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      Name: Neebs Skill(s): Sales (+15), Drinking (+10) (on cooldown) HP: 3/3 Glory: 0 + 1 posting glory => 1 Head to Noostra ooc: Maybe I'm just heartless, but...it's a game, we're each one Töan/Fröan in an army. People made the decision to hoard glory...and people made the decision to head to the OG vault. Let them die. Let them re-roll. I like the flavor it adds to the OGs. However, I fully recognize I'm choosing to play the game a certain way. I don't care about my character, I care about the horde as a whole. I've spent a good chunk of my glory on rituals, because rituals have an out-size impact on the horde as a whole. I've spent a good portion of downtimes trying to heal the horde. It's obvious most people don't care about the horde as a whole because for the most part they're not trying to roll healing during down-times. Instead it's a bunch of greedy dudes saying "gimme" and "I want that" and "I want to be great." People playing that way are already rewarded by hoarding glory and getting items and being more likely to in a one on one, my roll vs theirs, they are more likely to win. There should be a commensurate risk. Why should I continue playing as a helpful character if people who hoard glory don't have to risk it? Why shouldn't I join the rat-race of people whose rolls are 1d100+25, get invested in my character, and then complain when something bad happens to my character? I thought this was supposed to be a "horde" game. Am I playing it wrong? If we want to talk about things being unfair: the game is already unfair. Why should a Wendigo rolling 1d500 be placed on the same pedestal as other people rolling 1d100 when it comes time to describe "who contributed the most"? There's a very low chance of beating a Wendigo one on one. Should I now feel jealous of the Wendigo characters because they're consistently the "highest rolls"? There's been at least one round where I should have been the highest roll, but a Wendigo took the spotlight. As a player, how should I feel about that? Should I get upset or should I just accept that these are the rules of this particular world, and deal with it? Some people roll 1d100. Some people roll 1d500. Some people roll 1d5000. Some people who hoard glory roll 1d100+25. We were told that glory was a risk to hold onto...so the justification of "the horde is worse off because we lost all that glory" just completely falls flat for me. Why else would Gado as a player choose to become a monster? He saw that Wendigo'ism lead to *winning*. People saw the OG Vault and I'm sure they also saw an opportunity for *winning*. Give me all of the loot my greedy little hands can hold on to, they said...look at the loot that people pulled out of the OG Vault, they said. Surely *nothing* can go wrong by sitting in a thing titled The Vile Mechanism that was made by people who cut off limbs as a hello. Should we roll-back the punishment of Gado and let him become branded? Or because Gado had knowledge of the likely consequences its' different somehow?
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Dec 20, 2017 15:23
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     Name: Gryph HP: 3 Glory: 9 Skill: Medicine (15), Wrestling (10) Gryph started as Noggins threw the flatpack to him. He hadn't heard the new captain approach, so intent was he on Gado's health. The eyepatched heroine seemed lost in thought, and quickly left, no doubt to carry on her captainly duties. She hadn't visited the wounded tent before, as she had never been injured, and Gryph wondered if seeing the toll their recent fights had taken were a stark, nasty wake up call to Noggins, who's considerable personal success had landed her a well-deserved captaincy. Maybe leading Tö herself had made her wonder about the cost of command. Or maybe something else was bothering her. She had been close to Hob before his Wendigoism, and by all accounts was one of the first to accept the Neötypes. Hob himself had proven to be completely lucid, still very much himself despite his new appearance. But even now, another was struggling with what could be a very dangerous change for him. As Zapanda gave Gado the serum, Gryph eyes stayed on her,watching for any sign that she was telling them less than they needed,or lying to them... But soon it was time for the ritual. As Gryph felt the nail pierce his shoulder, he wondered how many rituals were possible. Could Grimper sustain the entire Horde off multiple nails? Only time would tell. And then Grimper killed twenty people. Gryph watched in horror as the Nailbound rose. This was beyond Wendigos, well beyond the war and fighting. This was the erasing of 20 minds, twenty Frö simply... gone. Gryph resisted the urge to vomit then and there, tamping down on his rising gullet. Killing a man trying to kill you, using Branded, if willing, Wendigos as troops and subjugating a conquered town were actions of war, but there were some things that Gryph could not condone. And Grimper would soon cross that threshold again. Naked anger burned in Gryph's eyes as he watched the Warlord.preen clearly enjoying... that. Never mind that it were his own troops, Grimper cared only about what he saw as the power to create his own salvation. They were all interchangeable in his eyes, stepping stones on Grimpers personal path. Gryph didn't like being stepped on. But there were more important things to take care of. And one of them was Noggins. As Gryph followed her out of the Vault, carrying Hob's Lament to the training yard, he could see the strain that seeing it all had left on the captain. She planted a Stick Ogre and Gryph paused. Then Nailbreaker came up and flashed down. A scream tore the air and the ogre exploded, before Noggins flopped to the ground. The Lord of Hats posted:"What now?" Gryph considered the question, rhetorical as it was. And answered. "You lead us. The same way you've been doing since Föstis. Grimper gave you that captaincy because you impressed him. But people joined your Order because they believed in you, Nog. You've never shirked a duty or run from a fight. You've never led from anywhere but the front. And you've never considered your personal successes as separate from the Horde. That dedication doesn't come from training