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super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

erhecktile disfunction

Lipstick Apathy



Name: Portha
Skills: Rummaging, Cleaning
HP: 3
Glory: 2

Portha's stolen skillcore was nagging like crazy, if it weren't for a lifetime of practice honing her own core scrounging around town for hidden and forgotten things she would've been too distracted to discover the fake wall. She pulled it open to see an angry group of Frömen who wasted no time charging at her. They were through the half opened wall in an instant. Portha had no time to think, just strike as hard as she could!

FIGHT! 1d100+2=12

...

Her cleaning skillcore suddenly flared to life! She instinctively knew it was time to take out this trash and suddenly an extra boost of strength shot through her arm.

Time to clean up this town! 1d100+12=22

super sweet best pal fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 06:18

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Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010




Gado!!!
Skill: Digging (+20) (Unavailable Next Turn)
HP: 3
Glory: 6->7

Gado lets out a sharp gasp as he wakes from his Resonation induced power nap. The odd feeling in his chest is gone, but now there's a distinct lack of Mining knowledge in his head. The Digging bit though? His mind had been expanded in ways he never thought possible! Who knew there were different types of dirt!? Giving a test grab at the ground Gado lets out a titter of nervous laughter, his hands feel tougher and it's much easier to part the ground.

Once he's calmed himself a bit and given himself a reassuring nod he calls out to Gigs "I can do a little tunneling underneath this thing to see if it's a fully contained vault or if there's a way in. It'd be good to know if we want to bring a detailed report back to Grimper. I shouldn't have too much trouble doing that, but you're the Boss right now! If you've got plans for me just tell me what to do."

Digging Under the Vault to take notes on its structure 1d100+26= 122 Gado in fine form today!

We're only meant to be a scouting team, so I feel like just writing up a report and peacing out is the Correct answer, but if y'all wanna likely get killed by Old Guy Traps I'm up for watching .

Gigs has final call as far as Gado is concerned, so feel free to put my roll, sans skill bonus (102) or if you can justify the skill being used elsewhere as is, to another task if you feel like it Bad Seafood.

Successful Businessmanga fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 07:29

WereGoat
Apr 28, 2017




Name: Hob
HP: 3
Glory: 7
Ritual Glory : 1
Skill: Bee keeping, Contortion(cooldown)

Successful Businessmanga posted:

but you're the Boss right now! If you've got plans for me just tell me what to do."

Gigs could see behind Gado, an eager face, nodding in agreement. Hob looked overjoyed to be here.

"Yea boss, let us know your plan".

Hob looked around in wonder.

"Who knows what cunning traps, mystical secrets and, uh, third things are in this vault?."

Looking at the buttons next to the door, Hob searched his memory for takes off the Old Guys.

Maybe folk tales contained a secret that would help them get in. Hob reached his brain. Stories of heroes. Monsters. Dashing rescues. Cunning thieves. Thieves? The tale of Gorbet the cunning had an impossible vault, and Gorbet broke in after figuring out the lock from a song. Hob looked at the buttons. Vague music played in his mind. Did it match? Hob was ready to press the keys.

"If we break anything, Grimper will be... unhappy."

Hob deflated slightly. It was clear what he meant by "unhappy".

Explaining his folk music idea to Gigs "What do you think, boss? The keys might match up to the tune. I'll key it in if you give me the go ahead."

"Oh!" Hob straightened back up. "Once we have searched the place we should Post guards , it would be awful to report back and have some Fröan sneak in here and mess it up."

WereGoat fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 07:15

CourValant
Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?



Name: Bamboo
HP: 3
Glory: 11 -> 11
Skill: Basket Weaving [Ready]

Bamboo walked into the vault and stood in awed silence. The grey-green glow from the translucent metal transfixed her, and she looked around with unfocused eyes, seemingly not really seeing what she was looking at.

Seeing the panel with the buttons, she positioned herself within easy pressing distance, and hovered her hand within a finger's breadth of the mechanism.

"Gigs. GiGs. GIGS!", she whispered, loudly "Great. Power. Here! Old. Guys. Baskets!! Weave. Buttons. Together!!!

Prince of Space
Apr 17, 2016

Your weapons are useless against me!



