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Oct 10, 2012

I think Charlotte might be...A MAVERICK!

Skill: Oratory
Glory: 3

Bully will try and lay claim to that climbing skillcore. Bully has always had a love for the great outdoors and feels like it wil come in handy for his mountain-climbing hobby.

1d100+3: 87

Edit: Blast, I didn't realise we were supposed to not factor in glory - should I just treat my roll as an 84, or roll a d100?

Yvonmukluk fucked around with this message at Sep 25, 2017 around 22:15


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 (used!)
HP: 3
Glory: 4 --> 5


With not a single Töan dead, it seemed that War was indeed Glorious, and the Unexpectables had lived up to their name magnificently!

Which left Humbug at something of a disavantage, having been with the scouting party that was at the rear of the caravan when the main assault went down. The detective crossed the battlefield at a huff-and-puff jog, intent on making his way towards the bodies of the caravan's fallen captains before some other enterprising Töan could ruin anything important, like missives or intelligence, or who-really-knew-what-but-he'd-really-like-to-know-what. As it turned out, though, luck was with the detective. While the rest of the horde fell randomly upon the dead and the dying, tearing out skill cores and grabbing blades and shields and the like, very few had thought to check out the officers stuck under their fallen horses. The detective eagerly leaned over to study the crime loot scene.

"Hum... aha! I've FOUND SOMETHING!" declared Humbug, posing and pointing dramatically, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Search the captains' bodies: 1d100 100

Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at Sep 25, 2017 around 23:39

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

Skill: Carpentry
HP: 3
Glory: 4->5

Noggins barely gave the skillcores a second glance as she rushed in among her fellow looters. Sure, yelling might be nice if she wanted to keep trying to take charge and impress Grimper, but it looked like Stårn was going for that one, and she didn't want to risk a Portapult to the face. She'd helped build the thing, after all, she knew how strong it was. She already had a weapon, too, no point looking for that.

No, this was a supply caravan for a fortress, and that took more than just food and weapons. You needed to be able to make repairs in a siege, and that took tools and craftsmen... and if there was a good carpenter in this caravan, he wouldn't let his tools out of his sight. She passed by the more soldier-y corpses as she moved into the middle of the caravan, where people who'd needed protecting had sat, possibilities dancing through her head. She'd show Grimper that that training performance hadn't been a fluke.

Looking for tools!: 1d100 89

The Lord of Hats fucked around with this message at Sep 28, 2017 around 02:32

Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

Name: Bamboo
HP: 3
Glory: 3 + 1 (Action Glory) + 1 (Story Glory) -> 5
Skill: Basket Weaving


Bamboo couldn’t believe the outcome; despite the complete lack of organization amongst the Horde, they had won.

No, more than that, they had crushed the enemy. From her vantage point in the tree, Bamboo witnessed the lopsided victory first hand. It was even set to a soundtrack, provided by that stage musician.

Well, a win was a win; none of the Horde got hurt, and now, it was time for the some scavenging.

One of the Skillcores looked promising; Sitting Quietly would greatly aid her in her basket weaving.

Action: Roll for Loot (1): 1d100 14

*** I’m a little confused as to claiming Skillcores; is it first come, first served, or are we rolling for them? If we roll for Skillcores, please see my roll above. If we’re not rolling for Skillcores, then please apply my roll towards general ‘Looting’ ***

Sep 25, 2014

Hello, Creature!

Do You Despise Goat Hating Fascists? So Do We!

Join Us at Paradise Lost!

Skill: Training giant venemous butterflies1
HP: 3
Glory: 2

Flutter was... surprised at their glorious victory, and elevated! And surrounded by butterflies, of course, which made him happy. Now, they weren't supposed to loot the wagons themselves, not yet, at least, but... perhaps they'd been transporting giant venemous butterfly larvae? or cocoons? or perhaps one of the crewmen had a large-but-not-quite-giant venemous butterfly for a pet? Flutter couldn't miss the chance to reunite with his real family, so he took a peek here and there, behind curtains or doors or whatever else the wagons had. He didn't touch anything else, but if they had venemous butterfly larvae or cocoons, well, noone would notice if just one of them was snug and nice under his tunic. If questioned, he could always say he found it under the wagons, fallen out, or as a pet. Couldn't he? If there weren't any, he'd just have to settle looting a saddlebag or something.

Searching for (and stealing) giant venemous butterflies: 1d100 65

Mar 3, 2011

Spider-Man's Amazing Construction Company

Name: Shiny
HP: 3
Glory: 3
Skill: Stealin' Stuff

"Holy crap we won!" Shiny was heard to exclaim, pounding Humbug on the shoulder in her exuberance before she remembered that she was (potentially) terrified of him and stopping.

Moments later, though, even that fear dissolves. Not in the face of her delight at victory, but in the face of the fact that there were Dead Bad Guys around and she could nick their stuff. And no one could tell her not to! She was even expected to! Maybe the attack actually failed and she died and went to Heaven? Doesn't matter. There's stuff to steal.

Action: Looting Shiny Stuff!: 1d100+10 15

Shiny is really way too easily distractable, and her head is still swimming from the joy of being able to steal stuff scot-free, so her odds of getting anything valuable - never high to begin with - plummet as she ends up frozen in indecision. Which of the Shiny Things should she loot? In the end it'll probably end up being "random scraps of metal that happen to catch the light in interesting ways while being utterly useless," but honestly, that's okay. She'll be happy with that.

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.


Naim: Mason
Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin'
HeeP: Mason Mason Mason
Glury: Masonx3

Mason, a flawless victor? Probably not, but who is Mason to put temper the wild jubilation of his comrade in arms? Especially when there is so much loot out in the field. Now Mason is greedy, but he knows with so many other looters about, he has one chance to claim a spoil of war - so he better make it count! So Mason decides to hoot at holler at a nearby pile of corpses to help scare the corpses to cough up a decent helmet, and to keep others away from claiming the same.