or a ritual, it comes from you. And The Horde responds to it." "Look, Grimper's cored. He'll do anything for more power, and if that means sacrificing everything for his own gain, that's what he'd do in a heartbeat. I don't even know if he'd spare Magda if it gave him a chance at what he wanted. But you care. You've been tallying the dead, writing signs, making sure they're remembered. That's the work of a leader, someone who might, just might, get us where we need to go, and more importantly might get us there alive." Gryph unstrapped the Arrow Flatpack given to him by Noggins and put it on the ground next to her. "I'm no soldier. I'm a medic. I don't care who wins this war. I just want to get home, preferably without losing everyone else on the way. But if that's going to happen, I need someone to lead me. Someone who cares about what happens to the Horde, someone who's not willing to let the dead go unremembered. Grimper's not going to do it, Snödis is power-tripping, and Trinh is feeding that. I got nothing against the Neötypes, but when the war ends, and it will, there's no happy ending there. We need someone who isn't just concerned for the heavy hitters. So you're it, Nog, until you die or quit." "Gado's infected, and I don't know what he's planning. Maybe he's just gonna run away from camp and take his chances. Maybe he'll inject the syringe Zapanda gave him and be fine. Or maybe he'll panic and Zapanda played us, turning him faster and harder in the middle of the camp. If that happens, someone will have to put him down. I'm not asking you to do it. But if I'm not fast or strong enough or something goes wrong, I could really use your hammer." Voting for Noostra Torchlighter fucked around with this message at 08:30 on Dec 21, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 15:24
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Dog Kisser posted:Not properly fixing things until I'm at the office (on job site currently), but this is what I settled on. Gränï can still be D.E.D dead. I like rerolling dead gobbos. This way the mechanisms still get seen as deadly, too, and the others lucky to survive with their hideous injuries
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Dec 20, 2017 15:48
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Dog Kisser posted:Not properly fixing things until I'm at the office (on job site currently), but this is what I settled on. My two cents (so feel free to ignore, but you did ask for opinions) - that's pretty fair except I feel like it should really be Lose Primary Skillcore/Drop to 1/2 HP OR Keep Primary Skillcore/Drop to 1/1 HP. Otherwise, Horde members who are happy to ditch their core skillcore almost seem like they're getting rewarded, and are a quick Mushbruwm/round of healing away from no lasting effects. I like Mimicry, but I also have run out of room for more skillcores - what's to stop me from hopping in a chair and rolling the dice? I either turn into a Super Soldier or take some healable damage and have an open skillcore slot.
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Dec 20, 2017 15:52
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Task Manager posted:My two cents (so feel free to ignore, but you did ask for opinions) - that's pretty fair except I feel like it should really be Lose Primary Skillcore/Drop to 1/2 HP OR Keep Primary Skillcore/Drop to 1/1 HP. I do like this suggestion.
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Dec 20, 2017 15:55
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Half-wit posted:A variety of excellent points This is an unequal game, absolutely, and this is a game about teamwork and sacrifice that doesn't particularly incentivize either. Some people will take advantage of that, and some people will come together and work as a team. I like that some people are greedy, and some people are fools, and some people are selfless, and I hope you all look at things through that framework too. There's no individual winners in the game, and people who are TRYING to win should chill out about it a bit. Gado's case in particular I'm fine with because he's always been single-mindedly rabid about digging, so a chance to become the BEST digger would seem more tempting than it would to a... sane Töan. And also it backfired for him anyhow! I do prefer when metagaming is kept to a minimum, but I'm also not completely opposed to it as long as it's supported narratively. And I also think there's not always a lot of recognition of 'support' characters, and I'll need to keep a better eye on that, because supports like Neebs and Hat and Sucy have really strongly flavored the type of Horde the Unexpectables are and allowed for novel strategies because of it. I'm rambling a bit now, but that's my Tö cents
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Dec 20, 2017 15:59
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HiHo ChiRho posted:I do like this suggestion. Yeah, that's what I had it at originally for approximately the reasons stated. I think I'm overcorrecting! I'll make the change to that, I think.
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Dec 20, 2017 16:01
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     Pythag HP: (3) of (3) Skills: * Math (available) * Headshotting (available) * Fearlessness (available) Equipment: * Armor (+5) * Iron Shield * Mask * Bowharp * Arrow Flatpack Cosmetics * Nail and Fist Token Glory: 5>6 Ritual Glory: 0 Pythag follows his Captain's lead, arguing for the trip to Oxnyard for the Horde Vote. A side trip is next on his agenda, a walk taking him toward the newly minted Infiltration squad. "I think this Mask will serve your group better than the Order. Be careful in affixing it too much to a single person - I suspect it does more than make you look like an enemy. I think it starts to change you completely. And if your Squad would conisder tossing some glory toward Captain Noggins in trade for it, that would be more than fair. Either way, though, it's yours." Giving the Mask to Splut / the Infiltration Squad.
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Dec 20, 2017 16:48
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Feel free to kill Gloff off. Kind of feel like rolling up somebody new, and never got too attached to him.