Name: Gawp
HP: 3
Skill: Perception (cooling)
Equipment: Sharp Stick (+0)
Glory: 5 -> 6
Ritual Chits: 8 (artwork bonus)

Morrskag Forest, Fostis (part 2): Gawp cursed under his breath. He had been so close to befriending that first slinker, too, when some errant movement from one of the others must've caught its eye and made it panic. Gawp's four eyes rolled in their sockets as he stalked through the forest, his bag at the ready for the first sign of movement. When their chase of the slinkers had begun, Gawp had dumped out all the fruit he'd been collecting on their way there. Now his sack was empty and it was waiting to be filled with the wild chittering things. Slinkers! He silently cursed again - He'd been so close!

Nearby, a couple of joyous exclamations rang out among the trees, and Gawp navigated through the brush in their direction. Gawp wanted to stick close to his group before they fanned out too far, and clearly some of the other Töans were having success at catching the squirrelly things. Gawp knew that if he stuck close by to the others in his team he might get a couple pointers on how to grab the little biters and stuff them in a sack - all without letting the others escape or claw too much. At the very least, Gawp could help out the more seasoned trappers by carrying their sacks for them? There were possibilities!

Gawp hadn't gotten very far into his options for servantship before he chanced to happen upon a slinker with four-eyes, standing alert and very still atop an outcropping of bare rock. Huh. They locked eyes. Gawp blinked and the four-eyed slinker blinked right back in return, its eyes winking in the same order. It was... shockingly cute! Gawp gaped in amazement of the thing.

Gawp immediately felt a special kinship with the four-eyed slinker, and he wanted very much to be its friend.

The moment, however, was quickly ruined when Gawp shifted ever so slightly to grab for the rind of Töan Combat Bread he'd kept in his back pocket for just such an occasion. The monsterist slinker snapped out of its reverie and leaped off the rock at a wild angle. Gawp was shattered. Thinking only upon the stings of abandonment Gawp gave chase, scrambling into a sprint.

"You. will. be. my. friend!" Gawp uttered between breaths, his bag whipping in his hand.

As Gawp bore down on the slinker, he watched it as its four eyes swiveled wildly in their sockets, seeking an apparent escape. Suddenly, just before the bag came down over its head, the creature's eyes snapped, each locked onto the same destination. The slinker shot off like a bolt from a crossbow as it joined up with a slew of other strangely deformed slinkers - all heading in the same direction together! How curious!

Gawp didn't know if this was odd behavior or not, but he knew that there was a trick to herding animals that stuck to groups. Before he could get too far separated, Gawp shouted back to the others.

"Pythag, Doc, Bully - quick! The monsterist ones- they're acting like a herd! Follow me, follow my voice! We can round them all up!"

Chasing after the Monsterist Slinkers: 1d100+5 76

Prince of Space fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 08:00

HiHo ChiRho
Oct 23, 2010

Then you remember. You have a message to send.

Something everyone must know.

You have the power. You have the means.

Let it be known.




Potrait:


Naim: Mason
Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin'
HeeP: Mason Mason Mason
Glury: Masonx4 -> 5

"Shinee thangs! Dose our are shinee thangs!" Mason bullrushes into the crowd of enemy!

Mason Fite!: 1d100+5 38

Yvonmukluk
Oct 10, 2012

Is he strong? Listen, bum!
He's got radioactive cum!
Shoots death in ropey threads!
Want throat cancer? Give him head!

In the chill of the night,
At the gentlemen's club,
This swinger will get
Atomic rub & tugs!





Prince of Space posted:

"Pythag, Doc, Bully - quick! The monsterist ones- they're acting like a herd! Follow me, follow my voice! We can round them all up!"

Bully
Skills: Oratory, Climbing
HP:3
Glory: 10

Bully hears Gawp's yells and feels a pang of nostalgia. When he was younger, he had considered becomeing a herder as a hobby, and relishes the chance to indulge his boyhood dream. While he lack the specialist equipment, he decides to emulate Gawp, bellowing shouts that will ideally drive the slinkers towards the other Unexpectables as well as motivate his comrades to do the same.

The great roundup: 1d100+20=58

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Secret Art: Toxic Crotch Whirlwind!

