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Nyaa
Jan 7, 2010

Q.E.D.



With that roll, you might want to use it to boost my 21 instead.

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paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007
Fighting poverty...one bum at a time.

Emille

HP: 8/10
Initiative: 4
Defense: Parry[3d6]
Pyromancy [3d6], Acrobatics [2d6], Adventuring Knowhow [1d6]
Ignite/Quench [3d6], Radiance [2d6], Arquebus [1d6]
The Master's Mark (chocolate): [spent/unspent]

Emille drummed her fingers against the edge of the board as she considered her next moves. From watching the other players, there seemed to be two distinct factions. Perhaps the condition for winning the game was to lead one against the other? Maybe not, but it was a good place to start. Emille decided to focus her attention on the Rightsiders; they looked more interesting to "play" as and the Leftsiders seemed like jerks anyway.

She poked and prodded at the map, carefully analyzing the right side of the map. The Rightsiders appeared to be mostly nomadic, focused on hunting in gathering in their monster infested wasteland. The only deviation from this was their mine and the small settlement around it, which had erupted into hellfire. They were downtrodden and depressed. Not good. Emille skimmed over the board's control panel, locating several different buttons, each with different depictions of a man covered in flames. Emille had to stare at them for a few minutes to decipher their meaning. Most of them seemed to be variations of spontaneous human combustion, but in one of them the little man looked confident. Bingo.

Hopefully, the Rightsiders would feel their spirits come alight with a new determination to become strong and make this land their own. And not be set on fire. That would be bad.

Pyromancy [3d6]: 10

But determination alone wouldn't carry them to victory, they needed something else. Perhaps quenching the volcano? No. She had read in a book that volcanic ash was good for the soil, and it looked like the wasteland needed all the help it could get in that regard. But without the ore (or what was left of it) from the mine, they would no doubt be vulnerable to all the roving monsters. Emille scratched at her chin. After a little bit of deliberation, she thought she had a pretty good idea of how to kill many birds with one stone. She focused on an empty area and began to tap a button that looked like a flame, many tiny fires springing into existence.

Pyromancy [3d6]: 15

She focused in on each one and ignited within them the spark of life all flames carry deep inside. Fire elementals would do nicely, Emille thought. They could help the Rightsiders with all the monsters AND it was safe for them to go into the newly volcanic area in the nomads' place. She was just about to direct them to go help out the nomads, but something was missing. With a series of targeted ignitions and quenches, she gave each elemental a silly hat or mustache. Perfect. In her experience, fire elementals tended to frighten people unless given some humanizing details. She sent them on their way and leaned back in her chair to watch the results of her actions.

"Master, how are things going with the lich lord?"

"Terrible, the terms are so harsh that it's clear it has no intention of giving up the item. I think I'm just going to discorporate it." A few moments of silence from Marius. "And now to play a rousing game of find the phylactery."

"What kinda item is it anyway? Must be pretty important if you entrusted it to a lich of all things."

"It's...a tool, for the exact kind of dungeon you're in right now. This one is, hmm, more for the OUTSIDE of the dungeon though."

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006
Jinat Ulukaï, hâ oagé.

Second Floor – The War Room


[Cue]
Cue bounced with joy, sending bursts of randomized telekinetic energy into his console. The runes lit up in concert with his appetite for chaos, and soon the gameboard, or rather the world below it, was a veritable storm of activities.
Fires would range only to be put out by heavy showers seconds later. Rock slides would turn into lollipops as inverted geese fell into the sky.
Panic spread across the world as the wild surges continued, with right-siders hiding in caves and left-siders ringing the town bell and beseeching their new lord for protection. The goblins were all too used to chaos and paid it no heed.
Curiously, a completely unbeknownst to the wartable-worlders limited perspective, the majority of these troublesome changes centered around the left-side northernmost forest. As if there was some hidden pattern to the randomness that could only be perceived from above.



Troublesome (10) vs Tech Level 0: 1d6 2 = Success! Overskill!

The forest changed even as Cues attention began to waver, a shrill laughter echoing in his mind.



[Congratulations! You have created the Glitchwood, home of the Glitchies! These rapscallion forest insectoids will surely cause all sorts of havoc if left unatteneded, and a whole lot of mischief if properly managed!
The forest shelters them from monsters and produces all the basic necessities they need to survive, for now, though they do not yet prosper. Additionally, you gain one unit of Pixel-Dust [Salvage] type resource, to be spent at your leisure.
The Glitchies are a Tech Level 1 society, earning you the right to design them a flag using the template found below. Or not! But they will be sad if you don't.
At Tech Level 1 they will generate one resource per resource-site worked and can work as many sites as you have within your empire.
However, they require adequate shelter, ((which you already have)) and access to salvage and food ((which you don't)) lest the monsters of the world or starvation decimate the population back one tech-level!]





Soon came a flood of messages, that though highly distorted seemed to be addressed to him.



h3l͙̹͓̳̖͙͜ĺ͕͎͍͍̩̬̗0 ̶͓̲̯͍͓̖k̶r̬͎̹͍̭e̙̩̜̯é͕̪̲̱̰e̹̮̭i͔͍ͅg͉h̭̞̯̘̫ͅt̥o̹r̤͔̤̫̩e͈!̖̲̺͖͚̪̳ ҉̫n̵͉̜̯̣3̧͉͔̜3͖̱̺d̨̻͚͙ ̱̱͎̞̳͞h̖̝a͕̣̬̮̭͡l҉̲̝̦͈̱̟̠p̵͙̞̘̟̟ ̮̣̟̣̩̝ͅ4 ̴͇̲̟͎p̜̮͍͓̳r̵͕a̪̩̳̼͎n̼̬̺͔͖̥ḱ̯̬͓ͅ,̙ ͇͓̟̮͙̗̳g̱͙̩͉͡et̫ ̳͎u҉͔̙$̟͙̝̹͜ ̥͇̖̭͉̣s̵͉͙̖̖͕̯͕0̗̩̤̘͢ͅṃ͓̖̟̻̬͚3̲͠ ̡m̦͈̪͕ò͙̮͈̱͙̝r̴̳̫̙͈e̡͇̪̣̖̟ͅ ̦͜f̡̹̜̭o͚̪̣̻͡ͅo͠d͎̝͟ ̥̘̭̹p͇͙̭͠l0͎͇̫͇̩̠x.̖̙̰͙

-

Not content with accidentally seeding the world with life, Cue also set about to mess with one of the fundaments on which it was established; whom lives where.
Thus he moved the Highlighting Orb over to a group of farmers from the Idyllic Village on the left and a hunter gatherer party on the right, selected both groups and pressed the rune marked with Change.

Telekenesis (7) vs Stubborn Idyllic Village (tech level 2): 11 = failure!
Telekenesis (7) vs Rightsider Hunter Gatherers: 3 = success!


It did not go as planned, but then again that just made it better. A gaggle of right-siders landed on top of the pristine crops and instantly attacked the un-ready farmers, killing them and making away with their tools and food.
The loss of resources for the Leftsiders would be felt, albeit not very keenly, for turns to come!

[Partial success. The Right-siders raid the left-sider farm, gaining you 1 [Food] type resource to do with as you please! The left-siders have ample food and are totally unaffected.]

---

[Goblin-One-Battalion]
Tround Boomer was the perfect goblin for the job, because he was the dungeon door blowing up expert and they had a dungeon door to blow up. He immadietly set out to build as many gob-bombs as possible, instructing the rest of his species to do the same.
Soon he was Grand High Overseer of the Goblin Gob-Bomb Production facility, turning [Salvage] into [Gob-Bombs] at a rate of 1:1 and transforming the once pristine ruins into a terrible workshop of smog and explosions.

[Gob-Bombs get!]

At once they set out to the dungeon entrance, expulging their entire stock in one go in the hopes that the massive kaboom would free the treasures inside from their Eldritcht prison.

[Talent Success! The Expert Goblin brings with it a one-turn temporary expert-level 4d6 Blowing Up Dungeon Doors and a Proud, a reverse skill-wound. [Proud: Explosives Expert] +1d6 will trigger whenever explosives are also triggered and may have other uses besides! Who knows!]

Gob-Bomb Dungeon Door Demolitions Expert + 1 Extra Gob-Bomb + Proud: Explosives Expert: 17 vs Warded Dungeon Door + Bad Engineers: 24 = Failure!



The resulting explosions could be heard all across the world and when they finally cleared, the dungeon door was all that was left standing.
If only the goblins had known to place the Gob-bombs at the dungeon doors hinges, and not just any old where they pleased, perhaps things might have been different.

Frustrated by the goblins inability to work together, Gobinacious Green Esq decides to hold some basic team-working exercises by pressing a bunch of runes that in combination might read something like [Angry Goblin Lots Teach Formation Ideal Happy Together].

Goblin Formations (10) vs Tech Level 0: 3 = Success! Overskill!

The lessons were an astounding success and soon goblins were helping other goblins out left and right, banding into efficient work-groups and fermenting the beginnings of a Goblin Alliance, flag yet to be decided!

[Success! The fledgling Goblin Hunter-Gatherers have ascended to Tech Level 1, becoming a society! You may now design them a flag using the template found below. Or not! But they will be sad if you don't.
At Tech Level 1 they will generate one resource per resource-site worked and can work as many sites as you have within your empire.
However, they require adequate shelter, access to salvage and food lest the monsters of the world or starvation decimate the population back one tech-level!
Additionally, they have set up a Gob-Bomb factory in the ruins, earning you 1 Gob-Bomb [salvage] resource per turn to go along with the 1 ruined-city salvage you were already earning!]




--

[Pippin Bogleach]
Pippin sought to salt the earth, only not in a way that would render it infertile. No, he had other plans for the starving peoples of the right; destroying one of their only sources of water that they might instead have weapons of some destruction. T
hrusting the Highlighting Orb onto a spiky looking cacti-patch, he sent his energies into the world and opened the floodgates for salt.

Spicery 11 vs Unworked Cactai: 2d6 6 = success!

Pristine thorns fell from dead stems in their thousands, until the whole patch was no more. But the plunder! Oh, it would have to be worth it. With these, he could make an army!

[Success! You transform the unworked cactus hex into a pile of plunder! Gain 4d6 ranks of Cactai Needle Arms that you may outfit a peoples with at your leisure. Yes, you can divide them however you wish.]

But first, he would need a people. The few surviving, previously gem-mining, right-siders would have to do.



Gaunt and starved, the wretches had all but given up. Pippin cracked his knuckles, selected them with the Highlighting Orb and begun weaving his magic into the console, filling the people with his food, power and gym pro-tips.

Orcish Endurance vs Tech Level 0: 5 = Success!

Before his very eyes the wretches were transformed, gaining both beef and muscle, going from weedlings to freak beasts in an instant. Now they had a definite orky feel to them, one more suited to the wastes that they called home.



[Success! The wretched 'people' Hunter-Gatherers have ascended to Tech Level 1, becoming a society of Leanotaurs! You may now design them a flag using the template found below. Or not! But they will be sad if you don't.
At Tech Level 1 they will generate one resource per resource-site worked and can work as many sites as you have within your empire.
However, they require adequate shelter, access to salvage and food lest the monsters of the world or starvation decimate the population back one tech-level!]




--

[King Norman]
If the leftsiders refused to be impressed by his laws and customs, then he would just have to show them the other side of the coin of royalty; martial might.

With a great booming voice fit for a King, he commanded sceptre the spectre to ride out and slay the monster than had been plaguing the populace. Or well, the other populace since the gryphon was an exclusively right-sider monster, but slay it the knight would do all the same!


"Thy will be done, M'lord."

For days he rode, over hill and dale, or perhaps just minutes across a miniature landscape when viewed from the perspective of Those Above.
Hex by hex the Deepdelvers followed his journey and with such granularity of information to thrill even the laziest of sludge-elf or the most scholaristic pie-form.
When at last his prey was spotted, he set to his grim task with unfathomable courage, zeal and endurance.


Kings Dominion 21 vs Desert Gryphon (ac 15) = Success! Two points of damage dealt! Monster Defeated!

The fight lasted for many hours, though Sceptre emerged victorious in the end, claiming the head of the beast as his price!
The Villagers for their part held a small celebration in honour of their new Knight Champion. With him around, no longer would they need to fear the nightly monster attacks nor the sparse raids of the right-siders.

[Dispatching the fearsome Gryphon grants the right-siders some relief from the constant monster attacks and brings joy to the hearts of the already overjoyed idyllic leftsiders. Additionally, Spectre now resides in the left-siders village, increasing its shelter level by one – satisfying another one of the four criteria needed for turning the village into a town! Now if only they could find the wealth they so desire, and perhaps some sort of industry to boot, you might start to see some real change here!]

The King, seeking to benefit from his servants work held a loud self-praising speech, regaling the villagers on the merits of nobility and urging them to join his army.

King's Dominion (11) vs Stubborn Idyllic Village (tech level 2): 3d6 13

But the villagers already had Sceptre the Spectre and were pretty lazy to boot, so they simply said no and went on their way.

--

[Emille]
Tapping deep into the wealth of her knowledge, Emille sought to soothe the aches of the half-burned, fully-starved, burnt and downtrodden right-siders. In her minds eye she saw the feeble beats of their hearts and the dim fires of their souls, to which she reached out and sang in the music of fire.

Pyromancy (10) vs Tech Level 0: 2 = Success! Overskill!

The Fires of Her pyromancy flowed into the console and from there into the Highlighting Orb, a great Solar Flare erupting and bathing the scattered, unclaimed right-side slaves and slavers in an emboldening inferno.
As their fears melted, so too did most of their flesh, revealing the brass-like-skeletons that lay inside. They thought this of no consequence, and constructed loose-fitting, free flowing garments of what scraps of flesh remained, now hardened by the fire.



[Success! The last remaining right-sider people, the slaves and slavers have ascended to Tech Level 1, becoming a society of Flameforged! You may now design them a flag using the template found below. Or not! But they will be sad if you don't.
At Tech Level 1 they will generate one resource per resource-site worked and can work as many sites as you have within your empire. However, they require adequate shelter, access to salvage and food lest the monsters of the world or starvation decimate the population back one tech-level!
They settle near the ruins of the former mining outpost, which they may now work for [Salvage], earning you one such resource per round effective immediately.]




Not content to merely give them hope, Emille also wanted to grant them protection and companionship and so whipped up yet more flames, weaving all her magical reserves into the very essence of life itself.

Pryomancy (15) vs Random Encounter Table: 0 = Success! Overskill!