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Dec 20, 2017 17:01
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Dog Kisser posted:but that's my Tö cents Ughhhhh
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Dec 20, 2017 17:07
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Sax Battler posted:Feel free to kill Gloff off. Also an option! I can totally kill your dudes off here if you want. Consider Gloff owned. edit: Updated last update with the changed rules. Important section quoted here: quote:(Well! Ringo - again - pulls it out. As you probably noticed, the object was to get the lowest roll. The position at the table didn’t matter a whit except for the art, and you each had an equal chance at it. Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 17:37 on Dec 20, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 17:09
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     Skill: Sleuthing +20 (using), Watching (used). HP: 2/3 ----> 3/3 Glory: 6 ----> 7 Humbug had arrived just in time to see the spectacle, carrying two bottles of Sucy's new brew in one hand. He'd intended to speak more with Bamboo, and check if Doc had dared to take him on his challenge, but... the Sleuth hummed out a sigh. Doc was nowhere to be seen (perhaps wisely, although not very bravely), and Bamboo had gambled on a magic Oh Gee artifact to enable her vengeance, which... had not worked out. At least Gado had some hope remaining, if Zapanda's work could be trusted. Humbug had laughed at the young man when he'd offered to give back Glory for the favor - as if that was the currency Humbug traded in. No, if Gado survived, he'd cash in some other time, some other way. Besides, so far it didn't seem as if there was a surefire way to cure him - merely a delay, at best. So hope rested on Grimper getting better in the time the new serum bought. Looking at the mess in front of him, the detective took his hat off his head in a show of respect for the brave, and foolish, Tö who'd stuck their arms onto a Vile Mechanism - and respect for the insane maniac who'd managed to win it big. He held it solemnly in front of his chest while Grimper bragged about the newest addition to the Horde. When the Warlord began to walk away the Sleuth sidled up to Ringo, hat placed gingerly back on his head. "You look like you could use a drink, friend. Have some Mushbrëwm - Sucy's made it, with a little help from Neebs and others. First one's free, as they say," he said, shoving one of the bottles at Ringo He gave Ringo a sidelong look as he finished the drink, trying to make sense of the new-made Tö's expression while felt the warmth spread from his belly. "No need to look glum, chum - you all knew you were in for double, trouble or nothing, and well... look at you, at least! Topknot's back on. You've gained about a yea foot in height.... how does it feel to be reborn, Ringo? Also, what in the name of Tö is your lucky charm? No, wait, don't tell, or Splut will be selling fakes by the cartload," he joked, patting the larger Tö on the back. Humour would help, he hoped - it was a good coping mechanism to deal with the fact that nine Tö had been wrung all but dry to supercharge this new super-tö into being. No different, apparently, from how Warlords were made, reflected Humbug. Those advanced skillcores had to come from somewhere, didn't they? Idly, he thought back to the few cases of unexplained, and unexplainable, disappearances and murders in the capitol - the cases that the Watch had never seemed interested or willing to do anything about, even when the victims were prominent, powerful, strong individuals of influence. Every now and again lazyness, corruption or inexcusable incompetence conspired to get in the way, without any kind of accountability, it seemed. Humbug had had strong opinions on the matter, he'd wanted to take on such cases himself - but he'd been met with an iron wall of denial from Watch Captain Badbrass. He'd do what he'd been told - deal with 'better' cases, walk his drat patrols - or else he could take off his shiny-rear end badge and leave. So, one day, Humbug had. He quit the job, the only thing he felt good at, because, dammit, he'd grown a skillcore to find answers, not get blown hot air at. He'd expected more of a backlash, but Watch Captain Badbrass had, to his surprise, just lit one of his drat cigars, grinning as if he'd just won a big prize, and then kicked Humbug out the door in a near-celebratory mood. At the time, the detective had put it down to the Captain being an avowed and admitted rear end, someone who'd happily serve him his just desserts for rocking the boat. Now... now he was wondering if the man hadn't just been happy to be stood up, for once, for all the Right reasons. "Hmm. Thinking I drank this too fast," he said vistfully, staring at the empty bottle and wondering how many other hints and cues he might, in his blind ignorance, have missed. ------------------------------------ Buzzed and brave, the detective sauntered to the front of the crowd during the vote. "Skelivanch, Warlord. Its farms are said to feed the region, making it easy for us to restock on much-needed supplies there, and deny the enemy theirs. We might even be able to Recruit the Mayor, putting two of the local settlements under our thumb - which will be useful for the siege. The enemy will have to resecure them both, meaning they might split their forces, or leave us with a fallback position. If we're lucky, they'll see us as so much of a thorn in their side that they'll draw additional defenders from the Gateway itself in order to stop us messing up the local supply chain, weakening their overall defense." He paused, hesitated for a moment, then damned the törps. If they did not care, if Doc did not care, what did he care? He might as well put them face to face with the ugly truth. He'd gathered his materials, his case, and his witnesses, willing or not. CSI Humbug posted:Victim: "Of course, before we set off anywhere, I'd like to announce that Doc the Surgeon was behind Cornbread the poo poo-Chucker's death." He didn't let anyone get a word in edgewise. Simple words, a simple explanation, would suffice. Those who wanted, could challenge him afterwards. He'd meet them head on, with facts and confidence. "She killed him, and she had motive. It's well known Doc wanted Graxon's bonegineering core. Foiled after Graxon's death by Cornbread snatching it right in front of her - with hardly ANY surgical finesse - she probably began to resent the poo poo-Chucker. There's no denying that core would have done far more good in her hands, than his. Likely, this resentment eventually festered into a sad, and sadly typical, reaction - skillcore envy. Between the Oh Gee Vault being cracked and the battle about to begin, where Tö would die or go missing, Doc must have imagined she had the perfect opportunity to go under your radar, Warlord. She brought the poo poo-Chucker to one of Fostis' side-alleys, likely under false, doctoral pretense. Though I doubt her intent was murder - we'd been lectured about the nature of Skillcores, after all, and had just been Nailed with advanced surgical know-how on their extraction - she dearly wanted that core, and she would take it by force if she had to." Humbug's gaze hardened. "Which she did. Cornbread showed heavy signs of surgery and likely, and unintentionally, died of traumatic skillcore withdrawal, but not before having given Doc that lovely shiner she sports. Doc, not knowing what else to do now that her unwilling patient was dead, de-boned him, turned him into spears, which she used during the battle. Carrying the evidence of her misdeed with her might not have been the brightest thing she's ever done, but to be fair, it's looking a lot like I'm the only one who even bothered to question why she showed up carrying those, all bloodied up, or why the Tö that supposedly could make them lay dead and de-boned inside town, not out in the battlefield. Regardless, unless you all doubt me, the real question is..." He turned, eyeing the crowd, Magda and the Warlord... and the murderer herself. "What do we do about Doc when we so sorely need her healing expertise?" ----------------- Drink Mushbrëwm 1d4 4  Damning details on Doc: Making a case 1d100+27+5 (Brewm) +1 (snacks) 68 forgot the +20 skillcore bonus in the roll With continued apologies to Kyyp for making his choices have consequence. (I'm sorry man! You did a murder! My skillcore is literally made of 'catches a murderers'. Maybe you can roll some dice to try and make it all better?)
