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 Name: Gloff Skills:Lifting (used), Swimming HP: 3 Glory: 4 Gloff's ears perk up at the alarms starting to ring. It sounded like trouble. And as the saying goes, "When times are troubled, it's time to get troubling". Turning towards the barely-heard but unmistakable sounds of an angry mob, Gloff starts moving quickly but carefully. After all, he does not want to accidentally drop Bully, balanced precariously on his box. Not sure what to do yet, but getting moving.
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Oct 5, 2017 00:54
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 Additional Skills: LEAPING Glory: 6 -> 7 Having been drawn to the ROCK, RIK had joined the High Climb group and surveyed the town alongside them, finally catching his breath. "So... things look pretty messed up down there. We should intervene!" he suggests as he climbs up on the bluff overlooking the town and SLAMS on his guitar to send a killer riff and get people's attention. "HEY! WE HAVE ALL YOUR EXPLOSIVES! SURRENDER NOW, OR WE START BLOWING poo poo UP! STARTING WITH THE MAYOR!" He attempts to help, but after all, he was a musician, not a strongman. Still, he provided morale support! Fuzz fucked around with this message at 02:01 on Oct 5, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 01:25
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Added a bunch of options to the update!
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Oct 5, 2017 01:50
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 Name: Bamboo HP: 3 Glory: 7 -> 7 Skill: Basket Weaving [On Cool-Down] Mr. Prokosch posted:Aha! Dummy finally has a direction to charge in! With all the soldiers running towards the mighty stick army, Bamboo wants to kill the mayor! Surely that's very dangerous, so he can go first! Dummy charges right for the biggest, most fancy building in town to hit the biggest, most fancy person in town with his hammer! Bamboo looked at Dummy and nodded her thanks and appreciation, while steeling herself for what was to come. If only the rest of the Horde would come with her and Dummy, they could end this fight here and now, before more of then got killed. "Horde. In. Town! Come. With. Us! Be. Like. Dummy! KILL THE MAYOR!!!"
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Oct 5, 2017 01:59
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 Name: Ringo! HP: 1/2 (Crippled) Glory: 6 Skill: Lockpicking (Just used) Dang that Pythag! Clumsy dork! But at least they were all still alive. And what's better, there was a ding dang door that needed opening, and it looked real important too! Time to shine, Ringo! He rolls up his sleeves and produces a couple of thin pieces of wire from his new topknot hat (which promptly falls to the floor). Aw yeah, gonna wow everyone and show them how skilled a proper lockpicker is when push comes to shove. Open the Locked Door: 1d100+16 45 Still managed to roll kinda low on the whole. Not that it matters much I guess because I see you're all just breaking it down.
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Oct 5, 2017 02:39
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  Name: Gawp HP: 3 Skill: Perception (cooling) Equipment: Sharp Stick (+0) Glory: 7 -> 8 Fyndberg Mountain Range: High above the town of Fostis, Gawp leaned on his small wooden spear and took a deep breath. His nerves calmed only the slightest as he watched the hot steam of his breath escape into the chill air. From where he stood, Gawp could just make out the summit of the mighty mountain that loomed over Fostis, wreathed as it was in a swirl of clouds and mist. The views were so beautiful from up here - if only it was possible to enjoy them. Gawp tried to ignore the sounds of riotous commotion echoing from far down below, but he found the task nearly impossible. If the alarm bells ringing from the mining town were any indication, things weren't exactly going according to plan. Gawp fidgeted nervously as his other teammates set off to work. He simply watched, incredulous, as the other members of his scouting party hoisted the stalwart Mason off his feet and launched him toward the door of the locked storeroom, ramming his helmeted head against the heavy wooden slab. Gawp gritted his teeth with every *CRACK* and *THUD* they made, expecting the worst of outcomes for the simple Töman. They should have waited for Ringo the Lockpick to arrive, but as far as Gawp could tell, the crippled rogue was still climbing his way up to their position. The door's hinges started to rock and buckle under the team's redoubled efforts. Soon they would be inside the miners' explosives cache, and then they would have all the firepower they'll need to take over this wonderful little town! When the hinges on the door finally busted and gave way, Gawp was one of the first Töans inside the storeroom. "Stand back, everyone! I know what this is: this stuff is highly, uh, "voll-uh-tile!"