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Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.
Pippin Bogleech

Skills
Spicery - 2d6 - Any chef worth 'is salt knows the value of properly seasoning 'is dishes.
Scavenging - 2d6 - Good ingredients cost a lot of dough. Over the years I trained me peepers to spot the best bargains.
Etiquette - 2d6 - Sure, egg on the greenskin for being 'dainty'. I'll have you know those are called 'manners'. And if you don't have manners in the fancy dining business, you're not gonna have very nice clientele.

Powers
Conjure flame - 1d6 - Yeah, I know me some magic. Ain't no faster way to sear a steak.
Conjure cooking utensil - 4d6 - A poor chef blames 'is tools. A good chef only uses ethereal utensils that he summoned 'imself.
Lose me patience - 1d6 - Sometimes me orc blood is sent boiling by stuff. I'm not proud of it, I admit. But nothing gets me apprentices to work harder than bulging a vein in me neck.

Talent
CAN have your [chocolate] cake and eat it - A magic spell which lets Pippin cook a delicious feast for the whole wave using nearby materials (even inedible ones) as ingredients. Eating restores a lost rank, but takes an action. Uneaten food evaporates into nothingness once the turn is over.

Action

So there I wuz, leading the kitchen staff of my restaurant before the start of the lunch time rush, when the very earth beneath me feet started to shake. 't was just a minor quake I thought. No big deal. Happens all the time. Except when I looked out the window, there wuz this big hole right in front of the Buckin' Mare that had swallowed up me whole terrace! "Bugger me", I thought, "good thing I bought that insurance!". And that's when I went back to work, thinkin' this sordid mess would blow over real fast.

But no! Turns out this ain't no normal sink hole. There's this whole dungeon thing, with people who crawled out of it. They say some bird tricked them into coming down there or whatever. At first I didn't mind those people. But then people from outside of the city rushed in to watch this big hole. You'd be wrong to think that's good for business! The cheeky buggers don't order food, they're just here to watch. Some even have the bloody nerve to watch it from inside the restaurant without ever placing an order!

I tell you what. I'm going to down that hole, track down the lousy git in charge of the place, and give 'em a piece of me mind!

Zybourne Clock fucked around with this message at 14:08 on Jul 2, 2017

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Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.
Pippin Bogleech

Initiative: 8
Inventory: goblin liver
Spicery [2d6], Scavenging [2d6], Etiquette [2d6]
Conjure flame, Conjure cooking utensil, Lose me patience
Talent: [spent/unspent]

Pippin stood up and wiped the blood and viscera off his apron, then surveyed his surroundings for a brief moment. He'd never been magically teleported before and found the sensation to be a tad disorienting. One moment he was walking down some stairs, and the next he found himself on a beach covered in goblin guts. That was more than a bit unusual, and he briefly wondered if there was a reason he'd been brought to this specific beach for a reason.

'Briefly' being the operative word. What he found more important what hearing the voice welcoming him to the dungeon. Was this the person who actually owned the structure? If it was, it would save him a lot of trouble finding the person in charge to file a complaint. The orc scraped his throat, and began talking to the open air.

"Hello, madam. Me name is Pippin Bogleech, proprietor and head chef of the Buckin' Mare. I would like to inform you of the fact that your building has wrecked me restaurant's terrace. Not only that, your hole has attracted all sorts of folks to my restaurant who only come in to look at your hole without placing any orders for food. If you'd kindly relocate the hole, I would very much appreciate it. Please do not make me consider legal recourse".

Pippin's tone then shifted to something a bit less commanding, and asked the Lady about who she was, and why she had decided to materialize this dungeon in his town.

There. That was a fairly courteous opening to a land dispute. Pippin knew these sort of affairs had to be handles with a certain degree of class. After all, you're better off catching flies with honey than with vinegar. A thought crossed the orc's mind. Could the dungeon's owner even hear him talk?

Etiquette (convincing the lady to seal up the hole): 2d6 = 11
Etiquette (inquiry for information): 2d6 = 6

Zybourne Clock fucked around with this message at 21:16 on Jul 2, 2017

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.
Pippin Bogleech

Initiative: 8
Inventory: goblin liver, It's Your Place In the Queue
Spicery [2d6], Scavenging [2d6], Etiquette [2d6]
Conjure flame, Conjure cooking utensil, Lose me patience
Talent: [spent/unspent]

Pippin could barely believe the size of the number written on (and in the general vicinity of) the paper. Either this Lady had stepped on quite a few toes to get this many complaints, or the ticket was some joke she was playing on him. He doubted the latter applied, considering the tone of her voice was not one of mirth or joculence. Harumph. Stiff upper lip; he'd have to queue up and wait his turn, then. That was life in a civilized world for you.

