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Jan 15, 2012

I Got Kids. I need this.

Name: Gryph
HP: 3/3
Glory: 17 => 18
Skill: Medicine (20), Wrestling (10), Slamming (10)

Gryph smiled wanly as the doors shut again, its occupants unwilling to risk being discovered or hurt in the ensuing conflict. Zapanda's last words echoed in his mind. 'Fro were never my enemy,' he whispered quietly, as he tucked the notes safely away in a pouch, making sure that the two copies were secure.

Sucy posted:

As the conversation finished, Sucy approached the pair. Zapanda, I think we can help each other here. I want this research passed on too, but just leaving it lying around somewhere is going to be risky. However, I've come into possession of an OG artifact that lets me send messages directly to people like this. I could send a message to your sister directly after we drop it off so it can be found by the right people. I need to know however if these messages can be intercepted by anyone, as we can't have Grimper find out about it. Your sister is a Commander and you work with a team that likely used OG tech, can you tell me anything about it?
After she had finished her request, she continued in a more somber tone:
And if you want, I can pass on a message for you to your sister, or if any of your colleagues want to pass on something to their families.

Gryph started as Sucy dashed up, babbling. Clearly she had heard the exchange but was willing to help.But before he could reply, Sucy dashed off, running as the camp mobilised.

Verika posted:

"Gryph. Keep watch over the caravan, won't you? We don't want our precious supplies getting ransacked!"

"On it!" he called to the travelling Knight. Hmm, guarding. He needed four non- interested, quiet and ignorant.... perfect! He didn't like the methods of creation but right now, he could use them. Quickly pointing at four of the Nailbound, Gryph ordered them. "Surround the Caravans and keep a close watch. We could be vulnerable to enemy sappers!" The Nailbound seemed to be messing with some sort of homemade... Is that Sacrifire?

Whatever. Gryph clambered on to the wagon and looked around. He needed to find somewhere secure and public, somewhere that the Fro would protect, but would pick over once the Horde was gone and examine things that were out of place. The Thumbscrew loomed over Noostra as he kept lookout, his thoughts constantly on what may become his greatest contribution, not jut to the war, nor the Horde, but the world itself.

Guarding the wagons: 1d100+17 35

He was not that adept at guarding.


Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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

Noostra was massive. Oh, Tö had bigger cities, but the Unexpectables had been travelling in the wilderness among tiny outlying villages and mining communities, and before then had been been marched or shipped or press-ganged into Grimper’s service - it had been a while since any of them had seen ‘civilization’. The Sun Gate loomed cold and impervious before them, but they knew that push come to shove they’d be able to take it down. Push had come to shove, so down it was going. On the walls, tiny Frömen were pointing at them and shouting, horns were blowing, and things were overall heating up. The Horde ignored this for the most part - until contact, any solid plan they made would be ruined by combat. Instead, they went with the old standby: divide and conquer!

Jö the Butcher and Noggins the Carpenter and a handful of others converted scrap wood into serviceable mantelets. Well, Jö’s were servicable - Noggins’ were mastercrafts. Almost a shame they were destined to soak up enemy arrows and counterattacks, but that way she could help without having to get her hammer bloody. It felt good to be building something. Defense was helping the Horde without hurting the Frömen. Not directly, at least. The best she could do. She paused in between blows to run her fingertip along the side of Jaune’s hammer. Just a plain tool. Not a weapon, unless it was forced to be. Just like her. She finished another mantelet and wheeled it off towards the attackers heading towards the gate. Off to her side, neglected, Nailbreaker grumbled. It did that, sometimes. The head of the hammer split open gently, like a budding flower, but it never stayed open for long. She could make neither head nor tail of its triggers or habits, but she was used to it by now. It was like having a cat - a cat that she used to split open the skulls of her foes, splattering herself with… she went back to work.

(Mantelets are a go! They’ll make other stuff a little easier on the attackers, dropping the Covered Approach difficulty by 5 (as well as other stuff that’ll come up later). Due to Noggins’ EVER SO RECKLESS carpentry, the Banner is boosted by +1. Incidentally, the Banner pushed the group mantelet building over the top. )

A great mass of the horde kept their eyes open, waiting for a counter attack. Gabber the Mimic was good at watching. Great at defending. The Horde had been good to him, had given him so much. His armor, his position, friendship… he’d guard them with his life. He didn’t - as he feared - spot anyone flooding out of the city to pincer them, didn’t see any butterflies dropping from the sky to pepper them with poison needles. They wheeled the mantelets down and advanced, defending the bulk of the horde as they approached. They needed to get to the gate, but they needed to lock down the defenders on the wall too. Gabber would cover their approach. GO! They rushed in under a hail of arrows, but the Horde held together, their shields and mobile defenses strong! Somnö the Big got caught up in the excitement of it all, offering her beefy body up for target practice with a rude gesture.The defenders obliged, peppering her with arrows! She yelped, throwing up her shield to take the blow, then ducked behind the mantelet as it advanced. Great, useless. She tossed down her busted shield and smiled a thin smile of ‘whoops’ at a nearby Hordemate. No harm, no foul!

(That went pretty well! Somnö whiffed it, but only loses her shield and the opportunity to boost the Banner.)

Dack the Athlete was in his element. Intricate plans were all well and good, but there was nothing like a good old fashioned shock and awe assault on the enemy - and he had plenty of both. The wall was tall, but he was strong, far stronger than any Töan had any right to be, and fast. He ran, pole-vaulted, and flew.He landed among them, crushing one of them to the floor then throwing her broken body off the edge with the limber toes of one foot. He roared a laugh, but they were already breaking, stumbling away from him… and into Trinh’s clutches.Her great, rake-like claws speared them from behind, lifting them up off the battlements and into the city below. She seemed calm, almost bored. In the tight quarters on top of the wall, their lack of mobility prevented them from acosting her with more than one or two at a time. Too few - her reach was simply too long, her strength too great. Another went down with a claw passing through his cheek, spreading a gory smile across his face. Ho hum. Waesh the Pirate, by contrast, was having a grand old time. Climbing up his grappling line, sword clenched between his teeth, he was ready to show the Horde that even run of the mill Töans could kick rear end! He pulled himself over the edge and got to work. His opponents were skilled, but they were shaken, and the first thing you learn at pirate school (there was no pirate school) was to capitalize on your opponent's fear. He snarled and cackled, rattling his sword against his stolen armor. When his quarry flinched, he was on them, hacking savagely down into their skulls and kicking their bodies free. Soon, the defenders were breaking, and he hooted in triumph.