... that means it could go off at any moment and kill us all if we're not extremely careful!" Gawp explained to the other mooks, "If we're going to threaten the town properly, we need to carry these crates of explosives further down the mountain path. Do what I do - and do it VERY CAREFULLY - as if you're walking on eggshells!" Gawp gingerly hoisted a small crate packed with sawdust and dynamite, deliberately showing the others how delicate and careful he was being. Guiding Mooks with Crates of Explosives: 1d100+6 51 Paired off two-by-two, Gawp began directing the other Töans as they slowly made their way down the mountain path. ~ ~ ~ When Gawp returned to the storehouse for a second batch of explosives, he noticed that the dull-witted Cornbread was milling about just outside the supply shed with a foolishly fiendish grin plastered on his face. Gawp remembered what the rowdy Töan liked to do: he liked to raise hell by throwing stuff. In that moment, Gawp knew - from the bottom of his heart - that Cornbread was probably going to steal some dynamite and throw it downhill, no matter what Gawp said. So Gawp lead the giant Töan to the cliff's edge and pointed at a spot on the mountains, further down and far, far away from everyone else. If a rock slide or avalanche were to start there, it would likely cause a rockfall that would block the main entrance to the mining village... Gawp pointed to the spot dramatically and told the other Töan, "If you're gonna do it, light the fuse and chuck it in that direction with all your might." Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 02:47 on Oct 18, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 02:52
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 Name: Doc HP: 3 Glory: 3 Skill: Surgery A panicking crowd has gotta be dropping something useful. Can't just leave anything good sitting on the street. Abandoned stuff?: 1d100+3 = 57
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Oct 5, 2017 02:55
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 HP: 3 Glory 4 Qwäg watches events unfold around her with the grim lack-of-surprise that drapes those poor souls doomed to be perpetually correct about how poorly things are going to go. With a heavy, long-suffering sigh, she pulls the folds of her robe close around her to minimize the risk of being dragged down and trampled by the mob, and assuming a slump-shouldered stomp, threads her way to a raised doorway out of the crush of bodies. Taking a moment to catch her breath and get a better look at the lay of the land, Qwäg notices keenly the stream of shouting townsfolk pouring out the town toward the invading “ogres”, leaving the interior poorly-defended. Seeing Bully teetering above the crowd, held aloft by Gloff, she is seized by a notion, reaching out to grab the handle-shaped topknot of a burly mook passing alongside her. Leaping up onto the hapless Töan’s shoulders, she points at Dummy, bellowing his way toward town hall. “We won't get better odds,” she cries imperiously to the hordlings nearby, voice wavering as she struggles to stay upright on her strapping mount. “Follow that screaming idio--hero! Kill the mayor!” Kill the Mayor!: 1d100+4 16
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Oct 5, 2017 03:01
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  Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry {cool down} HP: 3 Glory: 1 -> 2 As the mob slowly began to surround Gabber and the other unfamiliar faces being rounded up in town, he began to break out in a cold sweat. This was it! Years of mimicry training, for naught. He was soon to be found out, thrown in a jail cell and left to rot. However, opportunity soon arose as the stick ogre army began to grab the attention of the mob. Noticing his Unexpectable allies in town beginning to try and redirect the mob to attack the stick ogres (and take advantage of the situation to misdirect their attention towards other, non-Unexpectable members of the mob), Gabber quickly grabbed his shield off his back and began beating it in time to the marching of the mob, to try and rile them up further. He hoped his frantic banging of the shield got them worked into a further frenzy, and as they began marching out of town he took what opportunity he could to mix into the crowd and when opportunity struck, whacked an unsuspecting mob member or two in the head with his shield. Redirect the mob/take opportunity attacks when available to thin their numbers.: 1d100+1 82 
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Oct 5, 2017 03:13
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 Name: Tharbad HP: 2 Glory: 1 => 2 Skill: Violence While the other varied Töans were regretting life choices, Tharbad had better things to do. Namely, he could break these bars. He turned to the group, staring them down with his two and one weird eye inside of another eyes, and said with cold dead stone seriousness, "I can break these bars." Maybe it was some kind of warped madness inspiring him, shining like a gleam of daring in the midst of a sea of hopelessness, but more than likely, the new recruit looked at him incredulously and said, "You can't break those bars." Ignoring the doubters, Tharbad stepped forwards and grasped onto the bars, and with all of his strength, let out a cry as he tried to BREAK. THOSE. BARS. "URRRAAAAAAAAGHGHGHGHHHGGHHHGGH!" : 1d100+1 = 86 fishception fucked around with this message at 05:40 on Oct 5, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 04:41