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Dec 20, 2017 18:08
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HOW THE GRIMP STOLE FRÖSTMAS Every Frö Down in Fostis Liked Fröstmas a lot... But Grimper the Breaker, the Töan, Did NOT! The Grimp hated Fröstmas! The whole Fröstmas season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be the recent death of his Queen; It could be, perhaps, that he was simply too mean. But I think that the most likely reason of all, May have been that his lattice was simply too small. Whatever the reason, His cores or his toes, He stood there on Fröstmas Eve, hating the Frös, Staring down from his barstool with a sour, Grimpy frown, At the warm lighted windows out there in their town. For he knew every Frö down in Fostis beneath, Was busy now, hanging a mistlefrö wreath. "And they're hanging their stockings!" he snarled with a sneer, "Tomorrow is Fröstmas! It's practically here!" Then he growled, with his Grimp fingers nervously drumming, "I MUST find some way to stop Fröstmas from coming!" For Tomorrow, he knew, all the Frö girls and boys, Would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their toys! And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise! That's one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! Then the Frös, young and old, would sit down to a feast. And they'd feast! And they'd feast! And they'd FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! They would feast on Frö-pudding, and rare Frö-roast slink. Which was something the Grimp couldn't stand from the stink! And THEN They'd do something He liked least of all! Every Frö down in Fostis, the tall and the small, Would stand close together, with Fröstmas bells ringing. They'd stand hand-in-hand. And the Frös would start singing! They'd sing! And they'd sing! And they'd SING! SING! SING! SING! And the more the Grimp thought of this Fröstmas 'n Sing, The more the Grimp thought, "I must stop this whole thing!" "Why, for seventeen days I've put up with it now!" "I MUST stop this Fröstmas from coming! But HOW?" Then he got an idea! An awful idea! THE GRIMP GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA! "I know just what to do!" The Grimp laughed in his throat. And he made a fake Agenou ‘stache and a coat. And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a great Grimpy trick!" "With this moustache and coat, I look just like that Prick!" "All I need is a reindöe..." The Grimp looked around. But, since reindöe are scarce, there was none to be found. Did that stop the old Grimp? No! The Grimp simply said, "If I can't find a reindöe, I'll make one instead!" So he grabbed the big ram. Then he took some red thread, And he tied a big horn on the tip of its head. THEN He loaded some bags and attached some old skis, Made a ramshackle sleigh, one pushed with some ease. Then the Grimp yelled, "gently caress!" And the ram started down, Toward the homes where the Frös Lay asnooze in their town. All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air. All the Frös were all dreaming sweet dreams without care. When he came to the first little house on the square. "This is stop number one," the old Grimp-enou hissed, And he climbed to the roof, empty bags in his fist. Then he danced down the chimney. A rather tight pinch. But, if Aggy could do it, then so could the Grimp. He got stuck only once, for a moment or two. Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue. Where the little Frö stockings all hung in a row. "These stockings," he grinned, "are the first things to go!" Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant, Around the whole room, and he took every present! Bow Harps! And bicycles! Roller skates! Drums! Checkerboards! Tricycles! Mushbrooms! And plums! And he stuffed them in bags. Then the Grimp, very nimbly, Stuffed all the bags, one by one, up the chimney! Then he slunk to the icebox. He took the Frös' feast! He took the Frö-pudding! He took the roast slink! He cleaned out that icebox as quick as a flash. Why, that Grimp even took their last can of Frö-hash! Then he stuffed all the food up the chimney with glee. "And NOW!" grinned the Grimp, "I will stuff up the tree!" And the Grimp grabbed the tree, and he started to shove, When he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove. He turned around fast, and he saw a someone new Little Cindy-Bö Frö, who was not more than two. The Grimp had been caught by this tiny Frö daughter, Who'd got out of bed for a cup of cold water. She stared at the Grimp and said, "Agenou, why,” "Why are you taking our Fröstmas tree? WHY?" But, you know, that old Grimp was so smart and so slick, He thought a retort, and he thought it up quick! "Why, my sweet little tot," the fake Agenou glared, "If you were smart whatsoever you'd be rather scared." "I'm stealing it you idiot, you moronic little twit." "I'll make sure no one enjoys Fröstmas, not one single bit." And his threat frightened the child, she ran straight back to bed. She cried and she cried, pillow hiding her head. And when CindyBö Frö fell asleep after crying, HE went to the chimney and stuffed the tree up, smiling! Then the last thing he took Was the log for their fire! Then he went up the chimney, himself, the old liar. On their walls he left nothing but hooks and some wire. And the one speck of food That he left in the house, Was a crumb that was even too small for a mouse. Then He did the same thing to the other Frös' houses Leaving crumbs Much too small For the other Frös' mouses! It was quarter past dawn... All the Frös, still a-bed, All the Frös, still asnooze When he packed up his sled, Packed it up with their presents! The ribbons! The wrappings! The tags! And the tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings! Into the Vault and past all the traps, Already looted of good Old Guy scraps. "PoohPooh to the Frös!" he was Grimpishly humming. "They're finding out now that no Fröstmas is coming!" "They're just waking up! I know just what they'll do!" "Their mouths will hang open a minute or two, Then the Frös down in Fostis will all cry BooHoo!" "That's a noise," grinned the Grimp, "That I simply MUST hear!" So he paused. And the Grimp put his (other) hand to his ear. And he did hear a sound rising over the snow. It started in low. Then it started to grow. But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded merry! It couldn't be so! But it WAS merry! VERY! He stared down at Fostis! The Grimp popped his eyes! Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise! Every Frö down in Fostis, the tall and the small, Was singing! Without any presents at all! He HADN'T stopped Fröstmas from coming! IT CAME! Somehow or other, it came just the same! And the Grimp, with his grimp-feet ice-cold in the snow, Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?" "It came without ribbons! It came without tags!" "It came without skillcores, boxes or bags!" And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grimp thought of something he hadn't before! "Maybe Fröstmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store." "Maybe Fröstmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!" And what happened then? Well...in Noostra they say, That the Grimp's Glory grew three mutliples that day! And the minute his lattice didn't feel quite so frail, He whizzed through the town with a bucket o' nails, And he nailed all those suckers, stripping their wills Giving his horde all their holiday frills. 