So, Prison Breakers, anyone want to pull an inside job? I might have Ringo volunteer. He has a trend of going for suicidal actions.

Half-wit
Aug 31, 2005
Idiot savant or just plain idiot? You decide.


Name: Neebs
Skill(s): Sales (on cooldown)
HP: 3
Glory: 2 -> 3

Say Thanks And Leave "I'm sad to hear about the caravan." Neebs genuinely frowned as she said "Those Töan are truly monsters, it seems cruel that they killed the entire caravan. We'll definitely be on guard. We should probably be getting this stuff back; that ore won't mine itself for the war effort; and if the Töans are knocking down caravans, I think that just steels everyone's resolve here to get back to helping. We've all got to do our part. You guys be careful as well. Long live the king."

This transaction had gone rather swimmingly. Neebs didn't think the horde should push their luck trying to bribe the caravan leader. That was exactly the kind of thing that would make the caravan leader more suspicious; and get reported back up the line that the Fostian delegation was acting strangely. No...the whole goal of this transaction was to make the Fröans think that Fostis was trucking along just fine. Maybe not an illusion that could last forever, but it only needed to last until The Unexpectables moved on.

sheep-dodger
Feb 21, 2013




Sucy
HP: 3
Glory: 8
Skill: Mushrooms

Old Guy Vault
Sucy examined the entrance area thoroughly. If she knew her mad science, then the pyramidal hole in the structure was likely a sort of key hole that needed to be filled in order for the structure to open. Turning to her companions she said "We have no idea what we are dealing with, so we should all follow rule #1 of dealing with mad science: Do. Not. Touch. Anything. That hole looks like it needs a key, and if the Old Guys are anything like us, there's likely a spare somewhere close to here, check for potted plants, welcome mats or suspiciously unsuspicious rocks that it could be hidden under.
With senses honed by years of hunting the most elusive of mushrooms, Sucy began scouring the outside of the sphere:
1d100+18: 62

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...

Green Intern posted:

So, Prison Breakers, anyone want to pull an inside job? I might have Ringo volunteer. He has a trend of going for suicidal actions.

The lack of roll swinginess on rolls at these amounts of die sort of mean that our chances to succeed are just excessively bad here (my maths knowledge is not good enough to calculate our exact odds though), especially taken into account we will wound around half of the horde if we fail. Neither of the GM given assault plans is really viable here.

Barbed Tongues
Mar 16, 2012




Pythag
HP: (3) of (3)
Skill: Math (Using)
Equipment: Shield
Glory: 10

Back in the wilderness, it felt nice to be in a more natural setting than the industrialized mining town they left behind. As the walked and scouted, Pythag tried to mark a map of the terrain - noting good places for ambushes, locations for regrouping should they be routed from the town, fresh water sources and wildlife.

Prince of Space posted:

"Pythag, Doc, Bully - quick! The monsterist ones- they're acting like a herd! Follow me, follow my voice! We can round them all up!"

Ew. Touching Monsterised slinkers? Gawp may not care, but... Oh well. He was squad leader, let's do this. First, though, we needed a codified system of determining which slinkers were monsterized. Using examples from the previous unmonsterized collections, Pythag quickly sketched out the average facial and footal features of the control specimens...



... then compared the base drawing to monsterist vers... oh crap, they were running away!

Action: Catch 'em all: 1d100+20 = 108

AJ_Impy
Jun 17, 2007



Toilet Rascal


HP:3
Glory:11

For a moment, Splut the Bluffer considered greasing the Fröman caravaneer's palm with Glory. Not his, of course, but several of their Hordemates had yet to distinguish themselves, which was both opportunity and, after momentary consideration, a significant letdown. He couldn't barter with other Töan's Glory if they had no Glory to barter with. Perhaps Neebs had the right of it: They shouldn't push their luck too far. Nonetheless, Splut was a firm believer in pushing his luck just enough, and so he looked upon the cargo earmarked for Skelivanch (A name which, along with that of Commander Sikatris, he made a mental note to pass on to Grimper later), with an expression of concern shading into worry on his features.

"Does Skelivanch really need that much? What's going on over there? Anything we should know?"

Asking some questions about Skelivanch: 62!.