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Name: CORNBREAD HP: 3 Glory: 6>7 Skills: Chucking poo poo (often literally)CD, Yelling Stupid mooks not going along with the shitvalanch, that plan was flawless. But...the other dudes had explosives now, so he snatches a couple. First he gathers the absolute rankest and runniest of his gathered waste and seals it in a series of loosely tied bundles with a stick of dynamite inside, with the fuse sticking out. He lights the horror bombs on fire and tosses them amongst the previously targeted rockpile. This accomplished, he proceeds to chuck the rest of the manure at targets of opportunity. Tactical airborne battle prank: 1d100+10+6 89 Edit: Whoops, apparently I can't read. Fixed. Blasphemaster fucked around with this message at 12:58 on Oct 5, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 06:40
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E:^^^^  thank you CornbreadJust take one look at Gawp's sweet, darling face and tell him that he doesn't deserve to live. Just try:  You can't. You just can't. Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 14:04 on Oct 5, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 06:56
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 Name: Hob HP: 3 Glory: 6>7 Skill: bee keeping Hob holds his pose for a moment longer, but everyone was already doing things. The door was already bashed down, people had already started moving explosives to threaten the town. His suggestions came a little late to do anything more than sun up what others had already started or finished. Shrugging and grabbing his spear, he headed into the shed and grabbed an explosive, carrying it carefully away en route to... Threaten the town with explosives!: 1d100+6 65
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Oct 5, 2017 07:57
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 HP:3 Glory:6 Bluffing would do no further good here, so it was time for an outright lie to motivate the townsfolk and herd them away. "Wait a minute! That Ogre! It's moving! Stick ogres don't move! Stick ogres don't move! Everyone out of the town, we'll crush them in the open field!" Lying to Redirect the Mob: 95!.
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Oct 5, 2017 08:34
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Sax Battler posted:
 Bully Skills: Oratory (on cooldown), Climbing HP:3 Glory: 6 Bully, from his vantage point atop the soapbox, has an idea. If he can get on a rooftop, then the extra vision will allow the Unexpectables in town to more effectively respond to any counterattacks. He attempts to steer the mob (or at least Gloff) towards a tall (and preferably defensible-looking) building and starts scaling it from the outside. There is not a moment to lose! Time to Climb!: 1d100+16=106 Yvonmukluk fucked around with this message at 11:05 on Oct 7, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 11:54
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 Gloff  Bully
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Oct 5, 2017 12:46
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Prince of Space posted:
It's...it's beautiful.
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Oct 5, 2017 13:01
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Prince of Space posted:
o/~ You raise me up so I can talk to miners You raise me up to enlist a cöterie I am Tö-er when I am on your shoulders You raise me up to great oratory o/~ 
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Oct 5, 2017 13:22
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  Spleen the Volatile Skill: 'Splosions HP: 2/3 Glory: 5 Well this is a fine pickle, who pays people to watch inanimate objects? Now this plan requires some very careful planning, a distraction, Spleen considered with their new recruit picking one of them to play dead, whilst they clung to the dark ceiling and then dropping down on them when they rush in to investigate. Then locking them into the cells and stealing their keys we'll have a run of this prison, all that remains is to raid the confiscated property for anything of use to supply the horde and then- "URRRAAAAAAAAGHGHGHGHHHGGHHHGGH!" Or that could happen instead, well, guess that's the plan now. Assisting in literally breaking out of jail, 1d100+5 = 24 TheNabster fucked around with this message at 13:31 on Oct 5, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 13:25
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 Pythag HP: (3) of (3) Skill: Math (cooldown) Equipment: Shield Glory: 6 -> 5 Pythag quickly saw the writing on the wall... er, drawings on the boards, er... eyes on the face of Gawp looking coolly over the mooks and directing them. "Sir, reporting for duty, sir." Despite the limp from the fall, Pythag approached the four-eyed leader. The initial coordination attempts for this foray into the mining town had been largely disorganized and now their forces were split. "You look like you have a good eye for, er.. four eyes for, urm. I'm making you my squad leader, Gawp." Give 1 Glory to Gawp (if allowed). "So, where do you want me? I'd prefer not to handle explosives until I'm healed up." Barbed Tongues fucked around with this message at 14:35 on Oct 5, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 13:42
