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Chair sitters - make sure you give me an extra 1d100 when you sit!
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Dec 16, 2017 19:53
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Without getting too spoilery about anything, I'll mention that I somehow didn't consider you'd feed that to the butterfly! This isn't a gotcha or an 'oh poo poo' on my part, it's more like an 'oh right, I guess they could do that'. You guys are fun. Working on portrait updating for the foreseeable future, update coming this week. Probably the following week I'll take off for Christmas stuff, but I'll try to leave you a suitable cliffhanger... And a weird silly art piece I'm working on to bring in the new year!
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Dec 16, 2017 21:13
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 Enjoying their extended break after their victory, the Unexpectables diligently avoided thinking about the Vile Mechanism. It was waiting down there for them, and even if they'd somehow forgotten, Grimper had ordered them to figure it out. One way or another, whether they had to force prisoners into the chairs or choose lots, someone was going to do it. But… but not yet. There was so much to do, first! --- Despite a well fed Horde, Cause the Archaeologist decided to try their hand at cooking for the group. Just a snack, a tiny portion of their supplies, but enough to brighten their days and prepare them for the march ahead.
Cooking Success! 1 Ration Retained! 4 Rations Remain! (You successfully feed people who are already full! Which, really, is what the holidays are all about - +1 to everyone's next roll because you're psyched about snacks!) --- There were still quite a few Skillcores floating around... no harm in taking seconds, right!? The Horde squabbled and bit and fought over the precious things, but eventually each of them found a home in a new body. Most of them slotted in in the expected ways, but - for some reason emboldened by Ringo's illness - a group decided to see what would happen if they continued stacking identical Cores into a single Hordemate! Magda thought about shouting them down, but eh - let them learn by doing. (Alright, Skillcores were claimed as follows! Somnö gains Smashing, Patsy claims Timing, Sucy gains Kii͟i͠iiiií̧͜i̡͠i̛͢iiiiiì̵̡́i̸҉͟i҉̛͘͠ Kicking +45, Pythag gains Fearlessness, Vist gains Balance, Cause gains Balance, Marra gains Performing, Bamboo gains Virtuoso, Verika gains Sniping (and holds it, for the moment), Gryph gains Slamming, Gado gains Climbing... and Mooks claim the rest!) --- Gado the Digger considered his options carefully, and found he had… not very many. His body still ached from the surgery and subsequent infection, and without the Brand to stabilize things it would only get worse. On the other hand, Zapanda could be - almost certainly was - lying to him. Could he trust a hostile prisoner? In the end, his choice was made for him. The Horde pitched in and acquired the needed chemicals from Magda's stash for him, then took up a loose guard around him to ensure no funny business. He shrugged and scratched his head with implanted claws, then told Zapanda to do it. She smiled a (seemingly) genuinely warm smile, then recruited a few of her fellows (and nearby Horde members) to gather some equipment for her. She sent things back several times to be sterilized in boiling water, but eventually she had a decent-looking set up spread out in a semi-circle around him. She chattered as she worked. “This blue chemical is Monsterism Inoculant, and if taken before interaction with Monsterists it ought to prevent contact infection. Hell, it should even counteract Madmist or bite-transmission of the disease. It's, perfectly safe - my team and I I were inoculated, naturally - and it's 75% effective. That seems low, but it's a hell of a lot better than nothing. Of course, at your stage it's too late - you weren't inoculated prior to infection, so you'd normally be out of luck. HOWEVER… we'd been experimenting with a decoction of a solution of the two, with promising results.” She worked as she talked, moving with a brisk and practiced efficiency. She seemed to be in her element, and she was smiling faintly. “We've never tested it on a higher-order organism, but it worked well enough on insects and birds. It should just be a matter of tweaking the concentration…” It took the better part of three hours, but at last she presented him with a syringe of faintly luminous violet liquid. “This is the 'Wendigo Cure’” - she made air quotes while grimacing - “which is too grand a name for it, really. I'm uncertain what it would do for a full Wendigo, but for someone in late-stage Rampant Monsterism it should fend off the change temporarily. I can make more with this set-up, though certainly I'd need more of the 'goo’ - so much is wasted in the distillation process…”  She looked at the needle in her hand, then at Gado, then placed it carefully into his hand. “Put the tip right against the fleshy hollow in your neck, right here. Depress the plunger and wait two seconds. Not yet… wait until you feel the change is about to happen. Too soon and you'll reduce the effectiveness, or worse.” She packed up her things, nodded at him, then left him behind with a fistful of experimental drugs and a mind full of questions. (Gado receives a dose of AntiMon-M37. Zapanda can create more, given time and resources. She claims that taking it right as you're about to turn will extend your countdown, but you're have no real reason to trust her. It could just as easily trigger your transformation… at any rate, you have options now which you didn't before.) --- With Zapanda occupied, it fell to Beco the Coward to lead the heali- oh, wait, no, Pog the Easily Forgotten lead the healing. Bandages just showed up where they needed to be, a kind word here and there whispered on the wind.
Healing Failure!
Healing Failure! --- It was pretty obvious what Flutter wanted to eat. Like most butterflies, he lusted after the delectable flavor of untested and potentially dangerous technology stolen from the fragment of a Warlord’s shattered gauntlet. That must be so, because when the thing was proffered to the Cobaltwing, it snatched it with its proboscis, yanked it into an opening in its cocoon, then sealed itself in with brilliant pink silk. Strange, very loud sounds came from within, as well as flashes of what looked like hot pink fire. Uh, that would be fine, right? They asked Stårn, who shrugged, and Flitter, whose gag was too tight to speak and who didn't seem to want to answer anyhow. Oh well! They'd have to wait and see. (Flutter will emerge next turn!) --- Sonior and Cowardclaw were both powerful reagents in their own right, so logically combining them would make something even better! At least, Portha the Rummager hoped so - from the smells coming from her cooking pot, she could tell SOMETHING was happening. She jerked her head back from the fumes when she felt her lips involuntarily puckering, and spent a few frantic moments trying to massage feeling back into her face. When she managed it, she smiled - good stuff! She bottled the vibrant stuff, then poured the leftovers onto a nearby bush, which immediately lost all its leaves.  (Portha makes three portions of Whistling Flower, a poison of quite some effectiveness. It can be used as a free action prior to combat to poison your weapons to harm your foe.) --- Hob the Beekeeper owed Gabber a suit of armor. Well, owed was a strong word, but he wanted to make use of his Orichalcum and Regentrock before he sat in the chair… anyhow, no use fretting. He knew little about armoring himself, but he'd seen the others do it, and with his greater strength he was certain he could make something. He worked for hours, pausing every once in a while to ask questions of those more knowledgeable, and humming to himself and the bees that lived within. Never alone, now. No, he had friends. Colleagues. It was nice. He contorted the sheet of red hot metal with his bare hands, the outer layer of exoskeleton sloughing off harmlessly. He took a step back to admire his work with a buzz of appreciation.  It was tough material to work with. Both of them, really, and he wasn't certain how suitable Orichalcum was to make armor, but the Regentrock had improved the alloy greatly. It retained strength while reducing the inconvenient properties of the bronze-green metal. As long as Gabber didn't rush into combat too quickly, it should keep him safe. He nodded to himself, then carried over his gift. --- 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. He made his way over to Stårn’s claimed territory. The Sieger been clamouring about a new design for a siege engine, and he was loud and insistent enough that he'd somehow managed to have convinced the others to cut trees down for his creation. Gabber went over to help, curious to see what the excitable, difficult genius had come up with. The Ram was quite popular within the Horde - insofar as a metal-covered log could be popular - but this Onāger was a whole other level of complexity. Pulleys, gears, and counterweights all had to work at large scale - the method was proven with his small functional model - and it also had to be wheeled so it could be connected to the wagons. It was going to be a bitch and a half to transport, but it would be worth its weight in a siege… if they could get it done.  Eventually they came up with something they were - Stårn was - reasonably pleased with. It was untested and the settings were mostly guessed at, but using it in a fight would take care of any lingering defects like that thing where the swing arm would suddenly lurch to the side and break some mook’s finger. He'd walk it off, though. (The Onäger, prototype or not, is a powerful weapon of war. You can use it once per conflict, but when you do use it successfully it'll almost certainly mess with the enemy plans. As listed, using it requires ten people and (optionally) up to three Items. Being a siege weapon, it's far more useful in stationary or slow moving targets, so either hit buildings with it - or something you've managed to slow down!) --- Splut the Bluffer, in his sharp new suit, cut a sharp contrast to the armored and battered legions that surrounded him. It didn't matter. He'd carved himself out quite a niche within the Horde - his words themselves were weapons. With this in mind, he'd respectfully requested a captainship - of sorts - from the Warlord. After a moment’s thought (or, perhaps, a pulse of hangover headache), Grimper had aquiesced. Already making a mental list of likely Töans, he sidled up next to a wounded Fröman soldier and wheedled his way through the man's mental defenses. It wasn't a hard sell, really: joining up with the Unexpectables would save his life, sure, but cooperation would also make their invasion (which was after all a very limited affair) as quick and painless for the Fröman population as possible. After all, most of the real violence on the Horde's part was self defence (not a total lie) and due to lack of intelligence (true in more than one way). Cooperation was better for everyone. The addled man agreed and allowed Splut to help him to his feet. Splut directed him towards Magda for further information, then moved onto the next one. (Splut successfully argues for captaincy, becoming the Horde's fourth captain. The infiltration squad gains +10 to rolls following his orders in non-Combat conflicts. Additionally, he converts two survivors of Agenou's men, who will be addressed later on.) --- Neebs and Sucy opted to try their hand at brewing. Well, why not? They had a little time, and they kinda knew what they were doing. They found a brewery in town and helped themselves to the equipment as the owners gritted their teeth in enforced smiles. A couple of mushrooms, some other neat stuff, a pinch of this and that for flavor… and Mushbrëwm was born. And, hell, it was pretty good!  (You made enough for the rest of the class! Due to Fostis’ actual facilities, the first one is on the house! Each player can take one for free, though in subsequent Downtimes they'll cost 2 Glory a pop at Magda’s Grumpy Shop. Well done.) --- Before the Ritual, the Horde took a moment to repurpose Agenou's Baton into something more their style. It had been his weapon, or at least a symbol of his power, and now he was dead! They wrapped it in a flag made freshly for the purpose and now it was a symbol of their power! They waved it while whooping, and felt a great thrill of energy run up their spines. UN-EX-PECTA-BLES! UN-EX-PECTA-BLES!  But then it was time to put it away and stand in the circle once more. Magda passed out the Nails, and ordered them to stand in a chain, facing one another's backs. These would be going into the shoulder blade, on the same side as the first, so they'd need to hold the Nail in position on their neighbor's back. They had only a moment of awkwardness at the uncomfortable position before the Ritual took hold and they locked in place. Grimper took a breath, obviously struggling with the pain in his missing hand, which sparked and flared with light. The ritual proceeded as before, until... TAKE THIS NAIL INTO YOURSELF AND GROW STRONG, MY HORDE! And they did. Adrenaline rushed through their bodies, making their hair stand on end with the restless power in their muscles. The Ritual was done… and yet they stayed there, frozen. Grimper held the silence for a long moment, then continued. “Bring them.” Magda brought forth a group of healthy looking young Fostisians, the captured deserters, and the few survivors so recently turned to the cause by the Bluffer's words. The lucid ones tried to escape, but the Nailed Fostisians held them, even as they struggled against their own bodies, their eyes rolling. Grimper held his truncated hand above the group and intoned. “As the Horde goes into battle, whether against our hated foes or against the cruel devices of the Oh-Gee, the heat of our bloodlust is diminished one spark at a time. If we wish to win, we'll need that fire blazing hot! You have betrayed us, fought us, or impeded us. No longer. We have need of your flesh - but not your minds!” The struggles intensified, but so did the pressure, until at last each of them drew out a Nail and held it to their brow. Grimper spoke with a voice like thunder.