Tiny flames erupted all over the Volcano even as the Highlighting Orb began to dim, but with the Gryphon dispatched and the night conquered there was nothing to oppose their gestation.
The Sonnenguard spawned in the night, bright flashes in the magma to mimic the stars that would be above were it not filled instead with the ceiling of the Wartable floor.



[Success! The Sonnenguard will stand guard over your fledgling settlement, protecting them from monsters (providing shelter) and letting you work the nearby fire-mines for [Wealth] without fear of death, effective immediately.
As of your current tech-level, one such resource will be provided for you per turn, meaning you will have one to spend or spare at the beginning of next turn.]


--

[Everyone]
Night set on the world once more, and for once, perhaps for the first time ever, it was peaceful.
The questions was, would it stay like that? What was at stake, what secrets did the world yet hold and what Trial could the Lady possibly be expecting them to figure out this time?


Borders indicate Claimed Societies. The colours, subject to change depending on your wishes are as follows: Black for Cue, Dark Green for Pippin, Light Green for Goblin-One-Battalion and Red for Emille.
The soldier icon indicates the presence of Sceptre the Spectre.
The camp site icon indicates the presence of the Sonnenguard.
The crossed swords icon represents the site of the deadly gryphon battle.
The crossed tools icon represents a worked resource hex.
The factory icon represents a factory hex.
The Dead-Tree hex represents the desiccated cactai; the resource site that used to be there has now forever been spent.

Theantero
Nov 6, 2011

...they shall march out of my laboratory and sweep away every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the very planet is in the loving grip of the Pax Bisonica. And then peace will reign, and the world, and all humanity, shall bow to me in humble gratitude...

Cue the Poltergeist

Initiative: 9
HP: 9
Skills: Telekinesis [3d6], Troublesome [3d6]; Powers: Extreme Prankster [4d6]; Defense: Always out of reach [5d6]
Talent: Spent
Items: Knighthood (+1d6 to rolls that benefit King Norman)


Yes! Brilliant! Finally creatures in this sadsack world with a sense of humor! Indeed, Cue was so glad, it even manifested a magnificent flag, spangled with the most valuable and mythic of all venerable Glitchie creations: JPG artifacts



Truly a treasure to be guarded for all time! As for food? It was simple! Just hax0r food from the ether with your glitch powers! Cue was on a good mood, so it even showed them how. And just then, a magic incantation of fell implication hovered in the air, for the Glitchies to do with as they pleased.

additem <FoodID> <#>



Truly, the glitchies were so great, that Cue had a most splendid idea, the most splendid of all in fact. Why leave such magnificent creatures to such a dismal world, when there were many others??? Yes, Cue bounced with joy at the thought, as it reached at a particular Glitchie, and plucked it right off the simulation to the real world!

Sometimes, Cue dazzled even itself with its genius.


Teaching Troublesome glitch magic to the Glitchies for FREE FOOD (free everything): 3d6= 13
Telekinesis to grab a Glitchie to the REAL WORLD: 3d6= 12

Theantero fucked around with this message at Jul 25, 2017 around 17:37

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.


[Spandreloctalos]

Something like Spandreloctalos lingered with the group and watched them. It loomed over the board, invisibly, marveling at the cunning workmanship of the thing, wondered if perhaps somewhere in this miniature world there was an even smaller board. It saw Cue attempt to pull one of the tiny denizens into the real, and it felt something like amusement. It stretched out the little bit of substance that remained to it and granted a fraction to the Poltergeist.

Giving one Haunt to Cue to buff his attempts to bring a Glitchie out into the world

Infinity Gaia
Feb 27, 2011

a storm is coming...


Goblin-One-Battalion
HP : 8

Initiative: 8
Inventory: Knighthood Medal (+1d6 to a roll if it complies with the king's wishes)

Wounds: Terrible Arm Spasm (-1d6 to like loving everything this poo poo sucks gently caress)
Shames: Bad Engineers (-1d6 to engineering stuff)
Prouds: Explosives Expert (+1d6 to explosive-related activities)

Defense: An Indeterminate Number of Lives [5d6]
Skills: Be Everywhere [3d6] / Goblin Formations [3d6]
Powers: Overwhelm with Numbers [4d6]
Talent: [spent/unspent]

Tround Boomer looked at the door. He looked at it again. He tapped it experimentally (or, rather, he pressed a button to instruct a goblin to tap it in a specific way), as if to confirm it was still there. He seemed lost in thought for quite a while before shrugging and saying: "Need 2 bomb maybe. Tough door. Remind of safe door, need lots of boom or fancy boom, but fancy boom too hard to make. Easier to make more boom. Do sumthing else for a bit, 2 bomb will do it. Gob-guarantee."

GOB as a whole proceeded to shrug as they realized they'd really not gain a lot of speed from the original estimate even if the second batch of bombs worked. Still, while the bombs were being produced the door was being chipped away bit by bit, so one way or another they'd get in. Or, well, their charges would. Really, the entire concept of them being separate was pretty weird to the goblin collective that when asked to design a banner, they simply presented their already existing battalion banner:



Simple and to the point. Now that they had an identity, they needed more... Stuff. Goblins are always desiring more stuff. GOB didn't want to commit to building any long-term buildings due to wanting to relocate to the traditional home of goblins, a dungeon, as soon as possible. Still, they had to do something while the bombs were made to stop beastie attacks. Obviously, the solution was to train the goblins for fighting things. There could be kobolds already in that dungeon that they'd need to... forcefully displace, so it was best to get their small charges a taste of real blood before going down there. But first, they had salvage lying around. Good salvage. Nice stuff. Now, GOB might be bad engineers, but it doesn't take a good engineer to make goblin-grade equipment. Hell, it barely takes two brain cells to do it. Still, it might be to their little table buddies advantage to get some pointier sticks and tougher armor. Gobinacious pressed a complicated series of buttons in order to instruct the table goblins in the manufacture and maintenance (non-existent) of Goblin Armaments:

Rolling Goblin Formations to teach table goblins how to make sharper sticks and find the least rusted armor bits from salvage: 9

Just gear wouldn't really help in a fight. Goblins fought with cunning and smarts, or they're overwhelmed. That and numbers. Lots of numbers. But Gobinacious was really tired of pushing the spawn goblins button, it was really exhausting and he was bored of it. The table goblins needed some sort of pre-fight, something appropriate to their current level of skill and power that they could use to learn and become stronger. But such a thing was obviously not real, so Gobinacious Green Esq. pressed a big red button marked RANDOM ENCOUNTER that he'd found under a couple different glass cases, with yellow and black warning tape around it. Probably nothing, he was just pushing stuff at random. Oh hey, look, a monster.

Rolling Overwhelm with Numbers to account for the table goblins fighting a Random Encounter: 12

Gob Bombs: 1
Salvage: 1? (Unsure if I actually used a salvage last turn or not, given the fluff text and bomb factory being a different tile)

Nyaa
Jan 7, 2010

Q.E.D.



King Norman

Sigh.

These people are too lazy. Even a king have to give up on them. I shall let it be unless they don't pay their taxes.

Speaking of other kings, maybe the royal library will have more information and perhaps details about the world. There must be some secret he can uncover or even the win condition for this table game.

Research in Royal Library x 2: 10 & 10

Nyaa fucked around with this message at Jul 25, 2017 around 18:50

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.

Pippin Bogleech


HP: 10/10
Initiative: 8
Inventory: It's Your Place In the Queue, singed sandy goblin liver
Skills: Spicery [2d6], Orcish stamina [2d6], Etiquette [2d6]
Powers: Conjure flame [1d6], Conjure cooking utensil [4d6], Lose me patience [1d6]
Defend action: Stiff uppa lip [3d6]
Talent: [spent/unspent]


Pippin could hardly believe his eyes; his little people were growing up so fast! But for all their improvements, they were still little more than wanderers in a dead wasteland. They needed food, water, shelter, and lots of it if they were to thrive.

He allocated half (8) of his needles to erecting a protective barrier against intruders. His Leanotaurs were told to hide the cacti needles in the soft sand, setting up a nasty trap for any would-be intruder aiming to catch them off-guard.

The other half was spent on creating orcish fishing rods, otherwise known as spears. He handed them to his most formidable looking warriors, and told them to fish in the local river. When they returned, he revealed to them the secrets of food preservation. Like he had done with the cactii, he demonstrated salt's preservative powers by dessicating a fish with salt.

http://orokos.com/roll/536167 - 15
http://orokos.com/roll/536168 - Spearfishing, Orisch Endurance, 2d6 = 8
http://orokos.com/roll/536169 - Teach fundamentals of food preservation, 2d6=8

(Sorry for being so late. I thought the hotel would have WiFi. It didn't).

e: Flag:

paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007
Fighting poverty...one bum at a time.

Emille

HP: 8/10
Initiative: 4
Defense: Parry[3d6]
Pyromancy [3d6], Acrobatics [2d6], Adventuring Knowhow [1d6]
Ignite/Quench [3d6], Radiance [2d6], Arquebus [1d6]
The Master's Mark (chocolate): [spent/unspent]

1 salvage, 1 wealth

Emille gasped in horror as the rightsiders burned alive. No, no, no this wasn't what she wanted to happen at all! But a wave of relief passed through her as she noticed that they didn't seem to mind much at all. Had she changed their nature, or just revealed what was underneath all along? Hmm. Emille began swiping through the game's various menus and infographics to figure out what they needed now. Their defensive needs were met; her fire elementals were doing quite nicely at ensuring that. They had access to salvage for tools and wealth. Interestingly, despite their new forms, they still needed to eat. Since none of their mineral wealth had gone missing, Emille assumed they still ate animals and plant matter like normal humans.

Emille was an adventurer, not a farmer, and pyromancy and gardening didn't mix, so she didn't feel qualified to take advantage of the region's volcanic and possibly fertile soil. Meat it was, then. She selected a few sleeping Flameforged and whispered into a microphone mounted to the table.

"You wish for food? Then take it from the monsters that roam these wastes."

Emille whispered various tips for fighting monsters to the dreamers, as well as which ones were edible/the tastiest.

Adventuring Knowhow [1d6] to teach the Flameforged how to hunt monsters: 4

When the Flameforged awoke, they knew what they had to do. With the help of their Sonnenguard friends, they turned 1 Salvage into weapons and tools to aid them in their task. As they set out in search of a monster, Emille performed some small ignitions in their muscle equivalents and quenched their fatigue, granting them the swiftness of flame. It was very important that their first hunt go well.

Pyromancy[3d6] to temporarily give them flame's swiftness: 9

Emille leaned back in her chair again to watch the monster hunt. "Hey, Benevolence or whatever your name is.", she called out, "Can we get some snacks or something? This is thirsty work!" She suddenly felt a raw surge of emotion, shock, from Marius's...direction(?) "Is something the matter, Marius?"

"No. Yes." A small pause. "Be careful what you eat in there. My, uh, research suggests there's a nontrivial chance that whatever it gives you to eat will be...unpleasant to say the very least.

Theantero
Nov 6, 2011

...they shall march out of my laboratory and sweep away every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the very planet is in the loving grip of the Pax Bisonica. And then peace will reign, and the world, and all humanity, shall bow to me in humble gratitude...

Cue the Poltergeist

Initiative: 9
HP: 9
Skills: Telekinesis [3d6], Troublesome [3d6]; Powers: Extreme Prankster [4d6]; Defense: Always out of reach [5d6]
Talent: Spent
Items: Knighthood (+1d6 to rolls that benefit King Norman)


Cue bounced on place, thoughtful. As if it had forgotten something?

???????????? Oh right! The Pixel-Dust!

Cue spammed some buttons to guide the pixies to turn the Pixel-Dust into that other thing besides houses and their new food that they need to gain a new Tech Level. Maybe turn it to Tool-Bits to create a Memory Leak to steal all that sweet memory??? Something like that!

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006
Jinat Ulukaï, hâ oagé.

Second Floor – The War Room


[Cue & The Glitchies]


Cue veritably spun with glee. To have found a peoples with a mindset so much like his own, who lived only for violence and pranking! Who distorted natural order by merely existing! Oh, he must have one of his very own but first their needs had to be seen too.
Not one for following the laws of thermodynamics (or even thaumodynamics) Cue instead attempts to rig the console to spew out an endless amount of food, hoping that that should suffice!

additem <FoodID> <#> (13) vs Glitchies (Tech Level 1): 2d6 4 = success!



The Glitchwoods warped and then warped even more, this time in a way they hadn't done before. Where earlier stood an evergreen, now instead there was a Cherry. Only, when the Glitchies plucked the the sweet fruit from its branches, the fruit would instantly re-spawn.

Of course, being both tiny and lazy the Glitchies still considered harvesting this Cherry Cornocoupia backbreaking labour, but at least they would no longer go hungry.

[Success! One Hex of the Glitchwood has been converted to a Cherry Cournocoupia that will forevermore be worked by hungry Glitchies to provide them with one [food] resource per turn.
This [food] is earmarked for Glitchie survival, freeing up any other [food] resources you may find for other endeavors!]


With all of that sorted, Cue cracked his metaphorical knuckles and got to work. He was used to borrowing things. Especially borrowing things from people that did not want to lend him the stuff he took, but he'd never quiet worked on this scale before. Not with a whole world at stake.
Using the Highlighting Orb in conjunction with the many levels of detail that the console offered him, he scanned and analyzed his quarry from every angle available.



Telekinesis (12) + Haunt: 2 vs Warded MagiTek Console: 4d6 16 = failure!

But even though he really wanted a companion, he got bored of scanning things half-way through. Even the jolt of ghost-power didn't do anything other than to flip his recently fixed oracle.



He stormed off in a huff, or he would have had he not been stuck in the War Room together with everybody else.
As his last action for the turn, he poked the Pixel-Dust until it became a pile of [Salvage] Memory Leaks, a tool the Glitchies could use to get around sight unseen. A necessity in the cruel world in which they lived.

--

[Goblin-One-Battalion & The Goblin One Battalions]


The goblins where, if anything, itching for a fight. So much so that they decided to go looking for one, but not before Tround Boomer taught them everything he knew about turning scrap into weapons.

Goblin Formations 9 + Salvage: 4 vs Goblin Society Tech Level 1: 4 = Success! Overskill!

And what a teacher he was! Why, even the Big Goblin Up Above could stand to learn something from the little guy. Stripping an entire abandoned warehouse of old glass and metal, between them the betaught goblins managed to scrounge up enough gear to equip a minor army!



