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DivineCoffeeBinge
Mar 3, 2011

Spider-Man's Amazing Construction Company




Scribbleykins posted:

----> LUCKY PEARL TRANSFERRED TO SHINY.

"I... you... but--"

See, part of Shiny wants to refuse this precious gift. Humbug, after all, stole it fair and square! It was vaguely criminal-ish, or at least disreputable, of him! She was vaguely proud of him finally giving in to his inescapable nature as a criminal mastermind!

But... it's so shiny.

In the end, Shiny cannot refuse this gift. She's just not built for it. But what she can do is provide a gift of her own, and you know what isn't shiny? Flowers aren't shiny. So she scurries up to the Quartermaster, humbly requesting to purchase some provisions - namely, some Cowardclaw. This will be discreetly stuffed into Humbug's pack at some point during the night.

----> SPENDING FIVE GLORY TO PURCHASE COWARDCLAW, TRANSFERRING IT TO HUMBUG.

This way he won't die before she has a chance to establish herself as his Trusted Crime Lieutenant, too. It's bound to happen, you just wait and see.

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Mr. Prokosch
Feb 14, 2012

Behold My Magnificence!




Name: Dummy
HP: 3
Glory: 0
Skill: Charge!

Fat pigs waiting to be slaughtered! Dummy loved pig, his mouth was watering already. They should go to Noostra and eat those pigs!

He wanted to hear about Monsterism which sounded like the worst thing ever!

Dummy didn't want glory, that was for glorious people 4 Glory transferred to HARVESTER'S GRIM DUTY RITUAL

Mithross
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: 5

It was time to do some cooking. Patsy hadn't gotten anything else right (being honest with himself, that hadn't started after joining the horde... he wasn't born with the name Patsy), but he made a drat good meal.

Last time he cooked, he'd tried to make a big filling meal, but... if the Unexpectables were going to see real combat, and go on the move, he was going to have to start experimenting. His pillow of the night before had sparked an old memory... combat bread. It keeps forever, is full of good nutrition, and you make great time at any task you take while eating it, if only in the hopes that something that actually resembles food will come from success. (Risking two rations to stop the consumption of a ration and make the lowest roll reroll)

Dwarf Toan combat bread: 1d100+15 101

Thus far Patsy had stayed out of strategic discussions (and the actual battle that once), but seeing Grimper slightly less enraged then usual allowed him to speak up

"I... I think we should stay here! Anytime you have a big task it's best to whittle it down first..."

Patsy was shaking so hard he involuntarily looked over and saw the remains of Flutter, squeaked, and ran back to his makeshift oven. Later that day, after Grimper had started in on his drinking, Patsy carried the body off and buried it after taking up the man's skillcore. He vowed he would train the prettiest, bestest butterfly ever... someday. He then remembered, again, that he had vowed to stop getting worked up about things and just try to make it home. But you can't take back a vow to the dead, so Patsy resolved to find a butterfly or two.

Claiming butterfly beastmaster: 1d100+5 44

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


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 3

"They say I'm a monster because I can rhyme.
Like they all don't do it by chance half the time.
When I scold them, they whimper, they wither and whine.
So tell me, Chief Grimper, of this curse of mine.

As for you Spleen, your scars make quiet a story!
Though for the children it might be too gory.
Nevertheless you I and Ringo have all proved a point;
That we are all in this together, so lets head to the joint.
To Nägel we go, but first your health I must see too,
Lest your impending corpse let out a ghost all shiny and see-through!"

Disapproving Poetry: 1d100+10+3 = 82 to entertain Spleen back into Good Health.

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Sep 28, 2017 around 12:37

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


Name: Neebs
Skill(s): Sales
HP: 3
Glory: 3 -> 4

Before Neebs had a chance to try on the armor plucked from the dead Fröman, she noticed Grimper was yelling...seemingly at her specifically, "No, drop that! You had your chance to loot. Go stand in line and shut the hell up!" She dropped the armor at once and ran over to get in line; trying to blend into the rest of the horde as one more faceless mook.

After marching up to the camp and listening to Magda tell everyone about the new way of working; Neebs wasn't much impressed with Magda. Neebs bread and butter was sales, and she didn't have much appreciation for being sold stuff instead.

[Downtime Action]
None of Magda's wares interested Neebs all that much, so Neebs decided that Flutter's skillcore should be retrieved and put to use;
Grabbing the Butterfly Beastmaster skillcore: 1d100+3 73

[Horde Votes]
The horde needed more resources, especially if Magda wasn't going to share hers freely. Obviously Head to Noostra was the correct course of action.

Still trying to avoid notice, Neebs attempted to convince some of the mooks to ask Grimper for a story about monsterism.

Green Intern
Dec 29, 2008

Secret Art: Toxic Crotch Whirlwind!

[quote="Green Intern" post="476764337"]

Name: Ringo!
HP: 1/2
Glory: 4 (maybe 5?)
Skill: Lockpicking

Ringo lay semi-conscious on the ground near Magda's wagons. Everything hurt, especially his skull. Ok, let's try to stand up. He made it about halfway from prone before flopping face-first into the dust. Then, mercifully, he passed out.