THEN, BE REBORN. (Well done on your third Ritual! Monsterists Enervating Extract allows you to roll again on a roll of 100 and add that to your roll. Only once, mind you, even if you luck out and roll out again. Beyond that, Grimper's secondary ritual bound an additional 20 people to the group. These individuals are Nailbound, their memories utterly erased and their personalities compliant. They take a -10 penalty to all rolls, but they will take orders from other members of the Horde without question. The more Glory they accrue, the more the memories may return, but otherwise they're basically automatons. It's not a pretty business, ethically, but the Horde needs bodies. Them’s the breaks. Speaking of bodies…) --- Solemnly, the Ten marched down into the caves to seek the Vault. A smattering of the Horde went with them, though most stayed above. Some were too afraid of the Old Guys’ magic, some were too afraid to see their friends being hurt, and some simply didn’t care one way or another. There’s lots of people in the Horde, after all. Warlord Grimper naturally opted to attend, and excitement was plain on his face. He talked the entire way down. “Ah, my Horde, I must impress upon how auspicious a find this is. Don’t let the fact that Nagel had another Vault confuse you, these places are rare and powerful, and unopened ones rarer still. I do not know what will happen to you once you place yourselves around that unholy table, but I do know that your sacrifices for your country will be remembered!” This was not altogether reassuring, but there was no turning back now.  Burnie, Pog, Bamboo, Ringo, Snorkus, Verika, Gloff, Börk, Grani and Hob took their seats at their chosen chairs, having discovered through investigation that they were each precisely identical in all respects. As with Snödis earlier, their legs went numb entirely, and the seats seemed to cradle them somewhat uncomfortably. Even with numb limbs, sitting here for a prolonged period of time would quickly feel awful. ‘Luckily’, they didn’t have to sit there long before the seats tilted themselves forwards, bringing them all face to face in a circle. Almost as one, they raised their hands and placed them on the palm pads, feeling a thousand tiny hooks pierce through their flesh… and go deeper. They screamed, and as they screamed messages flashed before their eyes.  quote:Ì̴̡͢Ņ̀͠͡V̶̧̕͟͠Ơ͜͏͝K̢҉̀I̢̛͘͜N̨̢͢͞G̸̛͘ ͠͝͡D҉͜E̷̸̢͝҉F͞͡R̀͘͘͡Á̢̡͡Ǵ̴̡̀M҉͏̢E̷͘͡N̶̴͜͡T̛͡A̸̛͟͞͡T̶͘͡͡I̧Ò̶͜͡N͞͏͢ ̵̢P̵̵̨̨R̨͘͟O͞Ć̨̢͜È͘Ś̸̶̵S̛͝ One fell silent. And another. And another and another and another and another and another and another and another and… Ringo the Pick ripped his hand away from the console, retching with terror and agony but feeling better than he had in… ever. Indeed, his palm where the pins had cut him was sealing already, even the blood creeping back into his body. The chairs retracted suddenly, slamming back into the floor and lying flush with the surface as though they’d never been and flinging the ashes and bones of the others around the room. Not Ringo, though. He landed on his feet, as smoothly and easily as if he’d stepped off a curb. Grimper walked towards him excitedly, reaching out his good hand towards him. More messages like he’d seen during the Process flickered around Grimper, indicating mundane things like his speed and coordinates as well as other things like the concentration of alcohol on his breath. With exaggerated slowness, Ringo shook Grimper’s hand, and Grimper’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement at the force of it. “You, my good fellow, are something new. You will be our weapon. Welcome to the Horde, Ringo the Slayer.” His smile twitched as he took in the bodies of the others. “Clean this up, the rest of you. The Vault will need time to recharge, but we have no time to linger. Take the wounded, if they can be moved, and strip the dead.” He swept out of the room, but no one was watching him anyhow. Ringo brushed his fingers against his newly perfect topknot, and resisted the urge to scream. (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. This was an unfair event to be sure, but Vile Mechanisms always will be, should you encounter another one. But, naturally, there’s a reward for the winner! Ringo is now a… there’s no word for what he is. Pick one and we’ll stick with that! Either way, he looks approximately like he did before, only slightly larger and more physically ‘perfect’. He now also has 4 HP, rolls 10d100, and can reroll the lowest of these. He retains his normal Skillcores, but once per Downtime he can also swap out his primary core (Lockpicking) for any of theirs (Kissing, Cross Stitching, Accuracy, Bee Keeping, Lifting +15, Pigilante Justice, Firestarting, Weaving +15, Avoiding Notice). Their other Cores fall to the ground, available to be harvested.) Sucy alone stood frozen in shock, hands over her mouth. She’d slipped her ring on during the process, momentarily wishing that she could have the peace and quiet of that dark, slow space she went to when she put it on… but she found that she was neither deaf nor blind in this place. She saw them at the table, only it wasn’t them. It was the essence of them, maybe, primitive shapes or textures or colors of each of them being twisted and rotated in ways she didn’t understand, then - one by one - slamming into the Ringo-being in a way that made him look more whole than he was before, like the pieces belonged together. She pulled the ring off as soon as she could, but she saw far too much. Far too much. She didn’t understand. She looked at Ringo and imagined she saw that monstrous shape, that Ringo-shaped-shape and wondered… did she have a shape? (Sucy’s ring did some weird poo poo when the Old Guy mechanism activated?) --- Back on the surface, the Horde lined up. Though they’d taken a hit to their sanity down in the vault, they had to move on. With their new ‘recruits’, they were larger than ever before, and with… Ringo… they had a powerful new weapon against their enemies. Grimper spoke, beaming with pride and fanatical bloodlust. “O my Horde, hearken to me! They sent one of their best against us, and he broke like a wave against the shore! We took his things and made them our things, better than he ever had! We are ready, my Horde, to take on greater things! But, I wonder… what ought we do? [HORDE VOTE]
“Noostra and its Thumbscrew beckons - home must learn of what we’ve done and what they will face in the coming weeks and months. The Inhabited menace must not be discounted, even though our armies are sufficient to crush them all! ” “But, ah, they’re expecting us to go to Noostra. They’ll be waiting, because every indication will dictate that we’re heading that way next. So we could ignore it entirely and go to the Fortress directly! Ahead of schedule, but timelines mean nothing in a real fight! It will be a tough go, but odds are they’ve sent the bulk of their forces to intercept us elsewhere. What an upset that would be!” “No one will ever expect us to go there! Because it makes no sense at all!” “Or we could stay here! Live in the mines like mushrooms until the Fröman bloody Guard comes down here and crushes us under a tide of bodies!” “I'm not sure what our other options are, here...” Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 21:22 on Dec 22, 2017 |
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Dec 20, 2017 03:30
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I assume I missed about a million things, but I'll patch it up tomorrow as Discord tells me all the ways I've failed! A bunch more portraits coming for the Nailbound, too. Also I forgot to post the Battlebrum +2:
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Dec 20, 2017 03:46
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Eh, I'm rethinking the Vile Mechanism somewhat. Here's my issue. It needs to be something dangerous and cruel, something that shows that the Old Guys are giant assholes who extract disproportionate pain for their boons. Plus, killing you guys is fun... But not quite like this. I've had a few complaints that the real severity of the punishment was unknown, and while, yeah, ancient deathtrap, this is also a game and you're investing time and feeling into it. It's leaving a sour taste in my mouth to have it go down like this. I can think of three solutions:
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Dec 20, 2017 06:38
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Not properly fixing things until I'm at the office (on job site currently), but this is what I settled on.