He was about to sit down comfortably on the beach, when he noticed something unusual happening to the goblin crowd. He had ignored most of the other people present on the beach up until now, but when they came under attack by an unseen force he could not sit back and do nothing. That would be the height of rudeness.

"Everyone, stand back!" Pippin yelled and he reached for the spice rack on his back, procuring a little bottle filled with some odd liquid. "This stuff stains clothes harder than tea stains teeth!" With a wild swing, he splashed the liquid in the general direction of the unseen attackers in the hope of making them visible. Colourful splashes of food colouring stained everything it touched.

He then deftly returned the bottle to its position on the rack and gathered his hands above his head. Pippin spoke an odd incantation and a strange multi-coloured portal opened up above his head. From it materialized an ethereal rolling pin, at least 20 foot tall and crackling with strange energies. He swung the implement wildly at any moving blothes of colour with great fury, yelling helpful words of encouragement at the random strangers who had suddenly become allies.

"Hit 'em where it hurts! If it's colourful and it moves, 'it it hard!"

Spicery (spread food colouring everywhere in the hope that it will make the invisible assassin visible): 2d6=8
Conjure cooking utensil (flatten the opponent with a 20 foot ethereal rolling pin): 4d6=20

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.
Pippin Bogleech

Initiative: 8
Inventory: goblin liver, It's Your Place In the Queue
Spicery [2d6], Scavenging [2d6], Etiquette [2d6]
Conjure flame, Conjure cooking utensil, Lose me patience
Talent: [spent/unspent]

These armored kobolds weren't going down easily. Why weren't they? If you ever find yourself the opportunity to ask a furious orc such a question, don't. They'll take poorly to it and may shift their attention somewhere else. To you, for instance. But if you could, the answer would probably be 'cuz I'm not furious enough!'.

Though he was wildly swinging his weapon on the battlefield, grunting with every swing, he was showing remarkable restraint for an orc. Probably the result of years of tempering his attitude over a hot kitchen stove. What he needed was to get angrier. He reached for a little tin he carried around on the spicerack on his back, and dropped a little pinch of the hot pepper powder in his airways. The burning sensation quickly kindled a nearly forgotten instinct, and he returned to swinging his weapon while screaming incomprehensibly.

Spicery - increase fury by snorting a pinch of crushed red peppers: 2d6 = 10
Summon cooking utensil - keep swinging: 4d6 = 13

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.
Pippin Bogleech

Initiative: 8
Inventory: It's Your Place In the Queue
Spicery [2d6], Scavenging [2d6], Etiquette [2d6]
Conjure flame, Conjure cooking utensil, Lose me patience
Talent: [spent/unspent]

Pippin breathed heavily, snot and tears leaving his irritated mucosal membranes by the spoonful. Conjuring a frying pan to sear a steak required but a trivial amount of his willpower. Calling forth a ridiculous oversized rolling pin certainly took a whole lot more, and flattening a large number of foes also put a strain on his body in addition to his mind. He was about to sit down on the beach to catch his breath, when he noticed there was still a battle going on in the distance over at the tower. How many people entered the dungeon with him, again? He looked around him, and noticed the swordswoman was missing.

Hm... Pippin was resolute in his desire to speak with the upper management of his dungeon. And if 'Magnanimous' was going to make him face more of these 'trials' on his quest to do so, it would certainly help to have allies. It was prudent to help the swordswoman out, so he made his way to the tower.

"Oi, ya mechanical gits!" he bellowed at the creatures as he raised his right hand at them. Strange spectral energies seemed to coalesce around it. "Did your mum never teach to CUT in line?" As soon as he finished his line, the energies folded into themselves and a portal several feet in diameter opened up in front of Pippin. Thousands of spectral knives sprung forth from it, flowing freely like water from a burst dam, digging themselves into his opponents.

--- Some time in the near future at the beach ---

"You lot look worse for wear", he said as he looked at his potential allies. "Might be a good idea to freshen up before we move on".

Pippin procured a number of plates and cutlery from his backpack, and handed them out. Then he took his goblin liver, some salt crystals he found on the beach, a handful of sand, and threw it all into a cooking pot. "I's cook us something good and filling in a jiffy", he loudly proclaimed. There were a few questioning looks when he added a handful of sand to the pot, a look Pippin was used to by now. "Don't worry. A good chef can make anything edible!" With a flick of his wrist he conjured a stream of flame and hit the pot with it. Immediately, a large plume of smoke escaped from it.

A reddish glow of embarrassment briefly appeared on his cheeks. "This doesn't really happen all that often, me swears. Uh, if ya do find me any good ingredients, please gimme a call".