[Success! The Goblin Army is created in the Goblin Society, at a base power rating of 2d6.
To use them, either give them the order to attack someplace (free action, no bonus) or order them and give them a little boost to help them out (roll to attack, as per usual. The goblin army base power rating will be added to your attack, as long as the target is table-side.]


So very eagre to try his/their army out, Goblin-One-Battalion ripped the safeties of the shiniest button on his console and pressed it with all his might, urging his little soldiers forward, into the desert!




Overwhelm with Numbers (12) + Goblin One Army: 4 vs Random Encounter Table: 4d6 20 = failure!

A horrible demon ambushed the goblins without warning, killing many in one fell swoop. Goblin parts fell in blood drenched droves as the greenskins in their panic flailed their new weapons about any which way, hoping to land a solid hit on the monster.
Alas it was all they could do to fall back into the non-safety of their runs so as not to be slaughtered to a goblin!
The psychic backlash from so many of his subjects dying shook the collective Goblin as dearly as a punch to the nose(s), the Highlightning Orb growing angry and purple hued all the while.



[Failure! Ouch! Goblin-One-Battalion takes One Damage, although your people are fine, for now!]

--

[Pippin Bogleech & The Leanotaurs]


Pippin knew the dangers of the wilds and did the best by his new people to save them from the harsh table-side conditions.

Needle Fortifications 15 vs Leanotaur Society Tech Level 1: 11 = Success!



With ample needles to facilitate its construction, the Leanotaurs began and finished a great porject to fortify their little corner of the world with a ferocious cactai fence, with bonus pit traps to boot.
With the mountains to one side and the edge of the world on the other, the new walls provided just enough protection to shield them from the worst of the nightly monster attacks.

But more then shelter, the Leanotaurs needed food, and so Pippin showed them the way, leading them to the river that separated the different sides of the table, taking care to avoid roaming monsters on the way.
Once there, he taught them the ways of the spear and the the swim of the fish, that they might soon sustain themselves.

Orisch Endurance (8) vs Leanotaur Society Tech Level 1: 2d6 7 = Success!
[Success! You create a unit of Fisher-Leanotaurs to work the river, earning you one unit of food per turn!]


But to ensure the freshness of the fish they had captured, Pippin sought to teach them about food preparation as well.

Spicery 8 vs Leanotaur Society Tech Level 1: 2d6 10 = Failure

And whilst this worked and made the fish saltier than ever to the delight of many, it did little to curb the dwindling population problem.

--

[King Norman]

King Norman sat with his face buried in books. Books that Sceptre had gathered for him from the depths of his ghostly inventory. So engrossed was the King that His Royal Majesty did not notice when His Royal Foot slipped from Its Royal Cmofortable Perch on the table, hitting the questionly noble Skip Turn Button by accident.

Reading (10 & 10) vs Warded MagiTek Console: 21 16 = Failure!

As he had no Kingdom to King, this did not matter overly.

--

[Emille & The Flameforged and the Sonnengaurd]


Emille, having spent much of her life as an adventurer, knew that one all important truth that only long experience with the wilds of the world can grant you; That Fighting is Winning. But more then winning, it was the oppourtunity to loot your adversaries that really sweetened the deal.
She knew that if her people where to survive, nay, thrive, they would have to be prepared, and so she gave unto them all that she could, in both knowledge and materials, that their outings might do all the better for it.

Adventuring (4) + Salvage: 4 vs Flameforged & Sonnenguard Society Tech Level 1: 2d6 8 = Success!



The result was a force of Lean, Mean, Fighting Machines was sure to take the world by storm!

[Success! You establish your first military unit, the Lean Mean Fighting Machines, with a base power rating of 1d6!
To use them, either give them the order to attack someplace (free action, no bonus) or order them and give them a little boost to help them out (roll to attack, as per usual. The goblin army base power rating will be added to your attack, as long as the target is table-side.]


Wishing nothing but to prove their worth, the LMFM set out to hunt the monsters that plagued their peoples at night!

vs
Lean Mean Fighting Machine: 4 + Pyromancy 9 vs Random Encounter Table: 13 = success!

With a roar of triumph, the LMFM stood over their first kill victorious. A dread beholder had been slain, and they took its many eye-stalks as Salvage for profit. An alchemist or wizard could find many uses for such a rare ingredient!

[Success! Hooraj! You killed a Beholder and gain 1d6 Salvage! Additionally, you are exempt from monster attacks during the night for this update-night and this update-night only!]

--

[Everyone]
As day turns into night, reports trickle in from all over the world below you. Something is happening in the great south-western forest, causing a great stir amongst the people of the idyllic village!
Even the Glitchies are affected, as terrified villagers are very hard to prank when they keep hiding.

[Goblin One Battalion]

"Nearly through now boss, won't be much longer! Think we got the last hinge unearthed. Reckon all it'd take is another salvo of those Gob-bombs and we could get in right away!
Course that would leave us without bombs to deal with the demon, but y'know, personally I'd take me chances underground!"

[If you elect to spend your supply Gob-Bomb for the task in the coming turn, you may Enter the dungeon at will. Else it will open up for you at the beginning of the turn after that. Your choice.]

---

[Nightly Encounters]


-


[The Glitchies are a Tech Level 1 society and require Shelter, 1 food, 1 salvage and 1 wealth to survive, and more besides to thrive. The forest provides the shelter, and the cherries provide the food. Turning one pixel-dust into salvage, this means they only lack for one unit of wealth.]
Always Out of Reach: 14 vs Random Encounter Table: 3 = success!

Thankfully, monster attacks were getting rarer and rarer by the day.

-


[The Goblins are a Tech Level 1 society and require Shelter, 1 food, 1 salvage and 1 wealth to survive, and more besides to thrive. They have no real shelter to speak of although the Goblin Army still protects them, nor do they have a steady supply of food, but they have enough bombs and salvage to make due for now. Still, starvation hits hard as the seasons change, and morale is low.

Goblin One Army: 8 vs Nightly Random Encounter Table (Starvation, Boredom, Monsters!): 11 = failure!

As night turns into day, more goblins are found dead, no doubt killed by the demon that still roams their lands. The survivors take to huddling around the dungeon door, in the hopes that they can get inside before the monster finds them again.

[Failure! Monsters attack in the night and sever your empire in twain, taking back four hexes of mostly useless territory! The Goblin Army does what it can to protect your peoples, and suffer for it. You however, are fine for now.]

-


[The Leanotaurs are a Tech Level 1 society and require Shelter, 1 food, 1 salvage and 1 wealth to survive, and more besides to thrive.
They do not lack for shelter thanks to the new wall of needles, and have enough food to get by, however they lack for tools and wealth, causing morale issues and making living tough in general.]

Needle Shelter (15) vs Random Encounter Table (Boredom, Harsh Living Conditions): 7 = success!

Few Leanotaurs die in the night anymore, yet the air in the cactai camps is grim. There is much want, both for work and play, and the people dream of the idyllic life than can be seen lived by the leftsiders, if the tales of the Fisher Leanotaurs are to be believed.

-


[The Flameforged & Sonnengaurd are a Tech Level 1 society and require Shelter, 1 food, 1 salvage and 1 wealth to survive, and more besides to thrive. Having slain a dread beholder, they want for nothing for this night, content to cruise on the spoils of their recent victory!]

---

[State of the World]


Borders indicate Claimed Societies. The colours, subject to change depending on your wishes are as follows: Black for Cue, Dark Green for Pippin, Light Green for Goblin-One-Battalion and Red for Emille.

The soldier icon indicates the presence of an Army.
The camp site icon indicates the presence of the Sonnenguard.
The crossed swords icon represents the site of the deadly beholder battle.
The skull icon represents the site of the demon ambush.
The crossed tools icon represents a worked resource hex, either wealth or salvage.
The factory icon represents a factory hex.
The cherries represent a worked food hex.
The fish represent a worked food hex.
The triangle with a dot in the middle represents a Point of Interest.
The Dead-Tree hex represents the desiccated cactai; the resource site that used to be there has now forever been spent.


The Glitchies are generating one food per turn, that is automatically spent on survival. They have adequate shelter but lack for salvage and wealth.
The Leanotaurs are generating one food per turn, that is automatically spent on survival. They have adequate shelter, but lack for salvage and wealth.
The Flameforged & Sonnenguard are generating one wealth and one salvage per turn, but as they killed a dread beholder they will keep these in surplus for now, surviving instead on spoils! They have inadequate shelter and little food, but again, the dead beholder means they do not have to worry about this for now.
The Goblins are generating one salvage and one gob-bomb per turn, but lack desperately for shelter, wealth and food. Starvation is night, if the demon doesn't kill them first!
King Norman has no people to call his own.

--

[Everyone]

Emille asked her question out loud to the room, yet there was no one there to hear it besides the other deepdelvers. None the less, they were certain they knew what the answer would be if someone had, and it would have gone something like this:


"No. I mean, yeah, of course you can? But thats not like, part of the the trial or anything. It isn't about learning to survive without snacks. That's like, the opposite of what you are mostly doing here?
I mean there is a trial about food specifically for you later on, you could go there and get some I guess? Here, I'll make it easy for you manifest the door for you right now, cool huh?

...

You can't see it can you?

...

Because you are stuck on that floor until you figure out the trial?

...

Is that it? Isn't that massively inconvenient for you?

...

Doesn't that make you super motivated?

Anyway I'm like, not here if you need me. Ciao.

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.

Pippin Bogleech


HP: 10/10
Initiative: 8
Inventory: It's Your Place In the Queue, singed sandy goblin liver
Skills: Spicery [2d6], Orcish stamina [2d6], Etiquette [2d6]
Powers: Conjure flame [1d6], Conjure cooking utensil [4d6], Lose me patience [1d6]
Defend action: Stiff uppa lip [3d6]
Talent: [spent/unspent]


What was going on in the southern part of the map? Perhaps a potential threat to Pippin's leanotaurs? If it was, then it only made sense to send out scouts. Not only would it reduce the number of mouths to feed, it would also spur his most bored leanotaurs into doing something marginally productive.

He sent out a small group, armed with fishing spears, out to investigate. But he bade them to proceed with caution.

Orcish stamina, march to PoI, 2d6=7, http://orokos.com/roll/536768
Stiff uppa lip, proceed with caution, 3d6=12, http://orokos.com/roll/536769

Infinity Gaia
Feb 27, 2011

a storm is coming...


Goblin-One-Battalion
HP : 7

Initiative: 8
Inventory: Knighthood Medal (+1d6 to a roll if it complies with the king's wishes)

Wounds: Terrible Arm Spasm (-1d6 to like loving everything this poo poo sucks gently caress)
Shames: Bad Engineers (-1d6 to engineering stuff)
Prouds: Explosives Expert (+1d6 to explosive-related activities)

Defense: An Indeterminate Number of Lives [5d6]
Skills: Be Everywhere [3d6] / Goblin Formations [3d6]
Powers: Overwhelm with Numbers [4d6]
Talent: [spent/unspent]

Disasters untold. The hunger was afflicting the goblins severely, and the characteristic lack of luck in their fight had caused their numbers to decrease rapidly. The only good news was that they could retreat into the dungeon, but...

"But a propa Gob nevah surrenders before a fight, even if it's against a big 'un! We fight or we die, is the gobbie way! And b'side, if we run into da dungeon an' there's a BIGGER 'UN in ther, we stuck between demon and demon place! Also, big demon look tasty. Kinda wanna taste. Probly can't taste. But you all can! Probably!"

This is what passes for a heroic do-or-die speech for goblins, as said by Tround Boomer right before he ordered a full scale offensive on the demon in their territory. They needed all the advantages they could use to make up for their terrible luck, so rather than use their supply of Gob Bombs on the dungeon wall, they elected to go without shelter for some time more and use BOTH bombs in their fight against the demon. Either it was going down, or they were. For that was the proper Goblin way to live!

That and Gobinacious felt kinda bad for pushing the random encounter button. Regardless, they fought on:

Rolling Overwhelm With Numbers (4d6) + 2 Gob Bombs (2d6) + Goblin One Army (2d6) to attack the nearby random encounter demon = 32!!! (Oh poo poo I forgot the Explosives Expert Proud here it is: 1 so actually 33 total)

Well, that'd probably deal with the matter of food. Exploded demon meat is still meat. At least, temporarily. They needed a longer term food source, but Goblins had always thrived on eating terrible low level adventurers and lesser monsters, and it seemed like most monsters around weren't weaker than they. So, adventurers it'd have to be. Gobinacious really wanted to wait until they had settled the dungeon to start the process, but he supposed better sooner than later. So he got a couple of the sneakier, most disciplined table goblins and set them to make their way around the other civilizations as best they could, trying to avoid trouble along the way. Their objective was simple: Spread rumors of a great treasure hidden deep within the dungeon, only waiting to be claimed by the bravest and boldest who would dare face its depths! Gobinacious carefully made sure to word the rumor in such a way that it's clear that whatever the treasure may be, it's definitely not something of interest to any god-like entities that may be watching.

Rolling Be Everywhere to send a group of rumor-mongering goblins around to spread tall tales of dungeon treasure = 16!

(I swear to god if I somehow still manage to fail in fighting that demon I'm going to cry because orokos is mean)

Nyaa
Jan 7, 2010

Q.E.D.



KIng Norman

Slipped down his seat, the king overheard the conversation about appearing. " What? An exit?" Then he search around the room to find the invisible door.

search room for exit door 13&6

paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007
Fighting poverty...one bum at a time.

Emille

HP: 8/10
Initiative: 4
Defense: Parry[3d6]
Pyromancy [3d6], Acrobatics [2d6], Adventuring Knowhow [1d6]
Ignite/Quench [3d6], Radiance [2d6], Arquebus [1d6]
The Master's Mark (chocolate): [spent/unspent]

2 + 6 salvage, 2 wealth

Emille groaned in frustration after her Lean Mean Fightin' Machines encountered and killed a beholder. Nobody liked to eat beholder, not even snooty haute cuisine types! She pulled out a small bag of Emergency Pretzels from her pocket and munched on them as she pondered how to obtain food for the Flameforged. Monster hunting could no longer be considered reliable; from watching the Flameforged and the actions of the other players, she concluded that this game had what some of Marius's games referred to as an "Arbitrary Confrontation Chart." So finding enough monsters (let alone a breeding pair) with delicious tasty meat to feed all the Flameforged was a crapshoot at best.