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Dec 20, 2017 20:14
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 drat those Frö! Celebrating instead of being subjugated all the time! Well done!
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Dec 20, 2017 20:23
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Oh dang How do I gold individual people How do I gold all of you
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Dec 20, 2017 20:46
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 :5:
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Dec 20, 2017 21:18
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Sax Battler posted:Feel free to kill Gloff off. Aw, and after all the work Marra's been doing for him!
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Dec 20, 2017 21:30
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Dec 20, 2017 21:39
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I.... I think we have to vote 5 and goldmine the thread now.
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Dec 20, 2017 21:58
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vorebane posted:I.... I think we have to vote 5 and goldmine the thread now. Went
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Dec 20, 2017 22:07
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Yvonmukluk posted:Aw, and after all the work Marra's been doing for him! Tough tïttïes.
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Dec 20, 2017 22:25
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Sax Battler posted:Tough tïttïes. Oh well, free scarf!
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Dec 20, 2017 22:44
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Yvonmukluk posted:Oh well, free scarf! You're welcome.
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Dec 20, 2017 23:16
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 >     Cosmetic:  Name: Hob HP 1>2/2 Glory: 0>1 Ritual Glory : 1 Skill: Hob fell out of the chair. Everything felt Drink Sucy's Mushbrewm: 1d4 1It helped, a lot. "Thanks Sucy". He But something was wrong. He felt hollow somehow, missing something important. It wasn't the Wendigo power, the rush of madness and strength it brought. It was something else. He felt at his face and arm, the odd scars left across his body. But he had come out of the core mechanism cured, beat the odds, won the gamble! Yes, the Oh-Gee machine had said some spooky things, but there was time to think on that later. Looking up, Noggins was leaving the vault, and the others, his friends were picking themselves up. Hob's joy was short-lived, some lay still on the floor by their seat. And where was Ringo? As he gathered his things sobrely, he spied Grani's pile of things. Not able to bring himself to look at her, crumpled at the base of the chair, he reached for her flatpack. Loot flatpack: 1d100 93. He couldn't rely on Wendigo strength to protect him anymore. Voting for Oxnyard, maybe he could pick up a bee-ast of burden. Hmm, not feeling the kinship he would normally feel towards solitary bees. Something wasn't right. Hob left the vault Oh it was Ringo that got the vault's blessing and went to find Zapanda, she would know about this. It was harder to get by with the skull now. Staggering by he didn't even notice Snodis as she entered the mine. He did notice Neebs giving out more of that Mushbrewm, he rolled the skull by and helped himself to a bottle. "Thaaanks Neeeebs" uncorking it with his teeth and taking a swig. Mushbrewm II: The Quickening: 1d4 4 It tasted even better second time round! transferred to Spekz.Spying Spekz, one of the few unarmoured Töans remaining, Hob pressed his old armour into his hands. It was still decent armour. But being melded together with it, eurgh. It might be totally normal now but it didn't feel that way, to Hob at least. Better someone else get some benefit from it then. WereGoat fucked around with this message at 02:16 on Dec 24, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 23:16
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   HP:3 Glory:32 Lying Charm +25 Ritual Glory:0 Infiltrator Captain The newly-commissioned Splut looked upon the results of the Old Guy interaction, astounded by what had become of their Lockpicking specialist, and aggrieved by the losses and scarification of the remainder. Still, he had a duty to perform, and the first person he approached was Hat. "Hat, I've been made a Captain, with my squad to specialise in infiltration. I've two requests of you: Firstly, it is in part through your hard work and magnificent millinery, both in crafting quality headgear and on the front lines, that the idea for this squad looks reasonable at all. Would you do me the honour of joining it? Secondly, the hat of disguise you made when we were able to find out the existence of the escape tunnels was a masterpiece. I could think of no better apparel to mark membership in the new squad than an item that would aid in disavowing it when needed. What say you?" Next, he came by Humbug, as he gave his report on Cornbread's murder. Quietly, he murmured, just in earshot of the detective, "Most impressive, Humbug. Your deductive skills would be a major boon to the Horde's new infiltration squad, should you accede to joining. I'd like to see you win this case, regardless." Once that resolved, he sought out Ringo, what he had now become. "I'm pulling together a squad of the best infiltrators and saboteurs the Horde has to offer. Given your phenomenal record, you'd be a natural choice for it. Are you interested in the position?" Next on his list was Beco, who had proven his recruitment and conversion skills in acquiring the survivors whom he had asked Splut to take to Grimper. Approaching the coward, he asked, "I owe you thanks. I spoke with Grimper, and he granted me captaincy over an infiltration squad. It is likely that this might take you away from the front lines at times, but would you be willing to take part?" He sought Bamboo, one of those who had been scourged by the Old Guy chairs, taking the opportunity to check on the health and wellbeing of the others who had been there. "Bamboo, I realise you've been through a lot today. But I'm forming up a team of our best infiltrators, and your dedication to the Horde is unquestioned. If this is of interest to you, the offer is open." Finally, at Grimper's list of options, he spake, "Noostra. We do need to let our people know what's been happening." AJ_Impy fucked around with this message at 03:02 on Dec 21, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 23:25
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     Extra Skillcore: Fashion +25 HP: 3/3 (2 wire) Glory: 16->17 Ignomity: -6 Ritual Glory: 1 Hoarded Glory: 0 Snödis awoke the next day in a pile of flowers, the Golden Slinker Standard flag wrapped around her like a blanket. She had vague memories of her Grännï tucking her in at night, but that was probably just a dream. Her Grännï had been dead for years, just like the rest of her family. Wait, why was her hair braided? Why was she clutching a Neötype Beret like a stuffed toy, so close to her heart? Her shoulder ached, evidently having sprouted a new nail in the night. Dazed and confused, she walked around camp trying to figure out what had happened. First there was Gado. She was pretty sure the experiment had worked, but then Grimpner had intervened and refused to slave-brand him. She should be happy about that, she supposed, but all the same she knew that the army was probably not the best place for an Ascended - at least not an army that was ostensibly on her side. Then there was Hob - he was missing. Word around camp was that he had headed into the vault, but she had yet to see that gorgeous, writhing mass of bees come out. She stayed outside the mine for a time, hoping to catch glimpse of what would surely be the next-next stage in tövolution, but was dismayed when it was Ringo and not her Squadmate that had caught the Old Guys Blessing. Oh well, hopefully Hob would come out unscarred. There was no telling what that Old Guy Tech would do. -- When the time came to Startergize their next objective, Captain Snödis was quick to chime in. "Öxnyard best suits out needs, their beasts of börden, chargers and war-göats will allow us to run circles around our enemies and maneuver our siege-gear at will."