Conjure cooking utensil: 4d6=19
Talent: 1d4=1

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.
Pippin Bogleech

Initiative: 8
Inventory: It's Your Place In the Queue, singed sandy goblin liver
Spicery [2d6], Scavenging [2d6], Etiquette [2d6]
Conjure flame, Conjure cooking utensil, Lose me patience
Talent: [spent/unspent]

Pippin was a tad surprised when he heard a voice coming from the strange twinkly lights. Apparently, that was a life form -- life forms? "Uh, excuse me, but... Did you say this place is going kerboom? How do you reckon? All me peepers see is sand and water". Then the soft-bodied, but no less stranger creature spoke out. It warned of an oncoming tsunami. Why, these otherwordly creatures sure weren't shy about making gloomy predictions.

Not versed in the art of swiming, Pippin very much intended to keep himself dry. How much of the beach would be flooded if a tsunami were to hit? Not wanting to find out, he quickly set foot for the highest point he could reach in the shortest possible time -- the top of the tower. But not without making some preparations. After all, he did not want to slip while climbing the structure. From the spicerack on his back he procured a jar of molasses, and spread some over the soles of his boots. Then he jumped up and down in the sand a few times. Grains of sand stuck to them. Hopefully the increased friction would keep him from slipping.

Pippin tried to plot the shortest route to tower, and was on his way.

Spicery - increase friction of boots: 5
Scavengin - try to plot fastest route: 6

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]


[Talent redefinition: You are what you eat - Chocolate talent. Pippin magically cooks up a delicious meal in the span of a few seconds, using a nearby (in)edible material as an ingredient. The dish infuses the person with a characteristic of the used ingredient]

Pippin had made a mental note that he would have some harsh words with Magnanimous the moment he'd cross paths with her again. Yet there he sat in a room with her and a number of fellow Deepdelvers, not being able to utter a word about how upset he was about the state of his restaurant. Not for a lack of ability or opportunity to do so, but because of his transfixion on this infinitely zooming map.

He pushed a button here, pulled a lever there, and gazed in wonder as the map zoomed in an out on various features of the landscape. He was having a good time, looking at local flora, fauna, and even the odd villager going about his day oblivious to the green giant spying from above. This infinitely detailed portrait of flowing water, lush forests and happy villagers could hold his attention for days, if not forever.

Yet his expression soured when he focused deeper on the side of the map past the big bridge. There he found people living in the shadow of the mountain. Not in idyllic villages where worries did not seem to exist, but in a state of despair and filth. Emanciated figures draped in rags seemed to aimlessly wander the wasteland. This disparity did not sit well with Pippin, for he too was born in the mountains. Even now the few memories he had of his early childhood came flooding back to him ever so briefly. Those chillingly cold nights, not knowing when his next meal would be or if there ever would be a next meal, the loneliness of the cave during hunts when his paren--

Pippin quickly snapped out of the bad memory; threw up a mental barrier to repress it. He looked at the board again. What if-- what if the little people didn't need to be hungry? There was, after all, plenty of food on this map to go around. Maybe the mountain folks could convince the villagers to share? Yes, that could work. He mentally selected a number of mountain people and clicked a button labeled 'diplomacy'.

That would settle the mountain people's problems in the long run. But hunger was a nagging thing, one which could not be easily ignored. There would need to be a solution in the short term too. He selected a path of gems, and pressed the 'transform' button.

Etiquette - attempt diplomacy. 2d6=9
Talent - You are what you eat. 1d4=1

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]


Oh no! Pippin looked on in horror as his little people were mauled by a griffin. By the looks of it, it wasn't just the Rightside people who were hungry in that desolate place. Perhaps he had made a mistake in assuming what their needs were? Yes, the Rightsiders were starving. But they were also lacking safety. What good would a filled stomach do them, if they could not hold off the invaders of the wild?

He zoomed around the map for source materials to make weapons and armour out of, but found little of use. Pippin doubted his people's ability to pick up and throw around large boulders, and judging by the fact they seemed to flee from the recently erupted volcano he didn't like his chances of weaponizing lava either.

Pippin was about to give up, when an idea struck him. Maybe he could weaponize cactii? While there weren't that many of them, the needles of the longer specimen could be used to make pointy daggers, or perhaps spearheads? It was worth a try at least. He selected a single cactus, and pressed the 'dessicate' button. A heap of salt fell from the sky onto the prickly plant, which slowly started to wither -- hopefully just leaving its hardened needles behind.

Having witnessed more than one pub fight, the orc knew fully well that simply having a good weapon wasn't a recipe for success. What mattered most was having an unbreakable spirit; to never give up, rebound when they knock you down. And so he selected another group of Rightsiders, pressed a button to open up a communication channel (how did he not notice THAT one earlier?), and started barking words of encouragement.

"Right, you lot. You wuz hurt by a griffon, right. And you wunna get back at the beasts of the wild for your loss, roight? Well, I can help. Here's wut you do... First, hold yer arms up like THIS, then punch like THAT..."

Spicery - dessicate cactus: 2d6 = 11
Orcish Endurance - train people: 2d6 8

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:

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

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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

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