But not all was lost, Emille noticed she had a significant early-game advantage in that she was the only one with any access to the wealth resource, as the weird fractal-goblin-things' attempts to open the dungeon had stalled. She decided to press this advantage while she still could. Emille selected the LMFMs, transferred two wealth to them, and directed them west, across the bridge. If all went according to plan, they could trade the wealth for food, perhaps even some seeds or livestock so the Flameforged could start their own agricultural operation! As they marched across the desert, Emille chose to add a little bit of flair to their trading mission.

She whispered exercises and tips for acrobatics into their waiting earholes. Some pratfalls and feats of agility could endear the Flameforged to the indolent Leftsiders, Emille reasoned.

Acrobatics [2d6] and 2 wealth to aid the LMFMs in their diplomacy mission: 7

While the Flameforged army dealt with the matter of food, Emille turned her attention to another important matter: the Flameforged had no real shelter other than squatting in the ruins of their old mining outpost. That wouldn't do at all! Emille pressed a button with a picture of a castle and selected the mountain pass leading into the volcanic caldera for its building site. Not only would it be a stylish form of shelter for the Flameforged, but it would further consolidate their control over the mine within the volcano. At first, work was slow, but Emille had a clever idea!

It was a little-known adventurer's trick. If you held and squeezed disembodied beholder stalks just right and they were sufficiently fresh, you could use them as makeshift wands!

Adventuring Knowhow[1d6] and 4 salvage so the Flameforged can have a bitchin' volcano castle: 5

Addison smirked in delight as the Flameforged began blasting tunnels with disintegration rays, moving heavy loads of stone with telekinesis, and cooling down lava with ice beams for basalt and obsidian decorations. They'd have it done in no time at all! Barring unfortunate beholder tendril related accidents, of course.

paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at Aug 1, 2017 around 15:46

Theantero
Nov 6, 2011

...they shall march out of my laboratory and sweep away every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the very planet is in the loving grip of the Pax Bisonica. And then peace will reign, and the world, and all humanity, shall bow to me in humble gratitude...

Cue the Poltergeist

Initiative: 9
HP: 9
Skills: Telekinesis [3d6], Troublesome [3d6]; Powers: Extreme Prankster [4d6]; Defense: Always out of reach [5d6]
Talent: Spent
Items: Knighthood (+1d6 to rolls that benefit King Norman)


Cue bounced on place, furiously clanging against its seat. It was denied! DENIED! The accursed thing was trying to spoil its fun! It had not sense of humor AT ALL! It was worthless, worse than worthless, ohhh, Cue would show it a lesson, yes it would. It would crack open the files and the folders yes, it would scrawl malignant code here, throw glitchies in the data cache, oh yes, it would delete the thumbnails for programs so that old people can't use them anymore, yes, it would make the system admin's life a living hell for spoiling it's fun.

And while it was at it, while the system infrastructure was being compromised by hilarious tech-jokes, Cue would teach the glitchies how to take advantage of the broken files to enrich themselves. They just needed to loot that leaking processing power to start mining the most objective of all wealth:



Genius.


System security thinks it can boss me around huh well let's see how long that'll last (attacking system security): 4d6= 17
Teach Glitchies how to be troublesome and leech system resources to mine for Bitcoins for that Wealth: 3d6= 7

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006
Jinat Ulukaï, hâ oagé.

Second Floor – The War Room


[Cue & The Glitchies]


Cue had had enough. It lashed out at the system, showing it its unbridled fury!

Extreme Prankster (17) vs Warded MagiTek Console: 4d6 11 = Success! Two damage dealt!

Yet the more energy he threw into the system, the more of it it seemed to consume. Arcs of electricity climbed up his chair like a Jacobs ladder and the Highlighting Orb started spinning uncontrollably.
Down below, havoc was being wrought, as the world struggled to make sense of the unreadable input from the God Above.



RandomRadom Quadrant (Top Left, Top Right, Bottom Left, Bottom Right): 3

But he would not relent, and so his power thundered into the very foundations of the world, ripping it apart piece by piece. The Interesting Mountains were cleft in twain, along with much of the south-western forest, much to the horror of the people living in the Idyllic Village.
Only by the grace of [God Missing] where they spared the fury of the orb.

It would be a day remembered forevermore, though perhaps not for the reasons the Deepdelvers first had in mind.

Anger satisfied, Cue retook control of the Highlighting Orb and concentrated on his cherished Glitchies, in an attempt to gift them with wealth far beyond what they had earned.

Troublesome (7) vs Glitchies (Tech Level 1): 8

Yet even with his clear instructions, Source Code manipulation proved too hard for most Glitchies to handle, with only the most devious of pranksters able to conjure only the tiniest fraction of a single coin.
They assured Cue through prayer that, given a few years time even these bits would be worth mountains, but Cue was not a being you might call patient, and so he ended his turn in a sulking huff, in a burnt out chair next to the tauntingly immaculate console.

--

[Goblin-One-Battalion & The Goblin One Battalions]


Tround Boomer was not to be trifled with, and he wasn't about to let some angry god show him up on the stage of large scale explosions. Oh no. Oh no he was not. He was too Proud.
Ordering every single goblin in the world to gather every single gob-bomb they had made, even the ones already armed and on-site at the dungeon excavation, they poured the resulting bomb hoard into as many make-shift goblin quality bomb wagons as they could manage
(only one, but it was super over-loaded and rickety) sending it and one unlucky goblin straight into the demons jaws!


Thirty Three Gob-Bomb-Barrage (33) Vs Actual Real Life Demon (20) = Success! Four Damage Dealt! Overkill!

When the smoke cleared there was a hole in the world worthy of any strip-miner, revealing veins of glimmering ore underneath.
Oh, what luck! With some spare salvage and a little time, they could transform the site of former tragedy into one of great profit, larger than any other in the world!

[Great Success! You have slain the demon and wounded the land, revealing the precious [wealth] hidden underneath!
The goblins immediately begin working it, earning you one wealth per turn, which is automatically spend on the upkeep of your empire! However, since you slew the demon your upkeep for this turn is covered, netting you a free [wealth] to do with as you please!]


So thrilled were the goblins at their victory, they celebrated far into the night, even going so far as to send small groups of rumourmoblins out amongst the peoples of the world to tell tale of the great wealth hidden within their lands.

Wishing to lay low, Goblin-One-Battalion steered the parties as well he/they could, nudging them away from occupied and over-watched territories, targeting instead the few remaining un-godded communities, hoping to sway some adventurers to die for them in their dungeon.

Be Everywhere Rumourmongering (16) vs Stubborn Idyllic Village (tech level 2): 14 = success!



Sure enough, a band of fresh-faced adventurers, inspired by the tales of Sceptre the Spectre, soon wandered of from their Idyllic Village, en route to the hopefully soon to open dungeon. With any luck they would arrive just in time!

[Success! A group of adventurers has heard your call to.. adventure! Their quest; The dungeon! Hopefully they will clear out whatever dangers wait for you inside.]

--

[Pippin Bogleech & The Leanotaurs]



Steak Ribflesh, the leader of the group was feeling self conscious. With the eyes of the Great Green firmly upon him and thrust out into the perilous left side of the world, he was well and truly out of his depth.
Yet he had been chosen, as sure as the Orb roamed the sky without any discernible pattern, and he would try his hardest not to disappoint.

Orcish Stamina 7 vs Leanotaur Society Tech Level 1: 6 = Success!

With the roads safer than they had ever been, all that was really holding the party of explorers back was their own fears and self doubt. Troubles which were swiftly cast away when held under the blazing spotlight of Pippin and his Ork brand energy drinks.



[Success! The Leanotaurs make it across the world without incident



Interesting Mountain stretched out before Pippin Bogleech, or rather the crew of Leanotaurs he had sent to investigate as he followed them with the Highlighting Orb as closely as he could manage.
Aetherial Gauges gave him real-time up to date physical statistics of the group, together with a constantly updated feed of their psychological characteristics. Steak Ribflesh was confident, as was his second in command Lieutenant Thighbone.
Even private Mince was feeling feisty, and he was usually the very picture of anxiety. They passed the great gouge left in the woods around interesting mountain by the Cleftening, daring not go to close lest they fall through and out the other side into the void.

When they reached the base of the mountain, a very small host of one angel(s) was waiting there for them.


"Whosoever Seeketh the Summit of The Lord must bring forth; appropriate sacrifice, lest they be rendered asunder by, uh, me!"


"How about this nice spear?"

Stiff Upper Lip 12 Vs Angelic Bureaucracy: 2d6 10 = Success!


"That will do quiet nicely, thank you."

Without further ado, the host let them through to the Summit, where the Lord(?) awaited them. The deepdelvers in their seats far above waited for the results with baited breath.
But the climb was long, the mountain steep. It was not likely that they would make it there before nighttime fell.

--

[King Norman]

The King of Nothing Hill stepped away from hia seat and paced the room, leaving all matters of rule to Sceptre down below.
The King grew tired of games and had seen enough beauty and variation in his long life and rule to not be swayed by cute graphics and high levels of customization.
In short, he wanted out, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. The question is, would anyone care? Could the trial be so simple as to merely ask to leave?

Some sort of searching skill? Please post your stats Nyaa (13 & 6) vs Badly Hidden Door: 2d6 5 = Success!

It turns out that yes, yes it could.



With no ceremony and his fellow deepdelvers all too occupied by the goings on at the wartable, the King disappeared behind a bookcase and found himself alone at the other side; in the great stairway leading down to the third floor.

[Success! Congratulations, you passed the trial! You are back in the stairway and can do whatever, up to and including progressing to the next floor.]

--

[Emille & The Flameforged and the Sonnengaurd]


Oblivious or uncaring as to the fate of the King, Emille chose a diplomatic path to procure food for her settlement. Selecting some fit looking Flameforged with the Highlighting Orb, she sent them to trade the great wealth of the volcano-lands with the Stubborn Idyllic Villagers of the left.
The villagers greeted the Flameforged skeptically. Nature spirits had been stealing their supplies as of late, and then there was that whole deal with The Clefting. Understandably, they were cautious.

Acrobatics 7 + Two Wealth: 6 vs Stubborn Idyllic Village (tech level 2): 9 = Success!

Yet. The Flamgeforged came bearing considerable wealth, and whats more they looked like more trouble then what it was worth the lazy townspeople to cheat or steal from.
Within hours, a marketplace had been established (under the protection of Sceptre, at least officially) where all and sundry might come to exchange their goods for others.



[Success! Together with the Idyllic Villagers, you establish the worlds first trade-route! For the low-low price of one wealth per turn, they will supply you with one food per turn, neatly covering your requirements in that department!]

Back home, the remaining Flameforged conspire with the Sonnenguard to build the most fantastical castle the world has ever seen.
A work that would take a much larger people decades, they intend to do it in weeks with the awesome power of magic, the help of their God and good old fashioned firepower.

https://media.giphy.com/media/pzwGK4dlC3a8/giphy.gif

Adventuring Knowledge 5 +Beholder Salvage: 19 vs dc14 Volcano = Success! 2 Skill ranks transferred!

Volcano Castle: 8 vs Flameforged & Sonnenguard Society Tech Level 1: 2d6 2 = Enemy Snake Eyes! Great Success!

With wands in hand, the Flameforged cut swathes of stone from the mountains, and with but a twist of the hand raise those stones into brickwork and foundations. The work of generations of their kind completed in hours, they weave their spellstuff into and around the mountain. Nearby the Sonnenguard join hands in great communions, wielding the magic of the beholder stalks in conjunction with their immunity to heat and flame to siphon errant lava into sculptures and fortifications of pure obsidian.



When it is finished, the [Insert Name of Castle/Capital Here] stands the tallest people-made structure in the world, easily supporting the meager population of the flameforged empire. Emille feels a sure of pride at the works of her.. creations? Her peoples?
Her fellows down there in the world, that for every turn she spends with them seem so much more real, so much closer to her than any family she might have left outside.

Through their strange link, Marius whispers something to her about focus, but she can barely hear him now, so lost is she in fantasy.

[Success! You construct a dwelling of such size and splendor that you allow your civilization to advance to Tier 2! Unfortunately they will starve to death soon if you don't do something more about their food situation, but at least they will leave spectacular corpses.]

--

[State of the World]

Borders indicate Claimed Societies. The colours, subject to change depending on your wishes are as follows: Black for Cue, Dark Green for Pippin, Light Green for Goblin-One-Battalion and Red for Emille.
The soldier icon indicates the presence of an Army.
The camp site icon indicates the presence of the Sonnenguard.
The crossed tools icon represents a worked resource hex.
The factory icon represents a factory hex.
The fish icon represents a worked food hex.
The hashed money icon represents a Marketplace, allowing for the trading of wealth for food for the Flameforged People.
The Dead-Tree hex represents the desiccated cactai; the resource site that used to be there has now forever been spent.
The various large building hexes around the volcano represent the great unnamed castle of the Flameforged people.
The three adventurers hex represent the presence of a party of adventurers, out to loot the fabled dungeon!
The purple hexes are wounds in the land, leading to naught but void. Don't fall in.
The gem filled hexes represent veins of untapped wealth.


[Everyone]
[The Summit of Interesting Mountain]



Far above the troubles of the world, a magnificent castle-cathedral stretches out amongst the peaks of the mountain. Lesser angels tend to every well-polished, sparkling surface and the purest of waters flow decoratively in great waterfalls that reach the bottom only as clouds.

Steak Ribflesh and his crew have ascended and though the way was fraught with peril and undoubtedly harsh, it is as if the very air itself up here invigorates them to new feats of endurance.
Passing a great, golden statues (sign sadly unreadable), they enter the castle grounds through the antechamber, quickly earning an honour guard of angels. They walk through marbled halls and silver gardens, until they reach a great hall that stretches from horizon to horizon.

In a corner, where they arrive an instant later, a being of great power stands huddled in on itself. Crying.

The emissaries bow respectfully, the angel host introducing them as heralds from the world below.

The being stirs.


"Once More Gods decide the Fate of All? In my folly I thought such beings vanquished.
There is no greater evil than the enslavement of will and soul. There are no ends I would not, have not gone to, to see such practice cease. No mere words will stop the Reckoning, no mere swords can halt my Justice.
Begone, exalt yourselves and pray, if you are truly lost to reason. Give them up, or beg thee thine Deities for Mercy, for come the break of Dawn I will have none to spare."