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Dec 21, 2017 07:46
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 / /          Name: Verika HP: 1/2 -> 2/2 Skills: Equipment: Fröman Cuirass (+1), Iron Shield, Arrow Flatpack, Ornate Bowharp (+2), Fostis Ale Cosmetics: Nail and Fist Token, Agenou's Cape Sash, Sharp Stick (+0) Glory: 6 -> 7 Ritual Chits: 10 -> 14 (artwork bonus) Fostis: Verika had encountered what she feared most: complete oblivion. She had died and come back from utter nothingness. Verika had never so much as blacked out before, so being completely fragmented into her basest raw particles and reconstituted piece by piece from the aether by the Old Guys' Vile Mechanism was something so completely beyond her fragile ego's understanding of the universe that she just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, cry like she hadn't since she was six years old and lost in the woods at night. Hadn't she won the game-? Hadn't she bested the Mechanism at its own puzzle? Wasn't the fourth seat supposed to be the right one? The experience had been wholly alarming, terrifying, disturbing and impossibly painful. The scars she bore lay as an open warning to the world, a testament to the cruelty of the Old Guys. She'd be painted as both the victim and the fool her entire life, and she hated it. Furthermore, she'd lost part of herself to that monster, Ringo. It had taken her Accuracy away from her, making her feel, empty, hollow... incomplete. There were memories attached to that skillcore, too, times of making snap judgments and hitting targets up close and afar. This was a breach of her identity that the Old Guys had committed that couldn't be forgiven. They had taken Accuracy from her. Curse the Old Guys and their inscrutability! How convenient for them that they don't get to be around to answer for the atrocities they cause and the abominations they create! The Old Guys may be long dead, but it didn't matter - someone would need to pay for what happened to Verika at the Vile Mechanism this day, no matter how big and powerful they were... Verika's thoughts were interrupted by Captain Noggins bringing her something to drink. Noggins posted:((Giving my share of the booze to Verika, assuming she's still alive. I think she could use a pick-me-up.))  Verika had never been happier to see something like a beer in her whole life! She swigged it down without a second thought - how refreshing! Mushbrewm Roll: 1d4 1 "Ah, that sure hit the spot!" - Verika's thirst was sated and her mood was revitalized! Verika thanked Captain Noggins profusely and asked her where she got the quality brew. She was directed to Sucy and Neebs' stand out by Magda's shop.  "You mean the first one's on the house? Great!" She didn't tell them she'd already had one just minutes before. She had a crazy kind of hangover and this seemed to be just the right cure. She uncapped the mushroom-capped cork and made sure to enjoy it this time. Mushbrewm Roll #2 (Thanks Noggins): 1d4 4 = HP: 1/2 -> 2/2 "Whoa! What's this stuff called again? Mushbrëwm? I can't believe they don't sell this stuff in stores!" Verika was astounded by the accomplishments of her fellow Unexpectables, and she basked in the warming ruddy glow the beer gave her cheek. While the booze warmed her body and her spirits, she still felt a strange kind of cold inside. She realized she'd been meandering around camp looking for something to keep her warmer when she happened to catch her eye upon the Sikatris scarf in Gloff's collection of leftover things, available for just anyone to claim. She made a try for it. Claiming a Fine Sikatris Scarf: 1d100 1 And thought twice of it. Surely, someone else was more deserving of this finely woven item: it'd only be wasted on a wretched idiot like Verika. No, wait - that's wrong! Verika decided then and there that it's worth giving this a shot, damnit! She tries for the scarf, reinvigorated. Claiming a Fine Sikatris Scarf #2 (Thanks Luck's Fickle Gaze): 1d100+6(from snacks + beer) 54 When it comes time for the Horde to vote on their next target, Verika opts to follow Noggins' wisdom. The Unexpectables needed beasts of burden and increased mobility. Verika wants to go to Öxnyard next. Besides, no one liked getting stuck on wagon-pulling duty! Lux Anima fucked around with this message at 08:44 on Dec 23, 2017 |
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Dec 21, 2017 09:45
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        Name: Stårn Additional skills: Butterfly Beastmaster, Timing +25 HP: 3 Glory: 27-> 29 (from Sucy's Glory payments) -> 30 Stårn was enthralled. It was beautiful. It was amazing. Even the news that Gloff had died and that Burnie's fate was still uncertain did not truly phase him, not when he was faced by the resplendent sieging glory that was the Önäger, prototype or no. It was his sweet siege baby. They had to give it gifts. "Grumbus", he addressed the unfathomably gross man, "You look somewhat beat up. Not good for sieging, it needs you to be your best self." "BEST. SELF." he added once more, for emphasis. "So have this mushbrëwm. Do wait for news on Burnie first, he might need it more than you, but if not? See if it'll fix you up." "Afterwards, I have a job for you. See all these empty Mushbrëwm bottles around? We'll gather those, and