"Y'all bettur stey awey frem my helmut! I needz it to protect mai noggin' and all the smarty smarts I kip in dere!"

Holla fer dat Helmut!: 1d100+10 26

Apr 28, 2017

Name: Hob
HP: 3
Glory: 3≥4
Skill: bee keeping

Gabber's idea worked! The enemy is vanquished!

Looking around their cooling bodies, Hob spots an opportunity to get a real weapon. His stick has served him well in slaying these fetid foes, but real steel was what he wanted.

Look for a sword, a rapier?: 1d100 55

WereGoat fucked around with this message at Oct 3, 2017 around 07:22

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

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

What a rush. What excitement. Neebs had never experienced anything like this melee in her life.

Neebs grabbed the nearest mook and gave her a hug. "This was so different from fighting those broom-people. But, oh my...such a mess. We definitely need to clean this up a little."'

Neebs proceeded to loot the bodies with the rest of the horde, searching for some kind of armor:

Search for some kind of protective armor/clothing: 1d100 60

Neebs wasn't quite sure, but thought that surely the armor on one particular Fröman would fit her.

Jun 2, 2003

Avatar brought to you by the
TG Sanity fund

Glory: 4 - To this tune.

TOANS [Chorus continues]

I was caught in the middle of a Ho-orde attack!
And the Grimper! Well, he said there was no turning back!

My mind raced, and I thought what could I do.
But I knew, I could rely on my boys of blue!


That was the start.


To rip you apart!

You've been...


**Guitar Solo**


In the aftermath of the carnage, RIK stowed his guitar, a plan well executed... literally. He joined the others in trying to rummage, however got distracted signing autographs and the various cleavages of Toan youths and ladies, inspired by his face-melting battle song. By the time he got to the field, most of the good stuff had been taken. Pity, that, but hey, the fans come first. He looked over the leftovers and took whatever he could find.

At the end of his killer set, he took a flying LEAP into the enemy to crowdsurf his way to victory, like any true rockstar. The surf was grand, however while he was riding around and ultimately deposited on the far side of the battlefield, the whole place had been picked clean. Oh well! Worth it for the GLORY OF ROCKING.

Rummaging for loot!: 1d100 39 <---- I lied! Instead he is LEAPING for LEAPCORE!

Fuzz fucked around with this message at Sep 25, 2017 around 23:11

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

DivineCoffeeBinge posted:

"Holy crap we won!" Shiny was heard to exclaim, pounding Humbug on the shoulder in her exuberance before she remembered that she was (potentially) terrified of him and stopping.

"Hah, yes! It's gobsmacking how well that kerfluffle went down! Unexpectables, IN-deed! You go get yourself something nice now, Shiny!"

Humbug returned Shiny's punch with a hefty shoulder-clap, before he went pelting off to secure something valuable, and also probably affirm all of Shiny's paranoid theories about detectives being better criminals than actual criminals.

Cloud Potato
Jan 8, 2011

"I'm... happy!"

HP: 3/3
Glory: 3

The infiltration was a blur. Hat was extremely apprehensive as she approached the enemy; she'd always bought pre-butchered meat, and was unsure if she'd ever killed another creature. Well, save for the odd spider that made its home in the old hat shop; those got squished on sight. And I guess you could think of all these Frö troops as spiders in a weird form. If you squint. And think really hard.

She watched the troops march in front of her small group's hiding spot. She saw them stop, and could just make out Gabs and their team putting the grand plan into action. Taking a deep breath, she took a few steps forward out of the treeline and sauntered up to the rear of the enemy army. The Frö soldiers' helmets looked a bit muddier than the ones she had concoted. She had forgotten to weather them! Once you knew what to look for, her team stuck out like a sore thumb. Her heart was beating out of her ribcage. Would anyone notice?

"Hey," one of the Frömen said to her. "I like your helmet." And he smiled. A kindly smile, of the sort that Hat hadn't seen in years. And he looked nice.

And then the whole army heard an almighty cry of TÖANS! as Rik's song started, and all hell broke loose. Hat took a deep breath, and as the smiling Fröman turned toward the din, Hat muttered "Spider!" and stuck her pointy stick into his neck.


The scale of the victory surprised Hat. The helmets had held up; not a single Töman had died, and she didn't think the few medics the army possessed had been unduly troubled in the aftermath. On a barely perceptible nod from Grimper, the squad descended on the fallen, looking for anyting that might improve their chances in the next battle. A few shouts of "Skillcore!" drove everyone into a frenzy, covering themselves in the blue blood of the fallen Frömen. Ignoring Gabber's mumblings about her possible spyhood, Hat joined the fray. She kept her searching simple, looking for pieces of armour, something that would protect her in future, and that hadn't been broken when unsuccessfully protecting their previous owner.

She turned over another enemy body. It- He was still smiling.

Looting for armour: 1d100 87

This might help others: ö can be typed by holding down Alt and typing 0246 on your numberpad. If on a computer. And capital Ö is Alt + 0214.

Feb 21, 2013

Name: Sucy
HP: 3
Glory: 3
Skill: Mushrooms

Arriving late to the looting frenzy, Sucy decided to try and find anything she could (ab)use as tools for gardening and caring for her mushrooms.
1d100: 36

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Secret Art: Toxic Crotch Whirlwind!

Name: Ringo!
HP: 3
Glory: 3
Skill: Lockpicking

Ringo giggles to himself, and then twitches a bit. How exciting! Those losers didn't know what hit them! He definitely deserved a reward for how cool he was just now. A cool cape or a cloak or something to show how cool he is!

Loot the Dead (Caravan) for a Cool Cloak: 1d100 2 Edit: 12, if you can count unlocking any likely trunks/chests which might have stuff in them.

On second thought, maybe the twitching is from poison residue on his hands, not excitement.

Green Intern fucked around with this message at Sep 26, 2017 around 00:20

Nov 11, 2008

Name: Dack
Skill: Athletics
HP: 3
Glory: 3

Dack still isn't quite sure what's happening, but it seems like they've won the competition! Although instead of an official award ceremony, everyone has to go find their rewards on their own. Very unusual, but it looked like fun, so why not? And Dack was certain he saw some kind of shiny medal in the loot pile...