--

[Nighttime Encounters]

The Glitchies are generating one food per turn, that is automatically spent on survival. They have adequate shelter but lack for salvage and wealth.
The Leanotaurs are generating one food per turn, that is automatically spent on survival. They have adequate shelter, but lack for salvage and wealth.
The Flameforged & Sonnenguard are generating one wealth and one salvage per turn. They have Superior shelter and are using their wealth to trade for food.
With all of their basic needs satisfied and a Great Work to their name, they advance to Tech Level 2, but with the Ill Omen hanging over them and with their civilization growing, they will need to secure a more permanent source of food for themselves if they wish to flourish.
The Goblins are generating one salvage and one gob-bomb per turn, but lack desperately for shelter, and food. Killing the demon has seen their thirst sated with blood for now and with the great wealth they found in the wake of the bombs, things are slowly looking up.
King Norman is no longer here.

[Everyone]


With rumours of such an ill-omen spreading quickly, morale plummets in the world below.

Glitchies, high on pixel-dust, try and fail to upload themselves to Cue, instead crashing to the hard ground below or freezing in place, frightened to their very cores.

Flameforged and Sonnenguard both quiver behind their thick walls, unsure if even their master masonary will keep them safe from the wrath of heavens.

The Leanotaurs triple their nightwatch, needle spears ever pointing skywards, fearful of what may come.

The Goblins are all too enraptured by their hunt to show any outward signs of fear, but Goblin-One-Battalion, through their strange subconscious link to the gestalt of goblinhood, know they dream not of glorious victory, but instead have nightmares of defeat.

The Monsters cower in their lairs, or perhaps just bide their time. Soon a feast of flesh and blood will unravel the world, and everything will be theirs for the taking.

--



Wow. Isn't that all dramatic and junk? <Said no one, ever, even if it feels like they did.>
Anyway, looks to me like you have a Choice.

You could stay here with your people. See things through. Show your courage or heroism or whatever ideals you believe in. You could make a real difference in their little lives. Make of them a peoples in your own image. Rule the world. Face the omen of the mountain.
You could do that, if you wanted.

Or you could be a coward and flee like Norman. Abandon them like all the useless fathers, absent mothers and all the gods and kings before.
You could do that instead, if you wanted. I won't judge.



...



Or will I?

Nyaa
Jan 7, 2010

Q.E.D.



I... won. See ya all suckers!

The only way to win is to not play!

King Dominion's skill btw.

Infinity Gaia
Feb 27, 2011

a storm is coming...


Goddammit Nyaa, I didn't even get to see what was in the dungeon! I was curious as hell, too! I was hoping it'd be a fractal dungeon type dealie and I'd be sending my society into their own CYOA!

Oh well. Gonna post a full fluff post later, just wanted to take a moment to be annoyed for now.

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.

Pippin Bogleech


HP: 10/10
Initiative: 8
Inventory: It's Your Place In the Queue, singed sandy goblin liver
Skills: Spicery [2d6], Orcish stamina [2d6], Etiquette [2d6]
Powers: Conjure flame [1d6], Conjure cooking utensil [4d6], Lose me patience [1d6]
Defend action: Stiff uppa lip [3d6]
Talent: [spent/unspent]


Was the angel threatening to kill not just his leanotaurs, but all other creatures made by his fellow deepdelvers? How rude! Pippin did not hesitate to spring into action. First, he switched his attention to the Leanotaur settlement and gave them their marching orders. They were to split up into groups of roughly equal size and seek out and protect the other Deepdelver settlements. Having fewer settlements to spread one's forces over meant having more fighters in one place, leading to increased survivability.

Second, Pippin manifested his power to materialize a weapon into the hands Steak Ribflesh, his chosen champion. The ethereal fork, nearly six feet in length, shimmered with a golden glow.

"That creature is no friend of yours, Steak!" bellowed Pippin. "Skewer 'im right where he stands, for if he lives, doom will befall your tribe!"

Etiquette, send off leanotaurs to defend other settlements, 2d6=9
Conjure cooking utensil, attack the angel, 4d6=12

paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007
Fighting poverty...one bum at a time.

Emille

HP: 8/10
Initiative: 4
Defense: Parry[3d6]
Pyromancy [3d6], Acrobatics [2d6], Adventuring Knowhow [1d6]
Ignite/Quench [3d6], Radiance [2d6], Arquebus [1d6]
The Master's Mark (chocolate): [spent/unspent]

"Emille."

"Emille?"

"Emille!"

Emille fell out of her chair as a jolt of excruciating pain passed through her entire body. She had to lay on the floor for a few seconds, gasping for breath. "Sorry about that, Em. You were falling into some kind of attention sink and despite my best efforts, I cannot make my Mark cause anything less than searing agony." Wait, the game was some kind of attention sink? Emille had heard of these; objects enchanted to be so interesting that anyone interacting with them would get so caught up they would starve if not dealt with in some way beforehand. Emille got back up and looked over the room, noticing the exit open and King Norman missing. She decided to leave; it wouldn't do to have Norman wandering through the dungeon alone. He was an irritating blowhard, in Emille's opinion, but he was still king.

The Flameforged would be fine without her. And even if they weren't, it was still just a game, after all.

As she walked down the stairs, she decided to chat with Marius, something he said was bothering her. "Marius.", she whispered, "What was it you said about a Mark? I know you did something to me before I came in here, even if you didn't say anything."

There was an uncomfortable silence from Marius. "You're right. I won't bother lying; I blackened a small portion of your soul using shadow magic. That is what links us together and what allows me to maintain my presence there."

"You did what? Why would you do such a thing?" Emille began mentally going through all of her thoughts and actions since she entered the dungeon. They all seemed like thoughts she would think and things she would do but could she be sure?

[i]"I know what you're thinking, I could've worded that better. You're still you, you're not going to want to burn down puppy orphanages or anything like that, and it comes off easily enough. (Well, by soul alteration standards, at least.) Trust me, I would've been smited by every god around a very long time ago if it were Permanent."

[i]"As for why I did it, I was worried. I have every reason to suspect the dungeon you're in is special. As far as I know there's only been exactly one other instance of this happening and it was not...kind to the Untalented. So when you came to me and told you wanted to explore this Dungeon, I panicked and lent you my Talent, in a way. I'm truly sorry, I should've asked."

Emille stayed silent and continued her march down the stairs. She needed to think about this.

Theantero
Nov 6, 2011

...they shall march out of my laboratory and sweep away every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the very planet is in the loving grip of the Pax Bisonica. And then peace will reign, and the world, and all humanity, shall bow to me in humble gratitude...

Cue the Poltergeist

Initiative: 9
HP: 9
Skills: Telekinesis [3d6], Troublesome [3d6]; Powers: Extreme Prankster [4d6]; Defense: Always out of reach [5d6]
Talent: Spent
Items: Knighthood (+1d6 to rolls that benefit King Norman)


Was the angel trying to tell Cue what to do? Hahahahaaa how silyl, how silly and dumb! Cue did what it WANTED to do! Sure, it would Flee, but nobody said anything about taking stuff with it! And the glitchies were its creation, the angel would never see their full potential be fulfilled!

So, in the likeness of a petulant child, Cue made its escape, but NOT without bouncing off plates of code, crashing into firewalls or just generally being far much more of a nuisance than was necessary. Conveniently, this also helped as an escape route for the Glitchies it was dragging behind itself.


The most troublesome of escape routes: 3d6= 9
Take glitchies with me: 3d6= 10
[/quote]

Infinity Gaia
Feb 27, 2011

a storm is coming...


Goblin-One-Battalion
HP : 7

Initiative: 8
Inventory: Knighthood Medal (+1d6 to a roll if it complies with the king's wishes)

Wounds: Terrible Arm Spasm (-1d6 to like loving everything this poo poo sucks gently caress)
Shames: Bad Engineers (-1d6 to engineering stuff)
Prouds: Explosives Expert (+1d6 to explosive-related activities)

Defense: An Indeterminate Number of Lives [5d6]
Skills: Be Everywhere [3d6] / Goblin Formations [3d6]
Powers: Overwhelm with Numbers [4d6]
Talent: [spent/unspent]

Well, now this was a situation. Still, for the goblins, it was crystal clear what they had to do. I mean, it's not like they considered themselves the gods of the little goblins down there anyways, they were just a very small extension of their unit. Still, it seemed it was time to grant them independence, the only way goblins know how. With explosives.

You see, Tround Boomer is not the kind of goblin that would walk around teaching tiny table goblins how to make explosives without making some examples. They were small, to be sure, but they were still patented Gob Bombs that he tied around the control stick and the entire GOB part of the control module, taking special care that MOST of the explosion wouldn't reach the table proper.

"Hey, litte guys down there. It seems sum weird angel thing is coming for yous lot, seems to not like us helping you too much, so we're officially making you the first ever Goblin-One-Battalion Independent Small Arms Unit. Er, mostly cuz you lot carry knives, not cuz you're small. And independent cuz we trying to make sure no one else gets to control you lots. We get enough of that ourselves to put that on someone else. Anyhow ye lot won't be getting much more instruction from us so here's yer last set of orders, the most important goblin orders of 'em all: Survive, cuz you win if the other guy died before you did, no matter what else happens. If ye lot survive and win this, come meet us further down for more instructions. Gobspeed!"

And with that stirring speech, Gobinacious and Tround quickly ran to the revealed secret exit, leaving a disposable goblin to light the fuse on the bombs they'd left set just in case something went wrong. Oh, and on their way out, Tround threw a handful of tiny bombs at the Interesting Mountain just out of spite.

Rolling Overwhelm With Numbers + Proud to attack the control console + control stick with tiny demonstrative gob bombs: 15
Rolling Overwhelm With Numbers + Proud to spitefully toss some tiny demonstrative gob bombs at Interesting Mountain: 14

Because cool guys never turn to look at explosions, no one got to see what happened besides uh. Anyone who elected to stay behind, and the disposable fuse goblin. Hopefully the explosions worked out, but in any case GOB were outta there.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006
Jinat Ulukaï, hâ oagé.

Second Floor – The War Room


One by one the Deepdelvers filed out, leaving their fledgeling nations to defend themselves against the wrathful heavens.

Only one of them, Pippin, be he brave or foolish, elected to stay behind.
This is his story.

[Pippin Bogleech & the Leanotaurs]


If Pippin noticed the others leaving, he gave no indication of doing so or caring. All of his attention, his power, his conviction, his food and even his spices went to those down below, that they might stand a chance in the face of apocalypse.
He gave them of his Words, instilling in the Leanotaurs a noble purpose with his Etiquette. No matter the foe, no matter the context, he commanded, they were to fight those stronger for the sake of the weaker. A noble cause, if ever there was one.

Etiquette 9 vs Leanotaur Society (Tech Level 1): 2 = Success! Overskill!

They took to it like ducks to water, and Pippin beamed at them with pride.

[Success! Leanotaur Warriors all over the world prestige-class into Paladins, granting you a unit of Paladins with the base power level of 2d6!]


Strongest of all foes present was the Angel in his castle, the one who had dare to threaten them.
As Pippin threw his weight and magics upon the console and Highlighting Orb, Ser Steak-Ribflesh felt the power flowing into him, giving him strength beyond that of any mortal or undead – even Sceptre himself.


Conjure cooking utensil (12) + Leanotaur Paladins (Base Power 2): 3 vs Holy Robes: 5d6 15 = failure

But even his masters powers were not enough to even scratch the flowing robes of the Angel – and the Angel, as promised, would not show them mercy.

vs
Purge the Unrighteous: 37 vs Stiff Uppa Lip + Leanotaur Society(Tech Level 1): 8 = success! Overkill! 4 Damage Taken!

Pippin was thrown out of his chair even as his Paladins were vaporized of off the side of the mountain, causing burning boulders to rain down upon the world, signalling the end of all.
He struck one of the bookcases that the door had been hidden in hard and was promptly buried under a pile of books.

[Pippin Bogleech]
You have failed. The Trial of Distraction proved your superior, and your nation could not stand up to the might of the Angels on their lonesome.
With a heavy heart and an aching head you clear the books from your vision, only to find yourself back at the top of the stairwell, unable to even turn back, unable to ever return.

You sigh, clinging to the slip of paper you received inside, the sole treasure of any use to you.
The slowly deprecating number would see this mess sorted out, but part of you wonders if it will be you or your grandchildren's grandchildren who will finally see your name redeemed, your restaurant salvaged.

But The Dungeon is not all that you have lost, for you left part of yourself inside that pit most fel. You are but half the ork you were when you entered, forevermore nursing a wound that will not heal.

--

[The Glitchies]


The Glitchies screamed and prayed fervently, putting all of their hope into their cruelest source-code-erer. Offering her their food as it was their only chance for survival.
Calling upon their Lord Cue, they hoped to avoid the devastation even now raining down upon the world or to at least send a few amongst their number into outer-heaven where He resided, before all was lost.

Source-coder-er: 5 + Telekenesis (10) vs Warded MagiTek Console: 4d6 12



[Success? The effects of this action will be seen later]

--

[Goblin-One-Battalion]
Explosions rock out behind you, but you are to cool to see what happens. You exit with the others, unperturbed.



Overwhelm With Numbers + Explosives Expert (15) vs Warded MagiTek Console: 15 = Success! One damage dealt.
Overwhelm With Numbers + Explosives Expert (14) vs Holy Robes: 24 = Failure!

You looked anyway, didn't you? Shameful.


--

[Goblin-One-Battalion, Emille]
You leave the Wartable behind you, and with it you realize you left a part of yourselves behind.
You have passed the Trial of Distraction, but only just barely. You may proceed to the next floor.

[Cue, King Norman]
You leave the Wartable behind you. You have passed the Trial of Distraction and may proceed to the next floor.

--

[Emille]
How could you have been so foolish? To fall for so simple a trick and take an enchanted boardgame more seriously than your Quest?
You played with toy skeletons and firesprites when your master fought Liches for your cause, even going so far as to offer his Talent onto you that you might survive the dungeon and it's trials.
His devotion to your shared desire is heartening, whatever one might say about his methods. You feel the power of your bond deepen, even as blood drips from your forehead. It collects in your hand, flowing into a perfect circle before it hardens in the heat of your fire.

For beating the Trial of Distraction with a level two society left behind, you earn the Proud of being Mentored. May it serve you well.
Additionally, you gain the +1 ring, forged out of your own blood in the volcano fortress of your former empire. It grants you a plus one to one action per turn, not including talents.

As you flee the trial, you feel as if a part of you was left behind with the people you abandoned.
You take 2 hit points of unavoidable damage.

--

[Goblin-One-Battalion]
You feel the loss the moment your feets cross the threshold. The death of all the goblins you left behind. Could you have done more to save them?  Should you? Ah, but that is the fate of minions. To fight, and to die. That the Overlord might live another day.

For beating the trial of distraction with a level one society left behind, you have earned the Proud of the Overlord. May it serve you well when throwing countless more goblins to their deaths.