fill them with the most gross, corrosive sludge and gunk you can manage, and tie them together to make anti-infantry scatter rounds for our Önäger to be used against enemy formations." "The enemy can't outmaneuver you or properly fend off your assault", Stårn stated matter-of-factly, "When their frontline is wailing and clawing at their rapidly necrotizing face-meats", Stårn winked, "A good sieging trick for you to keep in mind for the future. Now lets get to it my man!" **** Later on, Stårn approached Sucy. "Enjoying the kicks?", he first said in a sort of half-hearted attempt at small talk, "You know what kicks are good for? Breaking gates, doors, small walls, enemy siege towers. That sort of thing. And mushrooms too, great for brewing poisons. Know what poisons are great for? Sieging." Stårn nodded, as if he had managed to convince himself, at least, "Yes. Yess, you are indeed a perfect and natural fit for Siege Team Six. And as it happens, we are in the need of at least one more member due to an OG related incident. A lucky day for you!" Stårn grinned, "Come on now, it'll be great.You'll get dibs on launching horrible spores of malevolent intent on enemy tropps and/or settlements, too. As well as sweet epaulettes." "Think about it!" Siege Weapons to make Gross and Very War-Crimey cluster munitions for the Önäger: 1d100+39=46 Also giving my Mushbrëwm to Grumbus for heals (though he should probably wait if Burnie needs it more) Theantero fucked around with this message at 14:06 on Dec 21, 2017 |
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Dec 21, 2017 13:38
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Barbed Tongues posted:HOW THE GRIMP STOLE FRÖSTMAS  sorry, i had to!
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Dec 21, 2017 16:42
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Ritual Glory: 1->2 Wether it was instinct or the shrill cries echoing throughout the caverns that brought Snödis down below, none could say, but in the darkness and the dust of the Vile Mechanism, forgotten by those that came and went, a little bäbï tö-girl sat alone, clad in naught but a piece of Agenou Scarf and a shoe for a hat. Snödis took pity on the thing and coed. "I know what it's like to lose your family, little one. Don't worry, the Neötype Squadron will look after you." Claiming Grännï's Neöform: 1d100 = 92 
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Dec 21, 2017 17:12
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   Name: Brumble Skills: Taking HP: 3/3 Stuff: Dance-Fighter Garb, Reedblade, Tuned Shield, Mushbrëwm, Agenou’s Cape Sash Glory: 11 Backstory: Don't need no backstory. It's just me, Brumble. Been with the horde since the beginning, ya know? Just nother conscript, I am. "If we get some faster transportation, we'll be more unexpectable than ever, right. Oxnyard's a good idea." Some hordemembers were startled by the voice, not having heard it before. They were pretty sure they'd seen the speaker before, but... "Whadda ya mean? I'ts ya old pal Brumble! Been here for ages!" Nobody was quite sure, so... Picking garb and reedblade, looting shield. Lootin: 1d100+11 = 21 Sax Battler fucked around with this message at 14:58 on Dec 27, 2017 |
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Dec 21, 2017 17:31
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Just a FYI since I don't have time for a full-fledged post right now: Snorkus will survive, keeping his Primary Skillcore and dropping to 1/1 HP. He may roll for a Skillcore once the list of what's available is posted, I don't see that up yet? Also, he will abstain from the Horde vote, on account of the player having no strong opinions one way or another. Also, does 'Slinker pox immunity' count as an imperfection removed by the machine? Can someone ask that in Discord for me, please?
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Dec 21, 2017 20:15
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Name: Stårn Additional skills: Butterfly Beastmaster, Timing +25 HP: 3 Glory: 27-> 29 (from Sucy's Glory payments) -> 30 Stårn blinked a few times as he collected bottles. Was he forgetting something? Oh. Right. "Öxnyard", he simply yelled out loud, to no-one in particular, "We need beasts to pull all our Sieging Equipment. How is this even up for a vote??" Earlier actions this round posted:Siege Weapons to make Gross and Very War-Crimey cluster munitions for the Önäger: 1d100+39=46
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Dec 21, 2017 21:21
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Okay! With both Slaan and Sax Battler having confirmed the deaths of their characters (Grännï and Gloff, respectively) at the terrible whims of the Vile Mechanism, that means that there are some items and some skillcores available for looting this round! The following items were dropped by dead hordemembers and are available to be rolled for during this round:  ,  , , ,  , , , x2The following skillcores have been dropped by dead hordmembers and are also available to be rolled for during this round: Swimming, Smithing, Spinning, and Poor Decision Making Podima posted:Also, does 'Slinker pox immunity' count as an imperfection removed by the machine? Yes, according to Dog Kisser it gets removed. Everything status-wise goes back to original stock!