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


Skill: Sleuthing
HP: 3
Glory: 5 ----> 6

Humbug frowned at the massive prison that was Nägel. Why would the Frömen have built their prison like so? Not only had it been constructed to keep things in, but it had pretty effectively been made to keep things from getting in! There was no way to peer inside it, either, and everything around was being mysteriously quiet. The sleuth simply could not abide a mystery, and it was all he could do not to volunteer to be sent in under false pretense as a prisoner.

"There has to be a trick to getting that door open. How else will anyone inside know how to open the gates for anyone outside?" he deduced out loud and hummed to himself, before he pulled out the chicken scratch message he'd taken from one of the Captains of the Caravan. It was the very message that had clued him on to Nägel in the first place. He peered at them suspiciously, then started to draw in the mud the shapes of several scratches he previously hadn't been able to make alphabetical sense of... as he had simply thought them the poor spelling of a Frömen. Maybe these symbols were actually an encrypted clue of some kind? The instructions had seemed terribly vague, after all, something he began to suspect might not actually have been as related to Frömen incompetency as he initially thought.

Flagging down some of the other Töans - and any Frömen recruits who'd accompanied them - the sleuth asked them if they'd ever seen anything like the symbols on the Captain's missive before.

Did they represent a map of the facility? Was it the code you were supposed to knock? Did it detail where a hidden switch was? Or was it just spilled ale and random doodles by a bored scribe? Humbug's mind was awash with the possibilities.

And at least it was something to do while they waited for something to happen.

Decipher the Captain's note:: 1d100+5 83

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

Please... Don't read this post where other people can see...



Noggins
Skill: Carpentry
HP: 3
Glory: 12->13

Noggins relaxed, tension she didn't even realize she was carrying leaving her shoulders. They'd bought it. There wasn't going to be any fighting unless they picked a fight... which was pretty tempting, given the loot laid out before them. Still, Hat had the right of it--attracting attention here would just lead to Fostis being retaken. And if that happened, Grimper would probably just pull out the Fostis nail to deny Frö the labor force. Now there was something that Noggins didn't want on her conscience. No, this situation called for Noggins the Carpenter more than it did the valiant Sir Noggins.

"Yeah, that's Sikatris for you. Still, not like I'm going to say no to a free scarf."

Noggins paused for a little while as she watched her Hordemates start shifting boxes of metallic supplies out of the battered caravan wagons and into their carts.

"I'm surprised she's running you guys this ragged. I mean, no offense, but you look like you haven't slept in a week. And it looks like even longer since you've been able to do real maintenance on those wagons. Overburdened, undermaintained... I'm guessing the delay was that you busted on axle on the way here? You made great time, given the circumstances. Tell you what, I should be able to get things patched up so you don't have to go through that mess again. You'll still need to get a full fix at some point, and you'll probably want to lighten your load, but you shouldn't have any big problems in the future."

Seeing that Skub was dozing off, Noggins got to work, patching what needed patching, replacing what couldn't be easily fixed, pulling some excess boards off of their own wagons to brace the damaged axle. Not bad, if she said so herself. It should hold for a good long while. Now to hope that Skup would be appropriately grateful.

Wagon Repairs: 1d100+12 84

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Secret Art: Toxic Crotch Whirlwind!

Theantero posted:

The lack of roll swinginess on rolls at these amounts of die sort of mean that our chances to succeed are just excessively bad here (my maths knowledge is not good enough to calculate our exact odds though), especially taken into account we will wound around half of the horde if we fail. Neither of the GM given assault plans is really viable here.

Yeah that's fair.

big bag of nacho cheese
Feb 19, 2011




Skill 2: Amputation
HP: 3
Glory 8

All scouts having reported their findings, Qwäg sat ensconced in her Riskfinding calculations well into the evening. Abruptly, however, she stopped, nearby Mooks glancing over at the sudden cessation of the constant skritch of charcoal on paper. A deep scowl slowly creased Qwäg's features, and a bark of disgust tore itself from her throat as she tore the heavily scribbled page from her notebook and hurled it away.

