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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.


B4

Name: Gabber
Skill: Mimicry
HP: 3
Glory: 0
Backstory: When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade; when life gives you extremely bad halitosis and a penchant to ramble, your parents decide to permanently sew your mouth shut and sign you up for Mime lessons. Gabber's quite a bit quieter now than in his younger years, but they always say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

After hanging back for a bit from the rest and checking out what the other conscripts were doing to get past that gate (and it had nothing to do with the fact he hadn't made any friends, thank you very much), Gabber notices one of his fellow brothers-in-arms setting up a catapult to launch a huge rock. Thinking that a very wise decision and a sure path to success and friendship, Gabber lines up next to the man, gives him a stoic nod, and begins painstakingly pulling back an invisible catapult arm, straining with all his might to lock it into place with his invisible rope. Once the deed is done he wipes the sweat from his brow, turns to his side picking up what is surely the largest invisible rock for miles around, and loads it into the arm. With an invisible axe, Gabber brings the blade swiftly down, severing the rope in one swing and sending the invisible payload towards its target.

Invisible Catapult Rock Go!: 1d100+10 65

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Sep 21, 2017 around 15:47

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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 {cooldown}
HP: 3
Glory: 1

The gate having shattered under what was clearly the combined might of earthen stone and pure imagination, Gabber bounded through the gap, taking stock of the fearsome foes Warlord Grimper had provided for them.

Unsheathing his actual stick and not the imaginary axe he had wielded earlier, Gabber gave a a mighty warshout ("Mh Mnenpctbl Hmmmd!") and swung at his foe....

Stick Attack!: 1d100+1 20

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Sep 21, 2017 around 17:20

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: 2

Having wailed on his stick ogre until his own twig snapped in two, Gabber paused to catch his breath and survey the damage he'd done. To be honest he really hadn't done much at all to his foe; the ogre somehow actually looked more fearsome now then previously, what with all the new intimidating scars covering it's still intact frame. However, as fear of his failure being discovered grew, Gabber watched as Snoggins and Gado drew the Warlord's mighty wrath. Humming to himself, Gabber slowly backed into his ogre, giving it a swift kick which knocked it to the ground. Sweet relief - he wasn't the worst!

Downtime

With the battlefield cleaned up and with the stars high in the sky, Gabber dragged himself towards his tattered and torn bedroll, flopping face first into it's itchy and filthy embrace. Far too exhausted for smalltalk, he quickly drifted off to sleep, visions of Tö soldiers marching to victory...

Strategy

Having finished up his meal and Warlord Grimper opening the floor to suggestions, Gabber quickly jumped to his feet waving his hand in the air. When it was his turn, he slammed his palms into the remains of his breakfast, smearing the reddish brown goop quickly over his face. Bringing his finger to his sewn lips to indicate quiet, he began exaggeratedly tiptoeing in place, slowly transitioning it into the unmistakeable march of those Fröan scum - back hunched, eyes crossed, Gabber began marching along while occasionally scanning the mess for invisible foes. After a few seconds of this, his hand darted behind his back, quickly yanking his breakfast spork off the table and furiously stabbing it all directions around him.

As he finishes the somewhat awkward motions, he stands back at attention, giving off a quick salute to the warlord, flinging breakfast paste on the nearest diners in the process.

{Suggestion to the Warlord: disguise ourselves as the enemy, and stealthy join their formation, surprise attacking them when the time is right.}

Edit: Disguise/Infiltrate/Surprise Attack Suggestion: 1d100+2 5565

Edit edit: Per your clarification on skills being reuasble before combat, add my skill use to give me a total of 65!

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Sep 23, 2017 around 13:45

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: 2+2(normal 1 + bonus 1) = 4

They...they'd won? Having infiltrated the enemy thanks in no small part to Hat's fine imitation Fromen hats (Mental note - high quality hats too good; Fromen spy?), the battle had been a bit of a blur. One minute he'd been bashin' a Fromen on the noggin with a sizeable branch, the next he was face down in the dirt after catching a kick from a poisoned pony. Dusting himself off and beginning to scan the salvage, Gabber thought back to his dear old mum's most often quoted words of wisdom, ones he often thought back on fondly over the years; "Gabber, would you PLEASE just sit still and keep your mouth shut for one minute?! That smell! Like...like rotten eggs mixed with pig poo poo!"

Lunging for the Sitting Quietly skillcore, he was dismayed to find he'd been beaten to it! Scrambling as the best bits were going quick, he lunged forward grasping at something, anything!

Grabbin' for the closest weapon looking thing around:
Results 1d100+4: 8 4 because I can't read and added glory.

oh Lord what did I grab

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Sep 25, 2017 around 21:44

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

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: 0 - > 1

They had arrived at Fostis, and Gabber's stomach was lurching about as if the Monsterism was trying to give him a second. Part of it probably had to do with the sulfuric smell in the air, but he knew part of it was his apprehension at pulling this whole thing off. Thoughts kept intruding into his brain no matter how many times he tried to smack them back out: *Things had gone too easy with the caravan, things were bound to screw up, it'll all be your fault Gabber*

Trying his best to avoid thoughts of impending doom, Gabber hiked his well-worn shield onto his back and began heading towards town, intending to blend in as a soldier on leave from the war, or maybe just bodyguard or caravan hand in town to restock. As he neared the town itself, he couldn't help but feel like doom was only moments away...

Blend In: 1d100+10 25



big bag of nacho cheese posted:



(If you're one of the 20 or so Töans not included in this image, it's because I hate you you'll be in the next one.)

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 {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

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.


Prince of Space posted:

The Goofball's Gambit:



'Witness me, Grimper.'

Give this Prince ALL the glory. All of it. How awesome!

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: 2 -> 3

What had happened with the caravan was flawless in comparison to the mess that had broken out in the Fostis town square. After their plot to send the angry mob towards the forces outside of town achieved only moderate success, the remaining crowd again began to encircle those dissidents who had snuck into town with the downfall of Fostis on their minds. Gabber knew he wasn't the best fighter - truth be told it'd be more accurate to call what he did flailing more than fighting, especially since he still only carried a rather large branch for a weapon - but if it came down to it he would go down swinging, and when he was down would crawl away at the soonest opportunity to wait out the rest of battle, feigning death.

From his vantage point behind the mob he didn't have that great of a view as to the events that transpired, but all of a sudden explosions began coming in from above, and a new foul odor joined the already pungent sulfuric smell that enveloped Fostis. As members of the mob began doubling over and losing their lunch on the ground, Gabber was once again thankfully that his parents had sewn his mouth shut so many years ago - if he did try to join those doubled over ralphing, it would have nowhere to go and he could continue unimpeded! His parents truly were wiser than he ever knew, to see just such an eventuality one day.

As some of his fellow plotters singled out the mayor, Gabber went among the retching mob whacking people over the head and driving his shield into those best unable to defend themselves. He was helping!

Soon enough the battle had ended, and Warlord Grimper was signaling the beginning of the orderly looting. While those who had thrown down their weapons did have a motley assortment of clubs and pick-axes, Gabber was hoping to find something with a bit more "oomph". Looking around, Gabber tried to locate the nearest guardhouse, to loot a suitable weapon of war for himself and any who wished to join in.

Find a guardhouse/loot a weapon: 1d100+2 89

EDIT: See later post for action - decided to go for a Skillcore instead.

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Oct 10, 2017 around 17:07

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.


Since no one seems keen on searching a guardhouse with Gabber, and I'd rather not go solo....


Name: Gabber
Skill: Mimicry
HP: 3
Glory: 2 -> 3

Gabber's search for the nearest guardhouse hadn't even really begun before he heard Humbug pipe up from nearby:

Scribbleykins posted:

With a sigh, the sleuth stood back up. The traumatized townsfolk would no doubt get around to disposing of the bodies eventually, so he folded up the Mayor's floppy remains and left them where he'd found them... although as he began to make his way back to camp, it did strike the Sleuth that it might be a bit of a waste to leave the skillcore behind, even if he himself did not see a use for it.