(+3 to the Banner for your success! Also, you’ve dropped the difficulty for the other Climbers to 20!)

Ringo the Pick hauled himself up the wall, chanting and calling out to the others to entice them to catch up with him. Despite his larger size and significantly greater weight, it wasn’t tough. Nothing much was, anymore. He looked up and saw a group of helmeted red faces glaring down at him, hatred and fear and confusion plain in their eyes. He also saw their names and Skillcores, which he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. He didn’t dwell on it, because he had others depending on him, but it was uncomfortably intimate to know this much about his eventual targets. They threw spears and arrows at him - an obvious target - but his reaction speed and perception was such that he could have plucked them out of the air if he wanted to. He didn’t need to - they were shaken by the reckless bunch that had made it here first, and their numbers had dwindled dramatically. The few that remained were the best of them, hard and bitter men and women that refused to allow invaders to take their beloved city. Too bad for them. Ringo and his companions tore through them as though they weren’t there, letting their corpses rain down on the city below. He watched as the survivors fled into the city and along the walls in either direction. Not his problem. He waved back towards camp - the wall was secure!

(Neat! Moving right along!)

Guarding the wagons wasn’t very glamorous, but it was safe, and it got a few takers. Gryph the Medic hung back, feeling the dangerous weight of the packages under his armor. He needed to decide what to do with that, and how - and when. Sucy, busy off setting up the Onager, had offered to use her strange OG technology to just… send the message. She’d showed them she could could really do it, too. But could he - they - trust her? Could they, more to the point, trust the ring? poo poo. He blew on his chill hands and watched the perimiter, watching his breath curl away towards the sky.No one leaps out of the shadows, no one takes a potshot at them, no vile beast drops out of the sky and murders them. Good. Dull, and quiet, but good. He watched the Horde mill about the gate, watched the defenders pour arrows down on them, and waited. Once the gate was down, things would get more complicated. As though life wasn’t complicated enough.

(Wagons defended! No one attacks, thanks to you! Or maybe no one was going to attack anyhow? We may never know.)

Humbug the Sleuth awoke after some nebulous amount of time, his face flushed with blood. He was hanging upside down. It looks like he was up in the square, roughly in line with the Sun Gate. She’d set herself right in front of them, right where they’d have to see her once they busted down the door. Arrogance? Or confidence? He wriggled and found himself stuck fast. This strands were tough, and all too obviously under her control. He could see strands criss-crossing the boulevards and buildings, only obvious now because he knew what he was looking for. THAT would have been good for the Horde to know. Oh well.

He talked to her through gritted teeth, his jaw held tight by the threads. He told her about her sister, informed her of her precarious condition. If she cared, he couldn’t tell from her reaction - she sat stock still, tapping her finger impatiently. He continued anyhow, as though she was listening, as though she gave a poo poo what some Töan had to say to her. What of Madmist? What of the Queen’s assassination? He felt like he was babbling now, spinning out a conspiracy that implicated the very highest of Tö’s government in collusion with Fröman saboteurs, that extended back to at least the Outbreak in Old Tö-Town. He grew angrier and angrier, against his will, and swung from his awkward perch. The Commander didn’t say a thing, and Humbug just sighed and went limp. He looked arounYOU KNOW FAR TOO MUCH AND FAR TOO LITTLE - YOU MISAPPREHEND THE SITUATION AND TAKE THE WRONG CONCLUSIONS - IT IS NEITHER MY PLACE OR MY INCLINCATION TO DISABUSE YOU - IF YOU SURVIVE, SEEK OUT THE QUEEN’S RELICd but… the message scrolled faster than he could perceive, and only made sense in retrospect. What the HELL did that mean? He wriggled to try to face her, but the thread held taut, pointing him towards the gate.


While those up on the wall scrabbled for purchase, another contingent ran for the base. While they didn't hold out any particular hope for a convenient passageway, a city this large had entrances and exits beyond the obvious ones. Sluice gates, sewer runoffs, even sections of wall with easily-climbed decorative flourishes, anything they could use. Hat the Milliner and her allies hadn't spotted anything obvious, but that could just be because she needed a different perspective. She flipped up the wall, using the tough blade of her spear to wedge herself a handhold.Her blade sank in deeper than expected, and she staggered against the wall, trapped balanced on her spear like a bird in a perch. She felt a tension like a chain breaking, then her perch went slack and she slid back down towards the base of the wall, landing neatly on her feet. Meanwhile, in the archway above the Sun Gate, there was a commotion as a hidden ramp slammed down, revealing a dozen surprised guards. They shrieked in alarm, then began to manually pull it closed. But then they spotted Splut.”Craic!? Get in here, what the hell are you doing out there!?” They extended a hand and pulled him in, then slammed the gate shut, even as the Horde was jabbing up into the now-revealed ramp. Their stopgap wouldn't hold them for long. Cra-Splut’s rescuer clapped him by the shoulders and stared into his eyes. “I don't know how you survived Oxnyard, but I'm glad to see you. The worst has come to pass, and we need to fall back. Sikatris’ orders, and she knows what she's doing. But - poo poo! - someone needs to hold the drat ramp shut so the rest of us can escape!” Splut offered instantly, playing the role of the selfless hero effortlessly. His Fröman counterpart started, tears forming in his eyes, then he shook his head. “I can't let you do that. This won't hold forever…” Splut insisted it was fine, allowing grief and fear to creep into his eyes even as he chuckled inside. The others nodded and left. One hung back, giving Sp- giving Craic a deep and desperate kiss before tearing away down the tunnels built into the wall.

Splut waited a few seconds, then dropped the ramp. That was easy! The infiltrators piled on in, bringing them one step closer to the creamy inside of Noostra!