Attempted, rather, as the loose page simply floated and flapped in the night air, before finally lighting gently atop Humbug's hat.
"Just trash it," she growled at the sleuth. "No mystery on that page except the mystery of WHY THESE NUMBERS WANT ME TO DIE!"

In the moment of shocked silence that followed, a slightly embarassed Qwäg folded her arms and looked around awkwardly. "That is," she stammered, "I've run all the transformations, and barring a Cornbread-level Spoiler, it...Well, it doesn't look good." Looking over to Stårn, she shrugged helplessly. "Ram or no, we bash down that door, we die." Looking back to Humbug, she pointed at the heavily marked page she had lost. "We infiltrate, we die. And worse, we lose the data from our no-doubt entertaining deaths to the enemy."

Qwäg stood, experimenting with folding her arms in front, in back, akimbo, and a few other halting configurations before finally just clutching her notebook to her chest. "Look. We've got the bones of a good assault, but...Just...We don't have the töpower. Now, eventually, they're going to get a shipment of supplies or new prisoners, or...something. Or maybe if we keep looking, we'll find a weakness. But I don't want to just sit around waiting, especially..." She glanced meaningfully over to Warlord Grimper's lean-to, the profile of a giant drinking Töan silhouetted by the firelight. "Especially given our company. So...I've got...well, the beginnings of a plan..."

"Statistically," she began, pacing around the fire, "the odds of mistakes accumulate over time. Small factors can..um...be exploited, especially with a...a little help." She stopped in front of Stårn. "That ram of yours," she said, "may or may not do for that gate. But I imagine it'll ring those walls like a bell. What if we sneak up in the middle of the night, every night, at a different time, to a different part of the wall, and WHAM, give the redders something to keep them awake and on edge. Then high-tail it before they send somone out to investigate."

"Grumbus," she continued, not getting too close. "It's Grumbus, right? I don't know the specific...ah...mechanisms of your talent, but I do know that if they do send somebody out, giving them a non-lethal but highly communicable condition to take back with them could really heat things up on the inside. Dodopöx, or something? Get things nice and itchy. A lockup with the kind of prisoners this one's got? Has to be a pressure cooker already, and we can...ah...exacerbate that. Maybe even prompt a few prisoners to start shaking things up on the inside."

"Spleen," she moved on, "if they start sending out bigger groups, maybe landmines? I'm open to input, here."

"Snödis," she said, forcing herself to make eyes contact, "Maybe write some demoralizing verse on the walls? Or something better...I...uh...don't want to tell you how to work."

"Klörf," she said, smiling slightly despite her sour demeanor at the pyro-Töan's gormless charm, "You could probably lead them around with some well-placed fires. Or...I don't know, spooky burning effigies? I'm not the expert."

"The point is this," she concluded, looking to the assembled hordlings, "Let's engage in psychological warfare. Keep them sleep-deprived and off-balance, and harry them guerilla-style if they attempt to engage. Then, when the rest of the horde arrives, they'll be ripe to fall." Suddenly uncomfortable, Qwäg cast her eyes to her feet. "Uh...that is...I think it would improve our chances. There's room for embelishment..."

big bag of nacho cheese fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 17:51

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


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 10 -> 11

"You can't rush Art, Qwäg. That's how the war started, you know. Not this one, mind. Another one. Earlier. The Art War. You remember it. Terrible times. Just terrible.

Now, as for your plan? Less terrible. Terror is always more effective than injury. And frightened guards make mistakes.
What we need is someone on the inside to exploit those mistakes. Someone that is already supposed to be there, so they wont draw any attention to themselves, or to us.
Luckily, I know just such a person. Tö-Päin. <Snödis involuntarily blushes as she speaks his name.>

We just need to get him the message. How? Easy. He speaks rythm, and as you pointed out, what we have here is Frö's biggest gong. Let us ring it most spookily. Just follow my lead.

With your permission, Stårn, I'd like to make use of the Ram."

ooc: suggesting we contact the famous and locally imprisoned battle rapper, Tö-Päin, or any other rythmspeakers in the prison using the Ram to belt out a message on the wall.

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 18:29

Cloud Potato
Jan 8, 2011

"I'm... happy!"