As you flee the trial, you feel as if a part of you was left behind with the people you abandoned.
You take 1 hit point of unavoidable damage. Another scar for your collection.

--

[Cue]
Far be it for you to ever feel loss. You do not give in to rules and refuse to play by them. You unleashed your power and wrought destruction upon the world, only pausing to aid your chosen in the escape from such a confined reality.
Never again shall you call someone master, and now neither shall they.

For beating the Trial of Distraction with no society left to care for, you earn nothing.
But as you did not leave anything behind, neither do you take harm.

You rattle uncontrollably as strange magics infuse your being. When it subsides a moment later, your hold within you a new prophecy. If you still had a skull with which to smirk, you can bet it would be smirking.


You gain a one-time ritual: Summon Glitchie. May it serve you well.

--

[King Norman]
You leave behind nothing, having spent most of your time idle in a chair.
Spectre rejoins you soon after, regailing you with tales of the End of the World.
You laugh the Royal Laugh of Haughtiness. Apocalypse serves them right, they who would refuse your rightful Dominion.

For beating the Trial of Distraction with nothing, you earn nothing. But neither do you suffer harm.

--

[The Stairwell]
[Everyone]



You find yourself walking down the stairway, with the door you entered earlier already far behind. Looking up you see Pippin, your former companion, walking back upstairs, head held low in defeat. Your group is shrinking, but is that good or bad?
With less people around you, you have less competition should you reach the end, but the Trials ahead are sure to be a heavy burden if faced alone.

You shake such thoughts from your mind and focus on what truly matters; the arduous trek that awaits before you reach the next floor, as the steps you must travel only ever seem to be getting longer.

Two hours pass with no meaningful gains; your legs and stomach (or equivalents) ache though for different reasons. Any wounds you might have suffered are as in stasis, the pain constant but dulled.
Attempts to fix them, to suture, nurse or care for, weather by magic or means mundane are all equally pointless. The Dungeon has taken. Will take, until you have no more left to give.

You descend for three more hours and then take a step which looks no different than any other and are whisked away – the sudden lurch of instant teleportation like a punch in the gut that leaves you dazed and confused.

[Floor Three - The City of Ruin]


You wake up with a fiendish hangover, in the remains of a broken down park. The trees around you are dead, long since petrified and the fence that surrounds it little more than rust.
Grand towers pierce the sky In every direction, with countless windows sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.

In the middle of the park lies the corpse of some ancient demon, shards of cold iron stuck into it at seemingly random points, as if it had been caught in some explosion.



As you stand there in confusion, one of the giant towers above begins shaking out of its foundation, the windows exploding into showers of deadly glass.
Whatever passes for gravity in this place seems to be pointed directly at you, for soon the sharp and deadly glass begins pouring down like rain. You need to find shelter, and quick, lest you be buried beneath it.

[The City of Ruins attacks you with 1d6 Glass Rain! Roll your defenses or suffer the consequences.]

But more than shelter, you need to find sustenance. You have been walking for at least half a day, and there is no telling how long you have actually been gone. Be it roast chicken or mana, your reserves need filling lest you starve or wither.

Nevertheless, the streets, as far as you can see, are empty, though piles of refuse litter the place with a thickness and sharpness to make travel along them a chore in and of itself.

--

[Marius]
Just when you thought all was lost, your mark flares up once more, a month after you last heard from Emille.
Your sympathetic link indicates she is hurt, but it is clear that she has made it through alive.


[Everyone]
The Deepdelvers have found themselves in quiet a pickle. The only question that remains for them now is what they will do about it.

--

[Outside]
Creation shivers as the Dungeon manifests in four more locations, amongst them your home town. It cares not at all what it replaces, nor how much damage the appearance would cause.
From the opening pours a stream of travelers, none alike, but all wounded or shamed. They all carry a story, and though you may not understand their languages or custom, the Voice that flows from the place they exited makes it clear enough.


Do you have what it takes, to pass the Trials and claim your Hearts Desire? The Dungeon is here. Enter, if you dare.

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!

Grimey Drawer

Molriir Hearthstone
HP: 10



While Molriir fully expected to find a hole in the ground when he came back home after years on the road, he was shocked to find it to be a different pit entirely. While conferring with the many shameful, confused and broken creatures limping away from the Dungeon, the dwarf shared his rations, rum and stories and folded out his well-worn maps to point out directions to nearby towns and nations liable to shelter the newcomers. He even provided back-pats and first aid to those who seemed most in need of it - and there were those to whom that seemed to make a difference. The influx of alien creatures onto the Orth was worrisome all on its own to the dwarf, but he was unwilling to just leave them be. And history - and his own experiences - had taught him this would not be the first time such a thing had happened, so he figured that given a few directions they might at least find a livelihood, shaken and bothered though they all were, in their new world.

That aside, however, Molriir's greater concern was for those who had once occupied the space that the Dungeon now did. At length, the dwarf managed to make his way over to the pit entrance proper - quite different now from how he'd once left it. The vaulted doors and the fortified entrance were gone, and instead was just an open space leading down into the fundament. There was no sign of the structures that had once belonged there, so the thoughts going through Molriir's mind when the Voice made her announcement were thus more along the lines of what fate had befallen his estranged kin, than on what he might gain of the things he utmost desired.

quote:

Do you have what it takes, to pass the Trials and claim your Hearts Desire? The Dungeon is here. Enter, if you dare.
thundered the heedless voice, repeating the story he'd been told by many of those broken and downcast people he'd interacted with.

At the precipice of this pit, then, staring down at the rough-hewn stone stairwell - rough maybe, but tinged with artificiality to the dwarf's senses - Molriir considered the words of the Lady and her challenge. Delving into that Dungeon might be the last thing he ever attempt, which was certainly not the end he'd want for his long journey... and even if it was not, he still risked being exiled to some distant place by failing just a single one of the strange and arbitrary trials that had been detailed to him by the survivors he'd met. There was no guarantee he would ever be returned to Orth. He had been duly warned by the shell-shocked wrecks that came before him that this place was, pretty objectively, a poor idea to enter.

Nevertheless, he stepped onto the stairwell and looked around to try to see if the voice that had issued from nowhere had some manner of presence still.

"Well, beggin' yer pardon and all, but yer hole's been put where me hearth was and I'd like t' see me family. We're long overdue fer a talk, ye ken, on matters I could probably use yer wish-fulfillment thing on, assumin' I win it. Assumin' it bein' fer real. Assumin' ye haven't killed me folks all somehow by puttin' this place here. Assumin' yer nae... well... I guess ye could call this a choice t' dare at, but me point is ye didn't really make it much o' one fer me. Well played in that regard."

Stoic silence greeted the dwarf's mix of slightly acerbic, worried and bemused words. He'd been told by a befurred human-looking thing that the Voice occasionally responded to direct conversation, but either it was taking its sweet time, or Molriir did not warrant a response. He shrugged his broad shoulders, shifting the large backpack across them to a more comfortable position and continued his descent, muttering under his breath in the nervous manner of one who knows they're probably in for it now.

"Ach, don't mind me, then. I'll just keep wanderin' on into yer... whate'er this is."
"Och, great, there went me sense o' direction. Wonderful."
"Ayup. That's not workin' either. Figured as much.
"Why e'en bring a compass if ye keep on"
"stumblin' into random hellscapes"
"where reality stops makin' any"
"durn sense, ye fool."


quote:

Bio: Molriir Hearthstone is a scion of the Marnavir clan, from the world of Orth, who broke with a long-standing tradition of near-isolation and left the halls of his ancestors in order to explore the wider world. He was gravely wounded in a battle over a matter of pride, but was nursed back to health by a people he once had considered hated pariahs, to be blamed for all the Orth's woes - the damned elves humans. This experience shamed him so much that it broke apart his many prejudices and forced him to rethink his moral code, turning him into the rarest of creatures: a mild-mannered, empathic dwarf.

Skills:
Educated Dwarf [3d6]: Molriir spent his youth being educated in the basic school of dwarf competencies: stonecraft, mining, jewel-cutting, appraising, fish-boning, etc.
Hearthstone [4d6]: Molriir's amiable nature can stabilize the oft tumultuous hearts and minds of others, encouraging them to great feats of effort and daring.

Power:
*Superior Quality Repeating Crossbow* [3d6]: Well-maintained, oiled, and ready for whenever words won't suffice.

Defense:
Unbelievably Stubborn [5d6]: One could blame plain old dwarven toughness, but Molriir appears cussedly determined to see things through. You can stick a fork in him, but it might not be enough to see him done.

Inventory: Backpack o' stuff (delicious rations, oil, rum, etc.), Hearthstone Shield (+1d6 to a Defense against physical dangers - any nearby stone receives increased durability and tensile strength).

Talent: Salt of the Orth (Salt)
Has no Talent and no Haunts.

Motto: Hike the Orth!

Decided to go ahead and my application. Hope that's the way to do it!

Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at Aug 13, 2017 around 04:19

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.


[Slid]

[Skills]
Move [4d6]: Slid is fast and relentless, and her multi-jointed frame makes her move in unexpected ways.
Consume [2d6]: If Slid is damaged in such a way that her movement is hampered or otherwise inconvenienced, she will sit and eat whatever fits into her mouth until she feels stronger.
Examine [2d6]: If Slid is confused, she will attempt to examine her surroundings until the feeling passes.

[Powers]
Hurt [5d6]: Slid is perfectly designed to injure things and people, and she exerts that perfection at the slightest provocation.

[Defense]
Dodge [2d6]: Slid will use her speed to avoid attacks, but will not react to pain except as physics requires, and shows no special aversion to danger.

Talent (Mint):
Ruin On a success, Slid will reshape her surroundings such that the normal operation of things is interrupted or ended. Birds will cease their flight and crash, or bridges will tear and break, or the clouds will fall from the sky and shatter to earth. Whatever happens, it makes things worse for everyone, including her.

Bio:
The gateway appeared in Slid's world, draining part of a lake and killing millions of fish. Slid knew. She counted. No one else was around. There wasn't anyone else left, not anymore. No, they'd let her go in the old days, and then she'd found them all, and now there was just her, and the fish, and the rocks. And now a new door, to somewhere. She walked through it.

[AI]
Use Talent immediately when possible, even if it could cause danger to herself or others. Especially then. If not possible, Harm something. If not possible, Examine something. If not possible, Move until one of the above is possible.

(Woo! Should I roll for Glass Rain also?)

Nyaa
Jan 7, 2010

Q.E.D.



King Norman

This rain of arrows AGAIN. King Norman do not want to deal with this bull again.

Mint talent : 2 Fail

King Norman REALLY don't want to deal with this, so his knight will deal with it.

Destroy Shards: 25

They say the best defense is the best offense, so Scepter the Specter does a mega windplosion strike that send the shards away in pieces and multistrike anything left that flew toward the king.

Theantero
Nov 6, 2011

...they shall march out of my laboratory and sweep away every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the very planet is in the loving grip of the Pax Bisonica. And then peace will reign, and the world, and all humanity, shall bow to me in humble gratitude...

Cue the Poltergeist

Initiative: 7
HP: 9
Skills: Telekinesis [3d6], Troublesome [3d6]; Powers: Extreme Prankster [4d6]; Defense: Always out of reach [5d6]
Talent: Spent
Items: Knighthood (+1d6 to rolls that benefit King Norman), Summon Glitchie
Scratch Tokens: 1


Cue bopped and Cue bounced. It had taken the glitchies, it had freed the hilarious glitchies, right under the nose of that idiot angel! How fun, how fun! So fun was it, that Cue barely registered the faint rain of glass shards (it was a small, mobile thing, also made of hard to scratch enchanted unicorn ivory). It bounced about, its gleeful and troublesome nature weaving a shield of ill fortune about itself as it went on its way.

It was at this point that Cue noticed it was in a city. It was abandoned.

How boring!

There was a lot of trash also though. Totally unsupervised.

How exciting!

Thus, Cue wrought up a veritable telekinetic storm, gathering all manner of trash it could. Then, it immediately started creating grand constructions out of all of this. Mainly, it made crudely built statues making even cruder gestures, and arranged trash into rude sentences. Haha, what fun!

Perhaps, in a strange way, the utter juvenility of the act itself would be enough to spur the spirit on.

Telekinetic Initiative, Floor 3: 3d6= 7
Behind the 8 ball, Chocolate Talent: 1d6= 4
Telekinesis: Gather trash into crude words and sculptures: 3d6= 15

Theantero fucked around with this message at Aug 16, 2017 around 21:07

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006
Jinat Ulukaï, hâ oagé.

[Lady of the Dungeon]
Wave 2 - The Stairwell


The first steps are taken alone. Wherever you came from, there was you and no other what could or dare enter. So it is rather surprising, to say the least, to see people both ahead and behind you when those first few steps have passed.
All in all some twenty people descend with you in your wave, most silently, determined. One of them stops abruptly to take in the sights, the stars twinkling above and the uncertain depth to which the dungeon plummets.



Removing its mask, it reveals itself to be a creature composed entirely out of worms, or at least their equivalent in whatever world it hails from. Soon they disperse, crawling over each other and every surface, making their way down the walls instead of the stairs.
The other deepdelvers watch bemused or horrified at the blatant disregard for unwritten rules, each as is their wont. Some start running, intent to catch up. Others merely shake their heads.



A wind cold like an apathetic sigh runs through the corridors, arches, stonework of the stairwell and one by one the worms halt, lifeless. Myriad writhing corpus turned at once to stone and ash.
The wind continues unabated, near-silent dispersing every mote and speck of them, until naught is left but the memory. Soon that too shall fade.

You shudder inwardly, no matter your callousness.


--

Wave 2
Molriir Hearthstone

Step upon endless step of mismatched, misplaced stonework. Your kin would be endlessly shamed by the masonry here on display. That is, if the Dungeon hadn't simply upped and replaced them with itself.
Still, perhaps they could be rescued, pulled from whatever magical pocket the Dungeon saw fit to transpose such things too, if indeed that was its wont.
In the meantime, you'd just have to do twice the work of shaming, that whoever was responsible would feel the full force of a proper dwarven grudge.

Whatever your feelings on the Worm(s) or its(their) fate, you continue down the flights of stairs with your usual grumpy determination. You will see this journey to its end and in doing so fulfill your purpose.

--

Wave 2
Slid

A stairway. Slid would count the bricks as it moved. Count the people as they walked. Count the seconds as they ticked. Count them and know them and, in time, become their end. Their Ruin.
But the guardian-force would broker no breaking of the peace in this limbo - that would have to wait. Power would needs be amassed. The Dungeon would supply it. So it must be.