"Hey! Contortion skillcore over there, should anyone want it!" he shouted, hailing the rest of the Unexpectables and pointing them in the right direction.

Of course! Skillcores! How could he have forgotten. Seeing a few Unexpectables already beelining for the Mayor's corpse, Gabber began searching the other bodies nearby, noticing a fallen foe with extremely large ears. Maybe he had something worth taking?

Find a guardhouse/loot a weaponGrab the Listening Skillcore: 1d100+2 89

I just reused my roll for the Weapon search I made earlier - Dog, if you'd prefer I reroll just let me know, or roll for me.

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Oct 10, 2017 around 17:07

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, Listening
HP: 3
Glory: 3 -> 4 -> 1

It was close, oh so close. Forearm deep in the corpse of Big Ears (his affectionate nickname for the poor Fröman who's chest cavity he was invading), Gabber's fingertips were bumping up against something decidedly unorganic. It had to be a Skillcore, it just had to! Pausing momentarily to scan around and give a quick glare to any other Unexpectables who might have been angling in on his prize, Gabber resumed his efforts. Giving a final push and finding passage, his arm pushed past the last bit of resistance and his hand wrapped firmly around what surely had to be a Skillcore. Success!

Unceremoniously yanking it from Big Ears, he clutched the translucent orb to his own chest. A Skillcore! Hopping from one foot to the other, he could barely contain his excitement at his amazing find. He didn't care what it was, it was his! His dancing soon ended though, as he came to a sudden realization - he had no idea how to add the Skillcore to his own. Shutting one eye and giving the orb a detailed once over, there were no secret buttons or instructions; just a crystalline orb covered in various bodily fluids. He brought the orb up to his mouth tapping it against his sealed lips; rubbed it like a magic lamp from some bedtime story of his youth; he even briefly considered miming to those nearby for help, but quickly realized they'd be as likely to take it from him than help him. What to do?

Looking down at the corpse of Big Ears again, a sudden lightbulb went off in his head. Maybe...? Taking the orb, Gabber slowly brought the thing up to his right ear, gently tapping it against his lobe. A bright flash occurred (or maybe that was just in his head?), and suddenly the orb was gone, and Gabber's world became all the more defined.

The SOUNDS! He heard every *tink* *tink* of Magda's hammer clear as day even though she was nowhere close - he could even somehow tell, without knowing a thing about the Ritual of the Nail, which strikes were working to make a perfect Nail, and when an imperfect strike forever marked it as just a nail. He could hear the solid *TWACK* of Tharbad's posse slapping their iron bars on their palms. He heard every chirping bird, every whispered conversation, and it was all sooverwhelming!

As he continued adjusting to his new condition, Warlord Grimper gathered them up and began to put on his performance. Gabber stood in line with the rest, and decided to give the ritual his undivided attention...

LISTEN, LISTEN WITH ALL OUR MIGHT!: 1d100+13 95

Dog Kisser posted:

    YOU WILL NOT RESIST.

    YOU WILL ASSIST US.

    YOU WILL NOT TAKE ARMS AGAINST US.

    YOU WILL NOT ALERT OTHERS TO OUR PRESENCE.

    YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OF US TO OTHERS.

    YOU WILL CONDUCT YOUR BUSINESS AS BEFORE ASIDE FROM WHERE IT CONFLICTS WITH THE ABOVE.

    THE PENALTY OF DISOBEDIENCE IS DEATH.

    THE PENALTY OF RESISTANCE IS DEATH.

    YOU WILL REMEMBER THIS.

By the end of Grimper's glorious announcement tears streamed down Gabber's face, a mix of abject awe at the beauty of such words and the pain from his super-powered eardrums still reverberating within his skull. He knew that starting today, his life was forever changed. Swept up in a patriotic spirit seeing the Fröman citizens now so devoted to the Töan cause (and maybe just a little bit feeling the effects of Grimper's Nail ritual?), Gabber bounded off to Magda, preparing to give her all his yet accumulated glory towards the cause.

Give 3 Glory to Magda for Harvester's Grim Duty, leaving Gabber with 1 going forward.

Storytime

The ringing in his ears having finally wound down, Gabber made his way to the tavern he knew Warlord Grimper was joyously drinking to their perfect victory at! Not wanting to miss any opportunity to hear more about that wondrous, life changing ritual he had just witnessed, when he had the Warlord's attention Gabber puffed out his chest, picked up an imaginary Nail and hammer, and pretended to drive it into his own flesh. Could they have more info on that Ritual of the Nail?

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Oct 12, 2017 around 13:52

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.


Mithross posted:

(did anyone actually use the ration bonus last time? is that something you do automatically DK? going to edit in exactly what I'm doing with cooking once I'm sure we're actually using the buffs)

Seconded - I have no idea if we're supposed to decide to use rations on our own, if DK uses them for us depending on who has the highest/lowest overall roll, or if they get used in some other way or not.

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.


Dog Kisser posted:

Yes, I do it automatically! It triggered in the first phase of the conflict, turning a Mook's 2 to a 53. In the future, I can flag when such events happen, if you want!

Yes please! Not because I think we need to keep tabs on you, but it'll be fun to read about failure getting turned around to success via the bread, especially if it's a PC.

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, Listening [cooldown]
HP: 3
Glory: 1-> 2

His own Nail! What a monumental day. Of course it had been painful and excruciating, but it was also unlike anything he had ever experienced before. His life up until this point had been painted in bland black and white, but the Ritual of the Nail had opened his eyes (and ears) to new experiences in full color. Once he was aware they had reached their glory total he had made his way to Magda to see if she could use any help - he just had to know everything he could know about the Nails - however, the sound of her profane workings from her wagon had led him to steer clear. One day, maybe, he'd learn more, and might even be able to help in some small way?

As the clatter and excitement wore down after the completed Ritual, Gabber took his assigned ration for the day (how Gabber actually ate loaves of bread given his condition, none were quite too sure of and/or actually wanted to know). When the topic came up as to if they would bolster their own ration count with that of Fostis' supplies, Gabber put on a show of loading invisible loaves up in his arms, taking a handful of them and setting them aside, then walking off with the rest (Take Most Loaves). It was the way of things - they'd need the added rations for their war effort.

When it came time to plot their next step, Gabber made his way over to Gigs the soonest chance he got, firing off a quick salute and attempting to get across his willingness to join the mission (Old man shuffle, straightened back, frantic gesturing at himself). Maybe if he proved his worth on a priority mission, he could learn some new wonderous thing, or maybe even get another Nail soon?

Investigate the Old Guys Relic: 1d100+2 79

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Oct 17, 2017 around 19:10

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, Listening
HP: 3
Glory: 2 -> 3

Risking a few light taps against the exposed Old Guy Vault, Gabber was bit surprised at the dull thud that was returned. Would have thought it would have echoed like crazy in here, but everything seemed a bit...dampened?

As he returned to the group, he saw Gado seemed to have recovered for the moment and the rest of his group had begun to discuss plans:

Successful Businessmanga posted:

Once he's calmed himself a bit and given himself a reassuring nod he calls out to Gigs "I can do a little tunneling underneath this thing to see if it's a fully contained vault or if there's a way in. It'd be good to know if we want to bring a detailed report back to Grimper. I shouldn't have too much trouble doing that, but you're the Boss right now! If you've got plans for me just tell me what to do."

To Gado's idea Gabber's head cocked slightly askew; his hands, palm down, pushing downward in a gentle repetitive motion.1

WereGoat posted:

Explaining his folk music idea to Gigs "What do you think, boss? The keys might match up to the tune. I'll key it in if you give me the go ahead."

"Oh!" Hob straightened back up. "Once we have searched the place we should Post guards , it would be awful to report back and have some Fröan sneak in here and mess it up."