~
"Move your rear end, Ringo!" The portly Töan, Chufty, shouted from a second floor window; he looked pissed. Ringo hustled along, carrying a small package in a strap by his side. He tried his best to look inconspicuous with it, but only looked like he had something to hide. Chufty's shouting wasn't helping.

He dashed up the stairs to the shared apartment, and tossed the package onto the bed, tearing at the loose paper wrapping. It was a lockbox, banded with iron and held shut with a sturdy pad. Ringo and Chufty had worked for a while to track it down at an auction house, and spent most of their savings bidding on the drat thing. It theoretically held some documents, maybe to land, maybe to bank deposit boxes! The potential riches could set them up for life!

A bead of sweat rolled down Ringo's topknot as he got to work. *rattle* *rattle* *click*
~

Ringo gasped as he woke up. It was getting dark, and most of the Töans had already gone off to rest. Maybe there was still a bit of time left to do some shopping or something. Or he could find someone who could dull the pain still ringing in his bones.

------

I vote for heading to Noostra. Plenty of chances to get rich andor die trying!

If we can still cash in a little story for a point of glory, I'd like to claim the above memory of Ringo's past. Also, can a fella get some healing?

Barbed Tongues
Mar 16, 2012




Pythag
HP: 3
Skill: Math
Glory: 5

Downtime: Take a nap.

Horde Vote (Destination): Head To Fostis
Horde Vote (Story): Monsterism

Torchlighter
Jan 15, 2012


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

Gryph grimaced at the corpse of Flutter. Snodis and Digger had already tried Grimper's patience, and those noticed second had paid the price. The Unexpectables were now 99 strong; casualties before anything that wasn't an ambush.

And another injured. Ringo would never quite be the same again, but his bleeding could be stemmed. Gryph scowled at Splut again, whose approach to healing started with his mouth and didn't get much further. Still he kept Ringo quiet as Gryph tried to make sure that Ringo kept his bits.
Getting Ringo to 2 HP: 1d100+13 95 (forgot to add skill to the roll in the roller, adjusted)

Downtime
It's hard to medic without supplies. Whatever you can scavenge, borrow or steal from the area could save another Toans life. But you gotta make sure it's clean or infection'll kill more soldiers than the enemy. Better make sure he's well-supplied.

Torchlighter fucked around with this message at Oct 4, 2017 around 22:43

Theantero
Nov 6, 2011

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



Name: Stårn
Skill: SIEGE WEAPONS
HP: 3
Glory: 5 -> 6

Stårn looked in awe at the old matron that had joined them. It was a longstanding legend in Stårns family that one day, one of the bloodline would claim the fabled Magic Rock to be thrown from a catapult, maybe even a legendary trebuchet. Maybe this lady would lead him forward on this legacy spanning quest???

But those were worries for another time. For now, it was time to vote. And make a grab for the butterfly core. Maybe they could be trained and thrown in a catapult at the enemy in a ravenous swarm? Maybe they could be caught for food? Many possibilities!

"Fostis has a mine", he claimed, "You can get rocks from mines, which can be used as ammunition", he scratched his chin, "And also, I'd like to know about Monsterism. I skipped that class for I was too busy learning the various minutiae of siegecraft you see."



Claim the skillcore of BUTTERFLY CATCHING: 1d100=71

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

erhecktile disfunction

Lipstick Apathy


Name: Portha
Skills: Rummaging, Cleaning
HP: 3
Glory: 4

Downtime action

Portha frowned at hearing Magda would be in charge of supplies now, a proper quartermaster meant fewer misplaced things to scrounge later. Oh well, better get back to work during the downtime now that there were twice as many bosses. Time to try out the new skill...

Filth everywhere! She'd never noticed until now just how much of a mess the horde made just standing around. A thin layer of garbage strewn about the camp, poorly maintained gear slowly rusting, dishes piling up. Consuming the skillcore would drive her insane if she didn't do something immediately.

Clean and organize the camp! 1d100+14=80

Horde Vote

"My lord, even with the gear scavenged from the battle, we are still relatively unprepared for a siege. I recommend we Head to Fostis to lay claim to its metal to use in siege engines and take its mining tools and explosives to better tear down Gateway's gate.

Let's hear about Monsterism since we know nothing about how it works, probably outraged parents lobbying against MonstEd classes in school.

super sweet best pal fucked around with this message at Sep 28, 2017 around 10:07

Task Manager
Sep 5, 2008

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



Name: Gabber
Skill: Mimicry
HP: 3
Glory: 4 -> 5

Gabber sat in the middle of the dusty road, in complete and utter shock. The events that had just transpired were too much; too difficult to deal with.

He'd managed to not salvage anything. No skillcore, no pricey bit or bauble - zilch. It was just all quite a lot to take in. After a good five minutes of unmoving despair, he noticed that those around him were beginning to head back towards camp. Snapping out of his funk momentarily, he began the trudge back, nonchalantly stepping over Flutter's corpse as he went. Hey wait, who was that lady with them now?

Shopping:

Having snapped out of his post salvage failure haze, Gabber was able to pay attention enough to listen to Magda's speech back at camp. A High Nailsmith! That sure sounded important, though he'd be damned if he knew what it meant. His curiosity could wait, however - he had his attention on the less glamorous but still satisfying task of picking out a bit of reward from the haul. Wasn't as thrilling as claiming something with his own two hands, and the best bits had likely already been salvaged in the scrum, but it'd have to do for now. Had to keep up with the Joneses! Whoever they were.