--

Wave 2
[Everyone]

You walk for exactly 900 seconds before you reach a wall. Two doorways present the only options forward, one opaque and one transparent. You see people walking on the other side of the see-through wire-mesh of the leftmost portal. Most of your number choose this door.
You don't, for whatever reason. Instead picking the path less chosen, the muddled, the dark and mysterious.

You open the opaque door and see only darkness within.



You enter and are whisked away - emptying the contents of your stomach.

Wave 2 - First Floor – The Beach Beyond Darkness


[Everyone]
A beach ravaged by war, with high, imposing cliffs filled with barbed wire and worse presenting the only way not-ocean forward. Dotted along the safer paths are defensive fortifications, trenches and bunkers all aligned to let the defenders slaughter all who would come near.
This would be you, for you appear together with a half dozen other Deepdelvers suddenly and violently in some sort of metal coffin - no scratch that, boat, at the place where surf meets shore.

From your somewhat safe position you espy a large and imposing tower looming behind the defensive line, obviously important somehow. It radiates magic, though what kind needs further study to verify.
This is all very obviously a trap, but then again 'Trials' are not meant to be easy.


Somewhere, a girl or a woman does not smile. Nor does she say, "Whenever you are ready."
That would be preposterous.

--

[Welcome to the Dungeon, wave 2! Including Molrir and Slid and whoever else posts their character before the first turn is up! The Beach is once more open for business, and though you have yet to see your enemy you can be pretty sure they are around here somewhere.
Feel free to get to know each other before combat starts, or don't and die forgotten, like the nameless shadows of your NPC'd peers. If you wish to move forward, choose the way you like best, High Cliffs or Fire-lane, or do something else I don't know, surprise me.
Either way make sure to roll your actions and your initiative, lest you stumble and fall.]

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

But People have fears that beasts do not. Questions, too.


[Slid]

Slid leapt immediately out of the craft, having already taken the scene into consideration in the moment she'd seen it. The tower was her goal, and anything between her and the tower would be broken. She broke into a sprint, dodging over, under and through whatever looked dangerous or even unusual.
Skill - Move 4d6] = 16
As she ran she felt the world pulling on her sluggishly, the air thickening like taffy and holding her back. She hated it. Her skin vibrated with the force contained within, and she let it loose.
Talent - RUIN! [1d4] = 1 (uh oh)
Pain and failure racked her, but what was pain but a response to stimulus? No more or less valid than sight or sound, and certainly nothing to care about.

paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007
Fighting poverty...one bum at a time.

Emille

HP: 6/10
Initiative: 7
Defense: Parry[3d6]
Pyromancy [3d6], Acrobatics [2d6], Adventuring Knowhow [1d6]
Ignite/Quench [3d6], Radiance [2d6], Arquebus [1d6]
The Master's Mark (chocolate): [spent/unspent]
Items: +1 Ring (+1 to a single action every turn)

As the glass rained down upon her, Emille reflexively unsheathed her sword and swatted the shards out of the air with several lightning-quick motions.

Parry[3d6]: 7

Child's play. As Emille wandered around the immediate vicinity looking around, Marius chimed in, "It has been a month for me since we spoke last. At this rate, I might just have to shed my corporeal form." A whole month? Then the dungeon seemed to be increasing the time passing outside. If the pattern held up, the next in-between would take a year. Emille shuddered at the thought of how much time could pass after that. "How are things outside?", she asked.

"Everyone assumes the worst, despite my best attempts to convince them otherwise. I believe King Norman's court is starting to talk about succession. As for me, my dealings with Thromlak the Gilded were a success. Wave a phylactery over a lich's head and they'll do anything you ask." Marius let out a humorless chuckle. "Always remember that nobody becomes a lich because they have any particular love of life. It's fear all the way down with them."

"Wait, aren't you some kind of undead, Master? I always assumed. No offense, Marius, but your face looks like someone stretched a cellophane noodle sheet over a skull."

"Ha, no offense taken; I came to terms with my appearance a long time ago. To answer your question, I am undying due to a confusing mess of extraordinary circumstances but I am very much alive, if you can call this living. But enough about me, I sense that you are hurt. Are you alright?

"The board game hit me with some kind of backlash, but I think I'll be fine."

The Master's Mark [1d4]: 1

"I certainly hope so. Through our link, I can transfer life force, but right now is...not a good time. One of the lich's skeletal minions managed to hit me in what passes for my gut. Oh how I miss the days when I had the strength to wear armor."

Oof, that sounded rough. From what Marius told her about his...unique physiology years back, it would take him quite a while to heal. Emille's explorations were interrupted by the rumblings of her stomach. Ugh, the Emergency Pretzels she ate an hour/month ago had only piqued her appetite. Luckily, she saw a flock of birds flying overhead. She stared at each one, willing it to spontaneously ignite.

Pyromancy[3d6+1]: 10

With any luck they'd hit the ground cooked just right.

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!

Grimey Drawer

Molriir Hearthstone
HP: 10
Skills: Educated Dwarf [3d6], Hearthstone [4d6].
Power: *Superior Quality Repeating Crossbow* [3d6]
Defense: Unbelievably Stubborn [5d6]
Inventory: Backpack o' stuff (delicious rations, oil, rum, etc.), Hearthstone Shield (+1d6 to a Defense against physical dangers - any nearby stone receives increased durability and tensile strength).



Molriir seldom judged by appearance and felt saddened by the worms' abrupt end. Worms dug in the earth, rolled it around and kept it fertilized, so to his ken they were not inherently evil creatures. If a mass of them should somehow take the shape of a man and find sentience, well, perhaps it was some long-gone god's doing. Or perhaps the gods were still present in the realm from which it hailed. There were other places out there, after all, which had not known the fell influence his own poor world had.

Regardless, here the warning was brutally clear. The trials of this place were to be attempted in the proscribed manner - and good luck figuring out what that was - or else. Molriir shook his head grimly - this reminded him far too much of a different time in a different realm. Yet... he had survived that ordeal. He would never let something like this break him. Perhaps that was why he took the opaque door. The wire way seemed straightforward - like something the Dungeon might use to trick one into complacency, while the opaque way was a test of courage and one's willingness to brave the unknown. If so, the test had met its match in Molriir. He grinned at a dandy-looking human hesitating at the doorway, gave him a thumbs up and stepped through.

After the strange and draining transition the dwarf found himself at the front of a steel vessel - very much like a smaller version of the Dread Nellies' massive hulks, the metals of which clans like his own often helped supply in exchange for trade and (he knew now) rare plunder. The biggest difference from those grand vessels was the hinged front that enabled the current amphibious landing. Though feeling a little green - sea travel on Orth was always a dangerous and risky proposition, so even the mere reminder of his ardous journeys across the Sea of Maws and the Sea of Jaws were set to trigger nausea - Molriir held on to his stomach and gazed up the beach at what faced them.

He balked a bit at the many fortifications - and was that some kind of Magi's tower, in the distance? Molriir glanced around at the other deepdelvers gathering their wits.

"Any here ken me speech? Me name's Molriir. Molriir Hearthstone, o' the Marnavir clan. Looks like we're in a bit o' a pickle, eh? Bit o' a killins' zone out and nae much cover."

So close to the exit of the vessel, it was a simple thing for Molriir to step forward, plant his feet in the surf and take his large shield - made from precious hearthstone, that stone of stones - from his back and splashing it into the water to cover part of the exit, protecting himself and anyone inside for now.

Stubborn w/HShield [6d6]: 18



"Yer lucky I have jest th' thing."

Molriir turned to watch the others' reactions - only to nearly get bowled over as a creature of shifting colours slid past him. "Ach, yer-!" he started in surprise, turning back around to peek out from his cover and did a double take in surprise as he saw it way further up the beach than he expected, shimmering (?!) wildly. "-kind o' quick?" Not missing a beat, he started scanning the cliffside again. Whatever grace time the group in the boat had, it would likely not be much at this point. Hopefully his old school lessons in laying sound foundations, and putting up, or digging out, fortifications and defenses could help him identify any potential weaknesses or gaps in the disturbing bounty of coastal defenses that lay before them.

Dwarf Educated [3d6]: 7

Hearthstone Initiative [4d6]: 10

Staying, for now, at 'Beached Landing Boat', trying to afford grace time to set up a move or two for the Delvers there.

Infinity Gaia
Feb 27, 2011

a storm is coming...


Goblin-One-Battalion
HP : 6

Initiative: 12
Inventory: Knighthood Medal (+1d6 to a roll if it complies with the king's wishes)

Wounds: Terrible Arm Spasm (-1d6 to like loving everything this poo poo sucks gently caress)
Shames: Bad Engineers (-1d6 to engineering stuff)
Prouds: Explosives Expert (+1d6 to explosive-related activities), Of the Overlord

Defense: An Indeterminate Number of Lives [5d6]
Skills: Be Everywhere [3d6] / Goblin Formations [3d6]
Powers: Overwhelm with Numbers [4d6]
Talent: [spent/unspent]

Initiative Roll (Goblin Formations) = 12

New place, big. Ruined. Goblins were no strangers to weird ancient ruins, they made a living out of defacing them and living in them, so the falling glass was only mildly surprising, only a small number of their Indeterminate Number of Lives (17) were spent, those too distracted to dodge behind cover with the main body. Not a huge loss.

Still, the goblins were getting hungry, and this dungeon was unlike any dungeon they'd been in before. You could usually count on dead adventurers or dead monsters to feast on, but something seemed to keep this place mostly spotless. Barring that one big dead thing in the middle, but that was probably a trap. Seeing no obvious easy sources of food, a scout division was rapidly assembled and dispersed to take a look amongst the ruins for anything edible or useful. Worst case scenario they'd have to chance the trapped demon corpse, but goblins are resourceful. There should be something to eat around here SOMEWHERE.

But then again, this was difficult, strange terrain and the rain of glass hadn't let up. The scout results seemed like they weren't going to be great... (Be Everywhere = 7)

Edit: While the scouts were away, some of the weaponscrafters realized that, hey, we have like, a whole lot of glass around here. Now glass isn't particularly tough but it's pretty sharp and nasty if the situation requires it to be. So they set about some of the more expendable goblins to gather up some of the bigger, nicer shards of glass, which they then covered with strips of cloth (couple goblins going around naked now because of this, but not enough to affect anything besides the other Delver's sanity) to use as impromptu shivs. They were unlikely to survive more than one use, but hey, any little bit can help. (Goblin Formations = 6...)

drat you, orokos.

Infinity Gaia fucked around with this message at Aug 18, 2017 around 13:15

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007



Toilet Rascal

The Ghost of the Enkoridii
Haunts left: 3

There was a debt to be repaid.

Burning all 3 remaining haunts to aid Goblin-One-Battalion

The echo of the lights can finally go dark.

ShadowGlass
Nov 13, 2012



Sky-iryk


Skills
Morph [5d6]: Sky-iryk is from a species of shape-changers called the Kuleng-Tek. She can change her form to that of a generic member of any species that she knows well enough (eating one gives good enough knowledge of the species usually). It can be humanoid size +/- 50%. The skill can also be used to make various changes to her current form. Under certain circumstances (mod's discretion) she can take a copy of a specific individual. (Most uses of this skill will reveal her as a shape-changer for anyone who can see it).
Master spy [4d6]: Taking someone else's shape would be useless without the skills to act like them. This skill includes things like acting, deceiving, lying and anything else needed to mislead others about her identity. She is also very good at stealth, hiding and noticing important details.

Powers
Ravage [4d6]: Whatever form she takes, she can make it as strong as that form allows, attacking with her form's natural attack (claws, bites etc.) or using weapons if humanoid.

Defense
Agile defense [2d6]: She shapes her form's muscles optimized for agility and fast reflexes, sometimes beyond what is seemingly possible.

Talent (chocolate)
Mass metamorphosis: Unique among the Kuleng-Tek, she is able to divide her body into multiple smaller forms, be it a pack of dogs to a large swarm of insect. The mass forms still operate with a single consciousness, working in perfect coordination. She can re-form as a single being whenever all of them are close enough to do it (generally the forms can't go too far from each other). Mechanically this could add an extra action and/or a temporary skill or power (or buff to an existing one) depending on the situation and the forms.

Bio
There are less than 500 Kuleng-Tek remain in the multi-verse. At present they're all serving the God-Emperor Zorawayuskdane (Zora) as spies, assassins, informants across the many worlds of the Empire. Their origins are forgotten, they don't know who made them or if they can reproduce in any way. The God-Emperor took their memories, he took their past. Sky-iryk is one of the youngest, only 322 years old. She only knows that because the high-priests told her. She only remembers the past 198 years of servitude, just like all the others.

Her current mission was to "get close" to a certain King Norman. They didn't tell her why. This was very annoying; she always operated with clear objectives and constraints before. We will contact you with further instructions the high priest said. She known what that meant: some creepy priest talking in her head from afar, probably watching everything she was doing. She briefly thought about the gem on her forehead that stayed there no matter what form she took. Immediately the thought was swept from her mind, dismissed as unimportant distraction. Right... the mission... The vagueness of the mission was still irritating. The God-Emperor ruled over thousands of dimensons, what could the high priests want with some backwater kingdom on some backwater world? Well, a job was a job...

Duchess Lisila Amgwina


Having inherited at an early age after her parents untimely death, the ruler of a small duchy in the kingdom of Mindosia, neighboring King Norman's kingdom, she has left her homeland to join King Norman's court as the wife of the king's nephew, Bob. Sky-iryk was using this form for months now, and finally she was on her way! Nobody knew the duchess personally at the court, she made sure of that. However, when she arrived at the capital, bad news awaited. The king has disappeared more than a month ago into that well in the ground. (Looks like some kind of trans-dimensional distortion field... maybe?). The king's court haven't really sent anyone after him, no doubt eagerly waiting to proclaim him dead.
Sky-irik waited for a day, playing the blushing bride looking forward to the wedding. No communication came from the high priests, so assuming no change in the mission, she nicked a seemingly too big sword for her, and set out down the dungeon.

Current form: Human, female, Duchess Lisila Amgwina
Current copied skill (if you allow a strating skill in that slot): Sneakiness. Being quiet and hard to spot.