CourValant posted:

"Gigs. GiGs. GIGS!", she whispered, loudly "Great. Power. Here! Old. Guys. Baskets!! Weave. Buttons. Together!!!

To Hob and Bamboo's idea of pushing buttons, Gabber nodded a bit more emphatically than to Gado's plan, giving a double thumb's up2. While the safer option was surely to just report back to Grimper....what if they got it open first?

To Hob's second idea of leaving guards, Gabber remained non-committal. Guards might not be a bad idea....but he sure didn't want to be the one to have to stay down here!

sheep-dodger posted:

Turning to her companions she said "We have no idea what we are dealing with, so we should all follow rule #1 of dealing with mad science: Do. Not. Touch. Anything. That hole looks like it needs a key, and if the Old Guys are anything like us, there's likely a spare somewhere close to here, check for potted plants, welcome mats or suspiciously unsuspicious rocks that it could be hidden under.

At Sucy's mention of not touching anything, Gabber nodded several times with his eyes shut, trying to give off a wise air, and hopefully get her to forget he was just rapping on the vault wall not 30 seconds ago. Searching around a bit did seem to be the wisest option, though he'd hate to leave here without pushing just a few buttons first...

When he had everyone's attention, he cupped both hands behind his ears, pushing then slightly forward. He squinted as if he was trying to focus on something, putting a finger up to his lips to indicate quiet3. He began to back away from the group, walking in a slow and deliberate circle in the area they had just uncovered. He was listening for anything that might be important - maybe he could put his ear against the vault door and pick up on any noises from behind it? Listen to see if he heard any odd noises in the room? Or, if Gigs OK'ed pressing some buttons, maybe Gabber with his new skillcore might even be able to assist in a similar way to a safecracker, helping figure out by sound if any of the buttons being pressed seemed to elicit a response from the control panel or the door itself?

Listen to our surroundings/vault door/control panel: 1d100+12 47 (I guess consider this roll as a vote for Take Copious Notes - but I definitely hope we push some buttons first too, and want Gabber's roll to aid in a safecracker fashion as I describe above if it happens.)


Spoilers for what Gabber is trying to get across, just in case it doesn't translate well:
1. Let's be careful...
2. Go for it!
3. I'll listen and try to pick up anything interesting - but be quiet for a bit!

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 21:49

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.


National: L

Unexpectables: K

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, Listening {cooldown}
HP: 3
Glory: 3 -> 4

The surprising part was at how clean it all was. Like routine surgery under an expert surgeon's blade. One moment Gabber was stalking around the room, trying to tune his ears towards any sounds that might prove useful into getting in the vault, as the group's muscle tried their luck at prying open the vault. In the blink of an eye, their legs were suddenly just gone. No blood, no prolonged agony, just - gone. He stopped cold in his tracks, not believing what he was seeing, but he had certainly heard it - the whirring of machinery, the slice of a blade, the hiss of some sort of gas, maybe? Then all that was left was their comrades, now considerably shorter.

Death was a part of life - as long as it wasn't his own death, Gabber tended to be pretty nonchalant about any of his comrades' passing. He'd barely elicited any response at Flutter's death at the caravan - sure, he'd only known the soldier a short while, but while some held a funeral, he was sulking over not getting any prized reward from the haul. However, this - this was downright cruel, and if any of his comrades had life left in them, he'd do his best to keep it that way.

Waiting a moment to make extra sure no more death traps were coming, Gabber unslung his shield from his back and made his way quickly over to Biggo and Tharbad, trying to use it as a makeshift stretcher for at least one of two men. Someone else would likely have to catch a piggyback ride from someone, but if someone else was willing to help they could carry the other back out of the mines to see what could be done. One thing was for sure - he didn't think he'd ever get that noise out of his head....

Back In Town

Once Tharbad and Biggo had been handed over to the capable (most capable?) hands of their crew, Gabber took a moment for some silent reflection. Sure, it was largely ALL silent reflection given his condition, but this time was extra quiet. That could have just as easily been him when he was whacking his hand on the wall of the vault not a few moments earlier. He'd have to be a bit more careful going forward.

Once they all met back up with the other Unexpectable Mine crew, he was suddenly clued into the fact that they had much more pressing concerns than the Oh-Geez. Things with the other group, somehow, had seemed to go even less smoothly than their own group's foray into the mines. Now with a Resistance movement that needed put down, Gabber listened as various members put forth their plans.

Normally, Gabber was one to try and avoid a fight and work with whatever subterfuge he could. The idea of infiltrating the FFA was one he'd been considering, and it was bound to gain a successful Unexpectable heaps of goodwill from Grimper - but would they easily accept that just some random, Nailed guy they'd never seen before wanted to suddenly join them after having just repelled an earlier attack? However, while internally debating Noggins spoke up:

The Lord of Hats posted:

She drew her sword and pointed it dramatically at the mines, another scrap of her cape flying off in the breeze. "If they have their way, they're going to get us all killed--and the rest of Fostis too, while they're at it. I say we don't give them the chance! Let's go down there and show them what Töans are really made of!"

Something in the pose Noggins took and the words she stated struck a cord within him. She did cut a pretty impressive figure what with her armor and sword, and she'd already been put through the ringer a few times already and came out not just unscathed, but better on the other side. While he was hesitant to go with the violent option unless pressed to, strong action seemed the right course here, to prove to Grimper they were no slouches. Stepping out of the group, Gabber walked up towards Noggins, nodding a few times pointing back towards the caves. It was subtle, but if someone looked they'd see that Gabber was trying to mirror her stance and also cut an imposing figure - maybe trying to instill in himself the same confidence Noggins seemed to have? If they did, they probably also noticed it was no where near as effective.

Raid the Caves, Trying to imitate Noggins sense of confidence while doing so: 1d100+13 20

OOC: That drawing of the vault - maybe it spins into the correct position when something is inserted into the gap in the control panel?

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Oct 25, 2017 around 18:36

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.


HiHo ChiRho posted:

i'm at a loss here

It's that CAD comic everyone makes fun of.

Edit: Oh I see what you did

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.


The Lord of Hats posted:

Look out, FFA. Death comes for you silently.



Awesome!!

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, Listening
HP: 3
Glory: 4 -> 5

At Noggins' urging Gabber had joined the front of the group heading in to end the FFA, alongside herself and Portha. He'd be lying if he claimed that he wasn't nervous - especially given the townsfolk having coughed up that the caverns were a veritable deathtrap, but 'Oh, don't worry, here's where all the traps are. Oh, and one more there.' He'd stepped up though, and as Noggins said, they would need his new ears to help them reach their goal.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for what lie ahead. They'd waited for word from Splut, but he'd missed their rendezvous time, so they'd be going in somewhat blind. Walking forward, Gabber began focusing on the sounds around him, hoping he could help them weave their way down to the FFA without getting them all killed...

One sound trouncing later...

Gabber sat on the floor of the main cavern catching his breath. They'd done it again, and somehow, again, he'd escaped death. They'd caught the FFA flat-footed, and it had been a sound and final defeat for the upstart group. While his movements had once been chaotic in battle, a sensation of calm and precision came over him during the skirmish, accompanied by a slight warmth in his shoulder blade. The power of the Nail, maybe? He knew it was supposed to help with Skillcores, but how it worked he...oh! Skillcores! Looking around for another suitable candidate, Gabber focused on a dead FFA member with oddly glowing eyes. Setting himself to the task at hand, he picked up a nearby dagger and set about digging into his expired form for more riches; Harvester's Grim Duty, indeed.

Grab the Night Vision Skillcore: 1d100 61

Back In Town

Magda was pleased, and that meant Gabber was pleased. For the time being, they'd be able to rest knowing Grimper wouldn't throttle them for almost losing the town. Getting down to brass tacks, Gabber went about getting a suitable weapon from the crates his comrades had seized, taking a sword similar to the one Noggins carried. He also tried to grab himself one of those fashionable scarves, too. They sure looked swell!