After a few minutes of perusal, Gabber settled on a highly worn shield that had seen better days. There were a few dents in it, and the drat thing was a bit lopsided, but it would do.

Glory Purchase: 5 -> 0 -- Purchase a Shield

Horde Vote #1:

Staring in awe at the smoke taking form before him, Gabber's eyes widened a bit when the Warlord mentioned another chance at infiltration. The first had gone pretty great, so why not try again? Standing up and getting a bit closer to the floating images, Gabber jabbed his pointer finger towards Fostis on the map, making his opinion clear.

Horde Vote # 2

He'd begun nodding off himself a bit by the fire, but his ears perked up at hearing the opportunity for one of Grimper's stories. Popping up to his feet, Gabber put both his arms out straight in front of him fingers pointed forwards, and began a slow, methodical gait with both his knees locked and unbending. Adding in a few gutteral growls, it was clear he was most hoping for a tale on the subject of Monsterism.

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Sep 28, 2017 around 02:36

big bag of nacho cheese
Feb 19, 2011




HP: 3
Glory: 4



Qwäg doesn’t find a suitable weapon, but in Flutter's grisly expiration she finds something better: data. Interesting, she thinks, nibbling on her charcoal stick despite the dark stain on her teeth, with the way he was carrying on, I expected him to wind up with eggs in his chest. Peering over the top of her notebook, she watches with grisly fascination as a snow-white butterfly light on a puddle of brain and skull. Extending its tiny curled proboscis, it begins to delicately lap at the spilled blood. Almost immediately, a blush begins to spread throughout the veins of its wings, and by the time it flits off again, the butterfly is a dark, venous red.

“Mogspeed, little looter,” she intones with a hint of sentimentality, before heading off to find the Nailsmith and contribute to the horde’s power.

Shopping
4 Glory to Harvester’s Grim Duty

Later, around the fire, Qwäg listens to the sentiments of the horde and makes a few adjustments to her ledger based upon what she hears.

Vote 1
Noostra, eh,” she muses, plucking an unpleasantly hairy gobbet of roast beast from a smoldering skewer and peering at it dubiously. “Noostra is good. Probably lose a few horderinos.” Nibble. Squint. Glabrous meat, this. “But that’s the game, hm? I’d give it…3 to 1 if we shake up a few comfortable bluebloods, we’ll find one craven enough to open up the gates to save his hide.”

HiHo ChiRho
Oct 23, 2010

Then you remember. You have a message to send.

Something everyone must know.

You have the power. You have the means.

Let it be known.




Potrait:


Naim: Mason
Skillz: Mason Hootin' an' Hollerin'
HeeP: Mason Mason Mason
Glury: Masonx4

Horde vote: Noostra

The Lord of Hats
Aug 22, 2010

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


Noggins
Skill: Carpentry
HP: 3
Glory: 5->6

"Did you know a full-grown Cobaltwing has the size and strength to carry up to three whole people at once? Some can even manage more!"

Noggins winced as she watched Flutter's head get crushed like a grape, and again as Ringo got de-ringed. She hadn't spoken with Flutter that much--only really as a fellow member of the distraction team. But even in that short period, it was clear how much he had loved butterflies. Enough to risk his life for them. And, well... that was that. His blood was puddling on the ground, and people were already squabbling over his skillcore. That was no way to go out. No way to go out at all. Why did people even want the core that badly? It was useless without... without... there!

Retrieve the Chrysalis!: 1d100 26

"What's funny is that even though they get so big, their caterpillar and chrysalis are no bigger than an ordinary butterfly's! They actually do almost all of their growing as adults!

Noggins dove for the chrysalis, desperately throwing her body around it to protect it from the stamping feet of the mob of people trying to be the next great Butterfly Tamer. Flutter had died for this. Sure, technically he'd died stealing from his own side, directly against his Warlord's orders, but he'd died for it all the same. She wasn't about to let that get stepped on.

"Speaking of the chrysalis, did you know they actually go into a stasis in there? They won't hatch unless they detect food nearby. Back on the ranch, we'd usually bring in a couple head of cattle and slaughter them to coax the Cobaltwings out of there!

Shielding the cocoon with her hands, she went to search out timber for a casket. It'd be a pain to haul along, but the next Tamer would surely be willing to help once she explained herself.

"Don't worry, Flutter." she whispered into her hands. "We'll have you back in the sky in no time."

Horde Votes

Fostis, and Tell Us About Yourself, Oh Mighty Grimper

Grognan
Jan 23, 2007

Money And Power Through Homicide!




Name:Grag
Skill:Bandaging, Snoring
HP: 3


Glory: 3

"Oi, let's head to Fostis I hear they keep prisoners there.

What's this about the Ritual of the Nail?

Prince of Space
Apr 17, 2016

Your weapons are useless against me!