Trying to find a shiny medal: 88

It's not a gold medal, but Dack's not picky about what metal it's made of. Claiming shiny medals like this one was the entire reason Dack ever became an athlete in the first place.

The Wandering Mage
Jul 22, 2010

HP: 3
Glory: 1

Flipit blinks in surprise at the total victory below, and as the music ends, follows the rest of the distraction crew slowly down the hill, his ears still ringing from the cacophony he had participated in. He noted fondly the portapult that was being cradled so lovingly by its brainchild, Stårn, and hoped he would have the opportunity to tinker with ever more such things in the future! It was marvelous, and, if he were perfectly honest with himself, pretty miraculous, that he was alive.

Picking among the bloodied corpses, he kept an eye out for his heart's desire - a toolbelt filled with the sweet, precious tools that brought him such joy...while always watching for any little toys that might be lying about...their mechanisms could be put to good work after all! Yes.

Searching for a toolbelt (though if a shiny mechanical toy comes up he goes for it!): 1d100 64

Infinity Gaia
Feb 27, 2011

a storm is coming...

HP: 3

Biggo achieved great victory! Good times. Truly his complex stratagems were the cause of victory for all. The complex stratagem of punching harder than they punch. It had served Biggo well all these years, and would continue to do so, probably indefinitely. Still, as strong as his hands were, he could always go for more punching power, so he set about scrounging for gauntlets. It was unlikely he'd find any in his size, but he'd figure that part out once he got to it.

Searching for gauntlets = 64

Jul 10, 2008

HP: 3
Glory: 2
Skill: Chucking poo poo (often literally)

CORNBREAD is his own battle cry. The world would come to know and fear the exact opposite of a clarion call that is CORNBREAD shrieking his own name(?) at the top of his lungs. Perhaps he would luck out and manage to smear his own waste to mark the relevant corpse before anyone else got too close?

Rip out a dude's gizzards for profit(Yelling Skill Core): 1d100 83

(HP3 G7)

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

Skill: Carpentry
HP: 3
Glory: 5

Noggins looked up from her search for a moment to see Ringo striding confidently (if somewhat twitchily) up to a caravan wagon and start loudly picking its lock while whistling, occasionally pausing to give a high-five to a passing horde member. She blinked a few times and shook her head, but it didn't stop being entirely real. She quickly ducked back down and considered her options while continuing her search. On the one hand, Grimper had explicitly said not to do that, and might look favorably on being told about what was up. On the other hand, Ringo was the hero of the hour, and the rest of the Horde probably wouldn't look kindly on anyone who snitched him out. Also, Grimper would probably get mad at her for pointing out the obvious. Or she could try and cover for Ringo, but... no, the natural conclusion of that really was just getting slapped into next week by Grimper, with no upside.

Ah, well. Ringo was sneaky enough to poison horses, right? Clearly he must know what he's doing. Better not to interfere with his plan one way or the other.

The Lord of Hats fucked around with this message at Sep 28, 2017 around 02:32

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

Lipstick Apathy

I bet there's extra glory in guarding the caravan from overzealous looters, too bad I already rolled.

Prince of Space
Apr 17, 2016

Cosmiq's entrant: Skipp Wiley Jr.

Dinosaur Gum

Name: Gawp
HP: 3
Skill: Perception (active)
Glory: 2 -> 3

Backstory: Gawp had never fought another goblinoid before - Fröman, Töan, or otherwise. Well, actually, Gawp had his siblings, sure, and growing up they had gotten plenty rowdy and rabble-roused with each other from time to time, but never had things gotten truly violent. And sure, when the other miners would drink and get into their fisticuffs in the after-hours, Gawp knew better than to get in their way. He'd gotten socked enough times trying to break up their drunken antics. Even then, those bar-scraps never really turned deadly - well, except for that one time (but that was an accident that could've happened to anybody).

Battle: Gawp gripped the wooden spade tightly in his hands - its edge may be blunt but its hefty weight was reassuring. He peered through the bushes from his spot in the trenches, watching the faces of the enemy as everything went horribly wrong for them. He saw their dismay as panic, alarm, confusion and despair swept through them as they were slaughtered in droves, taken down from within and from behind. When the forward guard had all turned their backs to deal with the internal assault, Gawp and the others diggers in his team leapt from their hiding spots and joined in the fray.

His weapon raised in a full sprint, Gawp charged at the enemy's exposed backs, praying the whole while through pounding breaths that neither he nor his trenchmates would alert the forward guard's attentions, at least not until he'd gotten his first strike in. Throbbing with adrenaline, Gawp hurtled himself towards the nearest Fröman: an armored mounted rider who had just pulled himself up from being pinned under his mount. Gawp brought the wooden blade of his shovel crashing down on the helmeted skull of the enemy with an ear-splitting *THRACK* as shards of wood splintered in all directions. The Fröman soldier lurched bodily to the ground and rolled onto his back, and Gawp could just make out the skin of the neck showing through his armor, so he placed the cracked blade of his shovel against the throat of his dazed opponent and put all his weight against it...

When the guardsman started flailing his limbs, Gawp pinned them under his knees before a blade could be drawn and pushed harder on his spade. The shovel blade cracked and split, the ends splintering into the enemy's neck. Gawp gaped at his gasping foe, tears welling in his eyes. He held the handle of his shattered shovel firmly in place and pushed as hard as he could until he was absolutely certain that his opponent was thouroughly dead.

War was a messy affair, as usual.

~ ~ ~

When Gawp heard the Töan victory cries coming from further down the caravan train, a second wave of adrenaline suddenly struck him. Sweet mother of victory, is that what this sensation is?! A RECKLESS RUSH FOR LOOT overcame him, as his four eyes flitted in all directions he saw how the the other Töan warriors around him went from cheering and elated in the throes of success to frothing mad, stripping down all they could see for parts, bodies included.