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 Skills: Spreading Disease [CD] HP: 3/3 Glory: 1 Grumbus picked at a scab as he wondered what to do next. He'd already done what he could here; if the mob weren't already infected, they weren't gonna be.Maybe he'd go check out the mines. There could be infectious cave fungus down there! Or cool deep dwelling parasites! If nothing else, he could see what this whole 'Miner's Cough' thing was all about. And ore Grimper would like, he guessed. Grumpus doubled over to throw up, ducking his way out of the coming kerfuffle in the process. Once he was clear, Grumbus began to drag himself to the mines. On the way, he made a stop at a conveniently vacant bar and took a bottle of cheap rotgut. He gargled some to keep his breath in check and dabbed a little behind his ears and under his arms for good measure. It was important to be at just the right level of wretchedness. In Grumbus's experience, being Too Wretched was trouble. Being Too Wretched was how he got into this mess in the first place. With just the right amount, though, most everyone was happy to ignore him. Search the Mine: 1d100+1 = 49! paper bag with a face fucked around with this message at 14:03 on Oct 5, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 13:51
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 Name: Gigs Skill: Unflappability HP: 3 Glory: 6 Strategy: Murder the Mayor Gigs considers the chaos raging around him: the mob, the misdirection, the mayhem, the mayor. He considers the body of Graxon, who died as he'd lived: thoroughly boned. He considers the possibility he could've slept in this morning. "Hmm..." Nothing for it. When all hope is lost, kill someone important. Leaning down, Gigs gingerly plucks Graxon's head from his shoulders. He tosses it to himself, unperturbed by the stares. They were never really close, and yet - in the day or so Gigs had come to know him - he had a hunch this was what his comrade would've wanted. Taking careful aim, he chucks the head like a shot put speeding toward the mayor (1d100+6 = 50). Gigs' mother had always told him he needed to get ahead in life. Bad Seafood fucked around with this message at 14:09 on Oct 5, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 14:05
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Fixed my last post which I don't remember posting at all. I blame the all anti-death drugs my doctor is cramming into me. 
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Oct 5, 2017 14:20
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^^^Thank you, Blasphemaster!  Here are the current team tallies: Mountainside [22 Soldiers]
Other notes: CourValant/Bamboo, you forgot to post your roll for your plan to Kill the Mayor. Barbed Tongues/Pythag, there was an error in your favor and you actually weren't injured! Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 00:05 on Oct 6, 2017 |
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Oct 5, 2017 14:25
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 Sucy HP: 3 Glory: 6 Skill: Mushrooms Having made her way into the town, Sucy decided that the best place to be in relation to a mob was a good way away from it. Instinct and experience in mushroom gathering led her straight into the mines, which lay empty, ready to be pilfered, maybe they would yield something good? If she was lucky she might even find a rare three headed flat cap, whose spores could incapacitate an entire group of people. Loot the mines: 1d100+16: 83
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Oct 5, 2017 14:36
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Prince of Space posted:
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Oct 5, 2017 14:36
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 Flipit Skill: Tinker [on cool down] HP: 3 Glory: 4 It had been easy to slip into town. Flipit had been doing it all his life. A Tinker never stays long in one spot. No-one needs their skills for more than a few days, and all are as pleased to see the back of one as they are to see them approach. It had been a simple matter of asking if there were any opportunities for a job. There weren't, which was a shame, but not surprising either. In any case, suspicion was allayed, and the cool uncaring expression that he had watched pass over many a face, many times before, passed over the faces of those around him as he gathered with the infiltration group. In his old life, Flipit would stay a night in the inn, and move on the next day. Possibly, he would find some small, broken curiosity, which he would buy, repair, and sell to the children in the next town. He would also take any letters or packages that needed to be couriered, for a small fee. When he did this, he would ask for the sender to make a stamp or mark in his book, to prove where they came from. He would ask for the same from those he delivered to. One day he came to the village of Lintel, and though he had noticed the small mass of degenerates and the imposing presence of Grimper looming nearby, it hadn't occurred to him that he should worry about being recruited into the army. This war was Flipit's first, and he hadn't realized how easy it could happen. As it turned out, the townsfolk of Lintel decided that none of them particularly wanted to send their sons and daughters to be slaughtered, dead queen or no dead queen. Flipit's arrival was seen as an opportunity. His book was taken