Taking an Iron Sword

Grab a scarf! 2.0: 1d100 10

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Oct 30, 2017 around 02:03

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, Listening
HP: 3
Glory: 5

Task Manager posted:

Magda was pleased, and that meant Gabber was pleased. For the time being, they'd be able to rest knowing Grimper wouldn't throttle them for almost losing the town. Getting down to brass tacks, Gabber went about getting a suitable weapon from the crates his comrades had seized, taking a sword similar to the one Noggins carried. He also tried to grab himself one of those fashionable scarves, too. They sure looked swell!

Suddenly a cry went up from somewhere in the Horde - new rules! 2 for 1 while supplies last! Not one to ever miss an opportunity for more loot, Gabber grabbed for some sort of armor - a Fröman cuirass would do if he could manage to find one that didn't cost any glory, but if not maybe he could find something else close enough - maybe some sort of patchwork armor?

OOC: So for this round then - free skillcore, free sword, rollin' for free scarf, rollin' for some armor. That's a lot of loot!

Rolling for armor - something patchwork?: 1d100 69

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 1, 2017 around 18:46

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.


OOC: DogKisser, just curious - did my roll from last round end up getting anything? If not, that's totally fine - I'm just curious how that works. I had taken my free skillcore, took my free sword, rolled like poo poo for the scarf, and then from the quotes people added from Discord I rolled to try and obtain some sort of armor. Was I only able to roll for the Loot and Valuables? Or did I just not roll good enough to find anything? Thanks!


Name: Gabber
Skill: Mimicry, Listening, Night Vision
HP: 3
Glory: 5 -> 6

Having again found success at digging out yet another Skillcore, the process had gone a bit smoother this time in adding it to the other two Gabber already had. Having had a hunch by the fallen foe's glowing eyes, he proceeded to tap the claimed skillcore against his eyelid. Another bright flash, the skillcore was gone, and suddenly the details of the dark caverns around him began coming through as if it was broad daylight. He could see in the dark! Through trial and error over the coming day he learned that his use of it was only temporary with need for a cooldown period like his other skills. He also learned he could turn it on and off by blinking first his left eye, then his right, then both of them at the same time. Convenient!

The Horde was in a wonderful mood - Fostis was back firmly in their control, everyone had grabbed a bit of a reward or skillcore, and the drinks were flowing freely. Gabber joined right in with the festive attitude going around camp, having a drink or four himself that night by way of drinking straw, and trying to gather any Unexpectables willing to join him for a game of Charades. He was a bit jealous of those who managed to grab one of those fancy scarves and were flaunting them about, but even that couldn't put a damper on his mood that evening.

~THE NEXT DAY~

The call from Magda jolted him wide awake out of his scratchy bedroll, but it took his body a bit of time to catch up to his wakeful state. Run?! Oof, did he have a hangover. This was not going to be a good day. The events of last night were a bit fuzzy; he recalled a few drinks, a few rounds of charades including a crowd pleasing Grimper impression (Light brazier on head, angry face, lots of stomping around and smashing things), but then the rest was a haze before he somehow ended up back in bed. He groaned inwardly, beginning to gather his things. Thank goodness Grimper hadn't been around to see his impression...

Once he had managed to rouse himself and help hook up the wagons, Gabber took his position in the lines and he began to move out. He watched around him as many of his comrades began sprinting - his mind was willing, but the body wasn't. He did his best to imitate the sprinting motions of his fellow Horde while actually really only moving at a Fast March - hopefully nobody noticed he was feeling a bit rough today.

Imitating a sprint while really only fast marching: 1d100+15 95

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.



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 {cooldown}, Listening, Night Vision
HP: 3
Glory: 6-> 7

Hunched over and breathing heavy in front of Nägel, Gabber had no idea how his body had persevered through their day long march. Beyond his pounding headache from the bender he'd put on the night before, he'd managed to lose both his boots while crossing the swamps. He'd gotten one stuck first, and attempted to reach down and find it in all the muck, but all he managed to do was soon after lose the other as well. Meanwhile the rest of the Horde kept sprinting, sprinting, sprinting....he'd had no choice but to soldier on. His poor feet were in shambles - blisters on top of blisters - and who knew when a good set of size 10 3/4 boots would turn up on the stockpiles?

He'd thought he'd have some time to rest his aching body upon arrival, but that was before they saw the Nägel messengers trying to flee at first sight of them cresting the final hill. Digging deep, adrenaline and the Nail carried him through their bulldozing of the enemy forces. Cleaning the bloody blade off on his pants, he found himself a momentary respite. His head was spinning - what he desperately needed was some rest, but his Horde mates were in danger, so onward they went into Nägel with Gabber bringing up the rear...

As they made their way past the warden's office and into the pit below, Gabber was one of the last to descend. As he did so, his weary eyes suddenly focused on the discarded, glowing green hatch resting against the nearest wall. Eyes widening in alarm, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks - an Oh-Geez vault? Here?! ~*The slice of the blade/the rending of flesh/the hiss of gas*~ Oh no. Oh no no no....

Trying to catch up to the rest of the group as they made their way down the hall, Gabber ran up to those Unexpectables nearest to the rear and frantically began trying to grab their attention. Waving frantically, he tried to get across that they couldn't be here, that they had to leave - now! However, before he could get anyone to understand him, Dack came fleeing around the end of the corridor, monsters from the thing of nightmares trailing behind him.

It was too late to flee, they were upon them in a flash; and even if he could flee Grimper would surely end him soon enough if he refused to fight. Shakily unsheathing his sword and shield, Gabber took a few tentative steps forwards as other around him more bravely charged headfirst towards almost certain death. He took a few, precious moments to analyze the situation. The corridor was dark, and the flickering lighting made it more difficult to clearly define the flickering monstrosities around him. Thinking fast, Gabber blinked his left eye, then his right, then both, turning on his night vision. Things suddenly came into clear and horrifying focus; the monsters themselves going from shadowy beasts to clear and present nightmare fuel. All three beasts scared him to his core, however his newly more sensative ears cringed at the horrible shrieking of the darker colored monstrosity. Finding what resolve he could, Gabber watched the beast's movements and looked for an opening to strike!

Using Night Vision to Find an Opening to Strike at The Loud One: 1d100+16+1 115

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 7, 2017 around 20:35

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.


OOC: Gabber is one of the few guy's sitting at 3 HP and with a shield to boot, so I'm feeling pretty selfless - anyone want to tally up how many and what PCs would die as a result of taking the 2 damage from their respective Wendigo? I feel like it's going to come down to people just voting for their own Wendigo, but if one group is just going to get massacred I'd rather make it a pure numbers game decision.

Man did those Wendigos roll well!

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.


Mithross posted:

Laughing was the only one to cause overflow, which will kill anyone it hits because everyone is taking two damage, and it doesn't cause mutation anyway so the fact that the mutations would continue is moot.

Sorry, should have clarified further - I'm moreso worried about those Horde members who entered the battle already at 2 or lower HP - those that were previously crippled, or the wounded from Fostis that never got healed. I was wondering how many of those people were in any of the Wendigo groups.

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.


AJ_Impy posted:

OOC: Not particularly, average for 4d1000 or 40d100 is a hair over 2000.

Fair enough, you're right. Guess I'm just surprised that out of 3 rolls of 4d1000 and some change, all three managed to come in at least slightly above the average. Me being surprised at that is a good indication why I don't have a mind for statistics and probability!

Mithross posted:

I should have shown my math. Two people at 2 hp attacked loud. One person at 2 hp attacked laughing, plus he will overflow kill 3 others. The overflow is the deciding factor if we kill just one. This doesn't include the people DK assigned however

Thank you! I see what you're saying now - given the overflow the Laughing is clearly the most dangerous, as if his attack goes through we'll lose 4 people on that roll alone, one of which is guaranteed to be a PC. The overflow on 3 low rollers in other groups depends on if any PCs or people that got randomly assigned rolled low enough. PCs who didn't take an action could randomly be assigned to the Ugly one, but as it stands no one at 2 HP attacked the Ugly, so a vote for Laughing or Laughing and Loud seems most prudent.