Gawp saw that he had very little time to waste - if he wanted something rare off his dead guardsman, like a crossbow, a jewel, a magic pair of boots, or a key to the caravan's safe, he'd have to search with all his Perceptive might. Maybe he could find something useful for the Boss?!

Searching for Rare Loot: 1d100+10 44

Prince of Space fucked around with this message at Oct 6, 2017 around 02:26

Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun

Skill: 'Splosions
HP: 3
Glory: 3

The battle was won. It didn't really need much telling and Spleen didn't much remember what happened once the red mist descended and he tore into enemy ranks, just a feeling of sore muscles.

But what he did understand was loot, ignoring all those dropped skill cores because he only needed to do the one thing, he set about looting the caravans.

1d100 = 87

Jan 15, 2012

I Got Kids. I need this.

Name: Gryph
HP: 3
Glory: 2
Skill: Bandaging/Medicine

Gryph joins in with rifling through the dead, stripping clothing and armour. He can be heard muttering, 'Medical supplies, bandages. Heck maybe one of them had a heroin problem and carried their gear.on them. Come on...'
Looking for Medical supplies.
Die Roll: 1d100 83

The Lone Badger
Sep 24, 2007

Name: Gorb
HP: 3
Glory: 2 -> 3
Skill: Scroungin'

Go through the corpses for anything tradeable that they won't be missing anymore. Coins, rings, boots, teeth - anything I can flog off to an unsuspecting buyer.
1d100+10 = 61

Bad Seafood
Dec 10, 2010

If you must blink, do it now.

Name: Gigs
Skill: Unflappability
HP: 3
Glory: 3
Inventory: 1 stick spear, 7 rations (?)

Gigs bobs his head dispassionately to the beat of RIK's killer licks as he pokes around for a better weapon, preferably something with reach or range (1d100 = 20).


Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!

Name: Dummy
HP: 3
Glory: 4
Skill: Charge!

Dummy was very disappointed in himself. He thought that no one was going to just charge because no one was talking about it. But then some silent heroes, better people by far than Dummy, charged anyway. He should have been in the front, taking a stab meant for someone cool like Noggins!

He doesn't deserve a Skill Core and never would, but if he had a spear or a sword or a pointy rock he could charge better! So Dummy searched for a humble weapon

Search for a weapon: 1d100+4 68

Nov 4, 2009

Name: Agile
HP: 3
Glory: 3
Skill: Acrobatics

Delighted by how well the whole affair went, Agile gleefully begins to peruse the remains of the dead, searching for a weapon--anything is better than just punching these guys, is her thought.

Rummaging through a dead guy's pockets: 1d100 42

Jan 14, 2007

Name: Doc
HP: 3
Glory: 2
Skill: Surgery

Whoops. Kinda fell asleep during that one. Oh well, it turned out fine. Time to find some armor!

Armor search: 1d100 = 43

Aug 9, 2010

Lipstick Apathy

Name: Spekz
HP: 3
Glory: 3
Skill: Echolocation

Having somehow missed the vast majority of the battle, Spekz stumbles across the horde as they continue to loot.

Item search! 1d100+2: 61

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.

Name: Klörf

Skill: Starting fires
HP: 3
Glory: 3->4

Where others looted weapons, food, armor, or useful things, Klörf rummaged through backpacks hoping to find a certain luxury good: a flask of oil. Well, *he* considered it a luxury good -- and he didn't care what his fellow Toäns thought!

Trying to find a flask of oil, 1d100=62

Apr 27, 2011

Intelligent and bright, they explored a world that was new and strange to them. They liked it, they thought - a whole world just for them! They were dimly aware that a God had created them, was watching them; they called out to him, thanking him in a chittering language, before running off.

Name: Patsy
Skill: Baking
HP: 3
Glory: 4

Patsy was basically a kind soul. He was also just a little bit afraid of the very crazy poo poo throwing man who kept shouting about cornbread.

Patsy went looking for cornmeal.

Looting (food in general, cornmeal in particular): 1d100+4 12

(sorry cornbread please don't hurt me)

Mithross fucked around with this message at Nov 24, 2017 around 22:24

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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

Looting. Looting! LOOTING! The best part of combat! The delectable rush of stealing from a fallen foe, of driving a steel-toed boot into the gasping lungs of the dying and wrenching their sweat-slicked weapon away! The Unexpectable Horde clambered over the piles of dead and dying, studiously avoiding the temptation of the wagons they escorted in life. The Warlord had cautioned them against it under pain of death, after all… but they did look very nice. Reinforced, beastly things, nothing that you’d see civilians using. They must have some good stuff in there… but, no, there was plenty outside!

First, the obvious stuff: weapons, armor, loose gear! To their dismay, a too-large percentage of it was badly damaged - the caravan had clearly seen combat, and by the looks of it not with Töan forces, judging by the claw scores and scorches. Still, it was better than nothing! They fought and grappled with eachother, tearing stolen prizes right out of eachother’s hands. Dummy the Charger yanked a hammer out of some brute’s cold hands, swinging it overhead while ululating. The others gave him a wide berth as he ran off to practice on some rocks.

Biggo the Fist broke the leather ties that bound one of the soldier’s gauntlets to his vambraces, then slammed it home onto his own hand. It was bloody and ill-fitting, but it was also much harder than his own hand. He grabbed the other and punched the air excitedly.

Hat the Milliner sighed as she crouched over the fallen Fröman, unlatching his leather armor and twisting it to and fro. It was a trifle large for her, but she could adjust it, if necessary. Certainly this poor fellow wouldn’t be needing it anymore. She stripped what she though could be of use, then flipped the corpse back over. The smile was a little too much, somehow.

Pythag the Mathematician avoided the worst of the melee for gear - while the others sought out weapons or prestigious trophies, they trod over the dropped shields on the floor. Bending, he picked one up. It looked alright, none too battered. Good enough.