===================================================

The beach:

"Well, this is a loving problem..." she murmurs to herself after briefly looking around the area. She notices the dwarf and gets in cover next to him behind the enormous shield. She smiles at dwarf, wondering how well this 'sweet innocent girl' image will work if he heard her first comment. The huge sword on her back probably ruins it anyway. "Greetings Master Molriir, I'm Duchess Amgwina from Mindosia." - she curtsies awkwardly while half crouching behind the shield. After taking another glance around - "Do you know what the hell is going on here?" After Slid charges the fortifications, she adds, "At least we have some distraction for now..."

She morphs her eyes to be much sharper than it'd be possible for a human. She focuses on the fortifications and trenches trying to see anything unusal or determining if anyone is in there at all.


Using morph to improve eyesight and checking the forts/trenches: 5d6 11

Defending with morph, if attacked (this would definitely look weird): 5d6 25

Morph for initiative: 5d6 18

ShadowGlass fucked around with this message at Aug 27, 2017 around 16:01

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

Any scientist with the right background can brew his own booze.

...

What do you mean electrolytes aren't used for brewing booze? That's silly!

...

Well when all you have are chunks of TNE and an overly large water ration, all the world looks like a still!

Grimey Drawer

Molriir Hearthstone
10/10


Molriir nodded to the swordswoman dressed in finery - grateful for the existence of someone with which he shared a language - and followed her gaze. His brow furrowed with worry - the sliding thing did indeed present a tempting target. Quick though it was, it was also the only one yet to have made a dash for it - and it was possible it would find itself on the receiving end of half the beach's arsenal.

"Greetings to ye, Duchess Amgwina. Distractions or nae, I'd prefer if none fared poor, e'en the hasty one," he responded firmly and blew a frustrated burst of air out through his nose. With a small shake of his head, the dwarf tore his gaze away from the creature scrambling its way across the beach - he couldn't help it. Not yet, at least.

"As fer what th' hells might be up... I'd wager our current test is t' make fer that odd Magi's tower, given how th' defenses out there seems made t' bar us," he said and pointed at the imposing tower in the distance, wishing he could make a better sense out of the trenches and bunkers standing in their way. He looked to the human woman - she seemed as intent as he in trying to make sense of the path forward - and grinned all the same.

"Can't say I think they've got much o' a chance at it."

Hearthstone vs Morph (Perception): 14 vs 21

Nice character concept, Shadow! You and Slid should get into an 'alien superpredators' duel once you two finish consuming Morsel Molriir.

Mind that you can't use Skills like Morph to Defend! I can't believe I already forgot about the rules change extravaganza!

Molriir's secondary action is to attempt to embolden Shy-iryk to boost their first action - it fails!

Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at Aug 22, 2017 around 07:59

ShadowGlass
Nov 13, 2012



Swedish Thaumocracy posted:


Defense
* Instead of defending with your skills, you instead defend with a dedicated Defensive Ability, which you pay for using the normal system.
* You can still opt to use a Skill for defense, however such a use will cost an action whereas the defensive ability is passive.


"We'll see I suppose... " she frowned "depends on how many are in those buildings and with what weapons."
Definitely some kind of dimensional breach. These buildings looked more advanced then the Category 3 world she just came from.


I'll stick with observing for a turn.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006
Jinat Ulukaï, hâ oagé.

[Wave 1]
[Floor Three - The City of Ruin]



[Goblin-One-Battalion]
Spreading out both for the sake of exploration and to present less of a target mass for the falling shards to impale, the Goblin(s) scatter. They search for edible weapons and lethal food, or perhaps the other way around. They aren't quiet sure.

Be Everywhere (7) + Three Haunts: 3d6 10 vs Pristine Scrap Piles, First Pick: (5) = Success! Overskill!

They are aided in their efforts not only by the sheer mass of bodies they can throw at the problem, but also by the otherwordly light that glimmers tantalizingly whenever and wherever there is something edible to be found.
From trashams to wallchicken, from small, metallic barrels full of what appears to be acid but tastes like a sugar rush to brackish water that somehow, when filtered through the strangely warped systems of a magi-tek chariot come out again as pure,
the goblins find all they could ever want to eat and more.



[Great Success! You have gathered enough food to safely see you through the floor, though the other contestants might not be so lucky.
If you wish, you could share your bounty, but each share you give out in this manner will impose a 1d6 (stackable) Starvation Shame upon you for the duration of the floor, that you may only counteract by finding new sources of sustenance.]


All this when glass falls all around them, and not a single Goblin Body perishes, though scrapes abound. [Passive INOL 17 vs Rain of Glass 1d6 = Automatic success, no damage taken.]

Speaking of scraps, having had their bellies filled for the moment the Goblins take to a new and terrifying sport of catching the skyshards before they crash to the ground, hoping that the larger fragments might prove usable as weaponry.

Goblin Formations (6) vs Rain of Glass: (3) = Success!

Though their efforts are valiant, there is only so much a handful of glass will do to aid their cause. Still, perhaps the shards can prove useful in a manner other than the obviously offensive?

[Success! You gain the item: Shards of Glass (3). It comes with three charges, where each charge spent will add +1 to an attack of your choice. Alternatively you could use them all up at once to add +3 to a single skill roll, but only if that is somehow appropriate!
When all the charges are used up, you will have no more shards of glass with which to play.]


--

[The Ghost of The Enkoridii]

If the Hive from which you hailed ever had the capacity to care, would it mourn you, now? Or was your passing merely a statistical anomaly, well within safety parameters? If it wasn't for your brief encounter with the other deep delvers, could you ever really have been said to exist at all?

One by one the three remaining golden flames are spent, and with them your discrete existence and mortality. They go from you to the Goblins down below, that the circle of life such that it is will continue.
No matter the arguments of philosophy espoused by the ghost of dying minds at the edge of reality, this final act at once affirms your discrete existence as a free willed entity and seals its fate eternal.
For there is but one fact indisputable; with the last of your haunts spent, you are extinguished.

---

[Cue]
The Manic Eightball shone pristine, the enchanted unicorn ivory polished to a mirror sheen despite prior, psychokinetic damage. It was clear something about it had changed, but what exactly that could be eluded the other Deepdelvers.

[Talent Success! You gain a scratch token, as per your talent description. Please state the conditions under which you desire it to be used, lest it be automatically used for you upon Chance of Death.]

Being mostly a ball, Cue did not much care if the sky was falling, nor that food seemed scarce.
Its basic needs where far more esoteric, to the point where it had never really thought of them before. Prank, yes. Annoy, yes. Destroy? Absolutely. But wherefrom came its wellspring of energy? What would it do if it ever ran out of 'juice'?

For these stray thoughts it had no concern. For such theoretical discourse it had naught but contempt. Ironic then that it was this selfsame Contempt that truly drove it, something that the spiteful alchemist at the onset of its journey surely found endlessly amusing.

Telekinesis (15) vs Pristine Scrap Piles, Second Pick: 8 = Success!

[Passive Always out of Reach 5d6 vs Rain of Glass: 5 = Automatic success! No damage taken!]




Collecting the scrap was easy, arranging it in suitably insulting patterns as piles of glass fell from another ground up was another thing entirely. Still, being very tiny and fast had a lot of advantages, at least when it came to dodging sporadic projectiles.
And wouldn't you know it, taking that extra time to really drive the insult home actually did make Cue feel a whole lot better to boot.

[Success! Your aetheric intake is safe for the time being, and it will continue to be so for as long as your Insult (dc 15) shall stand. Like all things on this floor without shelter, it will suffer periodic but increasingly harsh attacks unless something else is done to protect it.
Should it be destroyed, you will have to find another source of sustenance lest you be struck with the 1d6 Shame of Starvation – but that is a concern for later.]



--

[Emille]
The adventuress was frankly more concerned with her masters minor wound than with mere shards of glass falling from the sky. And why would that concern her, when her rapier wit was was almost as good as her actual rapier at flicking the worst of the debris out of the way? [Passive Parry 7 vs Rain of Glass (1d6) automatic success! No damage taken!] [Talent failure!]

Though she could easily keep up with her pace of parrying for hours under normal circumstances, something about this 'floor' on the tower in general had sapped her of most o her energy.
'Ere lethargy would be her downfall, she stared angrily at birds until they burst into flame, hoping that enough of their charred remains would fall down that she might have a bite to eat.

Pyromancy[3d6+1]: 10 + Proud: Being Mentored: 2 vs Flock of Birds + Rain of Glass: 12 = Draw! Success!

The task at first seemed impossible. What strange birds there were in this city roosted high amongst the tall, tall buildings or perhaps low on the deep, deep ones, depending on your perspective. Some even roosted side-ways, and when she tried to ignite them they just fell... away.

It was not until she audibly complained out of sheer frustration that her master, Marius, reminded her of a lesson long since forgotten: That explosions where equally capable of pushing things towards you as they were of pushing your enemies away or apart.

Some well aimed fireballs later, she had enough Roasted Dungeon Duck to last her until nightfall, or whatever passed for such in a place such as this.

[Success! You sate your appetite for now, but it will return with force the turn after the next!]

--

[Norman]
King Norman was King, and he wouldn't take this Rain of Glass Shards things sitting down. Or rather, he wouldn't let his famed Knight Sceptre the Spectre take it sitting down, as long as he was around.

With his Duty duly proclaimed by the King, the Knight kick-flipped himself into the air and began destroying shards left and right with his Royal Mace and sick-nasty martial-arts skills.

Mint talent : 2 Fail, Destroy Shards: 25 vs Upside-Down-Sky-Scraper: 17 = Success! 2 Damage dealt!

And then he continued doing it.
Shooting ever upward, or was it downward, jumping from shard to shard, kicking them out of the way of his Liege and into other shards and from the force of their collisions gaining additional height until he stood at the very top of the building that had dared attack them all.
Soon Sceptre disappeared from view, having de-ascended into the building proper. Soon, if the ghostly Knight had anything to say about it, the threatening rumblings would cease for good.



[Success! You take no damage from falling glass this round or the next! And neither does anyone else.]

If only the same could be said for the rumblings of the Kings Stomach. It had been a day since the last Royal Banquet, and the Orkish Chef that he had knighted had been ejected from the dungeon in shame. He could already feel the first few pangs of hunger.
They would only get worse in time.

[You do not find any food and so you suffer the consequences. You now have the 1d6 Shame of Starvation, that will interfere with all you do until you find a source of sustenance. If you do not, it will increase until you do or until you are dead.]

--

[Wave 1]
[Everyone]

With the rain of glass abruptly and spectacularly ended and with most of the Deepdelvers fed, at least for the foreseeable future, there was not much left for them to do other than looting and exploring, which they would probably take to with gusto.

Yet the Dungeon had merely begun its assault. Dark storm clouds where gathering somewhere in the middle of the complex topographical nightmare of the City, threatening floods and strikes of lightning to any who stay outside.

And then there was the whole question of the point of it all. What were they to do here, other than survive? Or was that enough to prove their conviction, or whatever the Lady was testing them against this time.

--

[ShadowGlass]
Hello and Welcome to the game! Your sheet looks sound and as to does your lore. The Talent is likewise fine. Fascinating that the world so far seems to consist mostly of humans, greenskins, orbs and horrible one-of-a-kind Shapeshifter hunter-killers!

paper bag with a face
Jun 2, 2007
Fighting poverty...one bum at a time.

Emille

HP: 6/10
Initiative: 7
Defense: Parry[3d6]
Pyromancy [3d6], Acrobatics [2d6], Adventuring Knowhow [1d6]
Ignite/Quench [3d6], Radiance [2d6], Arquebus [1d6]
The Master's Mark (chocolate): [spent/unspent]
Items: +1 Ring (+1 to a single action every turn), Proud of Being Mentored

Emille happily chowed down on the flash-roasted Dungeon Duck, doing her best to ignore the strange sensation of the meat trying to 'fall' sideways or upwards in her mouth. Now that her stomach was taken care of, Emille decided it was time to replenish her magical reserves, her inner fire. Since the source of the falling shards of glass was dealt with, she decided where she stood was as good a place as any to take care of that. As she started sitting down to meditate, Marius spoke, "If you do not mind, Em, I am going to stretch my legs, so to speak. I've been confined to my bed for most of a year and I am aching to do *something.*

Emille looked down and watched as a shadow resembling a tall, powerfully built man wearing some kind of plate armor stepped out from behind hers. There was a soft tearing sound as it peeled itself off the ground, filling itself out into a three dimensional object as it did so. The whole display kind of hurt Emille's eyes to look at, but it left her with a question. "You said you were a noctomancer, correct?", she asked, "So you need your shadow about to practice magic. If this is your shadow, why does it look nothing like you?" Marius's shadow replied, "An excellent question. To a noctomancer, the shadow is a reflection of both my corporeal self and my spiritual self. It's been separated from the former long enough that it resembles the latter more."

"Huh, I didn't expect your true self to be so, uh, big."

Marius's shadow chuckled and replied, "I shrank somewhat with age. Back to your meditations, I'm going to have a look around."

Marius walked/floated away and Emille closed her eyes, tunelessly humming as she pictured her inner fire. A little on the weak side, depleted from all the acts of magic she had performed to this point. She focused hard on it, enkindling it, willing it to be the raging bonfire it should be.

Pyromancy [3d6] to get some mana back, hopefully fulfilling the sustenance requirement: 11

Much better. An inner warmth spread through Emille's body. The Shade of Marius returned a couple of minutes later, visibly excited. "Emille!", he exclaimed, "I believe I know where you are! If, uh, The Horned King's Testimony is accurate, this is the Bargained City! Do you remember the legends of the Tower, I taught you? I believe the topseekers overlooked this very city. All of this came to ruin because someone destroyed the very concept of value here." He pointed at some of the ruined skyscrapers. "They could see the city from one of the rooms in one of those towers, though I'm not sure which. They'd likely make lovely shelter against the incoming nastiness too, I'd imagine."

Well, it was obvious what Marius wanted; it was rare to see him so excited. Emille sighed as she looked over the skyscraper she had picked to scale. She began leaping and vaulting her way up, the tower's broken windows and jutting rebar giving ample handholds.

Acrobatics[2d6+1] to climb a skyscraper and hide inside: 9

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ShadowGlass
Nov 13, 2012




Swedish Thaumocracy posted:


[ShadowGlass]
Hello and Welcome to the game! Your sheet looks sound and as to does your lore. The Talent is likewise fine.
Thanks. I'm actually wondering, if the Talent is too weak? It doesn't even give a bonus to any skill rolls, just swaps out a skill at the same level. Could this work as Vanilla?

Swedish Thaumocracy posted:

Fascinating that the world so far seems to consist mostly of humans, greenskins, orbs and horrible one-of-a-kind Shapeshifter hunter-killers!
I blame the humans.

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