(More on this later! Also, due to Splut’s recklessness the Banner increases in power by +1)

Starn was ready. So drat ready. The Onager was loaded with explosives and rocks, and Mason was taking point. He was drat near certain that the Hollerer had no idea how to use the machine, but by gum he was trying, and it was working. The great beast was lined up and ready. The ramp was open, with Splut’s uncanny face peeking out of it for a moment before it vanished. He’d have to assume he was getting clear - the Bluffer had drat good situational awareness. drat good. The ramp! Look at that - a structural weakness opening into a tight, enclosed area. If only he had some powerful explosives, right? His grin hurt his face. He ordered the shot.The parcel sailed beautifully through the air, lit fuses streaking the air like comets. And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, it touched down into the ramp. Starn imagined for half a second that nothing had happened, that it had hit and turned to dust and everyone was going to laugh at him.

And then he saw a flash, and then he heard it, and then he FELT it. He stumbled backwards, but he forced himself back to his feet to look. The wall bulged like a snake that swallowed an egg, ruddy light forcing its way through the cracks, then it sagged. The wall was TOUGH - but it was crippled. Starn could see it insitinctively, his Skillcore blazing hot inside him and lighting up the weakened sections of wall and gate. A good first showing - but he could make it better.

(Onager did its duty. The exploited weakness from the secret passageway, the succesful defenses, the clearing of the wall, all of it came together to make the shot happen. The Gate’s difficulty drops from 60 to 30! Additionally, Starn’s Sieging Skillcore Self-Resonates, jumping to +20 because that was so cool.)

They’d scratched Noostra’s walls. Worse than scratched, they’d hosed it up! Noostra, the impenetrable giant! Noostra, the jewel city! But they couldn’t give up yet, they needed to get in! Skronk the Incoherent Shouter was very excited to be holding the Ram. A glorious instrument of Hordely destruction, primed to smash through the ruined gate! He could barely contain his excitement, and when the order was given, he stopped trying. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”The Ram roared towards the shattered wall, the spearpoint of the force of nearly half the Horde! The gate, little more more than a mangled collection of mortar and steel and wood, gave way, blasting inwards under the unreal mass of the Mason-headed Ram! The assorted defenders who’d clung to the hope that the Horde would somehow give up fled into the city.

With a whooping war cry, the Horde poured through the breach. Whatever few soldiers remained on the walls scattered, their advantage spent and their morale shaken by the fierce attack. The Unexpectables ran down empty streets, smashing windows and starting fires - but even the dullest of them caught on that something was strange. Where were the people? Where were the soldiers? What were these blue lines of wool doing everyw- it only took one Mook to step on one to realize that they were bad news!
    Sikatris The Thread Field Effect - Slipknot Tango!

    Any Horde roll below 20 (after this round, which is just theatre) will cause the roller to be snagged by the threads and dragged towards Commander Sikatris, forcing them to roll in the Stuck In The Threads action. Each person caught will lower the threshold by 1 - currently, with both Humbug and that Mook caught, the threshold is actually 18. As people free themselves the threshold returns gradually to 20.
His fading scream as he was bound and dragged away chilled the Horde to the bone, and the deadly quiet shook them. Soon, the Horde, too, was walking quiet. Quiet and paranoid. Were there faces watching them from those houses on either side of them? One brave fool peered into the gloom and saw them.

A family, hiding from the invaders, hiding from them. As they approached the window, they shrank away, the child crying, the parents’ eyes full of terror and rage and acceptance. Well, casualties were part of war. The mother’s lips grew back in an anguished hiss and she tore open a neatly wrapped parcel lying on the table before her. “Hey, stop! What are you-”

The colour fled from her flesh, replaced by a waxen, pale texture like wood or bone. Her body language shifted from terrified to restful, and she fixed her… eyes… on the Horde like a robin watching a worm. Her husband placed the child gently in a creche and tore open the other package. A split-second later, a pair of the things - the Inhabited - swivelled to face the invaders, and, with a fluid motion…

All around them, down all the streets and byways, similar reports of shattered glass sounded. The Horde immediately drew in, heads turning this way and that to see the silent army walking down the street towards them. They didn’t seem to be in a rush, but neither were they slow. They were methodical, in an almost half-hearted way. They didn’t seem frightened. They didn’t seem excited. They looked, for all the world, like they were distractedly walking through a park, in a way that just happened to expertly bring them directly towards the Horde. The Inhabited. Did they turn the whole damned city!?
    Inhabited Special Technique - Perfectly Adequate Killers!

    Inhabited do not roll, instead each are automatically set to 50. Any Difficulty of theirs will be suffixed with ‘I’, meaning you can assume the result is Difficulty * 50. They are also immune to mental effects or fear, and… do not drop Skillcores.
Far ahead, through the growing crowd of faceless soldiers, the Horde could see the Commander. Smug, sitting cross-legged and watching them, the Mook hanging awkwardly from a lantern post and struggling in futility. She tilted her head a touch, then raised one hand woodenly and pointed towards the Horde. A sudden streak of light flicked down from somewhere near the top of the Thumbscrew Relay and took a Nailbound square in the chest. They fell, clutching at a foot long, chalky spike protruding from their central mass. As they watched, the spike opened, peeling like a banana and blossoming into a chalk-white flower. The man shriveled as though drained of life, dying even as the white flower turned blood-red.
    Lieutenant Knock Special Technique - Tap Root!

    Until Lieutenant Knock is taken out, killed, or otherwise distracted, each round he will shoot the lowest rolling Horde member for 2 Damage. If he kills them, he will hit the next lowest rolling member for 1 Damage.
Funny, wasn’t it, how fast things could turn. Grimper walked up behind them, burning away at nearby blue threads with his jagged stump. He looked as bewildered as the Horde felt. They looked at him, and he stammered out: “Clear a path! Get to the Thumbscrew!”