Name: Hat
Skill: Millinery
HP: 3/3
Equipment: Leather Armour (+1)
Glory: 10

Crossroads, South of Fostis
It was a good plan. Let the salestöan and bluffer do the talking, and Noggins will try and curry favor by fixing the wagons and endearing the town to the caravan crew. And as for Hat? Well, someone's got to carry the boxes.

She and a few of the other soldiers were about a third of the way through the piles of boxes when Skup mentioned another caravan getting knocked over. At that, one of the Fröan soldiers from the caravan helping with the carrying spat on the ground. "loving Töans. I had a cousin on that squad, Stans. Lovely fellow, tons of hair, still owed me 5 Coin. The thought of his Sitting Quietly skillcore inside the body of one of those blue bastards, honestly, it makes me sick." He spat again, as Hat tried to obscure her blue body from his sight with the box in her hands. "Ah, present company excepted, I guess," he continued. "As long as that Nail in ya's keeping ya on the Red Team's side. You're one of the good ones. But the next unNailed blue bastard I see, honestly, once I'm done with 'em, they won't be Töan, they'll be Tö-ast!"

Keep calm, Hat thought to herself. Don't be provoked into tipping the whole plan sideways, just keep your mouth shut and carry boxes.

Thankfully, the angry Fröan kept quiet after that outburst, and soon Hat overheard something else. "Commander Sikatris". Hat imagined any information about the enemy's forces would be useful to Grimper; even something as simple as their location would help the Horde decide where to avoid/attack. Once all the boxes had been loaded, and seeing that none of the others had risked such a direct question, Hat walked up to Skup and tried her best to affect an air of nonchalance.

"So, uh, Commander Sikatris, huh? What's she up to?"

Asking Skup a question: 1d100+10 31 And then saying thanks and leaving. (Hey, is :töhdear: over there worth an Art Glory?)

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


Skills: Spreading Disease
HP: 3/3
Glory: 3

Qwäg posted:

"It's Grumbus, right? I don't know the specific...ah...mechanisms of your talent...

Grumbus's pox scarred face lit up with delight at the not-question, "Well, I'd be delighted to tell you! You see, ever since I was a wee boy I've loved to collect things and I was always a sickly child, so I figured I'd - scuse me." Grumbus turned away for an uncomfortable amount of time to have a hacking cough fit. When he was done, he wiped away a strand of discolored mucus from his mouth with his bare hand.

"Anyway, so I figured I'd combine the two! Let me show you!"

Grumbus reached into his Standard Horde Backpack and withdrew a battered case. "So on days when I'm feeling particularly foul, I take a few, uh, samples for posterity." He popped the case's latches before remembering to ask a vital question, "Hey, uh, you've had your shots right? What a stupid question, of course they have." Inside the case were a myriad of petri dishes and slides, as well as a tattered journal. Grumbus continued with a note of pride in his voice, "So I can go in my little case here and just pick something I like. For instance..."

Grumbus's hand hovered over the collection of before he found one that tickled his fancy, containing some kind of light purple...fluid, "This one is from 6/15, since I know the date I can just look it up in my logbook here." He removed the journal, licking his fingers before he turned the pages, "Let's seeee, 6/15. Fatigue, swelling, low self esteem, and stank. How vague, I must've been feverish when I wrote that one."

With the explanation out of the way, Grumbus became lost in his collection, looking for just the right disease for the job.

Gonna hold off on rolling for now until I can see the difficulties and whatnot.

paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 20:50

Task Manager
Sep 5, 2008

A weird time in which we are alive. We can travel anywhere we want, even to other planets. And for what? To sit day after day, declining in morale and hope.



Name: Gabber
Skill: Mimicry, Listening
HP: 3
Glory: 2 -> 3

Risking a few light taps against the exposed Old Guy Vault, Gabber was bit surprised at the dull thud that was returned. Would have thought it would have echoed like crazy in here, but everything seemed a bit...dampened?

As he returned to the group, he saw Gado seemed to have recovered for the moment and the rest of his group had begun to discuss plans:

Successful Businessmanga posted:

Once he's calmed himself a bit and given himself a reassuring nod he calls out to Gigs "I can do a little tunneling underneath this thing to see if it's a fully contained vault or if there's a way in. It'd be good to know if we want to bring a detailed report back to Grimper. I shouldn't have too much trouble doing that, but you're the Boss right now! If you've got plans for me just tell me what to do."