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Dec 20, 2017 15:06
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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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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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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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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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Chair Survivor portraits - I'll add more as people confirm. So far Gloff and Grani are dead, and I think only Pog and Börk are outstanding otherwise.      The weird stuff on your faces and bodies will be mentioned later, but they're lowered sections of skin. Like you're been flayed in little squares, but it doesn't hurt, it just feels extremely unpleasant. It doesn't seem to impede functionality, even on things like eyes and noses, but it's disfiguring. There's other narrative effects, but we'll get to that later. More portraits coming in here, and an update at... some point? edit: 
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 19:55 on Dec 22, 2017 |
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Dec 22, 2017 17:28
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Hi, still alive! Got VR and have been totally lost in another world! BUT I haven't forgotten about this one. Hoping to update tomorrow, and in the mean time posted 20 new portraits to the first post. Go take a look at your
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Dec 27, 2017 05:06
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Right right, closing votes. Update coming ~soonish~
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Dec 28, 2017 23:11
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The debate was surprisingly heated, with a consensus that had Grimper frowning in dismay. “Why do I even ask you where we're going… but the point is well taken. Nostra can hold itself at high alert for a while longer - let the fear of our coming simmer their bones in terror! They'll be prepared for us, at this rate, but their nerves will fray to the breaking point in anticipation… and while they're waiting for us to go right, we'll go left. We are, after all, THE! UNEXPECTABLE! HOOOORDE!” He paused for a cheer, which he received with abundance, then told them to pack up. The Horde scrambled, excited to finally get out of this drat town - it was pretty thoroughly conquered at this point, and they lusted after bigger and better things. Though it was perhaps unnecessary at this point, several particularly clever Hordemates systematically programmed the Nailed populace to disregard any attempts to free them, to actively impede investigation, to… so on and so forth, until the targets simply went into standby until the Horde left town. It would be nearly impossible to interrogate them for useful information now, and by the time it was possible, the Horde would be long gone. Despite their extended leave, a few members of the Horde couldn’t help themselves from trying to squeeze in a few more battle preparations. Starn the Sieger tried in vain to prepare some munitions for his new creation, but Magda swatted him in the back of the head and told him to load up the wagons. Grumbling, he limped away - but at least his Sieging Accessories were ready to go! Marra and Splut took their last few spare seconds to scour the already picked-over battlefield for a knife… and found one, tucked into an awkwardly twisted boot.   --- While people crowded around the changed Dekatö Ringo, Sucy the Mushroom Farmer prudently snagged the Vault Key. They weren’t going to be staying long enough for the thing to reset, and they sure as hell didn’t want those Fröman sons of bitches to mix up a batch of whatever Ringo was. Before she pulled it, she allowed the room to be thoroughly scoured for… leftovers. Not everyone had survived - if those weird-rear end scars could be called survivial - and there was no sense wasting equipment or Skillcores. Snödis found something unexpected, too. Cradled in the ashes of an old and brittle body, a tiny child-thing. Grani... or perhaps, now, Babi? At any rate, they couldn’t leave it there. They all left without another word, and when the key was pulled the gate snapped itself shut once more. A small notice lingered just out of Ringo’s field of vision, no matter how he turned his head. It looked like it said R̵̨̧͝͞E̵̡̢͘Ş̸̧̕͡E҉̕͝͝T̷̴̢͟ ̕͞I̢̨͏N̸͢ ́P̢̕͢R͜Ớ̕G͞R̴҉̡҉͡E̢̨͟͡͠S̸͢͝͏S̶̀̕͟͜. He shook his head to clear it, and it collapsed into a tiny icon. Strange. (Bamboo gains Poor Decision Making, Qwag gains Spinning +30, and Mooks gain Swimming and Smithing! Also Verika gains a Scarf!) --- Flutter’s hardened cocoon snapped open with a creak like a falling tree, revealing a half-mad, insectoid face. The Breakerfly’s eyes flickered with a dull echo of the Warlord's power, and its vocalizations sounded uncannily like a distorted growl straight from The Warlord's mouth. It slid its way free and consumed the husk messily, then fluttered its brilliant wings to dry them. What a beast! It was easily twice the size as before, strong enough to carry a rider, now. The flaming ichor leaking from vents along its back was a slight concern, but that could be worked around with the proper saddle. What a sight! It wheeled and rattled like an old machine, but it's movements were powerful, if slightly erratic. Its wings left traces of glowing pink motes of fire, and the Horde spent a pleasant few minutes watching it caper and hunt… until the Warlord came up behind then and cleared his throat. “What in the world did you feed that thing? Is that… hey, you scamps, that used to be my Gauntlet Harmonizer! I thought it had been broken in the attack, but here I find you've fed it to a bug! Well, no helping it now - it's already been incorporated - but keep an eye on that thing. Little bastards are half wild to begin with, and I can't imagine eating something like that is going to be great for its temperament… or its lifespan! Good luck - and get back to work!”  (Ran out of space on the card, but you can keep feeding it Glory to further evolve it… maybe. Flutter the Breakerfly acts as a passive item that allows access to Flying, but it can be actively used to ranged attack, in which case it will roll a 1d100 + Horde's Glory. On an odd number, the forces will be too much for it, and kill it. Won't be too pretty for the person riding it either, but they'll get a chance to react!) --- Zapanda let herself be lead back to her wagon, satisfied to at least have found an opportunity to continue her research. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of Hob and stopped short, pulling against her handlers. Hadn't he? Impossible! She opened her mouth to call out to him, but her Nailbound captor pulled her along inexorably. She shook her head again. Impossible. A cure would not fall into her lap like this, not here. Not now. No, better not to hope… but neither would she turn away from evidence of it presented itself. Next time they were hurt, next time she was free, she'd check on her suspicions. (Zapanda REALLY wants to talk to Hob! Also she just can’t WAIT for Gado to take those experimental drugs!) --- Humbug’s accusation shook the Horde - those that were listening, at any rate. Doc was conspicuously absent, ostensibly busy elsewhere… but Grimper wasn’t. He considered the evidence carefully, tapping his finger against his lips.
--- A few moments later, the Warlord returned, bedecked in stolen armor. It didn’t fit, and it was covered in the Commander’s blood, but that just made it all the more fearsome. “Alright, you maggots! Let’s move out! For some fool reason, you bastards think that heading to Öxnyard - nice move with the Nailbound, Sieger, hilarious poo poo - is a prudent course of action! We are, of course, simply wasting our time, and allowing our foe to prepare! Well, they were always going to outnumber us, and they were always going to be ready for us! Let’s go after their beasts of war and turn them against their masters! Let’s go after their places of leisure, and turn them into charnel houses!” With a mighty roar, the Unexpectables charged out of Fostis for the last time!  (Jeez, I hope so!) --- Naturally, the journey to Öxnyard was fraught with not some little peril. The Horde was marching openly now, the time for secrecy long past. The path to the Great Stables - and subsequently Noostra - was a long one, a march of many days, and the Horde would have to alternate guard shifts to ensure people remained in tip top shape when they arrived. The Warlord allowed them to array themselves as they wished, but loving around was to be kept to a minimum. They all needed to stay alert.
[HORDE VOTE]
[HORDE VOTE]
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 17:30 on Feb 1, 2018 |
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Dec 31, 2017 05:48
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Captainicus posted:Name: Waesh Oh hey! Have a portrait! 
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Dec 31, 2017 07:22
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There Bias Two posted:This game has been really fun to read! I can't keep up with the playstyle though. That's fine! You could even make a character and never play them, which still improves the Horde.
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Jan 5, 2018 02:43
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The Horde noisily and messily arranged themselves into neat thirds with a sorting technique that only made sense to Unexpectable minds. They chanted the traditional Unexpectable marching song that they just now invented and began to march, double-time! They’d decided that they wanted to get there Fast, and drat the extra food! Patsy would supply, wouldn’t he? He always did! Good old Patsy! They created a new verse just for him. quote:♪ I don’t know but I’ve been told ♪ Magda lounged in her wagon, being pulled by a dozen Nailbound. This was great - pulling her own wagon full of crap had been a real pain in the neck, but someone had been poisoning all the horses they came around! The Nailbound, on the other hand, would run until their bodies collapsed, with little care about their own safety. Just the way she liked them. She had another one massaging her massive feet. She laughed, a deep booming sound that sent the nearby Horde into their own fits of nervous laughter. When the Nailsmith laughed, you laughed too, or else she’d whip a stone at you. This was known from experience. Still, she had to admit she felt a little fondness for them. A tiny bit. A guttering candleflame of appreciation. They came to her with stories of Glory and battle and foolishness that reminded her all-too-painfully of the Asskickers. She was the last of those, but it was nice to see something like their spirit lived on. She wiped the beginnings of a tear away and threw a broken Mushbrewn bottle at a Mook who was dragging his feet. --- The first leg of their journey was relatively uneventful. Several times, marching through the evening gloom, they thought they saw the enemy. But no - lights from houses or reflected starlight, animals on the path. They’d left with enough speed to avoid reinforcements, and headed in an unexpected direction to boot. Anyone aiming to ambush them was at the wrong place at the wrong time! At some point, Grimper stiffened as he jogged. “They’re there. They’re questioning the townsfolk.” He said nothing for a good while longer, then smiled. “They’re frustrated - you guys must have layered in too many commands to easily crack them!” He patted his ribs, where the linked Nail lay. Fostis had been utterly gutted by the Horde, pumped of all value and left worthless to the enemy. Excellent work by all! Later, while crossing a stream, the Horde encounters a pack of completely oblivious Wagnags. They lapped up the waters and fed on the soft grass that grew on the banks, and looked to be entirely unconcerned by the army only a few dozen metres away. That was an error on their part! Pythag, Portha and Gryph were closest by and opened fire with their bows. The first arrow struck one of them in the flank and they scattered - but not fast enough. The trio downed several of them to cheers and polite applause. Magda hauled the corpses up into her wagon like some sort of enormous crab and a while later tossed out over-salted scraps of jerky. Snacks for the road!  (Moving quickly and towards Öxnyard = no enemy ambushes! Nyah nyah, Fröman scum! One roll on the encounter chart for the first leg: Wild Animal Pack! They’re weak and distracted and are easily dispatched by the archers of the First Watch. The jerky is tough and kinda gross - everyone rolls 1d10; on a 10 gain 1 HP! You also find a Wagnag Horn - no sense rolling for it, first person who wants it gets it.) --- When night fell (actually shortly after, since sunset found them in a wide-open field), they made camp. They found a quietly defensible natural formation at the crest of the tallest drumlin in a field of the same, and two thirds of the Horde sank quickly into an exhausted sleep. Not so for the First Watch. They spread out and investigated their surroundings. It was hauntingly quiet out here, not even the wind for company. The sky was cloudless and the moon new, so the stars were clearly visible. Constellations such as The Hungry One, the Leaf and the Field of Sweet Water winked down on them and revealed the sparse terrain around them. In the distance, on the horizon, lights danced here and there. Towns, or farms, most likely. For their part, the Horde had kept their fires small. No sense attracting anyone unwelcome, and it wasn’t that cold out yet. They ate lightly, too exhausted to cook for the entire group. The night was long and boring, so small patrols wandered out. They had agreed to Explore, after all, and the surroundings seemed quiet enough. Hat the Milliner surveyed the dim path. Since joining the Infiltration Squad, Grimper seemed to think that her and the rest of her crew should serve as scouts. Well, it wasn’t entirely out of their wheelhouse, she supposed, but their crew was better served when there was a place to… infiltrate. She kicked over a stone and paused to examine it. Shaped, not a natural cobble. She waved a few of the others over and they fanned out to examine it. Soon enough they realized they’d happened upon the ruins of a few farmhouses, little more than collapsed foundations. Undaunted, the searched the wreckage. Between them, they found Five Cowardclaw blooms, two sprigs of Hookseed, and - unbelievably - a pair of Lucky Pearls wrapped in an old wooden box. Not a bad haul for an old ruin. They also found a padlocked gate that descended into the earth buried beneath a few rotted old boards and scattered pats of mud and sand. The Horde knew exactly what to do with gates, especially with old rusty ones. Within was a tiny basement filled with old, rusty farming instruments and horseshoes, along with a few inches of standing water. Unusually, there was also a strangely well-kept saddle. It still shone with the polished glow of oiled leather, and unlike everything else it wasn’t dusty at all. They snagged it and filled the hole with dirt.     (No attacks during the night. The First Watch finds a Ruin and a few assorted treasures within. First Watch alone may claim these as they will, first come, first serve. Moving along!) --- The next day the First Watch was exhausted, but there was no time to rest - they had to go! They could sleep the next night. It was alright - they were Töans (well, most of them - the others were honorary Töans) and they were plenty tough enough to go a couple days without sleep! The launched back into their journey, banging their weapons against their shields to pump themselves up (and in some cases to stay awake!) Their campsite was a fair bit less spooky in the morning, and the air had grown chill as the night had worn on, so the rising sun was welcome. They set off, following Grimper once more, since he seemed to either have an infallible sense of direction or else was confident enough to fake it. Grimper kept his pace uncomfortably fast, even for the quickest among the group, and they had no doubt he could keep it up. But he also wasn't going even faster, which they ALSO had no doubt he could do, so in a strange way it was like he wanted to be near them. Supporting this startling hypothesis was the fact that he only berated them slightly for asking about Madmist: “You ignorant sops - it's like you never went to the Queen's Academy! Oh that's right, you're all nobodies. Ha! Now listen - this might just save your life.” He cleared his throat, then put on a disturbingly high falsetto voice and began in a singsong tune: quote:”Clouds of red and crimson briiiight, should your heeeeeart turn to friiiight; “But yeah, we burned away enough of the fungus that we pretty much wiped it out in Tö, though you can still find it in pockets here and there. Without the right conditions it’s just a pest. Naturally we’ve thought about weaponizing it, but it’s just too risky. Wouldn’t want to hit your own troops, right?” He slapped Ringo on the back, guffawing, then kept on walking, ignorant or uncaring of the discomfort he’d caused in his men. (Madmist is an environmental condition that causes and/or exacerbates Monsterism and/or madness. It’s not fun stuff - any action that would bring you in contact with it will be tagged [MADMIST], but it’ll be pretty obvious if you ever see it. It looks like a dense red cloud that sparkles a bit in the light. If you come in contact with it, follow the following instructions:
--- The ‘path’, such as it was, gave way over the course of the day to tromping through a swampy marsh. The road they’d been following cut through a nearby town, and while it would have been easier to simple rampage through it and rob them, Grimper insisted it would be faster to do it this way. He tried to describe the pretzelling way the road took to avoid this marsh, and how much easier this would be ‘big picture’ style, but that didn’t make it any easier to walk through. Nor to pull the wagons through, though the Nailbound bore it all with dopey grace. It must be nice to have not a thought in your head except for pleasing the Warlord and following orders. Too stupid to be afraid, too weak-willed to reconsider foolish orders… on second thought, there were benefits to thinking. For one, avoiding whatever the hell that was! [MARSH BASKER PICTURE] An enormous, warty beast rose from the marsh, revealing that they’d actually been treading over its wide, flat tail without noticing it. It burbled at them menacingly, but the Second Watch was ready for it! When it slammed its massive body down upon the startled Horde, Ringo rushed underneath it and braced his Wendigoad beneath its falling form. Helplessly stuck, it swatted harmlessly at him with stubby arms as the others gutted it. It fell still, and Ringo dragged it along with them for a while as his smaller companions stripped it of useful bits. They saw several others as they trekked - [MARSH BASKER], they read to Ringo’s eyes - but covered in its blood they managed to avoid further attacks. After a few more brutal hours of this, they found themselves back on solid ground.    (Single Marsh Basker attacked you, too weak to really endanger the Horde. You kill it, gaining yourself two Basker Cloaks, a Basker Beak, and a Basker Claw. Second Watch may disperse these as they wish, first come, first serve.) --- It took another few Units for the mud to dry, and even more for it to flake off, but the smell clung long after. Grimper, whose boots alone had been sullied by the mud, cracked jokes at and with them, uncharacteristically chipper. Suddenly, he - and Ringo - snapped their heads upwards gaze into the distance. There was a town here, unrecorded on their maps. The structures were new-looking and freshly painted, and by the sounds of it they were in the midst of some sort of celebration. The Warlord held up a hand to call them to a stop, but only for a moment. “We're going through it. Wendigos, forwards!” Though diminished in numbers, the beastly Hordemates put on their fiercest roars and charged, scattering the revelers and drawing forth the town guard… who were immediately fallen upon by the rest of the Horde. COMBAT it was a massacre - or would have been, if the Horde had enough time to linger and kill everyone. But they were moving quickly, so they merely struck out at everything that moved, stole everything that they could easily carry, and set fire to the rest! Sure, there'd be survivors, but who else would spread their legend if not survivors? Plus, hey, some of them probably got infected by the Wendigos, so that was fun too! Running out of town, whooping, Mason the Hollerer noticed a wooden sign announcing the inaugural opening of the town of Belmysut. He quickly rearranged the letters, flipped a rude gesture at the burning town, and followed the rest of the Horde into the horizon.      (They also didn't have much of a chance! Since you voted to raid, you did - but since you voted to prize speed, you weren't very thorough about it. You didn't collect Skillcores normally, but due to Grim Harvest you managed to finesse a few of them right out of their bodies on the move: Interior Decorating, Watching, Leadership, and Yelling. You also stole three Valuables and ‘Enough’ +1 Belmysut Gear. And by ‘Enough’ I mean all of you should have armor and a weapon by now. If you're missing one, take the other. If you have both, you don't take either. You're traveling light, but you also need to be equipped at Noostra.) --- Night crept up again and the exhausted Horde was near to croaking. After finding a good-enough spot, they wearily dropped their packs and made camp. First Watch fairly dropped on their faces; after a quick repast with the others - consuming another Ration - they fell fast asleep. Third Watch went to their beds chipper and well rested - they'd slept the night before, and would sleep tonight as well. They bid the Second Watch a sarcastic good night, then tucked in themselves. The Second spread out over the area, this one a dry riverbed below a covered bridge. Newly dried water plants hinted that the river was either recently drained or seasonally dry rather than some horrible drought, and the bridge itself wasn't in terrible condition even out here in the middle of nowhere. Say what you would about the Frömen, their infrastructure was pretty decent. Which, really, was a waste of their resources: when Tö conquered these Queenslaying scum they'd just inherit all of it without doing the hard work. Whatever the case, the Horde had tucked themselves underneath it's shadow for the night. It was almost cozy under there… but no sleep for the watchmen! They ranged out in small groups, sticking to official divisions when possible but mostly just wandering with close friends out of habit. The Nail and Fist Knights - well, Noggins, Verika and Somnö at least - walked up the river a few minutes and found a small fishing village on stilts. The river bed below them was dry, but the stilts and boats moored on the bed on long ropes implied that a dry river wasn't unexpected… and people living in the buildings above implied they weren't expecting it to stay dry much longer. It was sorta beginning to seem like this drained riverbed was actually some kind of tidal creek - so when was the water coming back? Noggins examined the stains on the stilts while the others looked on nervously. The wood was impregnated with salt, confirming her suspicions. The Horde had to be warned! They’d been so tired they’d found cover where they could, and this was turning out to be a non-ideal place! They cut the ropes to the boats and sawed away at the stilts (why not, right?) then ran back towards the others as silently as they could. And all along, they fretted that they could hear water rushing towards them.