/ /
Name: Gawp
HP: 3
Skill: Perception (cooling)
Glory: 3 -> 4

Downtime: Gawp stared into his empty hands, raw and caked with dirt. They were still shaking from all the death and excitement. That was his first bloodrush, too! He hadn't stopped sizing everybody up as they donned their ill-begotten gains and slung their looted treasures over backs and shoulders. Those sly-grinning dogs! Gawp was glaring at the shield on Pythag's back when one of Gawp's eyes was met by the Mathematician's steely neutral gaze. Gawp noted just the slightest twinge of disgust erupt cross Pythag's face before the other Töman could tear his eyes apart. That was... okay! There had been worse reactions to Gawp's Monsterism before. The spindly four-eyed Töan suddenly felt quite naked and exposed, and itched to have something solid that he could call his own.

Gawp stood by and witnessed as several others gathered around the body of Flutter, each chipping their efforts into the rite of Extraction for the dead Töman's rare and precious skillset. Gawp considered being a beastmaster of butterflies...

Whenever Gawp had any dreams of flying, he'd always dreamed that he was zipping along on the back of a giant dragonfly that he'd named Scooter who was way faster but far, far smaller than how big the biggest butterflies and moths could get (potentially!). Gawp always loved those magical flying dreams, and recalling his imaginative childhood helped Gawp take his mind off the long slog that lay ahead...

~ ~ ~

When Gawp awoke from his reveries of high-speed aerial maneuverings, he was standing squarely before the stalls of the great and powerful Nailsmith Magda, a measly two Glory tokens scraping together in his coinpurse. He glowered with abject consternation as another Töman selected the very shield he'd been eyeing and bought it outright with his saved-up Glory points. Gawp's expression curdled with obvious envy. That lucky stiff!

Gawp decides to offer his services as a personal assistant to the great and powerful Magda. Maybe he could stand to make some extra Glory tokens on the side and gain a powerful ally in the mighty quartermistress QuarterMASTER in the process, yes.

As Gawp's mother always said, (that proud and haughty Töwoman) "If they're bigger than you, Gawp, you'd better kill 'em with kindness." Let's see if flattery can take Gawp places:

"Oh mighty and fearsome Magda, how might this lowly Töan servant best assist you?"
Offer Personal Services to Crusher Magda of the Asskicker Horde, High Nailsmith First-Class: 1d100+2 81


Horde Votes: (pending Gawp's survival)

"I know enough about Monsterism, myself... I want to hear more about the RITUAL OF THE NAIL."

"Mining towns mean mountains, and mountains are easier to defend if an enemy general decides to bring his army swinging our way. Besides, I've always heard that the mineral deposits at FOSTIS MINES are far richer than the ones back at home. I just hope that I don't get homesick if we go."

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

Arkanomen
May 6, 2007

All he wants is a hug




Name: Graxon
Skill: Bonegineering
HP: 3
Glory :3

Graxon remembered when he was a youth and his father sent him out to the chicken yard to gather some bones for scrimshaw. It was messy work, making the chickens give up their skeletons and there were so many broken bones. His father nodded but the disapproval was evident. Well not long would Graxon make such a mess when claiming bones. The skill orb filled his hands with the clean deaths of hundreds and the skill was his. Now was the time to hunt and find a bone worth keeping. The survivors of the ambush looked easy enough.

Finish off the survivors for more bones: 1d100+10 19

Bad Seafood
Dec 10, 2010

If you must blink, do it now.




Name: Gigs
Skill: Unflappability
HP: 3
Glory: 4
Inventory: 1 stick spear, 7 rations (?)

Downtime: Snail Hunting

The rest of the hoard watches with a mix of horror and fascination as Ringo's topknot is ripped from his skull. Gigs blinks. I mean, the guy had a big ol' hole in it. Something like that was bound to happen. The late Flutter's scar had suggested he was similarly poor at risk assessment. Honestly people. Still, Gigs supposes he will miss the big lunk. Butterflies are highly-nutritious, but difficult to catch on your own.

Gigs sighs before turning his attentions downwards. The looting was a bust but nature provides. Snails, specifically. Getting down on his hands and knees, Gigs begins the meticulous process of combing the roadside shrubberies for whatever gastropods might be lying in wait (1d100+4 = 51). Warlord Grimper may have smashed his entire collection of shells back home in the midst of one of his more impassioned motivational speeches, but he'd never forbade Gigs from starting up another one - a smaller set, for the road.

Horde Vote: Head To Fostis

Recalling his misspent youth as the target of many a far-flung rock, Gigs imagines a veritable (and incidentally also quite literal) mine of the material should prove reasonably useful to the horde's continued ambitions of breaking things and laughing about it.

Blasphemaster
Jul 10, 2008





Name: CORNBREAD
HP: 3
Glory: 8
Skills: Chucking poo poo (often literally), Yelling



Cornbread nods WAY too rapidly, gives a thumbs up and chatters an approving "Cornbread." every time someone says they want to go to Fostis.

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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


Yo treat yourselves to +2 Glory. also, gross

Monsterism story update today at some point, actual update tomorrow.

Successful Businessmanga
Mar 28, 2010




Daaaaaaaang! If this is what Monsterism does to you then sign me up .


Dog Kisser posted:

Yo treat yourselves to +2 Glory. also, gross

Monsterism story update today at some point, actual update tomorrow.