  • Push Towards The Thumbscrew - Difficulty 60x Threat 10 Damage 2 [Optional]
    “If we can push past their defenses we can get closer to our goal! Make a lane!”
  • Distract Lieutenant Knock - [Difficulty 5xx] Threat 1 Damage 2 [Optional] [Tap Root] [Very Very Long Range]
    “They have a sniper up there with some kind of artifact crossbow! I can see him, but nothing we have can touch him. Any fliers en route will get cut out of the sky - keep him busy or he'll pick off our wounded!”
  • Push Back The Nearby Inhabited - Difficulty 60I Threat 25 [Perfectly Adequate Killers]
    “Just kill them! Don't bother trying to reason with them, don't get cute, just break them apart!”
  • Hold Off The Distant Inhabited - Difficulty 50I [Perfectly Adequate Killers]
    “They're too far to hit you and none of them have any weapons, but unless we hold them back with ranged or our heavy infantry we'll get swarmed!”
  • Spread Out - [Difficulty 10x Threat 10] [Repeatable]
    “Don't clump up! We need a lane that gives us access, and if we spread we can get more options. Stick together!”
  • Attack Commander Sikatris - Difficulty ??? Deadly [Field Effect: Slipknot Tango]
    “Kill her! Kill her! She'll ruin everything!”
  • Something Else - Difficulty ???
    "If you have another idea, and you think you can pull it off, do it! Be careful out there, they will punish failure hard!"

Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

@Dog Kisser: So, nothing specifically on Bamboo or for those who went in search of a secret passage; should those who went that route just disregard the last round's actions and proceed with the options provide this update, or, do you have more to post on that matter?

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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

CourValant posted:

@Dog Kisser: So, nothing specifically on Bamboo or for those who went in search of a secret passage; should those who went that route just disregard the last round's actions and proceed with the options provide this update, or, do you have more to post on that matter?

Secret passage turned up only that ramp, but I'll do another pass tomorrow and see if there's anything specific in people's posts that would have triggered anything else. I wrote stuff section by section and out of order, and sometimes with several hours in between, so its entirely possible I missed something.

Nov 11, 2008

Name: Dack
Skills: A̵̕t̷͢͡͏̡h̷͟͡͏ļ̵̶̧̀ę̷̢͡t̨̧͘i̵̕҉̴͡c̢͘͜͠s͏̨́̕ (used last round), Ą̀͠c̵̢͡͠͏r̴̸̛͝͡o͘͢͜͡b͜à̵̡̕t̷̢̀͜i̸̸͞c͘͟s̀͜͟ (Using), Laughing +25
Unused Skillcores: E̸n͜҉̛͡ģ̛̕i̡̕͟͡͠n̢͘͢e̶͝e̵̵̡͢ŗ̕͏í̶̧͞͡n҉̴̢́̕g̷̛͢
HP: 1
Glory: 23>24

Dack felt...strange. After becoming a Wendigo, he didn't ever seem to mind killing the enemy. He was even laughing in triumph just a few moments ago on top of the wall, giving Waesh a thumbs-up for being able to keep up. But he didn't feel like laughing now, even as the Inhabitated made almost the exact same movements, including tripping over the same rock, as they made their way closer and closer. Why should Dack have to hold back because the enemy decided to do something stupid to their own people? It's not like he had a choice about serving in the war either, so shouldn't it be fine to just go on a rampage again? But then, even if he didn't have a choice back then, he was still able to (eventually) understand what was happening, to see others die or get infected against the unbranded Wendigo while he was unable to do much of anything. The Inhabitated weren't even conscripts, they were barely even tools the way they were. Hell, even the Nailbound had at least some awareness, although Dack wasn't really comfortable with that either.

Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, Dack rushed forward before the order was given. As the first Inhabitated made an average attempt at punching a mutated monstrosity wearing the hide of another mutated monstrosity, Dack unfolded his chair and used it to pin them to the ground, using his free hand to rip away the mask. As more closed in on him, Dack gracefully flips over their heads, and pins another one to the ground. So long as he had at least some space to move around, there's no way some perfectly average minions could get a hold of Dack.

Attempting to rip off as many Inhabited masks as I can, while dodging and flipping away from their attacks: 1d500+50+23+1 523

Feb 25, 2016

Do You Remember Love?

Dog Kisser posted:

Secret passage turned up only that ramp, but I'll do another pass tomorrow and see if there's anything specific in people's posts that would have triggered anything else. I wrote stuff section by section and out of order, and sometimes with several hours in between, so its entirely possible I missed something.

Okay, thanks for the note; I'll give it till tomorrow night and if I don't anything new then, I'll post new Bamboo actions for this current round.

Feb 22, 2013

Name: Waesh
Skills: Piracy +20, Grappling (using)
HP: 3/3
Glory: 3 -> 4

Haha! That gets the blood pumping! With the successful assault on the walls, Waesh slides back down his rope, ready to push through the freshly Broken Down Gate. Taking a moment, he sticks his fingers in his mouth for a sharp whistle, and his boar runs up and he takes mount. 'Go, Smee!', he shouts, pointing forth with his swords and kicking his heels. Charging through the breach, he flinches and nearly falls out of his saddle as the bolt from atop the Thumbscrew blasts down into the unsuspecting mook. Before he can even right himself, the Inhabited start forming up, and Smee smells blood and charges off at the nearest foe. 'Damnit Smee!,' yells Waesh, futilely trying to right himself.

Grapple with Smee as he gores some Inhabited: 1d100+10+4+12 57

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

Extra Skillcores: Fashion +25, Secretly Murdering Innocents
HP: 3/3 (2 wire)
Glory: 22->23
Ignomity: -6
Ritual Glory: ->0


What a rush! She was up on the wall, Friendingoes at her side and Ringo before her, the whole NeöType crew a whirlwind of slaughter. She hardly had time to get her bearings before the last Frö was thrown bodily off the walls by Waesh, leaving her own weapons for the moment unbloodied.

But that was soon to change. Inhabited, pouring out of every crevice like räts from sinking ship. Could one amongst them be her long-lost boyfriend, Tö-Päin? Would they have press-gänged him to join in the defense of this place? Her thoughts were interrupted by the death of a mook and the cries of "sniper!" from down below, as the rest of the Horde pushed through the expertly opened gap and into the city at large.