Humbug the Sleuth rummaged through the fallen officers’ clothing. While their finery had been stripped off and scattered through the group, he doubted that they’d gotten everything. One fellow had been crushed by his fallen horse - terrifying fellow, that Ringo - and Humbug shouldered the heavy beast aside, revealing a satchel strapped to the man’s trapped leg. He smiled and drew out a lustrous blue pearl. Child’s play.

Gado the Digger, no longer smarting from his humiliation, dug excitedly for a tool, something to help him dig even better. A shovel, a spade, anything, really! He knew they had to have one - they simply must! Finally, he found… a thing. He stared into its beady eyes and saw in it a kindred spirit, and he held it tight - it longed to escape, to fall towards the earth and burrow away, and he could sympathise.

Flutter the Butterfly Fiend knew that should his foes have a caterpillar, a chrysalis, or even a live specimen, he could truly play his part in this war. He dreamed of soaring above the battlefield, dropping bombs and poison mist from the back of his fluttering steed. He could do it. He had been trained by generations of masters in the art of Butterflight. All he needed was a chance to show them all. The wagons would be the clear hiding place for any such creature, and neither the Warlord’s warning nor the warding glyphs surrounding the door could hold him back. He made certain he wasn’t being watched, then creaked open the door. The room was dark, and his heart was beating, but sure enough he saw the lustrous gleam of a chrysalis in a vacuum-sealed glass jar. A Cobaltwing Drifter! He drew it out, excited to see the play of the light beneath the surface. Finally. Finally, he would

“I WARNED YOU.” Grimper dropped Flutter’s ruined corpse, wiping his sodden hand off on the wall of the wagon. Without missing a beat, two great strides took him towards Ringo, who foolishly, maddeningly, was in the process of opening another wagon. He lifted him clear off the ground and screamed into his face, shaking him furiously.

“I WARNED ALL OF YOU!” Recalling that Ringo had been instrumental in their recent victory, Grimper growled and twisted off his topknot before throwing him into a nearby tree. “Let this be a lesson to all of you - should you decide to ignore my words, there WILL be consequences! I am your lord and master, and I see far more than you expect. If you cannot keep your doings hidden from my sight, I will exactly my vengeance for your insubordination. As for the rest of you: form up and wait for my instruction. Believe it or not, I had a good loving reason to tell you idiots to stay out of there! No, drop that! You had your chance to loot. Go stand in line and shut the hell up!”
Spleen the Volatile kept his face grave, and followed orders, but inside he felt lucky as all hell. Flutter and Ringo hadn’t been the only two who had tried for the wagons.
Spleen tucked the dangerous looking thing tucked away from sight, but he could feel its warmth from here. What a beautiful device. His heart sang with it, crying out to go up with it in a blaze of heat and power. Perhaps later, though!

Warlord Grimper stood before the doorway that Ringo had so foolishly tried to open. He passed his hands over blazing cerulean runes inscribed around its perimetre, then sunk his fingers in. With a grunt and a wrenching twist, he simply tore the doorframe off, tossing it into the woods. Inside lay crates of equipment, racks of weaponry and arrows, and - chained to a reinforced wall - an old, corpulent woman.

“What took you so long?” Not a trace of gratefulness stained the voice, or if it had it couldn’t be detected beneath the deep rasp of her ancient voice. Grimper said nothing, only passed a finger through her bindings and drew her up and out of the cart. “This, maggots, is Magda. She is our single greatest asset - I would gladly trade all of you for her, or even crush the lot of you if she asked me to. Treat her with respect or I’ll turn you inside out and give you to the birds.” Magda limped off up the hill towards their camp, and Grimper ordered the Horde to follow.

(Okay, bunch of stuff - Flutter is dead, and his face has been stricken from the roster. His Skillcore is free for the taking, and can be rolled for like before. Ringo is not dead, but he probably wishes he was. He takes 2 Damage and is Crippled - 2 HP becomes his Max Hp. Report to the roster for his updated portrait.

You were killed in combat, or eaten by a bear, or crushed by an avalanche. That’s alright! There’s plenty of warm bodies to become, each with a story to tell! When you die, pick an empty slot and create a new character. Your equipment and Skillcore will be taken automatically by the horde and dispersed by the Warlord based on merit or whim, or rolled for. All Glory is lost - no Glory in being dead, only in fighting until you die!

As for Skillcores, Portha takes Cleaning, Bully takes Climbing, Rik takes Leaping, Cornbread takes Yelling, Snödis takes Sitting Quietly, Graxon takes Breaking Necks, Grag takes Snoring, and an unamed Mook (who has +1 Glory, incidentally) takes Swimming. Add those to your posts, and don’t forget that you can only use one at a time, but their cooldowns are separate. We’ll do more lore about Skillcores later, but for now just take em’.)

After finally making their trek back up the hill - pulling the wagons, no less, the Horde collapsed in exhaustion. Strangely, Grimper let them. He and Magda had taken the wagons into a clearing and arranged them, spending a few painstaking hours scribing protective spells into the dirt with the blood of their enemies. Finally, Magda clapped her fat hands, unleashing a concussion wave that drew the attention of the entire Horde. “Alright. The Unexpectables, they call you. Who came up with that name? Grimper? It’s awful. In my day, Hordes went by things like Skinpeeler or Hard Iron or just the Asskickers. Unexpectables. Feh. You’re all terrible, and nine out of ten of you are going to die out there.”

“But those who don’t? They’ll be the true Töans. Forged in blood and trauma and fear into something better than the dogs you are now. But that’s later. For now, you’re just dogs. And dogs don’t get their treats for free - they have to earn them. The wagons and their contents are off limits to the lot of you unless you show us that you deserve them. Bring me Glorious victory, and I’ll make sure you survive!” A low murmur of unhappiness rippled through the crowd, but visions of Flutter’s painful death kept it from growing any louder. Jealous looks flitted to those who had gathered precious equipment on the battlefield before they’d been halted, and Magda picked up on them. “So you’re jealous of your fellows? Fine. Jealousy leads to anger, anger we can use to cut down those red bastards. But - and I’m very certain Grimper will agree with me on this…” He nodded, gravely. “...we can’t have you robbing one another. I’m sure you were all cutpurses and scoundrels wherever you came from, but here you’re a Horde. If you’re caught trying to rob another warrior of their hard-earned trophies, you’ll get a lashing. If you kill one of your fellows, Grimper will consume your Skillcore while you yet live.”