Gawp and Flipit should also have +1 Glory for inheriting Glory Mooks. Flutter would have also had one, but uh SQUISH.

Sax Battler
Jul 31, 2007

Another bloody customs post,
Another fucking foreign coast,
Another set of scars to boast,
We Are The Road Crew.



Name: Gloff
Additional Skills: Swimming
HP: 3
Glory: 2
Backstory: Gloff just kind of wandered into the horde one day, wanting to see what was going on. Nobody said anything, so he followed along.

Gloff just pokes Flutter's corpse with his foot a bit and mumbles that Fostis sounds nice.

Sax Battler fucked around with this message at Sep 29, 2017 around 12:18

LucyWanabe
Nov 4, 2009



Name: Agile
HP: 3
Glory: 4
Skill: Acrobatics

Agile was extremely despondent. She was an utter failure as a soldier--couldn't hit squat, couldn't scout squat, and now, can't even find a decent weapon to take from a dead man. But she wasn't a circus performer anymore, either, so what did that leave her with? Her acrobatic ability and the veil that had been a gift from her mother on her sixteenth birthday. Maybe what she needed to be wasn't just a soldier, but a more specialized sort. Agile had no idea, what exactly, that would be, at least she had some kind of goal in mind.

"I'd say we go to the Fostis Mines," she said when asked, still thinking of her goal. Maybe there was something useful in the mine, or at least something that would give inspiration?

While she pondered the future, she drifted near the fire where Grimper sat, hoping to overhear anything interesting that might help.

Mithross
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: 6

Half-wit posted:

[Downtime Action]
None of Magda's wares interested Neebs all that much, so Neebs decided that Flutter's skillcore should be retrieved and put to use;
Grabbing the Butterfly Beastmaster skillcore: 1d100+3 73

Theantero posted:

But those were worries for another time. For now, it was time to vote. And make a grab for the butterfly core. Maybe they could be trained and thrown in a catapult at the enemy in a ravenous swarm? Maybe they could be caught for food? Many possibilities!
Claim the skillcore of BUTTERFLY CATCHING: 1d100=71


Quite pleased by the attendance of two other horde members at his makeshift funeral, Patsy was a bit distressed to discover they were only there to argue over the dead man's skillcore. Still, he surrendered it to the two of them with a (soft, quavering) admonition that they respect the dead more. He would just have to find a pretty butterfly without it.

Cloud Potato
Jan 8, 2011

"I'm... happy!"



Name: Hat
Skill: Millinery
HP: 3/3
Equipment: Leather Armour (+1)
Glory: 4

Hat sat quietly next to a campfire, working the seam of her newly-acquired leather armour. Sturdy stuff, it just needed a little adjustment for the modern Töwoman in today's battlefields. And protection was important; red blood had been spilled this day after all, two stupid fools looting where they shouldn't be. She could hear Ringo's howl of pain over Splut's verbal ointments. She felt sorry for him; the poisoning hero of the previous battle, now revealed as a squad-thief. As for the other fool, well, there was an object lesson in how to behave in The Unexpectable Horde: DO WHAT GRIMPER SAYS.

Hat looked up at Shiny's approach, red-bloodstained topknot in hand, and quickly agreed to help. Her speciality was more focused on what was above people's scalps, rather than the scalps themselves. Still, there was a a lot of raw material there, so Hat put her adjusted armour on and started work on a hat for Ringo while Magda addressed the Horde.

Making a hat for Ringo: 1d100+10+4 47

When the time came to discuss the Horde's next move, Hat voted for the mining town of Fostis; where there's a mine, there'll be mining helmets, which will offer some protection to our forces.

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.

Name: Klörf

Skill: Starting fires
HP: 3
Glory: 4->5

For most of the post-combat rest and relaxation period, Klörf didn't interact with most of his fellow conscriptees in any significant way. Other than taking a brief nap near a freshly lit campfire and eating some (practically charred) stips of smoked beef jerky, the simple minded fool simply stared off into the distance -- drool drizzling freely from a corner of his mouth. Klörf may have been physically present, but his mind wasn't quite there. Until he heard Humbug mention something familiar.

Scribbleykins posted:

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.

Light, nay, fire, returned to the pathetic creature's dead fishy eyes. "NÄGEL!", he screamed from the top of his lungs with equal parts frustration, anger and despair. "Long ago, Klörf had friend. Bolbörf. Was good friend. BIG friend. Almost as big as General Grimper, but hairier. And eye-ier". His visage saddened, and he continued in a dour tone of voice. "Only friend. Taught Klörf how to start fires when others would laugh at size of Klörf's skull. But Bolbörf started fires with breath, not by rubbing sticks together or torches". Tears began to well up in his eyes, and snot flowed freely from his nose. "Before war, Frömen come to Klörf's town. Asked town to give Bolbörf to them for expurtishmentation in new Frömen prison. Town agreed. Klörf tried to follow, but father said no. Klörf had to work on farm. So Klörf set things on fire to get sent to prison. But ended up here instead!"

Reduced to little more than a quivering ball of snot and tears, he bellowed out a plea to those around him. "PLEASE SAVE KLÖRF'S FRIEND BOLBÖRF. GO TO NÄGEL IN NOOSTRA!"