Nail and Fist Knights = 272 VS. 6d100 = 233
(Well done! Those who rolled 20 or below (only Mooks, I think) are swept away, but since they had warnings they take only 1 Damage and are a little bedraggled and damp. I also had a note in this encounter that those who roll 1 instantly die, which actually happened three times… but 1s are rerolled automatically due to the Ritual so that didn't happen either!) --- Wet and miserable, they were forced to hike a little further before they found another likely place to camp. They spent a fitful night tossing and turning and dreaming of water but though some nasty creatures circled the camp, they opted against making a play for the sleeping Horde. The Second Watch was thankful for the chance to get a break from that at least, because they were also responsible for sorting out the Horde's sodden laundry. Not very glamorous, but necessary! Between winks of shuteye, Grimper debated giving them some sort of official commendation for their valiance, then chuckled himself to sleep. --- The next day was a rough start for everyone - they'd been forced to shelter under an granite outcropping, and the ground beneath them was either hard stone or strewn with pine needles and cones. They grumbled as they got their gear together and made a late start. Grimper was infuriatingly chipper, and didn't seem at all bothered by the chill in the air. “We're getting closer, boys and girls! We're, oh, halfway or so to Noostra, so don't lose heart!” The chorus of groans turned his grin to a lopsided frown and he launched into a barrage of curses that sent everyone scrambling. The day got colder as they went on, and by midday it began to rain, gently at first then with an intensity that made it hard to see the road ahead. Grimper clanged his fist against his stolen armor rhythmically, and for a while that was enough to keep them marching, but when the grade got steeper they had to break. Muddy, soaked, and miserable, the Horde watched their Banner hang listlessly under the pounding rain, sitting wherever they could find shelter. Magda peeked out of her wagon then hopped down to walk amongst them. She paced, hands clasped behind her broad back, then suddenly grabbed the Golden Slinker Flag and waved it vigorously, shaking off fat droplets of wet gunk. “A Slinker is a very strange emblem, my horde.My adopted Horde! There are those who think Slinkers are vermin, spreaders of disease and thieves of food. And you know what? They're right! Slinkers are simply the worst… if they're in your house. If they're in the house of your foe, they can be your fondest friend! That's what you are - that's what WE are - vermin scraped from the streets of Tõ and cast into the house of her enemies! Only recently, you were strangers forced together by circumstance, and now you're bonded in blood and guts and song. Don't let a little rain wash away that spirit! Know what a Slinker does when it's stuck in the rain? It rolls and screams in the mud, clawing at the sky for daring to sully its fur!” She grinned too-wide, then slammed herself down into the sticky earth, throwing clods of mud at those nearby. Her laughter boomed out around them, and she pointed directly into the swollen clouds above. “gently caress you sky! I'll kill you! Come down here so I can beat you up!” When the others looked at her like she was crazy, she reached out and grabbed two of them, one in each massive mitt, and threw them down too. “Come on! Rage at the bastard sky like you'll never be dry again!” She yowled and snarled viciously, and soon the others did too. They threw mud at the sky, they threw mud at each other, they threw mud at Grimp-uh, they threw mud at each other! The forest echoed with their mingled cries, and soon enough they were keyed up enough that they began to march double-time, yelling like wild beasts. Exhausted from laughter (and age, much to her annoyance), Magda levered herself back into her cramped wagon. She'd clean it out later, screw it. They'd needed that, and she'd needed that. She was finding it harder and harder not to care for these kids, but she bit it back. They'd just die on her like all the others. They always did. --- By the time night fell, the high had worn off a little, but a new one was growing to take its place. Grimper pointed out a wide, cleared field visible on the horizon, beyond the wide rolling hills in between; that, he explained, was Öxnyard. And that little line behind it, barely visible against the gloom but lit by a tiny star of light at its apex? “That, my Horde, is Noostra - more specifically the Thumbscrew Relay.” They couldn't see it (well, Ringo and Verika could, as well as a smattering of people with perception-based cores), but the knowledge that it was 'close’ set smouldering coals of excitement ablaze. There was something else, too. Grimper indicated with one finger [url=]a line of tiny lights, moving like slugs across the hills[/url]. “Refugees. They're running, Unexpectables, from you. News travels slow and vague out here. They must have heard an army was coming - and, hell, we are, though probably not as large a force as they expected! What's say we go down there and show them what's really out there to be afraid of?” The Horde shouted its assent, tired as they were. They certainly weren't in any state to argue with the Warlord even if they wanted to… and really, it was heartening to see that at least SOMEONE was afraid of them. All too soon they'd face an overwhelming force, so a little bit of cowering was welcome! The Horde poured down the hill towards the refugees, lit by the blazing glow of Grimper's aura and the glowing eyes of Monsterists. Soon, the refugees saw them, throwing their ranks into disarray! “Kingdom save us, it's the bloody-handed Horde!” Some ran away, some tried to hide, but some brave fools tried to fight! HOPELESS COMBAT The Second Watch pushes themselves to the limit against the brave men and women who threw themselves against them. Not so much because it was especially tough to cut them down, but because their exhaustion had become acute. This one last piece of business, then they could rest. They cut them down mercilessly, toppled a few of their wagons, poisoned a couple of frenzied horses, and let the survivors scatter. Let them tell the tale, whatever - their loot was far more important! For one, they swapped out their busted, dirty old wagon wheels for new ones. Maintenance was important, particularly if they needed to make a quick getaway! The wagons and packs contained all manner of thing, though naturally not really the sort of things an army would need. Clothing, trinkets, money - nice to have, but not terribly useful. Food, though? Food was nice! The Horde gorged themselves on dried meat and fruit and nuts and cheese, and even Patsy was thrilled beyond belief not to have to eat bread! They ate and drank - because, oh, they'd had wine! - and decided to camp there for the night. Why not? The flames of the wagons would keep them warm, the fact that people were fleeing rather than hunkering down in defense implied that they didn't have a nearby defensive force, and also they were really tired! They crashed, the Second Watch clocked out, and the Third Watch began their patrol. (Now, when I made these encounter tables I may have underestimated what your strength would be at this point, but this was never going to be a hard fight. Consequently, they don't really HAVE much of use to you. Feel free to ask for a cosmetic item or something, but otherwise eating here merely prevents the loss of another Ration. HOWEVER, you also killed a bunch of dudes! They're no soldiers, but they had Clouting, Cooking, Painting, Listening, Hunting, Fishing, and Masonry to pick from. First come first serve again - we're not going to do a Downtime, so let's keep things moving.  Also they had another Cobaltwing Chrysalis, but probably nobody wants that.) --- As the fires died down the flashing beacon of the Thumbscrew Relay began to resolve itself. Kinda. If you squinted. Weird to think that something so tiny was so important to the Warlord. Well, it must actually be enormous, really, to see it from here, but distance and darkness made everything seem like some half-real figment. They spent most of the night ensuring that none of the refugees who were surely hiding terrified in the underbrush got any fool ideas about liberating their recently-borrowed goods, but they never actually saw any. Snödis and her crew did, however, find one of the recently abandoned towns by the name of Boulek. The name didn't mean anything to them - they didn't remember seeing or hearing about it prior, not on any maps, not talking to the Warlord - but then there would be hundreds or thousands of such places in Frö, probably. They pushed open doors, peered in windows. No one here. No one anywhere. It was eerie, in the dark, a ghost town cast by their very presence. Hob picked up a scrap of paper. quote:INCURSION EN ROUTE (Empty town, gutted of anything useful in anticipation of your coming, save for the very fact that someone or something mobilized to disperse leaflets informing people of your coming. While this part of Frö (man I really need to draw you guys a map or something) is pretty spread out and sparsely populated, they evidently have some means of coordinating motion over wide areas.) --- Morning came after a decently restful night. The large meal and the warmth of the burning wreckage had come together to make for a fairly comfortable sleep, and while Third Watch was feeling a little weary, everyone else was feeling pleasant enough. “Look alive people! Another day or so of marching and we’ll be tromping through Öxnyard! They know we’re coming, but it doesn’t matter.” He tried to keep his voice excited and peppy, but he was visibly distracted by that invisible beacon on the horizon. He looked and sounded a little worried, and if he was worried, the Horde couldn’t help but worry as well. Come to think of it, had he had anything at all to drink during the journey? Even last night he’d merely reclined in a soft patch of grass and looked at the stars while the others had celebrated. That more than anything was frightening. They set off as soon as possible, their feet tracking the ashes of the burned bodies and valuables of the dead across the stony fields. No one felt like singing or cracking jokes anymore, and the closer they grew to Öxnyard the worse it got. They were sick of walking, sick of subsisting on crackers and leftovers and the few stashed Mushbrewms they’d managed to keep over the course of the trip. Something like bloodlust was rising in them, but bloodlust tempered with the knowledge that they faced a vastly more numerous foe. Noostra, their eventual target, wasn’t a military facility, but it was a hell of a lot larger than Fostis had been. What would their hundred-and-a-handful do against the possibly tens of thousands in the city? The Warlord had some half-hearted thoughts on the matter: “Yeah, there’s no doubt about that - there’s no way in hell we can lay siege to a place like this, and if they can mobilize their forces, they’ll crush us. But it’s a city of the fat and wealthy, a city of excess and ‘nobility’. They need to be protected. They think that they’re safe behind those walls.” “But we can break them. We have this.” He swept a hand over the Ram and the Onager, “we have him,” he pointed at the snarling Breakerfly barely tethered to Starn, “and, when the time comes, you have me. We can break their walls, coming from an unexpected direction, and once we’re inside we’ll cause chaos the way only we can. Tie up their supply lines, threaten their powerful and lofty, and drive a spike through their resistance to the Thumbscrew. Once I can get that message out… Magda and I have cooked something up. I’ll leave it at that for now.” “Get me inside, my Horde. Take what we need from Öxnyard, bloody their noses, and get me into Noostra.” He lapsed into silence as they walked, and that was that. It was a kind of plan, and they’d done more with less the entire brief flame of their existence. They’d make do. --- Bamboo was bone-weary of this whole trip, but it was her turn to be on Watch. Everyone was awake now, at least somewhat, but they were counting on the Third Watch to keep an eye out on novel threats while the others guided them towards their destination. She was keyed up, excitement playing through her like music. The terrain was changing around them, turning from the wild patchwork of uncontrolled nature to a more manufactured sort of infrastructure: the roads were better, when they chanced roads; windmills and stranger buildings became more and more common, where before structures were few and far between; while most places seemed to be abandoned, clear signs of organized evacuation showed that once they'd been bustling communities. They were getting close. Suddenly, they became aware of a rustling in the air above that set Flutter chittering. Butterfly scouts! They wheeled and fluttered above on Crimsonwing Darters, lightly armored and apparently weaponless - but it wasn't weapons the Warlord was worried about! “Shoot them down! They can't be allowed to know our numbers and layout!” Those without ranged options scattered and began tossing rocks, but there was no hope that they'd make up the distance. It was all up to the archers. Add Archer rolls here One arrow after another rose like smoke to crowd around the butterflies, tearing wings and scoring hits on the riders. They cried out in alarm and anger and turned to flee, and Grimper demanded someone DO something! ADD HERO ROLES HERE The bodies, bug and Fröman, fell like stones, splattering against the earth. The Horde swarmed over them and smashed them to goo. The first real contact with the Noostrans - victorious! “Strip them of anything useful, and let's keep moving. I think you got all of them, and we'll just have to hope you did. They’re going to notice that a patrol is missing, but until they all check back they aren’t going to know who is missing. But now we know they have butterfly troops, and they've gained nothing for their loss! UN-EX-PEC-TABLES!”   (None of their Darters survived the encounter, but one of them had a clutch of eggs in her belly! Two of the riders had surviving(ish) suits, but only one Skillcore survived impact: Butterfly Riding, not unexpectedly.) --- Oxnyard. Where the great warbeasts of Frö are raised. Many Fröman cavaliers reside here - -in times of peace it is the home to a great many friendly competitions between knights. But in war, the forges pound away ceaselessly as they craft more armor for their heavy cavalry, and the most dangerous steeds are prepared for battle. Grimper cautioned them about what they might find there, though he’d never been there personally. “War beasts, the leavings of foul breeding programs rotting in ditches. Smoke belching from mishapen furnaces churning out their bastard’s armor. Fat, greedy nobles betting and drinking and laughing at the money they’re making on the people dying on the streets!” He spat a sizzling gob, and the Nailbound did the same. They came upon it in the night. [OXNYARD, A DECIDEDLY NON-BRUTAL PLEASANT LOOKING RANCH] The Warlord frowned, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He held a finger to his lips and pointed towards a moving set of shapes coming from the north. A patrol, on high alert, but not specifically looking FOR something. They hadn’t been seen, even if their coming was anticipated. A cluster of large buildings in the centre of the ranch were lit with a soft, steady light. In concentric fields around the property, a variety of animals roamed free and wild, uncaring of what was about to occur. Though exhausted, the Horde took heart on seeing it. At least the march was done - three hundred and sixty eight Units gone, four Units before impact. Swords were drawn, blades were sharpened, and armour was oiled in preparation. Go time.