and burned and his pack and tools were stolen so that he couldn't prove that he was an outsider, and the elders of the town presented him, bound and gagged, to Grimper, who accepted him readily enough and moved off to the next town. So here he was, danger all around him. A great part of him wanted to sit here in the midst of these people and quietly wait for the danger to pass. To hope that they won't connect him to the rest of the army, and either slip out of town and return to his old life, or return to the army, depending on how things go down. But he knew that Grimper and Magda would see, would know, and almost certainly destroy him. Flipit had no doubt about that. And so, he stood. He moved. He could hardly believe what he was doing, but somehow he found himself following Dummy, Gigs, and Qwäg to the Mayor's offices to help Kill the Mayor. Kill the Mayor: 1d100+4 35
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Oct 5, 2017 17:13
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Prince of Space posted:Other notes: Hey Space, thanks for the note! Your recaps are awesome, makes it much easier to follow the action. I updated my original post this round to include the roll; it was a good one!  Action: Kill. The. Mayor!: 1d100+7 102 [1d100=95] 
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Oct 5, 2017 19:08
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  HP: 3 Glory:5->6 Biggo saw a lot of chaos all around him. Biggo also failed to care, as he had gotten involved in a double armwrestling competition with two miners at the same time! They felt this was the fairest way to balance things, as allowing Biggo to punch was just too much advantage for him. Still, it couldn't all be fun and games. So Biggo tried to act as a responsible member of the horde and directed the armwrestlers and onlookers in a completely random direction away from the general fighting, in theory in order to get a better focus on this intense, intense armwrestling action. In practice, this was also the reason, Biggo had gotten really into this competition. But in theoretical practice it was meant to divert some portion of the miners and fighters away from the squishier members of the group. So that's what Biggo would go with when asked about it later, provided anyone even remembered he was there. Divertive Armwrestling:: 1d100+6= 68 Armwrestling two people at the same time while also trying to move away from an ongoing mob turned out pretty tricky... (Technically a small scale add-on to Redirect the Mob)
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Oct 5, 2017 20:20
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Name: Klörf Skill: Starting fires HP: 3 Glory: 6->7 Covertly discussing how to proceed next was out of the question what with a mob gathering in the city's streets. Luckily there wasn't any need to do so anyway; a plan had grown organically among the horde's infiltrators. One half of the group was going to attempt to redirect the mob, while the other half would sneak of to go looting or to murder the city's leadership. Klörf considered which team to join; a decision that did not take him very long to make. His pudgy little frame wasn't made for fighting, and those wet noodles taped to the side of his rotund shape had little capacity for carrying ores, ingots or tools. Redirection it was, then. He saw how Shiny tried to get the mob to charge the stick figures erected outside of the city borders. For a moment he considered if he could do the opposite and get most of the mob to flee away from them instead? Redirecting the mob was good, but dispersing it entirely was even better. "Aaahhh!", he yelled loudly while running away in a panic. "It's orcs! Orcs! Will kill us!". Hopefully that would assist in causing panic to break out. Failing that, confusion was a good alternative outcome. Redirecting the mob, 1d100+6=66
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Oct 5, 2017 20:28
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 Name: Neebs Skill(s): Sales (on cooldown) HP: 3 (likely about to be 0) Glory: 5 -> 6 This was ridiculous. The Mayor of the town had called the attack alarm and her horde-mates were directing the population to go attack the small contingent they'd left outside to build stick ogres? They'd be overwhelmed! Grimper would surely admonish everyone for all of this faffing about... Neebs yelled the following at any Töan within earshot: "We've been found out! To arms Unexpectables!" Attack the unruly mob with as many fellow Töans as can be mustered: 1d100+5 35
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Oct 5, 2017 23:12
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 HP: 3 Glory: 2 Flitter smiled. Finally, she would get to show her greatness! Mason had... masoned... the door, so Flitter hurried to grab a few barrels of explosives, climb up on the roof and held one of them high. CITIZENS OF.. Flitter forgot the name of the place, but that was fine, they were, litterally, beneath him. THIS PLACE! REJOICE! YOU HAVE BEEN FREED BY THE MIGHT OF THE GREATEST ARMY TO EVER WALK THE EARTH. THE! TOOOOAAAAAANS! REJOICE IN YOUR LIBERATION OR FACE OR EXPLOSIVE MIIIGH! She threw the barrel she'd been holding for empahsis, hoping it would explode INTIMIDATION: 1d100+2 19