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 9, 2017 around 19:49

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, Listening, Night Vision {cooldown}
HP: 3
Glory: 7

The next few minutes (or were they merely seconds that felt like minutes?) passed by in a blur. All around him chaos reigned as comrades were being eaten alive, slammed against nearby walls, or having their organs reduced to liquid as a result of the shrieking wendigo he now faced. His initial attempts to strike and avoid the Wendigo had found purchase, his enhanced vision helping him greatly. Lunge here, block left, strike now! Roll there, jump up, strike now! He seemed to have arrived at the perfect mix of fear, adrenaline, and focus needed to be his most effective when it counted at the absolute most.

His strikes didn't seem to be doing anything though. Noggins' efforts of stabbing into the beasts neck from behind also didn't seem to slow the thing one bit, as it suddenly jerked and widened its mouth even further beyond the already unnatural length it had previously achieved, letting out the loudest gibbering shriek yet!

Later when he was able to reflect on the battle and question why, from his close position his head hadn't simply just ~*popped*~ from the force of the blow, he had to assume his Listening Skillcore had somehow managed to involuntarily plug up his ears to protect himself from the worst of damage. In the moment, though, all he could do was let out a hopeless moan at the futility of their situation. He was exhausted, and could tell with each swing of his sword, each block with his shield, he was slowing down. He couldn't keep this up forever...