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 20:48 on Jan 13, 2018 |
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Jan 8, 2018 04:38
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So that post is enormous - probably too enormous. I think I bit off more than I can chew with this one! However, it's done, so we can move on from here. So, tomorrow I'm going to fix the probably many formatting, logic, and narrative errors, and get cracking on the lots and lots of art, both cards and regular. If you have questions or comments, please don't hesitate to lay them on me. Also, thanks for your patience! This week should be easier!
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Jan 8, 2018 05:05
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Still working through both the next update and last update. Added item cards to last post as well as - duh - Threat for the combat missions. Make sure to double check stuff! Also as mentioned before you can absolutely try to take in a fourth core, but unless it's identical you run the risk of barfing your face off (with a hefty -50 roll penalty for next turn). We'll just have to see what happens this time!
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Jan 9, 2018 18:18
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WereGoat posted:
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Jan 10, 2018 21:16
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Also, for your orokos rolls, if you click in the bb code button below your roll, you'll get a copy pastable text box that will display your roll like this:
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~*~*SOME TIME IN THE PAST FEW DAYS*~*~ Undeterred by Ringo’s failed attempt to do the same earlier, some of the Horde greedily attempted to incorporate a fourth Skillcore. Verika the Perceiver attempted to incorporate Hunting, and after a few uncomfortable minutes seemed to have survived the attempt, though she remained nauseous for hours afterwards as the Core ground into place within her Sniping Core. Noggins took a fourth, but sensibly decided to hold onto it for the time being. Others prioritized Cores that matched their current specialties, and managed to integrate those as well. There were even resonations over the long trek, both in combat and otherwise, as they were forced to push themselves to the brink. Whatever the discomfort associated, the Unexpectables welcomed it, because it meant growing strong. (Book keeping, may as well do it here rather than update last post. Skillcores were claimed as follows! Waesh gains Yelling, Bamboo gains Interior Decorating, Verika gains Patsy’s Baking has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Splut’s Skillcores have Resonated - decide whether to keep Bluffing or Lying. The one you choose rises to +20, and the other vanishes, freeing up the slot. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Neeb’s Drinking has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also. Grumbus' Spreading Disease has Self-Resonated - it increases in power to +15. Cooldown is refreshed, also.) --- Warlord Grimper hung back with the wagons as usual after delegating the various tasks. He watched Gado go off by himself with a frown, then turned to face the rest of the troops. He pointed towards the ranch and they went off. For his part, he dropped to sit cross-legged and stared fixedly at the Thumbscrew Relay, so close but so far away. This wasn’t the only Thumbscrew in Frö, naturally, nor was it the closest to Fostis (though he would naturally never reveal that to the Horde), but in addition to being closer to the Gateway Fortress there was a certain… prestige in seizing Noostra’s communication array. They couldn’t dream to hold it, not with such a small crew, but he didn’t need to. He just needed to get in and out, ideally sacrificing as few of his men as possible. It wasn’t that he’d grown unduly attached to the little ankle-biters, at least not entirely, but if the Frömen didn’t already want his head they surely would after he busted their ‘southern jewel’ - he’d need them to cover his escape and to (somehow) crack the significantly tougher shell of the Gateway. But, ah, he was getting ahead of himself. First Oxnyard, home of the Noostra Derby, home of the… his eyes rolled back in his head in boredom. Whatever. His men wanted mounts, as though their own two legs weren’t enough, so he’d indulge them… as long as they were quick. There was nothing here for him, so he’d wait. The Thumbscrew Relay blinked on and off in the darkened distance. --- Qwag and Portha the Rummager had gone off to seek the first patrol, and had little difficulty finding them. They were alert, but distracted, talking amongst themselves. Clearly, they had no expectation that they’d ACTUALLY find someone out here. But the Horde had learned not to underestimate even easy-looking targets - Graxon had been the first of them to die in combat against someone who by all rights he should have trounced. They wouldn’t let Grimper down here by being too hasty. They stalked them in the darkness, Qwag’s many eyes easily piercing the night, and then-
--- Marra the Backstabber went off on her own, infiltrating and trying to look like just another refugee. And why not? There wasn’t a shortage of them around here, and with the fabric and sashes from Agenou’s army, she could conceivably pass for one of them if she was caught. That didn’t mean she WANTED to be caught, naturally. She’d take things as they came.
(Marra is in position.) --- Captain Noggins the Carpenter circled round the ranch until she was certain her direction of provenance was obfuscated then… walked towards the front gate. She bit her tongue as she struggled to keep her face neutral, line Splut had taught her. She belonged here. She wasn't an infiltrator. She was a citizen of Frö, and she had a legitimate reason to be here. Only the latter had a grain of truth to it, and she clung to it like a drowning woman. The door opened before she could knock, and she was surrounded by armed and suspicious-looking guards. She delivered her rehearsed speech flawlessly and managed to look only as nervous as a regular person surrounded by hostile guards. They consulted with each other in hushed voices, keeping her under watch as they did so. She WAS bearing Fröman issue clothing and armor… and she carried herself with an officer's grace, whatever she claimed… not to mention that beastly hammer of hers… also, she was clearly loaded. Beyond all that, why the hell would an enemy even risk themselves in this way? After several long moments, they nodded and let her pass through - though they escorted her to the smithy. She marvelled at what she saw inside, though she kept her opinions off her face. The place had obviously been conceived as a place of leisure, and it still showed on the fixtures and workmanship on the walls. Recently - since the war, she presumed - it had been converted into a cross between a factory and a training facility, though even this had been done with care. The place was packed, though mostly with apprentices - at least, she couldn’t imagine they were knights. After all, this wasn’t a barracks, as far as their intelligence knew, it was just a supply house for Noostra’s actual defenders. That didn’t mean she could let down her guard, because at any minut- “Hey, we’re here.” Noggins blinked up at the largest Fröman she’d ever seen - besides Agenou. He wasn’t quite up to the Commander’s lithe height, but she could easily imagine him matching up with Magda. He squinted at her, rings in his beard jingling. She gulped, as much for effect as out of sheer terror, and gave her speech about her grandfather and her bastard uncle… and dumped out her ‘savings’ to punctuate her point. The man’s eyebrows rose, and he scratched his chin… then swept the gold into a sack, took the armor and began to examine it. “Fostis, eh? I can tell by the smell and by the patina. Not from there, though… well, the army could use more men like your grandfather, and I’m sure he’d be proud you’re following in his footsteps. Unfortunately, I’m pretty busy right at the moment - I could have it done for you in a few days.” Noggins froze, a sick grin plastered on her face. What could she say? She’d rather not do without it, but he’d already taken her money. She opened her mouth and - “I can take care of it, Pendelo.” A young Fröwoman gestured for the armor and the Forgemaster froze in his tracks, then gave it to her. He nodded, then hurried off to whatever he was doing. The slouching figure took her armor plate, turning it this way and that, rubbing gloved and oily fingers over the surface. She mumbled, low and quick, as she worked, and Noggins strained to listen, only to be waved off. “Stand back, I’ll be quick about this. The armor itself is in decent shape, and it has one hell of a story to tell, but I don’t have time to learn about it. I’ll fix up the dents and reinforce it for you, and it’ll do just fine. Better than fine, really. I could care less about the money, though I’m sure the others feel differently. Me, all I care about is this.”  She reached out and touched Noggins on the chest, below her collarbone, with a gloved fingertip. The Carpenter stood transfixed, and it had nothing to do with her words. “You have the heart of a warrior, of a knight, whatever your upbringing. Frö needs more of that.” Her eyes blazed with a sickeningly bright blue light, but they were kind as she continued. “Now hold tight, and smile - it’s not every day a soldier gets armor made special by Jaune the Wall.” She turned to the forge and began to work with such speed and intensity that the hammer strikes sounded as a single tone.    (Uh, Noggins makes first contact with the local Commander! She also gets a drat nice piece of armor in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money! Stolen money, sure, but still a sacrifice! Also, Noggins is in position!) --- Mason, Somnö, and Pythag led a group towards the second patrol. This one swept low around a picturesque dock facing a small lake. A smattering of chairs were set up facing the water, and in peace time the Horde could easily imagine the place being quite peaceful. But right now the dock and boardwalk were covered in dust and grime, disused though not decrepit. The patrol was taking a break nearby, some lounging on the chairs, some merely smoking and talking as though they hadn’t anything to worry about. Mason’s face broke into a grin as he rushed out and swung his brutal weapon down into a recumbent soldier’s neck and kicked him into the water. Shock rippled through the group and they charged for him - but he wasn’t alone.