Sniper, eh? With a rumoured artifact to boot? Such an enemy would surely make short work of her baseline, groundbound hordemates, and even Comräde Hob on his Tanwing Flapper would have a hard time getting close.
This would not do. Thankfully, she knew someone uniquely capable of not only handling the stings and misfortunes of outrageous arrows, but also uniquely equipped to get at their erstwhile foe. Herself.

She nodded a tearless farewell to the NeöTypes, ordering them to focus on other things, like saving her Boyfriend capturing the Inhabited, and leapt of into the distance, her clawed boots and spiked gauntlets granting her the extra grip she needed to parkour from rooftop to rooftop, all the while singing a dirge of death accompanied by plucks of her bow-harp.

"Oh arrows that fall
like leaves in the fall
Your paths are as crooked
As that of my own

Disapproving Poetry to Distract the Sniper: 1d100+30+22+3-6 59 (natural 10)

Wait what?
what is this thread!
Why am I being,
helplessly yanked to my doom!?"


NeöType Orders:
Hob: Stay secure and visible, wave that banner high!
Trinh, Qwäg and Dack: Capture the Inhabited - Do Not Kill!!
Bäbi: Stay safe, sweet child.

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

erhecktile disfunction

Lipstick Apathy

Name: Portha
Skills: Rummaging (cooldown), Cleaning (in use), Imagining
HP: 3/3
Glory: 12

The bellows primed the bow with a terrible hum.
The drum loaded a bolt with a sharp *BANG!*
The bowstring twanged, accompanied by loud whistling from the bow's rifling.

The prototype Monötöan launched its first volley.

Fire the bow!: 1d100+12+10+3 60

Portha swept her aim across the battlefield, bolts plunging into faraway inhabited. The mindless soldiers mostly brushed them off but hopefully at least one would be wiped from the battlefield.

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

Cosmetic Items:
Name: Neebs
Skill(s): Sales (+15)
Drinking (+20) (on cooldown)
Surgery (+15) (used this turn)
HP: 3/3
Glory: 10 + 1 posting glory => 11

That was certainly a lot of inhabited coming towards the horde. Neebs had the feeling it was only the start of what Noostra had to offer. They'd barely broken through the gate, and there were this many coming at them? If they didn't move quickly, they would be overwhelmed.

Well, the inhabited were people just like any other. She started remembering her somewhat new knowledge of anatomy for surgery from the skillcore; she knew just where to strike them: Inhabited or not.

Push Towards The Thumbscrew: (1d100ro2e100)+10+15! 30 (natural roll of 5)

Neebs charged forward so intently focused on the Inhabited that she didn't notice the blue string just lying obviously out in the open.

She was ripped off her feet and dragged towards Commander Sikatris. Actually...this was kind of a way of pushing towards the thumbscrew; though, a rather uncontrolled and probably dangerous way.

Jun 17, 2007

Toilet Rascal

Bluffing +20
Charm +25 (Cooldown)
Camouflage +10 (Using)
Ritual Glory:0
Infiltrator Captain

He removed the mask as soon as he had the opportunity to do so, Craic once again proving a spectacularly useful tool. Not only had they successfully convinced the enemy to let them in, but Siege Team 6 had done magnificently in exploiting the weak point to make the breakthrough, at least from what he'd seen before legging it to safety.

A moment to assess the tactical situation, and it wasn't great: Inhabited everywhere, a network of trap strings that was already ensnaring far too many of their number, a sniper up on high with a phenomenally long ranged weapon. Too far away to pull off another hammer swap, that was for sure. Hat and Marra had been instrumental to their success getting in, but right now they needed to turn the tide of battle. The traps were forcing them into caution, but cautious was the last thing the Unexpectable Horde wanted to be. Turning to his trusted squadmates,

"Infiltrators, sabotage these string traps! They're doing too much harm both directly and psychologically. Burn them, cut them, weave them into headgear, I trust you to act as best you see fit."

He gazed into the distance, at the enemy forces, at their Commander. No good way to tackle her directly just yet, but indirect trickery was an option, and perh... Wait. Was that...? Couldn't be.

In the far distance, trussed up and entangled. Looking much the worse for wear, but above all, looking alive. Humbug!

His duty was now crystal clear: The Infiltrators looked after their own. He re-donned the mask: There were a lot of enemies between here and there, so he'd need to blend in and be inconspicuous. Fortunately, he'd recently acquired just the right skillcore, one to bluff the eye...

Using Camouflage and the Mask to blend in, sneak past the enemy and liberate Humbug, and any other ensnared Hordelings: 1d100+102 106

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.

/// Cosmetic Items: ///
Name: Gabber
Skill: Mimicry (using), Listening(+30, {cooldown}), Night Vision
HP: 3/3
Glory: 13->14

Nail thrumming and with sword and shield raised, Gabber advanced forward towards Noostra alongside the advancing army and their mantelets. The Captain had yet again shown what a wiz she was with a hammer, as most attempts from the men on the walls to plug the Unexpectables with arrows met a resounding thud against their sturdy structures. Scanning the distance Gabber saw no army marching out to meet them; heard no flapping on the wind of advancing butterfly riders. The city was buckling down and trusting their walls to hold - blessedly that meant their advance would be a bit easier, but he wondered what awaited them inside should they manage to make it past the walls.

Closer and closer they pushed forward, Gabber trotting and wheeling about on his steed deflecting arrows that appeared to be in danger of missing some of their defenses. His shield almost felt like an extension of his arm at this point he'd been with it so long, and by the time they had reached the walls he could no longer count how many blows had been deflected by it. Still it stood strong - he could kiss Magda for the work she'd put in reinforcing it for him.

Splut and the Infiltration crew and Starn and the Siege Team had done their jobs well, taking what could have been a long drawn out siege and forcing the city to crack wide open under subterfuge and sheer sieging goodness. With the walls having been cleared as well he easily trotted into the city proper alongside the bulk of their forces, for the first time in his life taking in the Frö city of Noostra. And it was a ghost town.

As he rode about the streets of the city trying to corral some of the mooks of the Horde forward and away from straight looting (they had a job to do!), a single scream broke out through the still air. Snapping his head towards the sound, he caught the briefest glimpse of one of their own being bound dragged away by something - a rope? - as suddenly the still air was shattered by the sounds of countless windows being broken, almost as if in unison. The much talked about Inhabited had finally entered the fight.