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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




“I'm going to be charitable and assume you're not asking me what Monsterism is - why, even the smallest child in the kingdom knows of it, and many of you yourselves are infected - so I guess you're asking where it came from. I have no loving idea.”

“As far as I know, it's been around forever. Since at least the Old Guys, anyhow. Every once in a while, people just grow up wrong - four eyes over here,” he hiked a thumb, “probably looked almost normal when they were born, and now they're a freak. At least all your eyes look functional. That's a thing with Monsterism, you know. Extra stuff. Eyes, mostly, but fingers, even arms. Mostly they're just dead weight. Not hooked up right, or whatever. Useless freaks. Don't none of you tell me if you have floppy weird bits that I can't see, I don't care.”

“It's not just us, either. Frömen get it too, the ruddy scum, but so do animals. Plants too, believe it or not. You see some weird poo poo when it hits crops. I've heard it can hit metal too, but THAT'S bullshit. No, only the living. Anything living, far as I can tell. All you can do is kill it and burn the bodies. Oh, for Reina's sake, I'm not going to burn YOU. Your Monsterism is benign, or else you'd already be dead. Rampant Monsterism is where things get real ugly, and I urge you all to keep a close eye on your fellows. If they start to turn - and you WILL notice a difference! - let me know and I'll make it painless. The last thing I need is Wendigos tearing up my camp!”

“Cure? There's no cure. If you don't have symptoms you thank your lucky stars - you're probably safe if they haven't expressed themselves yet. If you do, it's only a matter of time before you pop. Maybe. Sometimes people are just fine forever. Either way, I wouldn't count on any of you surviving for long anyhow! Now get some sleep so I don't have to drag your tired asses around with me!”

(Monsterism is a hereditary disease that can also be suddenly triggered by environmental factors. It's fairly common, though slightly less common in Tö than the demographics of the Unexpectables would imply. For most, it's a benign annoyance that doesn't cause much more social friction than being particularly ugly, but the especially misshapen are seen as unlucky freaks. Symmetrical or useful mutations, on the other hand, are seen as exotic and even attractive. Regardless, it is generally not a benefit or a penalty, especially in the Horde.

However, environmental factors can trigger a further change can happen, sliding sufferers into a berserk suffering as their body shifts even more. This is often fatal, but when it is not, the afflicted will have become something else…

Voting remains open, actual update tomorrow. Still same Downtime period.)

Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at Sep 28, 2017 around 21:43

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


Name: Neebs
Skill(s): Sales
HP: 3
Glory: 4

Mithross posted:

Quite pleased by the attendance of two other horde members at his makeshift funeral, Patsy was a bit distressed to discover they were only there to argue over the dead man's skillcore. Still, he surrendered it to the two of them with a (soft, quavering) admonition that they respect the dead more. He would just have to find a pretty butterfly without it.

It wasn't that Neebs didn't respect the dead as Patsy did...it's just that Neebs didn't see much point in fretting over a person so foolish as to disobey orders.
The makeshift funeral was a nice touch, but Neebs doubted anyone would hold one for her if she expired in a like manner. Not really something she cared to dwell on...
But that skillcore...there was a hot market for butterflies if you knew the right folks to sell them to.

After being admonished by Patsy, Neebs promised to share the first butterfly she caught with him (if she could convince Stårn that he wasn't really interested in the skillcore that is).

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

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

...

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

...

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

Grimey Drawer


Skill: Sleuthing
HP: 3
Glory: 1

Zybourne Clock posted:

Name: Klörf

"NÄGEL!", he screamed from the top of his lungs with equal parts frustration, anger and despair. "Long ago, Klörf had friend. Bolbörf. Was good friend. BIG friend. Almost as big as General Grimper, but hairier. And eye-ier". His visage saddened, and he continued in a dour tone of voice. "Only friend. Taught Klörf how to start fires when others would laugh at size of Klörf's skull. But Bolbörf started fires with breath, not by rubbing sticks together or torches". Tears began to well up in his eyes, and snot flowed freely from his nose. "Before war, Frömen come to Klörf's town. Asked town to give Bolbörf to them for expurtishmentation in new Frömen prison. Town agreed. Klörf tried to follow, but father said no. Klörf had to work on farm. So Klörf set things on fire to get sent to prison. But ended up here instead!"

Reduced to little more than a quivering ball of snot and tears, he bellowed out a plea to those around him. "PLEASE SAVE KLÖRF'S FRIEND BOLBÖRF. GO TO NÄGEL IN NOOSTRA!"

Humbug had been so intent on watching Grimper's reaction to Nägel that having someone else blow a fuse at the name caught him by complete surprise. As he stood in stunned silence, he heard the other Horde members pipe up about this or that - lootable riches in town or the uses of metal riches from the mine - it didn't seem like folks were terribly interested in going to investigate the mystery of Nägel. Feeling both dejected at the rejection of his plan, and a bit of responsibility for Klörf's sudden outburst and sadness, the detective decided to head over to the pyromaniac. Though he knew the boy to be dangerous in his own way, Klörf might at least not be one of the Bad Ones, given his sudden outburst. Perhaps, with a little effort, he could even make it as a Good One.