--- Bamboo the Virtuoso strummed her garotte like a harp, considering her options. She hadn’t the foggiest who the ‘important’ people were, so she watched them. She watched who people spoke to, she watched who people deferred to, and - the old standby - she watched who was dressed the nicest. She’d managed to shimmy up into the rafters of a satellite building, watching people filter in and out. That was the one, right there. A bulky Töan, they laughed at her jokes, accepted pats on the back with grateful smiles, and listened to her thoughts on war and death as though they were religious texts. She only half listened, because she had her own thoughts on both. Finally, she was alone. She hooked her legs around the rafters, then levered herself down.
She was on the roof before she heard the screams. Music to her ears. (Bamboo has killed a High Value Target. She’s in position.) --- The Many-Stepped-Plan was underway! Brainchild of Snödis the Poet and her compatriots, it depended on a lot of moving parts working out perfectly. She had not the least bit of fear that it wouldn’t! Steal a charger, infect the charger, forge a letter, disguise a stablehand, kidnap a stablemaster, acquire the other stuff to make all this go perfectly! Easy! First, Splut and Hob made their way into the herd and wrangled themselves up some Öxnyard Chargers. Getting them to come with them proved to be...
1d100 = 48 VS 1d100 = 14
1d100 = 101 VS 1d100 = 32 (Well! Every single step, every single roll of this, went completely perfectly. I don’t even know what to say. You are all in position, and your plan goes off as you wanted it to. Discuss with me what you want your next steps to be after the rest of the Horde’s actions go down.) --- Gado the Digger shivered at the bottom of the hole he’d dug. His grave, probably. Waves of heat and cold poured over him, like hot oil and ice water in turn. He retched, though mercifully nothing came up to clog his mask. He held the experimental treatment in a clawed, mangled hand and considered his options. He tapped the syringe and saw a tiny luminescent bubble pop through the glass. He didn’t have any options. He injected himself as he was taught, and suddenly his heart stopped and he fell to the ground, dead. (Psyche! Zapanda hates you and she wanted to make you think you could trust her. And, like a sucker, you did. She’s probably laughing it up up th)He jackknifed up off the ground, gasping as though he’d been under water for hours. The hot and cold subsided, leaving in its wake a profound and existential terror. He’d felt himself turning. He’d seen himself, from the inside out, overwritten like a book soaked in ink, the pages that were him curling and twisting and burning into something else. But then it reversed, winding backwards, and here he was, whole. Not cured, though - he could feel it tickling away at his thoughts like a hungry Slinker. But gently caress it, stay of execution! He’d need to talk to Zapanda as he promised, need to try to remember all he could - but first he needed to help! (Gado survived! And is apparently dependant on expensive drugs to continue surviving! Hurrah! His clock is pushed back another three turns, which will hopefully be enough (or else he’ll have to do something drastic), and he’s free to do whatever else he can to help the Horde… or to leave? They already think he’s dead, he could just… wander off and take his chances out there…) --- Neebs the Salestöan had only just managed to convince several of her fellows to join her in the hunt of the third patrol when Ringo the Pick voiced his desire to take them on. Her mouth tightened a little bit, but when Grimper had agreed wholeheartedly with his desire to go and crush them, she bit back a complaint. It wasn’t as though she had anything against the Dekatö, but it was increasingly tough to sell things to her hapless Hordemates when they were all so smitten with Ringo’s sudden power. Maybe she could sell autographs for him, or action figures. Snorkus had taken a shine to him most of all, though oddly he seemed to think that Ringo was his subordinate, which was simply bizarre as all hell. She followed along, grudgingly, until Ringo spotted them. He put his fingers to his lips and whispered. She didn’t hear anything - felt like the sound dropped out around their group, actually - but the Patrol immediately wheeled around to face every direction but theirs. The Horde prowled towards them and pounced.
--- Sucy the Mushroom Farmer fingered her Ring idly, which she'd been doing far more often of late. The Vault had frightened her, when she'd seen… whatever she saw in those chairs, but it had left something in her mind, sprouting questions like hyphae. She put the Ring on while she marched, whenever she needed time to think. Sometimes she saw things in the blackness, moving things. She worried they would see her, but whatever they were they moved blind and slow, and then were gone. Looking at the Warlord or Ringo would get more consistent results. Lights and patterns, too dense to understand, in the former case, and simpler in the latter. Magda too, faintly, and brittle, somehow. The other artifacts would flicker according to a specific pattern. While the pattern didn't make any sense consciously, after a while she could tell which was the Mask, which was the Hammer, which was the Wire. Which was really a decent way of tracking those who held them, actually. And that's what she did now. Noggins wielded Nailbreaker, and the pattern of that weapon was 'visible’, walls or not. There was something else in there with her though. She had no idea what it was, but it looked vaguely familiar? The same but different as something else she'd seen. She flicked the Ring off and felt a headache splitting her head from back to front. However interesting this all was, it was distracting from the task at hand. She went out to get her hands dirty. (Sucy practiced with the Ring a bit more. It definitely lets her see stuff she shouldn't be able to, and once she knows what she's looking for she seems to be able to find it regardless of obstructions. It still doesn't seem to be… useful?) --- Brumble the Taker wandered through the paddocks, looking for something to take. Dumb, animal eyes looked up at him, then back to their food, uninterested in this strange Töan. The feeling was mutual. While Oxnyard had countless chickens and goats and feedspiders and cows, these were of limited use to the Horde unless they wanted a feast - which frankly sounded great right now, but was beside the point. Horses roamed the various fields, but almost certainly they weren't the best on offer, and he wanted the best. Something that could breathe fire would be nice, but he'd settle for a Warboar. He heard someone coming and hopped into a stall, pressing himself into the mud among the piglets. They squealed happily and clambered over him, but he stayed silent.
(Uh oh, they made you! Looks like stealing stuff quietly isn’t going to work out. You don’t take any damage, because this isn’t Combat, but you ALSO don’t get an Armor benefit (that could conceivably have tipped the tides) for the same reason. You’re in an awkward spot, if you rolled below 50, take -10 to your roll next turn - this mostly applies to Mooks and NPCs, but make sure you keep it in mind!) --- Once the loss of the three patrols was noticed and the would-be thieves spotted, a great alarm went up, like a dozen screaming cats. Immediately more lights snapped on and half dressed soldiers began pouring out of the various buildings. One of the lights illuminated a flank of the hidden mass of the Horde, sending up a cry, and Grimper cursed. Careful planning, undone by the vagaries of chance! Well, it couldn't be helped - and besides, they only knew that some enemies were here, not how many. He called for an advance, and many ran out to meet the defenders… but the real impact would come from those who’d already embedded themselves, unexpected and unseen by the distracted guards. He trusted that they’d sort themselves out. An alert pinged behind his eyes and he swivelled to face a lone Fröwoman exiting the main building, hammers in both hands. Not warhammers - not her style. Dirty, scuffed things, worn flat by use and heavy enough to make her slouch. His lip curled in disdain and annoyance. Another Commander, here? What poor luck. At least it was only her - she was no fighter… but he couldn’t discount her, either. And if he could see her, odds are she could see him. So much for subterfuge! He rose and allowed his aura to billow out, lighting up the night. She merely inclined her head towards him and slammed her hammers together. 
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 20:54 on Jan 16, 2018 |
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Jan 11, 2018 06:00
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Updated portraits in first post with a bunch of new stuff, so if you got new stuff that would show up in a portrait go get it! Also here's some item cards that I don't have a better place for:   edit:also added a picture (two pictures, actually) of Jaune if you want to see who you're going to be beating up soon! Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 22:29 on Jan 11, 2018 |
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Jan 11, 2018 21:51
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But before the alarms sounded, before the warriors took the field, the Unexpectables were already among them. Hidden among them or above them or just out of sight, they took the opportunity to act and cripple their unsuspecting foes. --- Splut the Bluffer wore the Mask as though it were the face he was born into, and walked among the Frömen like he was meant to be there. Not only did they never question him… they joked with him, talked to him like he was an old friend. A close old friend. When he first saw the Forgemaster, he hatched an audacious plan to lessen his contribution to the upcoming battle. He grabbed a hammer and brought it to the giant man, extolling its secret virtues and disparaging his too-obvious warhammer. Forgemaster Pendelo did not, on the face of it, think it was a good trade. 
(Unfortunately the hammer Splut gave him is magical, and causes - no I’m totally joking. He bought it hook, line, and sinker. His Damage drops to 1, and his roll drops from 10+++++ to 8. He’s still a strong dude, but a tiny hammer isn’t much of a weapon at his scale.) --- The Knights were a big problem, but the rest of the Fröman forces couldn’t exactly be ignored. Bamboo, Humbug, Marra and Hat were in position to act against them, and they did so precisely as planned. Hat, wanting to avoid direct bloodshed (if she could help it) opted to set fire to an important looking building. Ideally it would look like an accident, but it hardly mattered at this point. She tossed it in a door and closed it.
Humbug ran out among the already disorganized troops as they went and shouted conflicting orders in a confident voice.