Beginning to make his way towards the bulk of the enemy forces to meet them in battle, he soon saw Sikatris, saw the few suspended members of the Horde - was that Humbug?? - and saw in horror as a shot rang out from an impossible distance and took down a Nailbound, flinging him to the ground as if he was a ragdoll.

poo poo! His steed had spooked for a moment, but he quickly attempted to regain control. That was not good. The shot had reached its target before he'd even had time to react to defend his Hordemate. Whoemever was taking shots from the relay also appeared to be picking off the Nailbound. As distasteful as Gabber had found Grimper's use of the Nailbound here in battle, their sacrifice was something Grimper had banked on allowing them to succeed here today. If they got picked off one by one without loosing their explosives...

A plan soon began to form. The best way to get him to stop picking off Nailbound was to get him to focus on something else. As a tiny voice within his own head began yelling at him to not even think about it, Gabber did his best to ignore it as he trotted out in front of the nearest group of Nailbound. Striking as commanding as a pose as he could, Gabber began moving up and down the lines on his horse, making odd grunting noises and pointing this way and that as if he actually commanded any troops. In truth he was reciting and acting out the famous third act speech of Warlord Clapper from the seminal ROM2-period classic, Lord of the Monsters: The Twin Warlords; though given his mask, sewn mouth, and inability to talk anyone close nearby would likely have no idea what he was doing.

However, to someone far, far away, out of earshot, and possibly looking through some sort of scope? Gabber hoped he looked like a high value target trying to rally and give orders to the troops. Armored horse, mystical armor? He'd be a sweet target, one he hoped the enemy could not pass up. If he could draw the sniper's fire he was confident he could see & hear it coming in time to deflect it with his shield. And if not?

He gulped, once, single bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. Ears and Eyes, don't fail me now....

Mimic a Famous Commander - Draw the Sniper's Fire! (Distract Lieutenant Knock): 1d100+10(skillcore)+13(glory)+6(sword & steed)+10(orders) 129 - Base roll of 90, armor is reduced to negative -4 this round (3 Heavyweight Plate + 3 Armored Charger - 10 roll > 80 = -4)

He felt he had given what may have been one of the performances of his life. Which seemed like it may soon be in jeopardy, as he watched his armor quickly go translucent...

EDIT: Added plus 10 to roll for Captain's Orders.

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Feb 21, 2018 around 01:08

Apr 28, 2017


Name: Hob

HP 2/2

Glory: 8≥9

Ritual Glory : 1

Skill: Singing (cooling), Contortion+15, Butterfly Riding+20

Stay visible? Stay secure? With the missiles inbound, those orders seemed to be mutually exclusive. But the slinker banner must fly. Snodis had entrusted him with this symbol of the unexpectables, and he wasn't going to let her down (again (again)). There was someone shooting fliers? Well, they were the clearest target.

"Come on Gawp. We've got this". Hob made a beeline for the tower, headed for the archer. Gawp bobbed and weaved, obvious, but evasive. Distracting. Hob launched an arrow, making his intentions towards the tower dweller clear. And moved, buzzing through the air, in a painfully slow flight towards the tower.

Distract Knock, Fancy flying, float towards knock: 1d100+20+10+8+3 118

WereGoat fucked around with this message at Feb 20, 2018 around 17:32

Jul 23, 2013

This is no shitpost,boy! No shitpost!




The clamor of battle excited Skronk. The thought of slaying these...things excited him even more. He quickly glanced around at his comrades then back at the enemy, bellowing "We must slaughter these foul beasts!" and then rushed forwards without waiting for any confirmation,brandishing his axe.

Attacking the closest Inhabited:98 ( 94, +4 from Glory)

VolticSurge fucked around with this message at Feb 20, 2018 around 17:59

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

Cloud Potato
Jan 8, 2011

"I'm... happy!"

Name: Hat
Skills: Millinery (+15), Backflips (+20)
HP: 3/3
Equipment: Knightly Spear (+3), String-Slayer Armour (+2), Tuned Shield, Lucky Pearl; Sikatris Scarf, Mushbrëwm, Wagnag Jerky[?]
Glory: 37 -> 38
Ritual Glory: 1

Hat inspected her spear's blade. It seemed undamaged from its use as the tin-opener that started the breach of Noostra. Hat tried to shake the echo of the Boomstick's explosion out of her head. Time to become that other Hat, the small but growing part of her that hungered for the enemy's blood on her weapon. The Horde charged into the walled city, and Hat charged alongside them.

The streets were eerily silent at first, as if the city was observing a religious festival. This was replaced by the yells of the Horde celebrating their triumph against the stone. But that left the bastards. A mook screamed as strange strands of blue thread captured him. Soldiers watched in horror as they were slowly dragged to the square, where the squat form of the town's Commander, surely Sikatris, waited. Another scream as a huge arrow perforates another mook. And then the smashing of windows as the mask-wearing citizens surrendered their personalities and prepaered to defend their city. The main street had filled up quickly. Time to fight!

AJ_Impy posted:

"Infiltrators, sabotage these string traps! They're doing too much harm both directly and psychologically. Burn them, cut them, weave them into headgear, I trust you to act as best you see fit."

...or Hat could follow her orders and try and cut wool. She was about to complain, when she saw one of the traps ensnare Splut right in front of her! She watched as the Bluffer got the Lifemask to his face with unerring speed and became Craic. Was he about to bluff Sikatris herself? No time to worry about that. The threads had proven their malice, and attacking them suddenly seemed like a good idea. Besides, cutting threads was an integral part of hat-making!

Using Millinery to cut the evil thread traps!: 1d100+38+15+10+3 84 Oh no, nat 18! Has Hat been captured?????

Bee Bonk
Feb 19, 2011


Skill 2: Amputation+15
Skill 3: Spinning+30
HP: 1/1
Glory 21

Qwäg found the Captain's sudden regard for Frömen lives strange, but she was no stranger to precision Amputation. The inner workings of the Inhabited's masks were a mystery to her, but she'd take them off just the same. If not the masks, then the faces to which they were attached. Frömen didn't need faces to live, did they?