The detective approached the bawling Töan and gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Klörf? There there, my lad. We might not go to Nägel tomorrow, but that doesn't mean our Horde will never find our way there! Or that we can't find out what's happened to your friend somehow. Let's go have a sit down by the fire."

He handed Klörf his reserve tissue - a good sleuth kept a spare for occasions like this - as he guided the bawling young Tö over to the nearest bonfire. The smell of burnt, pounded meat, the smell of someone else's tragedy, filled the air.

"Your big friend - was he really a fire-breather?" asked Humbug curiously, trying to remind the lad of better days than his best (and apparently only) friend being shipped off to that ominous place. It was too bad the missive - with its admittedly atrocious Frömen handwriting - only mentioned the ritual research and some manner of scout party being encamped there. There was nothing on the prisoners themselves, but the place was pretty famed (at least in Humbug's circles) and ill-omened jail. If Klörf told the truth, it was a fair assumption that, at some point in the recent past, Frömen had been preying on troublesome Töans with Monsterism and bringing them to Nägel for 'experiments'.

Staring at the fire, Humbug resolved not to tell Klörf about any of the darker rumours that circulated about Nägel. He'd no way of knowing if they were true or not, after all, and there was no reason upsetting the boy again. He'd mull it over later - as the scent of Cowardclaw pervaded his nose and Shiny, unaware of how much of the night the detective spent with his eyes closed but his mind open, stuffed something in his pack.

------------------------

Votes so far:

Fostis - 15+1 Tö
Noostra - 8 Tö
Noostra by way of Nägel - 3 Tö
Stay here - 1 Tö


e: included Rik's vote.

Scribbleykins fucked around with this message at Sep 28, 2017 around 23:53

Fuzz
Jun 2, 2003

Avatar brought to you by the
TG Sanity fund



Additional Skills: LEAPING
Glory: 5 -> 6

Downtime 2!: 1d100+5 27

RIK spends his downtime teaching some mooks (and whoever else wants to learn) all the lyrics and beats to the battle hymn he randomly invented during the battle. It doesn't go so well, as getting the timing of the chants is apparently pretty hard... maybe it was all that Monsterism rampant in their ranks, giving some of them extra ears or something.

Either way, on hearing the options for a plan of attack, RIK ponders and pitches in his vote:

"We should bring the ROCK to Fostis!"

His joke having fallen flat, he falls back on tuning his guitar in preparation for taking Fostis.

Dog Kisser
Mar 30, 2005

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


Added Gloff to the roster. Also, those who bought stuff, take your gear pics from other people. The only item that's missing is the Cowardclaw, I think, and here it is!

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.

Name: Klörf

Skill: Starting fires
HP: 3
Glory: 4->5

Scribbleykins posted:

"Your big friend - was he really a fire-breather?" asked Humbug curiously, trying to remind the lad of better days than his best (and apparently only) friend being shipped off to that ominous place.

Klörf took the detective's tissue, dried his tears, blew his nose, and handed it back to him. As best as he could he tried to stop sobbing. "Yes, Bolbörf really wa-- no, IS, fire-breather! Could blow little embers to start fire for kettle, but also great big flames. And even blue fire. Really pretty!" The pinheaded Töan stood up, placed his hands near his mouth, and mimed blowing great gouts of flame from it with the enthusiasm of a child. "Woosh! Woosh! Like dragon from stories, but REAL! Even tried to teach Klörf how to do it". A weary sigh followed. "But no matter how hard Klörf try, could not learn. Only knows how to start fire with flints or wooden sticks. Klörf bad pupil -- brain muscle is too weak..."

Just as his expression was about to turn sombre again, a happy memory seemed to resurface in his mind.

"But! Klörf do know how to fake fire-breath! Need flask of oil though. Would love to show to new friend mister Hamb--" he paused mid-sentence. "Mister Hambug, will you be Klörf's friend?"

Yvonmukluk
Oct 10, 2012

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

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






Bully
Skills: Oratory, Climbing
HP:3
Glory: 4

Bully will once more provide a motivational speech to anyone who is willing to listen - primarily those few unfortunates too wounded to crawl away, but one or two people who haven't got anything better to do stick around.

Motivational speeches: 1d100+14=42

As part of the speeches, he throws in that he believes it is best to march on Noostra.

Scribbleykins
Apr 29, 2010

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

...

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

...

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

Grimey Drawer

Zybourne Clock posted:



"But! Klörf do know how to fake fire-breath! Need flask of oil though. Would love to show to new friend mister Hamb--" he paused mid-sentence. "Mister Hambug, will you be Klörf's friend?"

"Hum. Humm. Hammm - eh? Ham?"

Humbug, who had been exercising his brain muscle a little too much, looked at Klörf with a scandalized expression. Then he laughed and broke into a wry smile.

"Hah! I like your attitude, lad. Sure, let's be friends. If you do get your hands on some oil, then I, Humbug, would love to see your fire-breath!"

Humbug looked around the crowd of Töans, and then began pointing at certain members of the Horde.

