found in one spot at all for even that. Meanwhile, the elites of these orders, the one citizen armies called Paladins do what they can to keep the tide at bay, but even they can only be in one place at a time. Still, War is inevitable for the Monsters know neither mercy nor reason. The attacks persist and so it falls to you and yours to deal with the consequences, or die trying. Thus you find yourself wrapped up once more in circumstances far beyond your comfort and training. Overseeing the handful of people, friends really, whom have all decided for one reason or another to throw their names in the hat of service to empire and coin. To your name, and the ideals you represent. Fiat Lucre, Occidare Monstrum. War has come to Whale and for all these reasons and more, you are at the forefront. Geared up and papers signed, you report to the strike force representative in charge of your section by the eastern city gates, making due note of what other troops are mustered. Oh, how swell it would be to report a throng of steel clad Templar's or endless ranks of pikeeneers with squads of longbow archers for support, but none such groups are present. Instead the rabble (for they can hardly be called anything else) are sporadic groupings of... people. Some with a dearth of experience to be sure and some even with decent armaments, but people none the less. Not soldiers. You see a bloke from one of the nearby pubs up by your headquarters, all dressed in hunting leathers with a wicked knife at his belt and a shortbow across his back. His demeanour less boastful now in the weight of silence that hangs over the city square as more hunters gather to do what must be done. A nod of acknowledgement is about all you receive from the weary eyed duck that takes your company name and checks it against his private tally, a half-wing pointing your squad to a spot underneath the inner battlements where another band of would be warriors mill about uncertainly, going over their equipment and orders one last time. You hail them as you close, and their leader, a human woman in her early twenties with dark skin and maroon hair returns a well practiced salute.  'Ruths rangers." She states matter-of-factly. Her troupe, a half dozen members strong and specialized in dealing with infiltration and sabotage. 'Monsters don't fight fair. Neither do we.' 'You keep the bees of our backs and we'll have the whole hive down in time for supper." 'ISTEC' you nod, 'we've been in once already.' you add, relaying what Intel you can on the layout and Vespid weaknesses, which, if not brightens then at least relaxes the mood somewhat. 'Good to know. I'll brief my crew, you should probably spread that info around, no telling what Command is doing, they've got their paws busy in sure, and for missions like this, rivalries have to be put aside.' She furrows her brow, deep in thought. 'For the good of Whale.' Yes. And the Empire. Of course. For gold and glory. She breaks off from the conversation to deal with her own, leaving you to your affairs. You instruct your crew to go spread what little you know to the other nearby groups, hoping that word will spread from there more organically, giving as many as possible a fighting chance when faced with a nigh numberless foe. You need any edge you can get. Like your cousin-self. Another fighter would be good right about now, steadfast and shieldbearing, and not stuck inside your soul together with the ghost of a cow and who knows what other spectral detritus you've managed to pick up during your brief tenure as a monster hunter. You close your eyes and try to focus inward, imaging yourself a deep sea diver in your own ocean of thoughts. Is there a pale light somewhere far below? The glint of an alchemical torch or the lure of a monster? You probe deeper, sink lower. The sounds of the city outside of your mindscape fading as you brush metaphorical cobwebs from the attic that is your scrambled brainmeats. Where are you? I need you. There is a door, hewn out of stone. You are standing in some underground chamber in a mountainhome, weighing a waraxe in your hands, as master Vera Alloi goes on and on about posture and balance.  You don't recognize your hands. The hairs are wrong, knuckles different. That scar over the thumb was never there before. Your beard is the wrong length, it itches differently. You try to focus, pay attention. You were here to spar? The dwarven axemaster demonstrates a basic swing against a cloth and bone training dummy. Wood is in short supply. Even more so down here. Chop! Chop! Grunt! Chop! Breathing heavily, now. 'Can anyone tell what I'm doing wrong?' Sir! Not following momentum, sir? 