Push Back the Nearby Inhabited!: 1d500+21+15+2+10 154

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!


HP: 3/3
Glory: 11
Skillcore: Backstabbing, Timing +15, Performing (cooldown)
Notes: Slinkellomas Immune, Sharp Knife 'just in case'.

Even with Splut's creepy mask, it all seemed too easy. As they moved through the eerily silent streets, Marra felt a gnawing sense of unease. She was no soldier, not really, but she knew that the battle shouldn't just end at the walls. Normally, she'd be looking for her own way out, but any one of these houses could be hidden traps.
The web trap confirmed her suspicions, and then -

Dog Kisser posted:

One brave fool peered into the gloom and saw them.

A family, hiding from the invaders, hiding from them. As they approached the window, they shrank away, the child crying, the parents’ eyes full of terror and rage and acceptance. Well, casualties were part of war. The mother’s lips grew back in an anguished hiss and she tore open a neatly wrapped parcel lying on the table before her. “Hey, stop! What are you-”

The colour fled from her flesh, replaced by a waxen, pale texture like wood or bone. Her body language shifted from terrified to restful, and she fixed her… eyes… on the Horde like a robin watching a worm. Her husband placed the child gently in a creche and tore open the other package. A split-second later, a pair of the things - the Inhabited - swivelled to face the invaders, and, with a fluid motion…

Marra scrambled for cover in the bosom of the horde as more Inhabited smashed onto the streets. Were they insane? At least Monsterism was (usually) involuntary. They had chosen this, and for what? Was death truly a better alternative than being under Töan rule? Was leaving behind orphans? Marra had never paid much attention to politics - had determinedly ignored it - but was the fear and hatred of Tö that much?

AJ_Impy posted:

"Infiltrators, sabotage these string traps! They're doing too much harm both directly and psychologically. Burn them, cut them, weave them into headgear, I trust you to act as best you see fit."

Splut's command snapped the world back into focus, for now. The traps. Yes, those she could handle. Have something to do rather than be stuck thinking. She felt a sense of calm as her Timing skillcore activated. The sniper, the commander, the...inhabited, they were not her priority, and if she listened to her core's guidance, she could avoid becoming theirs and save her...hordemates? Comrades? Friends?

Cutting the thread-traps, using her Timing skillcore to avoid attracting undue attention & disarming imminent threats: 1d100+10+11+15 63

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

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

Skillcores: Carpentry +35, Precision, Aiming, Leadership (Unconsumed)
HP: 3
Glory: 47->48
Ritual Glory: 4

Noggins stretched her shoulders, slightly stiff from the rapid construction, as she caught up with the Horde, just in time for the gate to fall. Good, they were in. They just had to keep up this momentum, make it to the Thumbscrew, and then they could be out of her. She pushed her way between hordemates, trying to reach the front before the fighting started in earnest. Or... at all? It was quiet, like the city had already been abandoned. But then there was a sound like thousands of deep breaths, and hundreds of windows breaking in perfect unison, and everything went to hell.

Inhabited. She hadn't thought about them since Nägel. She'd been too busy being horrified by the Nailbound. That was still worse, by her reckoning, given how permanent it clearly was, but the Inhabited were more terrifying than she'd thought. They didn't look like Tö or Frö anymore, instead turned into some kind of... thing. Mindless, obedient, and--

I promised.

No, there wasn't time to think about it! Whatever her thoughts might be, the Inhabited were coming in terrifying numbers, and there was no trace of mercy in their eyes. She had a promise to keep! If they were going to get out of this at all, they had to stick to the plan and keep moving. If they stopped, they were doomed, plain and simple. But they couldn't just thoughtlessly advance, not against a Commander as canny as Sikatris...

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Gabber, high on his steed and dramatically... giving commands? What was he... Her thoughts were interrupted by a stray bolt clattering off of a wall near the knight, and realization struck. Hopefully his armor would keep him safe.

"Good work, Gabber! Verika! You're the best eye we've got! We're too far for a good shot, but try and make him keep his head down as we advance! Pythag! Somnö! We're the vanguard! We have to keep pushing forward if we want go get through this! But for Tö's sake, watch your step!"

Orders given, Noggins pushed forward at the very front of the Horde, Nailbreaker in full blossom and rumbling ominously. Her footsteps, while landing dangerously close to threads in some places, never quite seemed to touch them. She lashed out at one of the normal soldiers ahead of her, hammer catching him right in the skull.


Lead the Vanguard! Forge Onward!: 1d100+47+10+5 100

The Lord of Hats fucked around with this message at Feb 21, 2018 around 00:14

Mar 16, 2009

Why, yes,
I will poke your Gushing Spring Point!

Grimey Drawer

Name: Jö, the Nailed Fostis Butcher
Skills: Butchery (using), Impatience +15 , Clouting (CD)
HP: 3/3
Glory: 4 > 5
Roll Modifiers: -9 all rolls
Must obey all orders: Immune to orders from Hob
-War Drum
-Froman Sword +1
-Belmysut Guard Uniform +1
-Killer Koffin +2
-Baby Boarlet

Well, that was a fun activity. Making these rolling boards was just like being back as an apprentice. His old master had always given him the tough jobs, like hacking through the bones and building new drying racks. It was good to brush up on it, because once his daughters started school they would surely have some crafts projects to do. If they were going to get As, then he'd have to help them out!

Unfortunately, while reminiscing, his new buddy Noggins decided to start yelling about battles and fighting and stuff. What a kidder! What did she think this was, a field roleplaying game? Nerrrrr-

The Lord of Hats posted:


Jö's head hurt. He had places to go in town before the caravan left again. He had to get in, grab his cuts, make his sales and leave. Pronto. Luckily, they had arrived precisely on market day like they had planned. So there was a big ol crowd of market goers from his caravan in the area, plus The Inhabited Enemy KILL THEM animal corpses swinging in the breeze to take his cuts off of. He got to work, quickly and efficiently.