The jealous looks fell away, or at least grew more guarded.

“I may not look it, but I was someone once. Crusher Magda of the Asskicker Horde, High Nailsmith First-Class. Then I got old, and I got fat - but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the Ritual of the Nail! Your Warlord has appointed me as Quartmaster and Nailsmith to this Horde, and I am blessed to accept his offer. Least I could do for that rescue down there. From what I can hear, it was about as well-executed as I could expect from a crew as green as you lot. But I can make you better.”

She coughed and spat, then waddled off towards the wagons, which were evidently hers now. She disappeared within, and the spell was broken. The Horde went about their business, anxious to generate enough Glory to buy themselves a fighting chance of survival.

With the rescue of Magda, you now have another option for your Downtime - spending your hard-earned Glory to buy crap! Buying options can be roughly divided into personal purchases and Rituals: the former is stuff like weapons, armor, and sundries, while the latter will allow the entire Horde to pay towards a Ritual that will strengthen the group as a whole. You can also, naturally, keep your Glory, which makes you stronger in Conflicts and Combat - but if you die, you lose all of it!

The caravans were chiefly full of basic equipment that you can use to outfit yourself. There’s other stuff to find out there, but you’ll have to knock over different caravans or form some kind of alliance with a merchant guild to get other stuff. For now, this is what you’ve got:

    Weapon [5 Glory] - Many different weapons can be found or forged in this world of war. Whatever their appearance, they serve to separate men from their lives.
    Encompasses swords, spears, gauntlets, etc. Adds +1 to Combat rolls. Can be used to upgrade existing weapons by 1 each time this is purchased. Describe it when you buy it, though weapons purchased from the quartermaster are of workman-like quality only.
    Armour [5 Glory] - Plate, leather or bone put between you and the blades of your enemies. It will do, in a pinch, but if your enemy's tenacity overwhelms your skill you may as well be wearing parchment.
    Encompasses leather armour, plate, etc. Removes 1 from the enemy Combat rolls. Can be used to upgrade existing weapons by 1 each time this is purchased. Describe it when you buy it, though armour purchased from the quartermaster are of workman-like quality only.
    Shield [5 Glory]- A great slab of tough material sits between you and certain death. Treat it well, and it will save your life.
    Blocks 1 Damage (to yourself) in Combat, then breaks.
    Cowardclaw [5 Glory] - A sickly-yellow flower. Its smell is repulsive and cloying - perhaps that will be enough to turn the blade away from you and towards your ally?
    If you would take Damage during Combat, reroll. If you roll higher than another above you, they take your place.
    Skill Item [5 Glory]- There are many things in the world that are of use to a soldier, even mundane objects. You never know when you might need a ten foot pole...
    Oneshot use of specific Skill at +25. Stacks with regular Skills. This can be things like Grappling Hooks, Dancing Shoes, Cooking Pot, whatever. Something flavorful and descriptive.
Expensive, dangerous, magic. Not easy to perform, not easy to afford, but well worth it to increase the Horde’s survivability. Only a few are available now, but exploring ruins and sacking libraries can discover new ones. The Horde can pay into these gradually, activating them eventually once the required total is met.
    Luck’s Fickle Gaze [0/50 Glory] - Ritual causing luck to smile on the Horde in their darkest moments - but not in their second-darkest moments. [0/50 Glory]
    Reroll Combat and Conflict rolls on a 1
    Harvester’s Grim Duty [0/50 Glory] - Skillcores are fragile and ephemeral; this Ritual ensures that the Horde’s strikes avoid destroying the precious organs.
    Gain 1d6 bonus Skillcore drops after combat
    Monsterist’s Enervating Brew [0/50 Glory] - Monsterism is a blight on the land - but it grants a ferocious power. This Ritual emphasizes this strength without causing the users to succumb.
    If 100 is rolled naturally, roll again and add the result

That night, the Warlord called them together before a great fire. “My Horde, the caravan was but the first step in our journey. Gateway Fortress will soon note the absence of the caravan, and will almost certainly attempt to send scouts to report. Naturally, by then we’ll be long gone. The question is: to where?” He drew out a drawn map, rolled it up tightly, then threw it into the fire. In the smoke above the blaze, an aerial view sketched itself into existence, indicating their current position and that of the Gateway fortress far to the south-east.

  • Take The Forest Route
    “There’s a great forest between us and the Gateway. It’s not a direct route, but I suspect it would eventually get us to our destination - and avoid the bulk of their forces.”
  • Take the Direct Path
    “We could walk up the drat road and go knock on their doors. It would certainly be Unexpected, though I do think we’d end up getting routed. At least your deaths would distract them.”
  • Wait For Them To Come
    “Hell, we could bleed them dry - let them keep sending scouts, keep killing them. That ought to piss them off, maybe enough to cause them to make a mistake.”
  • Head To Fostis
    “We could head to Fostis. It’s a mining town on the way there, and they’re no strangers to strange groups of travellers. We could infiltrate, but we could also just knock out their defenses and claim the mine for our own purposes.”
  • Head to Noostra
    “Noostra is well-defended, but rich. I bet those townies think they’re far enough south that the don’t need to deal with the conflict. Fat pigs ripe for the slaughter, in my opinion.”
  • Something Else
    “Well? What else you got!?”
(No need to roll here, just want a vote to see where we ought to head next. This vote will lead us into more specifics including plans of action, but for now I’m looking for strategy, not tactics, if you catch my drift.)