To Gado's idea Gabber's head cocked slightly askew; his hands, palm down, pushing downward in a gentle repetitive motion.1

WereGoat posted:

Explaining his folk music idea to Gigs "What do you think, boss? The keys might match up to the tune. I'll key it in if you give me the go ahead."

"Oh!" Hob straightened back up. "Once we have searched the place we should Post guards , it would be awful to report back and have some Fröan sneak in here and mess it up."

CourValant posted:

"Gigs. GiGs. GIGS!", she whispered, loudly "Great. Power. Here! Old. Guys. Baskets!! Weave. Buttons. Together!!!

To Hob and Bamboo's idea of pushing buttons, Gabber nodded a bit more emphatically than to Gado's plan, giving a double thumb's up2. While the safer option was surely to just report back to Grimper....what if they got it open first?

To Hob's second idea of leaving guards, Gabber remained non-committal. Guards might not be a bad idea....but he sure didn't want to be the one to have to stay down here!

sheep-dodger posted:

Turning to her companions she said "We have no idea what we are dealing with, so we should all follow rule #1 of dealing with mad science: Do. Not. Touch. Anything. That hole looks like it needs a key, and if the Old Guys are anything like us, there's likely a spare somewhere close to here, check for potted plants, welcome mats or suspiciously unsuspicious rocks that it could be hidden under.

At Sucy's mention of not touching anything, Gabber nodded several times with his eyes shut, trying to give off a wise air, and hopefully get her to forget he was just rapping on the vault wall not 30 seconds ago. Searching around a bit did seem to be the wisest option, though he'd hate to leave here without pushing just a few buttons first...

When he had everyone's attention, he cupped both hands behind his ears, pushing then slightly forward. He squinted as if he was trying to focus on something, putting a finger up to his lips to indicate quiet3. He began to back away from the group, walking in a slow and deliberate circle in the area they had just uncovered. He was listening for anything that might be important - maybe he could put his ear against the vault door and pick up on any noises from behind it? Listen to see if he heard any odd noises in the room? Or, if Gigs OK'ed pressing some buttons, maybe Gabber with his new skillcore might even be able to assist in a similar way to a safecracker, helping figure out by sound if any of the buttons being pressed seemed to elicit a response from the control panel or the door itself?

Listen to our surroundings/vault door/control panel: 1d100+12 47 (I guess consider this roll as a vote for Take Copious Notes - but I definitely hope we push some buttons first too, and want Gabber's roll to aid in a safecracker fashion as I describe above if it happens.)


Spoilers for what Gabber is trying to get across, just in case it doesn't translate well:
1. Let's be careful...
2. Go for it!
3. I'll listen and try to pick up anything interesting - but be quiet for a bit!

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 21:49

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...



Name: Stårn
Additional skills: Butterfly Beastmaster
HP: 3
Glory: 10 -> 11

The enemy was impenetrably fortified. Friendly forces were insufficient. A frontal assault was utterly infeasible.

Any sensible Töan would have been disheartened by such a thing. But not Stårn. No, Stårn was actually in a particularly good mood. Positively giddy even, jumping about, rubbing his hands together and throwing mad glances at the enemy fortress. Why was this so? It was simple. He was in such high spirits because the conditions thrust upon them meant that there was only one really feasible way towards their goal:

A long term, protracted, true to form...

"SIEEEEEGE" Stårn yelled madly at Qwäg without much warning, grabbing her by the shoulders and sprinkling her face with spittle. He quickly let go and threw his arms towards the skies with a cackle. Oh yes, yes indeed, they would have to plan. They would perform a siege the likes never seen before. A siege to make pap proud.

Stårn took a stick and started drawing up nonsensical scribbles ingenious battle plans on the mud.


big bag of nacho cheese posted:

In the moment of shocked silence that followed, a slightly embarassed Qwäg folded her arms and looked around awkwardly. "That is," she stammered, "I've run all the transformations, and barring a Cornbread-level Spoiler, it...Well, it doesn't look good." Looking over to Stårn, she shrugged helplessly. "Ram or no, we bash down that door, we die." Looking back to Humbug, she pointed at the heavily marked page she had lost. "We infiltrate, we die. And worse, we lose the data from our no-doubt entertaining deaths to the enemy."