'That's right. To fight with an axe is to dance with gravity. Always remember to go with the flow, or you'll work twice as hard for half the gain.' They demonstrate. Chop, swish, chop, swish, chop. The dummy falls apart, the advantages of fluid movement clear as crystal. Two other figures carry the debris away and replace it with a new monster stand in, this time a boar carcass impaled on a spear, with a pair of antlers attached for the look of it. The lesson continues and you try to keep up with the swings, following the masters movements with arms that are not yours, a strength that is unfamiliar. You look around for anything that might jog your memory, and your gaze is drawn to the axe you are holding. The blade, the handle, the engravings. How it is balanced. How it fits in your hand.  You look up, and the rocky dojo is gone. The dwarrow nowhere to be seen. You are walking in place, having reached the city walls, somehow, clutching your axe, Kvelars axe, in your shaking hands. 'There you are!' says Abigail, fully kitted out and ready for battle. What are you doing over here? Come back to the muster, it's almost time to go! ~ Time passes quickly, almost in a blur. You stand together with your company amidst several others, some you have seen in the guildhall and others new to you. Most seem impatient, anxious even. The duck from earlier stands to the right hand side of a podium where no one is currently holding a fiery speech. Curious. Instead, everyone is stuck in a holding pattern, waiting for someone in charge to step up and lead the way. Eventually, a harried looking messenger runs up to the duck. It sighs and and nods, stepping up to the empty podium without ceremony.  Right. Looks like we're up. Apparently His Lordship decided to spare some of his guard after all. Only they went ahead without us, to cause a distraction most likely, but ah, we don't know for sure. Either way it doesn't change the plan. You lot are to make for the hive, get inside, kill anything important and bring it all down. In that order. It goes without saying that this will all be very dangerous, so we don't need anyone else making any rash decisions or brave sacrifices. Stick to the plan and get out of there alive. And if you find anything worth keeping, keep it. Quackeen knows we aren't getting paid enough. ~ To be continued ~
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Apr 6, 2023 18:16
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quote:And if you find anything worth keeping, keep it. Quackeen knows we aren't getting paid enough. 
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Apr 7, 2023 01:09
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Swedish Thaumocracy posted:You look up, and the rocky dojo is gone. The dwarrow nowhere to be seen. You are walking in place, having reached the city walls, somehow, clutching your axe, Kvelars axe, in your shaking hands. Seems like Kvelar took the wheel? Did we move towards Rim? Could the geas have influenced Kvelar to move that way?
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Apr 8, 2023 08:33
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If this game has taught me anything, it's that everything is worth something to someone.
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Apr 8, 2023 11:44
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Trouble on the Rim, Book 2, Chapter 9 Attack on Whale The Fourteenth of December, 347 A.R. Whaleian Outskirts Part 13: Prey and Predator Under the cover of no cover at all, the anti Vespid task force heads out, city gates closing firmly behind you and the others. Looking to the wall, you see an increased guard overlooking repairs to the various sections damaged by the recent siege, as well as several cranes ferrying heavy materials and a few more balistae to strategic locations around the battlements. There is a strange pattern to the work being performed, hammers falling in rhythm in a way that reminds you of your youth. You think you hear singing, a hymn? The mines of your mountainhome were never quiet, and even though your employment was less physical than the pick swinging of your more blue collar brethren, there was no escaping the ubiquitous nature of metal upon stone in the bowels of the world. Society ever expanded, and as the viability of surfacebound habitation shrank together with the Empires borders, so to did the already unending labour of stonecarving increase in scope. The melody jogs your memories, and the words flow unbidden.  ♫ Sustain our pace, endure our woe. As we carve from stone our mountainhome. Ensure our work is sound and honed, We raise our picks, let hammers blow. Each depth we break is felt in bone. As those before, we labour on. And when those that leave, set off alone. Please guide them to a path their own. We dig and lift We work in shift We mine the stone We build our home We sweat and sing Forever do we Toil. The plains we sow, our cities grow Through mud and clay we make our way With road and path through mountainheart And through the Forests green. (Even though they scream.) We count on you to light our way To keep the dark of night at bay To let us know where veins will flow To weigh our share, our burden bare. We dig and lift We work in shift We mine the stone We build our home We sweat and sing Forever do we Toil. ♫ ~ It does not take long to reach the jungle, nor does it take long for fighting to ensue. Any large gathering of people outside the walls inside The Wall (which is technically everything, everywhere) makes a tempting target for would be predators, feral packs of regular animals pushed to madness through starvation and the loss of territory, not to mention the actual Monsters responsible for said state of the world. First blood goes to a gnome crossbowman at the westernmost flank, a part of Headys Heavies, a company ironically named - operating under special licence with the guild of fools, jesters and punsmith's to do so - for their members especially dimunative stature. The unfortunate pincushion what had come to be on the receiving end of the gnomes experimental steam crossbow now resembles a sad cross between a lobster and an ostrich would probably have been a formidable opponent had it not been so readily skewered. Headys heavies scramble over the remains like vultures, leaving nothing but broken bones in their wake. Professional, swift and brutal, they know better than to leave large mounds of flesh just laying about, where anything could find it. Traversing the wilderness proves surprisingly easy, as most people present are survival experts, pathfinders or rangers of some description, able to suss out danger long in advance and with the combined experience to turn what might otherwise be a disaster into an opportunity. Still, the jungle is a truly wild place, a colourful shambles of life simply vying for survival. Everything here is fighting everything else. Not even the mighty trees are exempt, all hosting a multitude of feuding fungal strains, warring warrens of insects and opportunistic birds. One curious artefact of the local biosphere however, is the absence of flying insects, no doubt having been outcompeted by the nearby Vespid Hive. Despite this, there is no shortage of creepy crawlies that want to either bite or sting you. They just have to work harder to do it. Striding ever closer the strike force soon bumps into the first few aerial patrols. Most of these consist of around a dozen drones escorted by up to three warriors, though there are a few encounters with lonesome warriors as well, these being of the larger variety, about the size of a greyhound, if sleeker in stature. With so many monster hunting companies present, they are all dispatched without incident and you almost being to wonder why something like this has not been attempted before when the local terrorfauna answers your idle curiosity with bone shaking roars.  Out of the trees drop dark green, scaled, muscle bound and terrifyingly humanoid crocodiles. Maybe twenty in total, carrying crude clubs made out of tree stumps and jagged shards of black rock. Maybe twenty in total that you can see, but with each being easily twelve feet tall and thick like oaks, they pose a very real threat to everyone present. As if that wasn't enough, an ear piercing screech from overhead alerts you to the presence of some aerial predator as well. You have no idea if it's some pet for this alligators or a third party here for the spoils but either way it can't be good.  1: You have your objective, and it is one of the more critical for Mission Success, rivaled only by the sapping that Ruth's Rangers will perform. Yet what use will you be if half or more of your Whaleian regiment are slain before you even reach the hive? You consider your options. A: Keep calm and carry on. Ignore the brutes, leave the others to their fate. Competent warriors all and outnumbering the foe, they should prevail eventually. B: Join the fray. Leave no Citizen behind, or at least as few as possible. Fight whatever is closest, or with whoever needs the most help. C: Take on the crocogres - or whatever they are called. Someone else can deal with the flier, maybe all the fighting will scare it away? D: Focus on the Flier. Whatever it is, it can't be good. But you have a marksfrogwoman in your team, and the rest of you can keep her safe whilst she lines up a killshot. Hopefully.
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Apr 21, 2023 21:29
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D have frog, will shoot
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Apr 21, 2023 21:35
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D
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Apr 21, 2023 22:45
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D Hopefully the other teams understand our logic here.
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Apr 21, 2023 23:15
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B Make some friends.
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Apr 22, 2023 09:31
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| # ? Apr 24, 2024 19:06 |
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Difficult
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Apr 22, 2023 14:03
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