Suddenly Grimper's call split through the noises of battle. The Warlord would save them! Putting everything he had left into trying to stay active for just a few more moments, Gabber tried to brace himself as the Warlord made his move towards the Laughing and the Loud wendigos...

~~~Push Beyond: Laughing and Loud, a game by David Cage~~~

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 9, 2017 around 22:50

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.




Hello all! As someone who has very little artistic talent, I've been trying to think of ways that I could contribute to the awesome art that's been submitted so far for this very fun game that Dog Kisser has made. I've also been hoping that more people join us and fill out some of the available nameless mook spots we still have open. Combing the two, I reached out to DK and ran by him my idea: Put Up That Banner!

So here's what I was thinking. I'm willing to foot the bill for a banner ad for one month to try and generate some more interest and get some more people to join us. However, what I need from all of our talented artists is for someone to make us a banner ad! I was thinking we could give our artists a few days to put forth their best effort, and then put it to a thread vote with the winner being the ad selected.

The banner ad needs to meet the following specifications: 40kB max, exactly 468x60px - Allowed types: GIF, PNG, JPG. I was thinking we could allow submissions through Monday, November 13, 2017 at noon EST (or longer if needed), and then depending on if we get more than one we put it to a vote.

Thanks in advance to anyone willing to make a submission!

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, Listening, Night Vision
HP: 2/3
Glory: 7->8

And so, did the Unexpectables glorious leader begin his rampage. Screaming out in rage, their glorious leader burst forward at an unnatural tilt, bowling directly into the Laughing Wendigo! However, there was no time to gape in wonder as they still had to manage the Loud One in front of them a bit longer until help could arrive. Duck down, slight pause, stab now! Block right, push forward, slash now! A burst of bloody fog to his left - Grimper had killed the Laughing One as if it was nothing! Was there anything he could not do? Just hang on a bit longer, and this nightmare would be over! Move lef-

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it happen. Saw Biggo stumble, his new legs giving out on him. Saw the Wendigo suddenly tear its focus from Gabber, spying an easier target, unhinging its jaws and making a desperate lunge towards the Punching expert. Saw Grimper burst through the bloody mess that used to be the Laughing Wendigo, charging towards them. All Gabber had to do was remain where he was, safe behind his shield, and any second he'd be fine. He was so exhausted, wasn't self-preservation his only real goal up until this point? All he had to do was make it through this war, alive, and he could go back home, see his friends and family again....but weren't these people now his friends as well?

His body acted as if on autopilot, taking a few steps and making a desperate leap towards the prone form of his comrade. Raising his shield in front of him as his body flew through the air, he saw the Loud Wendigo's jaws moving for the kill. As they came slamming down towards Biggo, he just managed to get himself in the way in time, taking the blow on his shield.



His shield managed to take the brunt of the blow, but crumpled against his arm. The jaws of the Wendigo hit him with full force, flinging him across the room and slamming against the closest wall of the hallway. The wind had been knocked out him and his head flared with pain. He was out of the fight and he knew it, as his eyes fought to stay open. Just before they closed, he watched as Grimper managed to tear the Loud Wendigo in two. He'd....he'd saved us......

...

Eyes snapping back open, Gabber instinctively recoiled, rolling out of the cot he was in and falling to the ground. Were they dead?! Was he dead?! Taking a moment to catch his breath, he realized that no, he was not dead. Someone appeared to have bandaged his head. Gryph! It came back to him now - he'd been dazed, walking but out on his feet, as he stumbled into the nearest cell and.... that's all he could remember. He'd been knocked out it seemed. Glancing around at some of the nearby cells, he saw others that had been wounded, likely far worse than himself. Gathering himself to his feet, he walked out into the hallway, looking back down the hall to where the battle had been. Seeing several immobile Unexpectables among the carnage, he realized how lucky he had been indeed...Biggo! Scanning the bodies, Gabber tried to make out if the Puncher was among them. He didn't see him - had his effort been for naught? Then suddenly, rounding the bend he saw the Tö walking towards him on his wooden legs, clutching a shield in front of him.

Infinity Gaia posted:

Biggo respected his quiet resolve too much to try and talk to him, so he instead merely pushed a Shield into his arms, not taking no for an answer, then gave him a firm nod and walked away to help with the wounded.

Momentarily taken aback, all Gabber could really do was nod back at him prior to his turning and walking away. Looking down at his new shield, a smile came to his face. The shield was nice and Gabber was not one to shy away from a good skillcore or some shiny piece of loot - but he realized he was smiling more in knowing that he 'd saved someone. It was not all that long ago he'd callously stepped over Flutter's corpse, pouting over not getting any salvage. Had this war changed him already?

Slinging his new shield to his back, Gabber made his way back towards those that were worse off than himself, seeing what he could do to help. They were all in this together, he realized; he didn't know the first thing about first aid, but maybe someone could show him the proper way to bandage, and he could do his best to imitate them? Seeing Gryph getting a triage center going, Gabber made his way over doing his best to try and mimic the man's medical skill.

Mirror Gryph's first aid efforts.: 1d100+17 62 (First Aid Roll)

After a few minutes spent watching him, Gabber set himself to aiding those that were hurt as best he could. He wasn't an expert, but he could fake it, if he tried. Whilst going about this the Unexpectables 2nd greatest hero (Warlord Grimper clearly being the 1st), Noggins, made her way over to Gabber.

The Lord of Hats posted:

With that taken care of, she found Gabber and Hob, helping with the medical effort. "Hey, guys. I know it might not feel like it right now, but... you guys did good back there. I just want you to know that... well, when there's a situation that you come out of alright, but other people don't... it's going to make you feel guilty. Like it's your fault somehow. But I want--I need to tell you that it's not. You aren't weak, you aren't cowards, and you definitely aren't to blame for anything that happened here.

Gabber took a moment to reflect as Noggins kept speaking. Out of her kind words, he couldn't help but hone in on a few: "you aren't weak, you aren't cowards". If Gabber was honest with himself, he'd always been a bit of a coward, quick to avoid an issue rather than face it head on. He'd also considered himself fairly weak; he cringed thinking of his attempts to injure a stick ogre only to have left it standing none worse for the wear. As he took the brave Tö's words to heart, he began thinking back over what he'd accomplished in the short amount of time he'd been conscripted. He'd ambushed a caravan; knocked some sense into the citizenry of Fostis; routed the FFA; steamrolled a bunch of messengers trying to flee from the prison; he'd even faced a Wendigo head on despite his fear, saving one of the Horde's best fighters in the process. Without even realizing it, it seemed he wasn't that weak or much of a coward anymore!

quote:

You guys had my back in that fight, you're some of the bravest people I've met, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather be fighting alongside. Now let's help get everyone patched up--we're going to need it before we kick Frö's rear end for what they did here, right?"

Nodding vigorously (as his ears turned a slight shade of red), Gabber clapped Noggins on the shoulder, a sense of warmth spreading through him. Twice now he'd gone into battle directly alongside the one eyed warrior - against the FFA and now here again against the Loud Wendigo - and to hear her words of praise gave him a boost of energy despite the long and weary day he'd had. To think that he'd ever be considered brave! But he kind of was now, wasn't he?

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 11, 2017 around 01:28

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, Listening, Night Vision
HP: 3
Glory: 8 -> 4 - > 2

Having applied bandages to as many people as he could, Gabber stepped back for a moment. It was fairly shoddy work, but it would keep the important bits in place. That done, the exhausted Mimic promptly found the nearest empty cot and was out before his head hit the straw pillow. He knew the Warlord might be mad that he was taking a nap while there was still important work to be done, but his bandaged head he hoped would gain him at least a few hours of sympathy sleep...ZZzzzZzzzz

Gabber woke up what felt like a few hours later, refreshed but still a good bit groggy. Stumbling out of bed, he made his way back out into the hallway. Seemed that the call had gone out for Skillcores while he was out. Normally Gabber was all about wedging his arm elbow deep in a dead body for those sweet, sweet Skillcores, but he already had three at the moment; he'd heard bad things about what happened to average people who tried to incorporate more than three.

Instead, he made his way to Magda, lugging the generous new shield Biggo had bought with him. He'd had no combat experience prior to the war - a fist fight or three, but that was the worst - but he'd quickly grown accustomed to the sword and shield style. Unfortunately what was currently available to them was lower tier grade equipment at best - maybe if he spent 4 glory to get Magda to reinforce his iron shield it would last a bit longer this time before shattering?

While there, he also did his part and added 2 more glory towards Luck's Fickle Gaze. Had to help the war effort!

Later on, once they'd all gathered around Grimper again, Gabber chimed in asking about these Inhabited he'd heard and seen mention of.

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 11, 2017 around 21:50

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.




Just a friendly reminder that Put Up That Banner! will close today at noon EST, so if you're still working on a banner and want to submit your effort (but may not make the deadline), speak now or forever hold your peace! If no one submits anything further, we'll go with Prince of Space's wonderful banner Version B, and I'll put things in motion to get it in circulation starting tomorrow.

Prince of Space posted:

40kb is small! Here's what I've got:

Version A:


Version B:

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.


+ =

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, Listening, Night Vision
HP: 2/3
Glory: 2-> 3

After a few minutes of waiting, Magda returned Gabber's new shield to him. Gabber whistled through his nose in appreciation (a feat that had taken him years to master). What had once been a dinged and slightly worn iron shield was now heavily reinforced around the outer edges, the imperfections having been buffed out and a new coat of paint applied to the front - that looked like him! Magda had really outdone herself this time. Rifling off a quick salute, Gabber turned and bounded off back down the hallway towards the rest of the Horde. Wait til they saw this!!

...