"And as long as we're friends, here's a few of MY acquaintances. See, the girl over there? She's called Shiny - she likes shiny things - and we go way back. I used to be a town guard and she kept nicking little trinkets and getting herself in trouble. Kept meeting her when I was Sleuthing full-time - and now we've gotten stuck in this Horde together! Life can be funny like that. Splut there - he goes splut when you drop him into a river - well, we've met. He's an outrageous fellow, half the stuff he says is usually made up - but he makes it real hard to know which half! Remember how it looked like he talked that old gate open? Now, Splut can be fun to listen to, but I'd be a little careful around him. I don't know how he ended up in the ol' clinker in the end, but it had to be kinda serious if he couldn't talk his way out of it."

Sperglord Firecock
Feb 20, 2011

Euphoria is experienced most firmly at the state of a curve at 80+mph and you don't know if you're gonna end up wearing these stupid fucking pants or not

Oven Wrangler

Taking E6 as Portrait.

Name: Tharbad

Skill: Violence

HP: 3

Glory: 0

Backstory: Tharbad was never a good son. He always caused trouble for his parents by screaming that he was going to cast a spell and then breaking something violently. He claims that he is in training to become the most powerful violencemancer in the world.

Zybourne Clock
Oct 25, 2011

Poke me.

Name: Klörf

Skill: Starting fires
HP: 3
Glory: 4->5

Klörf enthusiastically shook hands with all Töans Humbug introduced him to. To his surprise, none remarked negatively on his deformed head or insulted his intelligence. Or if they did, they were doing so in a manner too subtle for Klörf to pick up on. Either way, it was a marked improvement over the candid disapproval he constantly experienced in his home village. These people weren't all that bad!

After sharing some of his rations with his new friends he gathered some more firewood to throw on his bonfire and invited everyone to spend the night in the comfort of the crackling flames. Who knew going to war could be so much fun.

Build a campfire to keep out the cold of night, 1d100+10+4=31

DivineCoffeeBinge
Mar 3, 2011

Spider-Man's Amazing Construction Company




Shiny quite cheerfully shakes Klörf's hand, as A) he seems nice enough, B) he's smart enough to make friends with Humbug, the Mastermind-In-Waiting, and C) she's seen his handiness with fires, and fires make light, and light makes shiny things shine. Ergo, by Shiny's standards, he seems to be a fine fellow.

As long as he doesn't look covetously at her shiny things. Only she can look covetously at her shiny things. They're hers, so she really doesn't need to look covetously at them anymore, you don't need to covet something you already own, but she does it anyways out of force of habit.

The Wandering Mage
Jul 22, 2010




Flipit
Skill:
Tinker
HP: 3
Glory: 2 (I think? Ref: Successful Businessmanga)

Downtime

Flipit was only able to stroll around the corpses for a few moments before he was swept into ranks and back to camp. He felt a deep sense of loss for the potential that he might have attained if he had just been able to find even a screwdriver. But it was not to be. At least he had the consolation that there was a new and powerful member of their upper management. Magda’s portfolio sounded quite impressive. If he found himself particularly courageous sometime, he might ask her about her past exploits.

To take his mind off of his woes, he tried to keep himself busy during their free time. He joined Portha in her efforts to clean up the disgraceful state of their camp.

Help clean and organize the camp!: 1d100+2 49

Horde Vote

Flipit quickly decided that he would prefer a sally towards the mine of Fostis, and voiced it to whoever happened to be nearby and listening very carefully. Mining by its very nature takes heavy equipment, and even the simplest mines would require systems of pulleys to move heavy loads. His mind whirled at the prospect of fiddling with levers and the turning of cogs and springs.

sheep-dodger
Feb 21, 2013



Sucy
HP: 3
Glory: 4
Skill: Mushrooms

After the other horde members had picked up Flutter's skill core, Sucy decided that she would bury his body.
Töans generally haven't developed much in the way of funeral rituals for the common Töan, as their lives are generally short and cheap, but recent advances in the medical sciences (yes those existed, Töans didn't generally shout and lie at each other for wound treatment) have made it clear that it was necessary to bury your dead to avoid the spread of disease. As a result, the late queen had made a proclamation that every Töan was to be buried in a shallow grave.
In order to honor the beloved Queen's wishes Sucy proceeded to "borrow" a particularly weirdly shaped bit of wood that had come off one of the wagons and dug for a solid hour, until the grave was shallow enough to take Flutter's remains.
Overall a very thankless task, but someone had to do it after all.

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Mithross
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.


sheep-dodger posted:


Sucy
HP: 3
Glory: 4
Skill: Mushrooms

After the other horde members had picked up Flutter's skill core, Sucy decided that she would bury his body.
Töans generally haven't developed much in the way of funeral rituals for the common Töan, as their lives are generally short and cheap, but recent advances in the medical sciences (yes those existed, Töans didn't generally shout and lie at each other for wound treatment) have made it clear that it was necessary to bury your dead to avoid the spread of disease. As a result, the late queen had made a proclamation that every Töan was to be buried in a shallow grave.
In order to honor the beloved Queen's wishes Sucy proceeded to "borrow" a particularly weirdly shaped bit of wood that had come off one of the wagons and dug for a solid hour, until the grave was shallow enough to take Flutter's remains.
Overall a very thankless task, but someone had to do it after all.

(I'm already holding a funeral for the guy, FYI, come join Patsy at the graveside he was lonely)

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