After the discussion, and before most of you headed for bed, the Warlord sat by the embers of the fire, nursing his fifth bottle of pilfered sherry. He wasn’t drunk, not quite, but he was feeling quite talkative - and, luckily, a trifle less violent than usual. He’d probably be open to talking, if you had something to ask.

  • Tell Us A Story
    “Hmm? What do you want to know about? Really? You don’t know about that? Well...”
(Grimper is willing to talk about anything bolded in the text in this or earlier updates. I think I flagged everything interesting, but I’ll consider other topics that get traction.

To recap, you’re on Downtime right now, so you can Heal, Cook, and Shop individually, in addition to the two Horde Votes which we’re all doing together. If you have any questions, join the Discord)

Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at Sep 27, 2017 around 21:07

Mar 3, 2011

Spider-Man's Amazing Construction Company

Name: Shiny
HP: 3
Glory: 4 -> 5
Skill: Stealin' Stuff

Shiny might feel jealous over the Cool Things her fellow Hordelings have discovered, especially Humbug's pearl, except for the fact that she found the coolest thing of all - several small glass beads that reflect the light in interesting ways. They're shiny. Utterly useless, and potentially dangerous in that she's going to carry them in her pocket and if anything hits them they'll probably break and drive sharp bits of glass into her, but shiny.

Shiny is a pretty simple Töan, really.

(Also, she's still a little jealous of Humbug's pearl. It's SO SHINY OH MY GOD. But Humbug still scares her a little so she's trying to pretend otherwise)

At any rate, like the others, she is silent and at least vaguely attentive as Magda speaks, her eyes slowly widening. The Quartermaster, it turns out, is familiar with Shiny's First Rule Of Crime - 'Don't steal nuffin' where the person who you stole it from might find out an' punch you inna face.' It took her ages to work that one out! If only she'd known Magda before she might have grown up with fewer bruises. She nods sagely, then, declaring to no one in particular, "I like her. She's smart."

Downtime Action:
As the Horde starts to break apart into small groups for discussion and/or food and/or sleep, Shiny sneaks over to the nearby clump of bushes where Grimper tossed Ringo's topknot. She will scavenge Ringo's topknot and then deliver it to Hat. Maybe she can make a new hat for Ringo out of it!

(Dog Kisser, let me know if I have to roll for this, but since we all watched the de-topkotting I figure it can't be too hard)

The fact that Hat's skill of Millinery traditionally refers to making hats for women, as separate from Haberdashery, which is making hats for men, is entirely irrelevant. Ringo'd look good in a lace bonnet anyways.

Horde Votes:
Shiny votes to Head to Noostra, because of all the destinations, it sounds like the one most likely to have Shiny Things available for stealin'. Oh, sure, one of them is a mining town and all, but there you have to dig to get the shinies. That sounds like work.

Also she would like to hear more about Monsterism, because it sounds spooky!

DivineCoffeeBinge fucked around with this message at Sep 27, 2017 around 21:16

Infinity Gaia
Feb 27, 2011

a storm is coming...

HP: 3
Glory:3 -> 4

Biggo was very happy with his new punching implement! It meant he could punch things extra hard with less risk of injury to his hands, which was always a plus! Biggo was so happy about his new gauntlet that he launched into a long soliloquy about happiness in times of war and what it means to each individual soldier. It came out as something like: "Biggo likes gauntlet. Punching makes Biggo happy! Everyone should do more punching!"

Biggo decided that while he could not really cook, there was one essential part of cooking that he could help with, which was tenderizing the meat. Which he did by punching the meat with his newfound gauntlets. This was in no way just an excuse to find more things to punch during downtime!

Using 1 Ration trying for the effect Lowest Roll Rerolls to instill in whoever eats the meat the essence of beating the odds, like all those famous boxers who punched meat to train!

1d100+14 = 63

Horde Votes:

Biggo thinks going to a mine would be cool. He could try to punch coal into diamonds. That's how that works, right? Well, Biggo thinks that's how it works anyways, so he votes to Head to Fostis.

Biggo also thinks Monsterism sounds interesting! Maybe he could get... Another arm with which to punch! That's a big increase in punching power!

Apr 26, 2014

Death, but with a gun

Spleen the Volatile
Skill: 'Splosions
HP: 3
Glory: 4

Spleen never cried at anything in his life.

He never cried when he stubbed his toe, he never cried when bigger boys stole his toys, he never even cried the day his dear old mother passed away from a freak badger accident.

The sight of the thing in his sweaty little palms made him almost cry tears of pure and platonic joy from the bottom of his heart. Power was in his hands, unimaginable power. But he kept his face stern, otherwise the fact that he had made off with loot from the wagons would have been discovered, death by being crushed in big meaty hands just didn't quite have the same charm to him as a firey explosion. He kept his face blank as his heart sang in joy.


Horde Votes

"Spleen agrees with Shiny, should head to Noostra and cause a big rumpus there! In fact, if we cause big enough rumpus, we can maybe trick bad guys into thinking there is a big pillaging force in the south that will make them divert troops away to attack an army, that doesn't exist. This is idea is good, yes?"

"Spleen heard about Monsterism, thought it was a religion. Would like to know more."

TheNabster fucked around with this message at Sep 27, 2017 around 21:45

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010

Skill: Digging
HP: 3
Glory: 4->5->0
Horde's Glory/HP Count

Content with his find from in the corpsetravaganza, Gado is a little confused when he looks up to see one compatriot dead on the floor and another terribly brutalized, but its hard to complain when a Warlord three times your height and infinitely stronger than you does something.


The last time the horde had plopped down for a rest, Gado had tried his best to stretch the rations the crew were using, but his efforts had been relatively bland. Seeing Biggo tenderizing some choice cuts of meat, Gado approaches and with a muffled cough asks "Did you have plans for cooking that... or?" With no immediate plans in sight, Gado does what he, questionably, does best and begins to hollow out a pit in the ground to contain a fire for the meat to roast in.