"Statistically," she began, pacing around the fire, "the odds of mistakes accumulate over time. Small factors can..um...be exploited, especially with a...a little help." She stopped in front of Stårn. "That ram of yours," she said, "may or may not do for that gate. But I imagine it'll ring those walls like a bell. What if we sneak up in the middle of the night, every night, at a different time, to a different part of the wall, and WHAM, give the redders something to keep them awake and on edge. Then high-tail it before they send somone out to investigate."

"Yes. Yes! This is good stuff", he opined as he drew arrows (attack vectors?) around a shoddy little circle (Nägel..?), "A TRUE SIEGER is patient and uses all tools against the enemy! A ram can batter down the will just as easily as a wall ahahaha" Stårn paused for a bit to draw breath, "Yes, via a multi-pronged psyops operation we can easily wreck our enemy, weaken them so that the horde proper can walk over them when they arrive, yes."


Swedish Thaumocracy posted:

"Now, as for your plan? Less terrible. Terror is always more effective than injury. And frightened guards make mistakes.
What we need is someone on the inside to exploit those mistakes. Someone that is already supposed to be there, so they wont draw any attention to themselves, or to us.
Luckily, I know just such a person. Tö-Päin. <Snödis involuntarily blushes as she speaks his name.>

We just need to get him the message. How? Easy. He speaks rythm, and as you pointed out, what we have here is Frö's biggest gong. Let us ring it most spookily. Just follow my lead.

With your permission, Stårn, I'd like to make use of the Ram."

Stårn nodded along as he poked at his drawing, the interpersonal drama escaping his notice for his only passion was Sieging and his heart had no space for any other love, "Yes, good! Then our mission will perform a double purpose, of weakening the enemy and instigating internal strife! It is a plan that in my honest opinion couldn't possibly fail."

Stårn stood up and nodded at his final battle plan, hands on his hip, a smug grin on his face. It was... an eccentric little thing, and probably made no real sense to anyone but him, but he seemed rather proud nevertheless. "Yes, that is definitely what we should do. Let's get to it!"


OOC: Voting for operation psyops. Whatever we do, we probably shouldn't split our actions here. Also remember that up to 3 of you can roll +20 Siege Weapons on the Ram instead of using your skillcores this turn if we go with it.

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Secret Art: Toxic Crotch Whirlwind!


Name: Ringo!
HP: 2/2 (Crippled)
Glory: 10 > 11 (when I get to rolling)
Skill: Lockpicking

Ringo rolls over the possiblity of infiltrating the prison in his head, finding little way to get in without getting killed in the process. Then Stårn and Qwäg speak up.

"Be a terror in the night? Give the guards a headache they won't forget? Sounds great!"

Ringo takes a position by the great Ram.

"Ready to siege this place on your order! And once we're done knocking on the walls, I'll go take a spooky jaunt around the perimiter to scare the heck outta the guards!"



OOC: Voting for the siege/psyop plan. Will edit a roll into here once we get a little more consensus.

Green Intern fucked around with this message at Oct 20, 2017 around 01:41

Kyyp
Jan 14, 2007




Name: Doc
HP: 3
Glory: 8
Skill: Surgery

Prince of Space posted:

"Pythag, Doc, Bully - quick! The monsterist ones- they're acting like a herd! Follow me, follow my voice! We can round them all up!"

Apparently it was time to do some running, and chasing down monsters. Doc expected to be very very slightly above average at this, like everything else she's ever done.

The Chase Begins: 1d100+7 = 59

Okay, lets keep this roll tally going. For the last 5 turns, in succession, with varying number modifiers: 57, 56, 58, 59, and now ANOTHER 59.
Dogkisser, do these people have a god of being Incredibly Average? I think Doc might be their herald.

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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


Kyyp posted:

Dogkisser, do these people have a god of being Incredibly Average? I think Doc might be their herald.[/i]

ya his name is kyyp

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Fuzz
Jun 2, 2003

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Pretty sure the 4 of you using the ram are meant to each paste one piece of the picture for it.

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