Later that day Gabber was pondering the words Grimper had shared with them. He was definitely a bit ashamed he hadn't resonated yet, despite all assurances that it was totally fine and normal - he just wasn't ready! Maybe he could do something to try and jumpstart the process?The trick seemed to be using back to back alike skills. At the moment he'd gotten 3 skillcores: Mimicry, Listening, and Night Vision. Thinking back on the past few days, he'd most recently tapped Mimicry to raid the FFA; then Mimicry again for marching; and finally Night Vision when fighting the Wendigo. Did Night Vision and Mimicry complement each other? No, not really; Mimicry didn't really go with either of his other skillcores....but Listening and Night Vision, those surely did being two different senses, right? Maybe? Slamming his fist against the nearby wall, a jolt of pain suddenly shot through his still bandaged head. Too much thinking, and he was probably still a bit banged up despite the efforts of their healers. Just do what feels right, he concluded. What could he listen for?

Looking around, he saw several of the new "recruits" mulling about; there was also Zapanda's crew who were moving about and doing their best to avoid Grimper's mighty wrath. A plan springing to action, Gabber nonchalantly began weaving his way through and around the people of Nägel, trying to listen in on their conversations while unawares. Maybe he could pick up on some piece of information that the Warlord would find useful; or maybe he'd learn of a hidden cache of armor somewhere, given he was still sans even a shirt?

Listen in on conversations of the Nägel staff/prisoners, trying to pick up any info that would be useful to Grimper/a hidden cache of armor: 1d100+12 59

...

Eventually Grimper called them all back together, so Gabber ended his spying efforts for now. Magda performed the ritual and gave them their new Nail. A sense of pride (mixed with pain) filled Gabber as he got his second Nail in the short time. He knew their Warlord loved them, loved them so much he'd given them two Nails to prove it! Glancing around at the other faces of the Horde, Gabber checked to see how happy the rest of them were as well. However, that's when he really started to notice for the first time just how many of the Horde seemed to be infected, mutated, or worse; both. He would never call out any of his fellow Horde members for their disfiguring marks, but given he'd just almost ended up a snack for a mutated Wendigo....he slowly took a few steps away from any nearby Horde exhibiting outward signs of any issues beyond standard monsterism.

Snapping back to attention from his brief side train of thought, Grimper filled them in on the remaining task at hand - Nailing the staff of Nägel. Gabber's pride at having received his second Nail suddenly turned to anger at Zapanda refusing to allow it to happen. The nerve! A Nail was a thing of beauty, the Rituals themselves something that Gabber felt was life changing. While he'd likely not want his free will taken away from him like the populace of Fostis, Zapanda and her crew were the enemy. They'd released Wendigos on them; for Reina's sake! There was only one outcome for them: They would be nailed, and if Zapanda stood in the way of that she had to die. Gabber began clanging his shield with his sword, trying to egg on the Warlord to end the woman already!

...

Later on, when Grimper was in the mood to talk some more, Gabber also again tried to bring up the topic of Inhabitancy; maybe he could share a bit more about just what the enemy had been up to here?

-----------

Actions:
Listen in on conversations to find out info/location of armor
Vote to kill Zapanda
Storytime about Inhabitancy

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 15, 2017 around 15:15

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.


Dog Kisser posted:

Gawp the Perciever, Vist the Jouster and a few others went exploring upstairs, in the hauntingly-quiet prison halls. The former examined the hastily excavated hatch and found it largely undamaged, even after the utter walloping it had taken from the Horde. The massive hatch itself was only lightly scratched, even as the concrete floor and the more mundane metal of the hinges was cracked and shattered. He scraped at the Olivite surface of the hatch and tunnel below, but it didn’t even strike sparks. He was about to give up when he found a tiny fragment, wrapped in baser metal. He smashed it with a stone block to break it free, and found himself looking at a small pin around the size of a pencil - part of the locking mechnism or a hinge pin, slipped free from its moorings? Whatever it was, it was apparently indestructible, and probably very valuable. He pocketed it.

Vist and her compatriots were planning to explore the silent halls to better map the sprawling facility, but she was distracted by the console set into a small pedestal near the hatch. She hadn’t been with the group who had seen the Old Guy vault in Fostis, but she recalled someone saying something about seeing something familiar.

She knew better than to touch the buttons, and while that narrow pyramid on the left would fit easily into her hand and was tempting to remove, she figured Grimper would probably want to be alerted to this. But, then again, he wasn’t here. He wouldn’t know if she just… took it.

, that's probably just what we need to unlock the OG vault in Fostis!

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, Listening {cooldown}, Night Vision
HP: 2/3
Glory: 3 -> 4

In the end Grimper had decided to spare Zapanda. Gabber...was conflicted. An Un-Nailed Nägel staff would likely provide better results when it came to curing (or easing the pain) of those Horde who had been infected; they'd probably do better at preventing it from spreading in this condition too, he supposed. He'd also never pipe up to object to a decision the Warlord had made; even one he'd just second guessed himself on. So for now, he decided he would accept it. Still made him feel a bit...uneasy though. While in thought one of the Nägel staff had made his way towards him, motioning to unwrap his bandage from his head again so he could take a look. Sighing, Gabber began peeling back the gauze again, for what little good they'd done his headache so far.

...

Bah! Shoving away the inept Frö, Gabber stomped away while re-wrapping his head. Useless! If anything, his head hurt even worse now from the poking and prodding. Damned red nuisances! The sooner he got out of this Oh-Gee vault and away from the terrors they'd wrought here, the better. As he made his way off to stew for a bit, he watched as Grimper led off most of those who'd been tainted by the Wendigos - Qwäg, Trinh, Hob, and Gawp. He'd had little chance to interact with most of them what with the Horde having been scattered these past few days, but he'd by chance been teamed up quite a bit so far with Hob the Bee Keeper during his time with the Horde. He thought back to their forced march and his having thrust a bit of honeycomb into Gabber's hand just when he thought he couldn't go on anymore. He'd been in the thick of it against the Loud One as well, firing off that bow of his. He'd heard a faint, haunting melody coming down from outside Nägel soon after the Warlord had shared the grim choices left to those that had the taint, and he'd heard who took that tainted Singing skillcore....he hoped that all the Horde took to the Brand and were able to continue on with their sanity intact, but he'd be hoping a bit harder that his one-eyed comrade in arms pulled through out of all of them none worse for the wear.

...

When it came time to decide where to head to next Gabber couldn't help but be somewhat distracted in making a decision by Harlee, one of the Frö that'd decided to willingly join the Horde out of those at Nägel. Barely trying to hide his contempt, Gabber loudly huffed at her unrefined antics. A clown. During his years enrolled at the prestigious "Tö Royal Academy of Mimicry, Philosophy, and the Spatial-Arts" (T.R.A.M.P.S.), he had been taught that the body was an instrument. When performing, one's every movement should be painstakingly planned in advance to ensure every effort was taken to allow a seamless silent transmission of the intended message to one's audience. Any minor interruption of one's performance could result in a skewed message, the results of which could be ruinous! During his time there he and his fellow "étudiants en mimétisme" had all too often run afoul of those enrolled in that accursed clown college down the way and their constant interruptions; a three hour performance ruined by a stray pie in the face in the closing moments; Introduction to Silence 101's final being invaded by a gaggle of clowns bursting down the door honking their horns; constantly having to dodge stray banana peels just laying about everywhere when an ankle injury could ruin one's career. The fact that such a Frö now counted themselves amongst the Horde....well, it just had him seething.

When it came time to have his vote heard Gabber's annoyance got the better of him, quickly placing his hands at the Nail in his shoulder and motioning as if he was yanking it out with all his might. He then drew his finger across his throat, indicating his support for destroying the Nail and heading to Noostra. In a calmer state he'd have likely never so callously voted to end so many's lives, but that drat laughing felt like it was boring into his brain!

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 19, 2017 around 06:56

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, Listening {cooldown}, Night Vision
HP: 2/3
Glory: 4

The second he'd dragged his finger across his throat (signaling his vote for the doom of Fostis) he instantly regretted it. Expecting to find a sense of reassurance wash over him, all he felt was emptiness; his annoyance at Harlee's antics having washed away, all that was left in it's place was nothing. Had he really just been that quick to doom so many, even if they were the enemy? Sure, the Frö had killed poor Queen Reina - but did any at Fostis truly play a part? They were put back in line by the glory of the Nail - what good would killing them do now, besides making things easier for himself?

As Grimper began moving on to the next member of the Horde to get their vote, Gabber went to raise his hand. Maybe he could take it back; no even better, he could claim it was a misunderstanding! Perfect. He'd explain it away as an accident, a misinterpretation of his motions, and none would be the wiser. As his hand went halfway up, he suddenly locked eyes with Noggins across the way, a slight frown forming on her face as she looked at him. The nothingness quickly turned to regret. ~~but... you guys did good back there~~ ~~you're some of the bravest people I've met~~ Shame filled him from bottom to top and then back again, and he felt his ears burning. He quickly thrust his arm back down at his side, and turned to walk away from the group.

He suddenly felt ill. He needed some air. He wasn't brave. He was a coward - always had been, though he did a good job faking, it seemed sometimes. Always taking the option that ended up with less hassle for himself if he could get away with it; no matter the damage it may cause to others. Hah! He'd actually thought he'd changed - he'd had no easy out when it came to the Horde or here with the Loud Wendigo. That's all. It'd been fear of Grimper's wrath that forced his hand. Nothing but fear.

Making his way down the hall towards the hatch leading outside, Gabber passed what appeared to be the belongings of one of Zapanda's crew stuffed into a locker, unattended. A pair of dark guard boots peeked out of the half opened door. Quickly looking and seeing no one around, he checked the tag - MADE IN FRÖ - 10 1/4. Close enough. Swiftly grabbing the boots, he made his way towards the surface, alone with his thoughts.

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 20, 2017 around 02:13

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, Listening {cooldown}, Night Vision
HP: 2/3
Glory: 4

Gabber found himself leaning against a tree just outside the prison, kicking rocks with his new boots. A bit of time had passed since he'd fled topside, the air outside doing his disposition a bit of good. He still felt a bit illl at what he'd done at the vote....and the shoes....but he knew himself well enough. Give it a day or two, those feelings would be gone as well and it would all be forgotten in the past. He had to admit, despite being a bit too tight these new boots felt great on his blistered feet.