Trying to add Highest roll rerolls and adds half to the same 1 ration that Biggo is working on. Making a Pit Barbecue 1d100+14= 97


Gado isn't particularly trustworthy of Magda initially, but she does have the same freaky glow going on that Grimper did, so she couldn't be all that bad! When the topic of what Good ol' Magda can do for the horde comes up, Gado is one of the first to volunteer, if tentatively at first. "I know we did well in our first few tasks, but it seems like things are gonna get harder going on. We're not gonna get anywhere without the skills to support us. If most of us add one or two glory to the pile, we'll have these rituals knocked out right quick!" Turning to Magda, Gado gives the Nailsmith a halfhearted nod "You take what you need to get that Harvester’s Grim Duty ritual started! The more skillcores we have the less likely we are to die!"

Gado'll give his 5 Glory to the Harvester’s Grim Duty Ritual. We technically have enough Glory between the whole horde to knock all three Rituals out right now, but I doubt folks'll wanna do that haha.

Horde Vote

It's not much of a choice for Gado when he's eventually consulted about where the Horde should go "We need to head to the mines! There's all kinds of goodies to be found in a mine! We should head for Fostis right away."

Story Time

Gado isn't a particularly knowledgeable sort, so he's perfectly happy to plop down among the growing crowd of horde-mates at Grimper's feet, hoping to learn something about the Monsterism they would have to be dealing with.

Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

Name: Bamboo
HP: 3
Glory: 5 + 1 (Downtime Story Glory) -> 6
Skill: Basket Weaving


Bamboo stood there, mouth agape, almost unable to comprehend what just happened; the brutality and stupidity of the Horde was astonishing! As always, the end result was someone else had to suffer the consequences, not that the perpetrators cared.

Was ‘Do. No. Steal!’ really that hard to understand? Warlord Grimper already showed he did not suffer fools. And now they were down one; ninety-nine left to go. For what seemed like the 10th time this day, Bamboo resigned herself to not making through this war alive.

So, because of the thieves, she and most of the Horde were left without loot, and without skillcores; absentmindedly, she wandered over to a nearby cooking fire and sat down beside it, trying to ward off a chill which had crawled into her soul.

Bamboo needed baskets. Or loot. Or both.

“For. My. Family.”


The Horde was once more gathered around the Warlord to plan for the next assault, and while Bamboo was only half paying attention, her ears perked when she heard about a rich town, rich with plunder.

Some already had the same idea.

“Go. To. Noostra!"

"Ritual. Of. The. Nail! What. Is. It?”

Apr 28, 2017

Name: Hob
HP: 3
Glory: 4≥5
Skill: bee keeping

We should Head to Fostis, who knows what adventures are to be found so in the mines?

Hob stirs the pot, adding some suspicious bones.

Cooking, trying to preserve rations: 1d100+3 65

Can you tell us of the Ritual of the nail?

WereGoat fucked around with this message at Oct 3, 2017 around 07:22

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 --> 1

"What a pretty set of pearls!" said Humbug as Shiny wandered past, twitching and eyeing him with an-all-too-recognizable expression while fondling her glass beads. He held up his own pearl and pushed it into her hands. "Looks like you missed one, though! Bah, just take it, you little magpie! I'm really just saving myself the effort - you'd only try for it sooner or later and then I'd have to report you to Grimper and his punishments seem a little excessive, haha! Don't forget to grab something more useful, next time!"

The detective clapped her on the back and wandered off, chuckling and humming to himself as he studied the other thing he'd picked up - the stained paper rags he'd found the pearl wrapped in. Judging by his pleased expression, this was by far the greater prize anyway!


He wandered right on over to the wagons, and hailed the fat old lady trundling around there as if she owned the place.

"Magda, you brilliant woman! Here's a bit of my Glory for the Horde! Haha, just take it! We'll need as much of an edge as we can get!" he said with feigned casualness - in truth, giving up that small amount of Glory felt bad. But... an army couldn't survive on luck alone. Grimper and Magda weren't going to look out for the Unexpectables, at least not if the Unexpectables didn't look out for themselves first.


Horde Vote

Studying the smoke-map, Humbug pointed to a specific part in the vicinity of Noostra where a small scratch had been idly jotted down, almost as an afterthought.

"HUM! Watch Captain Badbrass - I mean - my informants once told me that there is an unpleasant place near Noostra called Nägel - a prison! It's where the Frömen jail their unwanted riff-raff - mostly them with Monsterism. It's a bit out of our way, but according to these papers," Humbug waved a few rags full of Frömen chickenscratches that he'd looted from one of the officers, "-- the Frömen have something of a ritual magic and scout outpost set up there now - something to do with drawing power from Monsterism? It sounds like we could find some vital information there, maybe even free some useful prisoners, bolster our numbers - most of us were prisoners already, haha! Maybe we can even get a hint of-- well, nevermind. That's not important. What's important is that this could help the war effort! Ritual stuff, warm bodies and intelligence. A nice little warm-up before we go try burning down cities! What do you say, eh chaps?!"

Humbug eyed Grimper as he proposed the change of plan. He had, after all, a sneaking suspicion that the caravan carrying Magda had not so much been heading for Gateway Fortress as it had been heading for that most infamous prison - NÄGEL.

Humbug proposes a new option: that the Horde TAKE THE NOOSTRA ROUTE BUT DETOUR TO NÄGEL.

Nägel is a FRÖMEN PRISON filled with those afflicted by MONSTERISM where the Frömen reputedly EXPERIMENT with RITUALS on their prisoners. Also, there might be enemy scouts with INTELLIGENCE there???


"Aha, Monsterism! A blighted mystery to most! Will you be the one to crack the case for us, Warlord?"


Jun 17, 2007

Yam Slacker


He headed over to the crippled Ringo, to offer some expert medical making-it-up-as-he-went-along.

"Ringo, that weren't the smartest thing you've done, but to be honest, you're fine. No-one will even notice it, you'll be right as rain."

Lie at Ringo to heal him: 38.

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