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Oct 5, 2017 23:17
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 Name: Patsy Skill: Baking HP: 3 Glory: 7 Patsy had been bitten by flies, stung by other flies, and tripped over a rock. This was not one of his favorite days. After who knows how long with the horde, he finally snapped a little and just started screaming, wailing, wallering, and every other synonym he could think of "Threaten" the town (he might come across as threatening, anyway): 1d100+7 = 65
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Oct 5, 2017 23:20
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Name: Gawp HP: 3 Skill: Perception (cooling) Equipment: Sharp Stick (+0) Glory: 8 -> 9 (Pythag gift) Fyndberg Mountain Range, part 2: Gawp stood by the entrance to the supply shed, absentmindedly nodding with critical approval as another pair of mooks slowly shuffled out the broken doorway bearing a load of explosive materiel between them. Gawp reeled at the amount of dynamite and blasting powder he was seeing here. How many of these crates had they brought down by now, and how much "boom" was there per box? Gawp was silently counting to himself, mouthing out his numbers, when a familiar figure limped in Gawp's direction. One look into the Töan's staggeringly-mellow face and Gawp was immediately relieved. Pythag~! He had gotten separated from the mountaineering team when that snow-covered cliffside collapsed. He saw the way Pythag was leaning on his spear like a crutch. Gawp had seen the Töan's fall - both Agile the Acrobat and Ringo were similarly wounded in the same mishap - Gawp had seen it all with his own four eyes. He was surprised the others could walk and climb at all, given how far they'd tumbled into those snowy depths... Pythag posted:"Sir, reporting for duty, sir." Gawp simply stared at the other Töan, incredulous. "S-Sir?" he stammered, unfazed by the errant eye comment. "I don't know anything about 'Sirs,' sir, I'm just trying to make it out of this alive!" Gawp's eyes snapped to a spot over Pythag's shoulder. He bellowed, "Watch out for that patch of ice!" at the two mooks as they engaged in a murderously tense moment of slip-n-slide before they righted themselves. "Ingrates... Anyway-" "You bring up a good point Pythag, really. If you can't trust yourself to carry the explosives down with the others then we could use some help in other areas... how good are you at throwing?" Pythag raised an eyebrow. "Nevermind-" Gawp shot out, as the fiery glint of chaos departed from his eyes. "We're going to threaten the town with their own explosives, but I don't know how much of the blasted blasting stuff we have." "Pythag, friend, I need you to count the crates, count the sticks of stuff inside (carefully!), and count the barrels of powder we've got, and from those numbers you can give us an idea of just how much of this town we can blow to smithereens." "Use your math to help us threaten the town with pinpoint accuracy." Gawp didn't tell Pythag how important this number would be for the future of General Grimper's campaign. Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 02:47 on Oct 18, 2017 |
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Oct 6, 2017 03:15
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Pythag HP: (3) of (3) Skill: Math (cooldown) Equipment: Shield Glory: 5 - > 6 Prince of Space posted:"Use your math to help us threaten the town with pinpoint accuracy." Pythag blanched. He'd used up his skillcore on the climb, but he should remember most of his formulas. And bonus, looks like the crutch had generated some sympathy. "Sir, yes, sir." Action: Threaten the town - 1d100 + 5 (Glory) = 88 Tallying each bit the others took, Pythag soon had a written (scratch-marked) accounting of the explosive inventory, presenting the list to his forced upon squad leader before joining the mooks in their march toward war. Barbed Tongues fucked around with this message at 03:57 on Oct 6, 2017 |
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Oct 6, 2017 03:46
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Meanwhile a madman is raining down diarrhea grenades and hurling turds at random townsfolk because CORNBREAD that's why.
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Oct 6, 2017 03:47
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Blasphemaster posted:Meanwhile a madman is raining down diarrhea grenades and hurling turds at random townsfolk because CORNBREAD that's why. Someday I will successfully scrounge up cornmeal for that magnificent bastard.
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Oct 6, 2017 04:29
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The Goofball's Gambit: 'Witness me, Grimper.'
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Oct 6, 2017 13:17
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Prince of Space posted:The Goofball's Gambit:  You are a champion among posters, Prince.
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Oct 6, 2017 14:48
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Prince of Space posted:The Goofball's Gambit: I said this in the Discord, but holy poo poo thank you so much for this.
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Oct 6, 2017 14:56
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