He'd been wandering around for a bit outside before plunking himself against his current tree. Some other members of the Horde had been mulling about outside as well, trying to escape the tomb that had become the Oh-Gee vault at Nägel, but he'd been giving them a bit of a wide berth so far. He scanned around to see what the others were up to. A few seemed to be foraging nearby for anything useful; a few others were trying to disguise the giant trench by the door with branches and leaves to mask the pit in case anyone did try attacking them here. Another lone Horde member appeared to throwing roc-

The Lord of Hats posted:

"Hey! Gabber! Mind lending me a hand?" Noggins yelled, waving at the distant figure. "Just a little game of catch, I need the practice!"

He froze, the events below coming back to the forefront of his mind. He'd seen the look Noggins had given him after his vote...but she didn't seem to be mad. Maybe....maybe he'd misread the look she'd given him? Regardless, he couldn't just turn her down, so he pushed off the tree and began walking towards her. Plastering a smile on his face despite the turmoil still felt inside, he nodded to her as he walked, putting out his hands in a cupping motion as he began to walk closer.

Edit:

The Lord of Hats posted:

I say we toss it towards the next level of Harvester.

Agreed.

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, Listening {cooldown}, Night Vision
HP: 2/3
Glory: 4->5

The first rock came his way - a bit short, but not by much. He'd made a half-hearted attempt to grab it, but it hit the ground, bouncing a few times to rest near his feet.

The Lord of Hats posted:

"Sorry! It's kind of a work in progress. I make up for it where I can, but it's not always quite the same. You know how it is."

Nodding politely, he picked up the rock and sent it back Noggin's way. He didn't know what only having one eye was like, but he certainly knew that adjusting to new skillcores could take time; he'd heard through the chatter of the Horde she'd just picked up her first besides the one she started with recently, one dealing with Precision. The rock arced into her hands, with her briefly bobbling it before sending it back his way. A much better throw this time - he took a few steps to his left, but was able to grab it this time without much fuss. She was already getting better at it.

quote:

"You mind if I ramble a bit? I've got some stuff on my mind, and, well, you're really easy to talk to. And I don't just mean that because of the... uh, mouth situation. You really listen.

Gulping slightly and fearing the worst, he nodded again. Here it comes, he was so stupid to have voted that way, and now he'd have to deal with hearing Noggins' disappointment in him firsthand...

quote:

So... did you hear that Snödis is a captain now? Sounds like she's asking all of the... well... wendigoes... to join her squad. Good for her, but she also told me that I should ask Grimper for permission to do the same thing, and, well... I think I'm going to give it a go. I don't think Vist would forgive me if I didn't invite her, and I think Pythag and Flitter would be good on the team as well... I'd ask Hob, but... I think he's going to be with Snödis..."

Sweat began to bead on his forehead, but he was far enough away he didn't think she'd noticed yet. He had seen Snödis stomping around earlier, making her way to what appeared to be half the gathered Horde, mostly those who'd been touched by some form of illness or monsterism. She hadn't made her way to Gabber, but that was fine by him. Honestly, the woman intimidated him quite a bit. Something about that stare of hers - all four eyes seeming to examine one not for who they were, but what use they could be. He'd been trying to steer clear of her, and been successful so far for the most part.

Noggins continued, bringing up her own desires for a captaincy. She'd be perfect!, he thought to himself. The most deserving out of all of them given what he'd seen so far. As she rattled off the various names of people she planned on inviting to her squad, he couldn't help but quickly think of each in turn. Vist was a great warrior, even if the tenets of her Order did seem to be a bit...odd. Pythag certainly looked the part with his suit of armor, and his head for numbers would be invaluable. If Flitter could grow her butterfly to the right size she'd be a terror from the back of it's wings; and Hob.....he would have been a great addition, but.....yeah. He threw the rock back to her and she caught it deftly. Her group would certainly lead the Horde to great things!

quote:

"Ugh, I'm just beating around the bush."
Oh no, small talk's over, here it comes....

quote:


"Anyways, if I manage to convince Grimper, would you be willing to join? You don't have to, and if you did it'd be on your own terms--if you want to take up archery, go ahead. The point is, you're a good person and I'd feel better knowing that you were there to back me up. Think it over, it's not like I've got permission yet."

Her next throw was even more accurate than the last, thudding against his chest and dropping to the ground. He'd made no attempt to catch it, too stunned by her words. If his mouth wasn't sewn together, he imagined his jaw would be hanging open. He pointed to himself, pausing; then pointed at himself again1. Not only did she want him for her squad, it seemed based on her discussion so far that she'd asked him first. A smile went over his face from ear to ear, his earlier fears of being called out for his cowardice evaporating. He'd had no plans of seeking promotion himself, self-preservation being his only real goal so far beyond finding new and interesting pieces of loot and obtaining as many Nails as he could. He'd surely be put in more danger if he went where brave Noggins trod, but she'd succeeded so far - was there any place safer or more interesting to go than beside her in the Hordes ranks? Was there anywhere he felt like he did more good, than at her side besting their foes?

He pointed at Noggins, then began strutting around as he'd seen Snödis doing earlier, puffing out his chest as he did so. He stopped, turning back to Noggins and giving her a double thumbs up while emphatically nodding his head.2 He then pointed back to himself, unsheathed his sword and dropped to one knee, holding it at the tip with the handle pointed towards Noggins.3. Standing back up and sheathing his sword, he threw the rock in the air towards her as high as he could manage, it arcing back down as she managed a stunning one handed grab. If she was promoted, she could have his sword if she wanted it.

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

The choice had been made, and they'd be returning to Fostis. Gabber couldn't help but be relieved that Grimper hadn't actually killed all those in Fostis as he had voted for. It would have made things easier, but it was wrong. Kill the enemy combatants, Nail the populace, but to be so cruel - he couldn't be that way, wouldn't, he decided. That reminded him too much of the cruelty of the Oh-Geez, and he wanted as little to do with them as possible - especially after his second visit to an Oh-Gee vault again ended in terrible screaming and things that shouldn't be possible occurring.

The march felt a bit easier than the last one. Time seemed to fly by, and before he knew it they were back! His new boots had held out well during the march, and none from Nägel had raised any alarm over some missing boots, so his guilt had quickly abated. People were lining up to delve into the secrets of the vault at Fostis, and Gabber was more than happy to let them. He'd had enough of what the Oh-Geez were selling, and he'd be wary to journey far into any of their death-traps again unless directly ordered to. He did see that Noggins had also made her vote known for journeying into the vault as well. He knew she was hoping to make herself stand out so she could obtain rank, and Grimper was going as well - there'd be no real chance she'd skip out on it, even if he asked her to. He hoped as hard as he could she and the rest of them journeying below would be alright.

Thinking over the remaining options, he saw Vist,the Youster of the Long, volunteering to head out and bloody the noses of any enemy marching on Fostis. It'd be dangerous, but if it meant more time for the Vault crew to do what they needed to do, he needed to be brave. Would he rather guard the wagons, especially with his head still bandaged up? Sure. Now was not the time for the easy choice though, as lives would depend on delaying what came for Fostis. It'd also give him a chance to get to know Vist better, given Noggins' words on planning on inviting her friend Vist to join any group she might form was she to be promoted.

Gabber fell in line with Vist, making his choice to Go Out Looking For Trouble known. Reina help him, he was going looking for trouble.

Going Looking For Trouble, Using Night Vision For Early Warning: 1d100+14 26 Well that's just wonderful.

Spoilers for Gabber's attempts to speak sans words:
1) "Me....you mean, me?"
2) "You would be a great Captain! You should absolutely do it!"
3) "If you want me to join, I would be honored to serve you."


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

gowb posted:

Nvm made the roll.
Look for trouble: 1d100+20 81

I think the most you could add to your roll there is +13 (10 for one skill + 3 glory you had before the roll), right? Don't think we can use more than one skill at once - if we have been able to I'm a fool because I'd be rolling +30 every chance I got!

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 21, 2017 around 20:38

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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, Listening, Night Vision {cooldown}
HP: 2/3
Glory: 5

Outwardly, Gabber stared in mute shock as Vist wheeled her death wagon out from behind some nearby pines. Inwardly, he couldn't help but wish he had a mouth so that he could scream. He liked Ringo's idea of using his new skillcore to lead any approaching enemy into a trap well enough. He was also a big fan of ambushes, him having been part of two so far in his time with the Horde and having had both of them go smoothly. He was even glad to see that Mason had joined them, as the man's head was a force of nature. However, the part he wanted to scream about was Vist's suggestion that they pile into her makeshift death wagon and fling themselves down the hill at any approaching enemy. Something in the way her eyes glittered as she detailed breaking the enemy in half and then heartily laughing to herself - the mimic wondered if she minded if she herself was broken in two, as long as it resulted in a glorious impact of destruction.

Walking up to the wagon itself, Gabber gave the wheels a few experimental kicks. It looked sturdy enough, but it was a converted mercantile wagon usually used for lugging their supplies over stable, even terrain. He wouldn't be shocked if they hit a bump going down the hill and the whole thing didn't just fling them through the air, shattering into a million pieces. Had Noggins helped Vist with the modifications? He sure hoped so...

Inhaling briefly, he maintained a steady gaze as he turned back towards Vist, pointing first to his own two eyes; he then blinked the left, the right, and and both at once, his eyes opening to show a faint glow as a result of him having switched on his Night Vision skillcore. He pointed at his chest, pointed over towards the other side of the hill and then placed his four fingers in a straight line on his forehead, scanning his head left and right.1 He then walked off to get into position, starting his watch for any approaching enemies as they had planned earlier. Silently, he hoped against hope that the enemy came from the side of the hill with a sheer cliff face so he wouldn't have to climb into the mobile death trap.

-------------
1) "I....I'm going to go use my Night Vision and keep watch for now."

OOC: For the record, I'm really hoping that we do end up in the wagon careening down the hill towards the enemy as the imagery alone is fantastic. Gabber however....Gabber's hoping it doesn't come to that.

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Nov 22, 2017 around 17:50

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