Cutting off some animal parts in the NEARBY market: 1d100-9+10+4+1 102

They had everything he needed! Jö loved going to the Noostra market

Prince of Space
Apr 17, 2016

Name: Verika
HP: 2/2
Skills: Perception +30 (cooling), Sniping +15 (active), Smithing +55
Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Iron Shield, Arrow Flatpack, Ornate Bowharp (+2), Ruddy Charger, Blixthäst (+5)
Cosmetics: Nail and Fist Token, Agenou's Cape Sash, Sikatris Scarf, Basker Cloak, Slightly-Cracked Telescope, Jaune's Broken Nails
Glory: 14 -> 15
Ritual Chits: 1 -> 2 (artwork bonus)

Noostra (Part 5): It started with a clamor and a cry. A hordeling had tripped over a trap's tripwire and was quickly dragged away to be tangled in threads, hoisted in the air and suspended upside down, hanging beneath a streetlamp like a fly caught in a spider's web. The horde collectively recoiled in response to this latest battlefield development. Tripwires, everywhere! The word of caution was sent up and down the line.

Verika and the other mounted hordemembers at the front started gingerly stepping their way up the road, cautious not to disturb the numerous strands of blue yarn stretching across the street at ankle height. Verika was thankful that she had Blixthäst to ride upon; the steed was sprightly with a spring in its step and surprisingly surefooted. Verika lightly kicked her mount into a high-stepping trot and continued down the road that led from Sun Gate.

Like the vibrating pluck of a bowharp string, Verika could feel the undercurrent of violence thrumming throughout the streets of Noostra, just before the Inhabited struck. Up and down the boulevard, the Fröan commander's mindslaves started crashing through the windows, through the doors and entryways of storefronts and places they had once called home. Blixthäst shook his head, nickered and stamped his hoof in reflexive apprehension - the speedy steed knew trouble when he saw it, and Verika felt compelled to agree with her charger's intuition. Behind those implacable masks there was an unsettling look gleaming in the eyes of the Inhabited, one that reminded Verika of predators, disinterested in the plight of their prey.

A flashing bolt of white suddenly lanced down from the top of the Thumbscrew and struck a Nailbound full-on in the chest, the massive spike piercing his chest and anchoring him to the ground. The bolt's ends began to spit and layers of it peeled off even as the bolt turned a crimson red from sucking out the hapless Töman's inner life-fluids. The feathered tip of the essence-draining lance from the heavens started blooming into a sickly crimson flower, and Verika had to stifle the urge to gag. That must be Old Guys tech, without a doubt! Those Frömen bastards! Where did they find that kind of weapon?

Sitting astride Blixthäst, Verika kicked her ride into a charge for the sniper's position. She was a Sniper, too. She knew exactly how he thought, how he chose his targets, and where he'd be positioned with a high-powered OG crossbow: he'd be nestled somewhere way up high atop the Thumbscrew.

Well, she'd provide that sniper with a moving target while closing in on his position. Verika rode as fast as she could for the Thumbscrew, urging her steed to leap over swathes of Sikatris' tripwires all the while.

Verika Versus Knock the Arbelist - A Dashing Distraction!: 1d100+14+15+7+10 87

After she had skirted past several clusters of gathering Inhabited and reached Noostra's main courtyard, Verika swung Blixthäst far around the seated form of Sikatris, giving the enemy Commander and her network of blue tripwires an extremely wide berth. Verika's goal was in distracting the Fröan sniper at the top of the Thumbscrew as much as Töanly possible, not sallying with the likes of the enemy Commander Sikatris and her blasted blue web of binding traps.

Verika the Perceiver nocked her bow and prepared for her ascent. With luck and speed she may find an opening that would allow her to climb the spiral paths up the Thumbscrew to get to the top. There she'd find the enemy sniper and put an end to his Tö-shooting days.

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010


Skill: Digging (+35, available next turn.), Climbing (+10), Mining (+10)
HP: 2/2
Glory: 4->5
Mutation Countdown: [x] [x] [ ] [ ] [ ]

As The Unexpectables push into the cracked nut that is Noostra, Gado looks to his Captain for orders "You want us to just cut into the fray or do you have something in mind?"

[Assuming a Go Fight order]

The Horde had been informed on the bizarre nature of the Inhabited, but actually seeing them transform and immediately turn from simpering non-combatants into surprisingly efficient killing machines. It was surprising to be sure, but The Unexpectables had been through horrors and battles that had brought them together despite their inept Warlord's instructions. They wouldn't be done in by some cookie cutter faceless legion.

Hefting the Bone To Pick, Gado gave a hidden smile, his new mining core was thrumming away in his chest, and a decidedly uncomfortable heat was spreading out from the nail lodged in his shoulder blade. Gado wasn't sure if it was fully the fault of the enervating ritual they'd performed or if his repeated near transformations into a Wendigo were doing something, but no one could complain about his performance as his bloodied weapon tore a path through the oncoming Noostran citizens.


Mining to clobber some Nearby Inhabited: 129 (139 if Starn orders us into the fight)

Roll: Nat 100 +16

Monsterist's Enervation: 13

I'll take it!

If Starn has specific orders for Siege Team Six or Gado in particular I'm perfectly willing to redirect to it, I'm just not sure I'll have time to post for the next couple days, so I picked a generic Fight The Mans option as a go to.


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' +15 Mason MasonryMasonFlailing +25
HeeP: Mason Mason Mason
Glury: Masonx3 -> 4

Mason, fresh off the high of causing explosions, slides down off the Onager, hootin' and hollerin' like it was his own Family Reunion/Wedding! He spots a comrade from ST6, the miner Gado with his pick, cutting through the chaff. Mason slides on up and sizes him up: "Willya lik et the ceety slickur hur! Ol' Gasso teh Minor tinks hee ken beet Masun? Lit's sea 'bout dat!"

Mason pats ol Gasso on the back, whips out his trusty reedblade and a bottle of homemade shine. Mason chugs the bottle, throws it into the crowd and then flips everyone off before cutting into them as if he was mowing a lawn.

Mason uses MASON against the mason things: 1d100+29 111 + 5 on even roll = 116 +10 depending on ST6 action

HiHo ChiRho fucked around with this message at Feb 21, 2018 around 03:11

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