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Dec 21, 2017 22:02
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Dog Kisser posted:edit: Updated last update with the changed rules. Important section quoted here: Well Bargained and Done! This will be an OOC post for bookkeeping purposes. Can I get a clarification on the rule change? It was posted twice and written differently in each case: Dog Kisser posted:[*]They take one of the two following penalties. EITHER: OR Dog Kisser posted:Pick one of these: Lose Primary Skillcore/Drop to 1/2 HP OR Keep Primary Skillcore/Drop to 1/1 HP. Alternately... you may have them succumb, and roll a new character. In either case, Bamboo will choose to lose her Primary Skillcore; so she goes to [1/3] HP or [1/2] HP; @Dog Kisser, please provide your ruling? Also, looks like Bamboo will lose her Monstersim, and, get scarred up. Badly. Poor girl just can't catch a break. Mithross posted:Pasty has a response (he's feeling a bit down, but he's really come to appreciate the importance of being part of the horde through his failures), but it's going to have to wait. No worries Forum Friend! Real Life comes first; I figured you didn't see my post last round for Bamboo to speak with Patsy, which, hey, no biggie, just thought I'd try again!  Looking forward to seeing what the Baker has to say to the
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Dec 21, 2017 22:19
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    /// Cosmetic Items: /// Name: Gabber Skill: Mimicry, Listening(+20), Night Vision HP: 3/3 Glory: 12 - > 13 Magda posted:Gabber had a question for Magda that he related through gestures and drawings. To his surprise, she replied in kind - though extremely quickly, her flabby arms flashing through gestures almost too fast to be understood. Sometimes you can force Resonating by taking a core matching one you already have attuned. The closer in Aspect, the better the chance, with identical cores almost certain. Otherwise you get sick and waste everyone's time like you're wasting my time. She punctuated the flurry by slinging a failed Nail at him, nicking his cheek and sending him scurrying away. The failed nail did its job in driving him off. Gabber turned and bounded quickly away from Magda's tent, hand reaching up to wipe away the small trickle of blood that had formed. Gabber felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he wove his way back from the wagon. He was going to be fine! Or at least he thought that's what Magda had stated back to him. He had picked up on most of it, and he knew the High Nailsmith was a woman of many talents, but she appeared to be a master of the Spatial Arts even surpassing himself! Had she attended T.R.A.M.P.S as well at some point, he wondered? Always so nice to meet someone who speaks your language... Gabber's heart beat a few beats faster as he recalled the deftness and skill with which she had shared her message, the few precise shakes of her arms expressing the idea of Resonation as clear as day...stopping cold, Gabber quickly shook his head violently from side to side. No. Nope nope nope. Desperately seeking out something, anything to clear his current train of thought, he noticed Stårn puttering around with some sort of siege weapon. Stårn! My good good friend Stårn! Half walking half running towards Stårn's position, Gabber threw himself into siegework for the next several hours. ~Later~ Wrapping up his jam session with Rik, Gabber packed away his drumset for the time being. Rik had managed to impart at least enough for Gabber to pick up on the general idea of keeping a beat, but he'd been far more focused on trying to explain the intricacies of stage diving than making him a competent musician. It'd have to do for now - maybe he could pick up things next downtime and try again? As he left the site of the Hoot at Annie, Gabber walked past Sucy and Neebs peddling more of some sort of wondrous herbal remedy. Ever since drinking Neeb's Brew his head felt right as rain, so he scrambled to pick up a free sample of their next effort. Maybe they have a mailing list I can join for updates on their wares after the war? ~Even Later~ Gabber felt elated, having been lucky enough to receive his Third Nail. He wasn't all that worried about not being able to move afterwards; he trusted the Warlord to know what was best for them, his favored Horde. However, his eyes remained peeled as the 20 others gathered received their own Nail; a Nail he wanted no part of. The glassy look in their eyes, several asking aloud who they were....it was an ugly, ugly business. The Horde needed manpower, but weren't Zapanda and her group doing well enough for them unailed? Weren't the populace of Fostis staying well enough in line while remembering who they were? To utterly forget one's self...Gabber shook his head. No, too cruel. Oh Gee cruel, he decided. And Oh Gee cruel was where he now drew the line. Their Warlord loved them - they had 3 Nails to prove it - and he had brought his Unexpectables so high from where they had once been. How could a man who loved them so, be so utterly cruel, even to deserters and enemy combatants? Just kill them and be done with it, not this. He hoped the mean streak in their Warlord did not continue, and was a temporary result of having recently had his rear end handed to him by Agenou. Without Grimper they were doomed - but were they doomed with him as well? The whole situation felt futile. As he contemplated his thoughts Humbug suddenly addressed the group, laying out his case for how their trusted surgeon had killed their trusted poop-chucker. lovely business, that. He didn't want to believe it, but Humbug's case seemed airtight. Gabber couldn't do anything to make the situation with the 20 Nailed people right, but he could do something here. Be brave. Be an example. Stepping up out of the gathered crowd, Gabber stepped in between the sleuth and the surgeon, unstrapping his shield (but leaving his sword sheathed, for now) and trying to keep the two at arms length. If what Humbug was saying was true, Doc might snap at any moment. He'd let the others talk it out and see what they believed, but he could at the least try to keep control of the situation and not let anyone come to harm undeservedly. ~Much Later~ The situation with Doc resolved (maybe), it came time to decide their next target. While he agreed with the Captain that war mounts would be quite the boon, he felt that going to Noostra was the bigger need right now. People back home needed to know what was going on out here - and maybe they could even get word to those in Command about Grimper's increasingly rash decision making. quote:Actions Task Manager fucked around with this message at 23:00 on Dec 21, 2017 |
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Dec 21, 2017 22:25
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The thing I'm most surprised about is that Sucy didn't explode from taking too many cores at once. Looks like she got close though. Also, if possible I'd like to Ask Zapanda what she knows about skill cores while we're on the road, specifically, what happens when someone uses two opposing cores at cross purposes. super sweet best pal fucked around with this message at 22:57 on Dec 21, 2017 |
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Dec 21, 2017 22:52
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CourValant posted:Can I get a clarification on the rule change? It was posted twice and written differently in each case: According to Dog Kisser's official rulings, these are your options:
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Dec 21, 2017 23:51
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Prince of Space posted:According to Dog Kisser's official rulings, these are your options: Also: *Life by Vile Mechanism: Reroll a new character, your original was "cured" of oldness and turned into a baby
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Dec 21, 2017 23:55
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Dec 22, 2017 00:02
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