(Mixed bag, here. Hat and Bamboo succeeded in sowing chaos, reducing the Difficulty by 20 to 80 and the Threat by 10 to 40! They’re confused and spread out, but they’re still coming! Humbug and Marra aren’t so lucky: Humbug takes 1 Damage and a -10 to rolls next turn; Marra, on the other hand, has infiltrated so successfully she’s stuck in their ranks! Next turn, she may only attack the Bunch Of Guys, and - if she’s very, very unlucky - may be hit by a stray blow from attacking Unexpectables!) --- Snödis, having one of her ‘episodes’, sauntered into one of the stables and began to help polishing saddles and cleaning shoes and brushing horses, and generally being a strange nuisance. While no one there knew who she was or what she was doing there, she clearly belonged there, had been sent by one of the Knights, because… well, why else would she be there, exactly? She did her stuff well enough, and the Squires stayed out of her way because it was uncomfortable to listen to her child-like mumbles. So, she worked.
(Threat is reduced to 30, and sabotaging the straps means that should any of them roll below a 15, they’ll fall straight out of their saddle, reducing the Difficulty accordingly.) --- Dack and Hob watched from the outskirts, up on the rooftops. Both flagged Commander Jaune instantly, despite her small size, and tried to distract her. Dack pulled at the roof tiles with his claws, snarling and laughing loud enough to carry over the din.
(She was distracted, but it’s not apparent that that DID anything. Either she’s no-selling it, or there’s something else at play here.) --- quote:Once the loss of the three patrols was noticed and the would-be thieves spotted, a great alarm went up, like a dozen screaming cats. Immediately more lights snapped on and half dressed soldiers began pouring out of the various buildings - one of which was on fire, a smattering of hands desperately fighting against it with buckets of water.. One of the lights illuminated a flank of the hidden mass of the Horde, sending up a cry, and Grimper cursed. Careful planning, undone by the vagaries of chance! Well, it couldn't be helped - and besides, they only knew that some enemies were here, not how many - and that their own troops had been compromised. He called for an advance, and many ran out to meet the defenders… but the real impact would come from those who’d already embedded themselves, unexpected and unseen by the distracted guards. He trusted that they’d sort themselves out. --- Knights of Oxnyard Special Technique - Lightning Charge! The Knights can attack ranged attackers as though they were using melee weapons - the range doesn’t matter if you’re moving that fast. Also, should they win an exchange, any roll of theirs above 85 deals an additional 1 damage to someone who’s been hit! --- But the Knights weren’t the only ones to field beasts in combat! Qwäg the Risk Assessor launched her way towards them, beastly saw leading the way, roaring and whinnying in mockery of her fragile prey.
(Wendigo Bonus! Horsemen lose 3 Difficulty and take a -5 penalty per roll due to their terror!) --- Sucy fiddled with her ring even though she should have been fiddling with the Önäger. It had to do something, and she wouldn't have a better time to test it than now. She slid it on while facing Jaune. Everything dropped away except for the light and shape of the Commander's... whatever. Whatever the hell she was seeing. Shapes, rotating and flashing, but only when she wasn't *looking*. She couldn't turn away, but... it heard her head to think, so she didn't think. She looked. Whatever she was looking at was unmistakably Commander Jaune, but also unmistakably Commander Agenou. Something in common, something buried skin deep and somehow also integral to who they were. She didn't think she could see her watching, but who could know? Was she revealing herself just by looking at her? She snapped the ring off, took a breath, and tried again. The Commander's shape was subtly different - enough. She wanted to test something. She spoke. Nothing happened. She mimed writing. Nothing happened. She imagined words forming. Nothing- oh, hold on. A squiggly, curling line of light coiled out of her... head? Into her line of sight at any rate. It didn't look like words, but it was something. She repeated the message, and got another flash of squiggled light. It was sort of fun, actually. She sent messages into the ether, enjoying the play of light and shapes against the utter black. She lost track of time, and was momentarily terrified that the battle had continued without her... or that her body had died out there, leaving her trapped in here. She ripped the ring off... And found that nothing had changed 'outside'. Jaune was no more looking at her than she was before. If she'd received the messages, she wasn't letting on. It wasn't that simple, though. She was sending something. She felt - she knew - that Jaune should be receiving them, somehow. She slipped the ring back on once again and sank into the dark. It was quiet there. No blood or death. No anything... except for the light of her words. --- Rik the Soloist stood at the head of the Horde, for some reason, and watched the Knights close in. Someone had to blunt the charge, and Grimper had chosen a select few to go ahead and do so. He tried in vain to think of something cool to say before the Knights hit them like a ton of bricks.
Terrified Horses (-5 per roll) = 2068 Sabotaged Saddles (Remove rolls below 15) = 2028 Subtract Horde Armor = 1993 FINAL 30d100 = 1600 VS 39d100 = 1993 (Ouch! With the sabotage earlier, only 30 people take 1 Damage, but due to their Lightning Charge 9 of them take 2 Damage! So, going from lowest rolling to highest: Spekz and Tix take 2 Damage each (killing Spekz), and seven Mooks take 2 Damage (killing two). Everyone else (because, hell, there were only 30 people in there to begin with!) take 1 Damage. This kills Doc (ignominous death!), Pog the What, and two other Mooks, as well as breaking Burnie’s and Biggo’s Shields. Let me know if I missed any casualties!) --- Undaunted by the death in his own ranks, Ringo the Pick vaulted over the Knights and whistled for Pendelo’s attention. He had no idea why the giant was wielding a tiny hammer, and he didn’t need to know. The Forgemaster smiled widely as he saw him and whistled back. “Whistle yourself, my man! You think you can take me on just because you’re a little bigger than the rest of those vermin? Come to die, then your bones will feed my FORGE!” He moved faster than Ringo expected in that heavy armor, bringing the hammer up in a lightning-quick uppercut.
Fake-rear end Magic Hammer (Reduce roll to 8d100, reduce Damage to 1) --- Forgemaster Pendelo Special Technique - Tough As Nails! If he is defeated, his roll drops to half its total and he survives. The lost d100s become d10s and are added to his roll. This continues until he dies after being dropped to 1d100. --- “Y-you can’t beat me that easily.” He slammed a meaty claw around Ringo’s neck, lifting him clear off the ground. “I’m going to enjoy seeing if your skin is as tough as it looks. Maybe I’ll make myself a hat out of your thick-rear end hide. Of course, you won’t live long enough to see -” He grunted as a sword slammed solidly into his thigh. Gabber the Mimic stared up at him, eyes gleaming like a night predator’s.
(Tough As Nails halfs his roll again from 4d100+4d10 to 2d100+6d10, but he’s in pretty rough shape. Well done!) --- Commander Jaune watched the fighting around her but didn’t intervene. She looked sad and frustrated, but what she did instead was gather piles of material. Stone, wood, scraps of metal, all tossed into several neat piles. She kept her eyes on Grimper, but for his part he seemed pleased as punch simply to watch her from the darkness, leering infuriatingly. She ignored him and kept working. An unfamiliar Fröman broke away from the Horde and charged towards her, shouting. His eyes looked strange, and the Nail in his face marked him clearly enough for what he must be. Her face twisted in rage, and she spat, but she didn’t stop working. When he got too close, she moved.
(Jö takes 1 Damage and is out of the fight for the moment! Jaune built a coffin around him before he fell over! Neat trick!) --- The Warboars were vicious, angry looking beasts, about as far from a regular boar as a sword was from a butter knife. They squealed and roared and pawed the earth, advancing like a tide of death on four legs.  They also looked delicious and Somnö the Big was all too eager to get a TASTE. She spun her ball and chain and leapt into the air, sighting out the biggest, meanest looking brute to fall upon. And fall she did.
(All four of you succeeded! Warboar Difficulty drops to 25, and Threat drops to 15! In addition, you scared some of them off instead of killing them - they may be available as mounts later on!) The rest of the boars drove for the army, where Verika the Perceiver was waiting for them, bow in hand. They didn’t look so tough! She fired half a dozen arrows in an instant, striking vulnerable joints and sending the pigs tumbling.
(Delaying consequences for failure becauuuuuse…) --- High above, shivering on his Breakerfly, Stårn cackled. He saw her signal, but he knew in his heart that conditions were right even before that. The lumbering mass of the boars, slowed and corralled by their injuries, were a perfect target. And they said he was a fool for wasting the Onäger's power against a moving target! They weren't moving very fast right now, were they!? He cackled once more, then tugged sharply on Flutter's antenna. The Breakerfly chirped, and its wings began to pulse with rose-fuschia light. On cue, his men tripped the guide lever, bringing the Onäger to destructive life. Even from here, he could tell that the tension, torsion, torque and weighting were perfect, and the beast of a weapon let loose its deadly rain.
(Wuh oh! Jaune blocked the Onager, preventing the attack from utterly obliterating the pigs. Splash damage from the attack still reduced their Threat by 5, bringing it down to 10. However, they still managed to get past and beat the attack, which means that group takes Damage! Flipit, Valthax, Gopher, Gorb and 3 Mooks take 1 Damage, and Vist, Brumble and Waesh have their shields break.) He could feel Jaune watching him, and in that moment he hated her with an incandescent flame. She'd wasted his opportunity with a cheap trick! Even knocking her wall down hadn't been cathartic - it broke on impact, but it broke into shapes that had clearly been designed to break that way. Impact absorbing design on the fly… one thing was for certain - he needed her Cores! --- Grimper slapped his palm into his face as the Onäger failed - failed because of Jaune's damned Speciality! He'd underestimated her because of her pacifistic nature, and she’d HUMILIATED him! Well, enough of counting on his MEN to do things on their own. He burst out of his hiding spot, whipping a handful of gravel at the oncoming soldiers. “Alright you lazy jackasses, I’ll show you how you this is done.” He stared directly at Jaune, who panted from the exertion she’d just undergone, then stomped into the fray with his men.
52d100 = 2555 VS 100d100 = 4885 (Grimper took losing poorly and helped the Mooks slap down the army. Many die, others scatter. Their Difficulty drops to 60, and their Threat drops to 30.) Things had looked bleak, but now their Warlord walked among them! And he was actually kinda kicking rear end, despite some gently mutinous thoughts people may have had in the past! He was also screaming commands to whoever would listen.
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 08:14 on Jan 20, 2018 |
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Jan 17, 2018 05:39
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Not updating today (obviously!) but want to do some book keeping - is there anything that needs art done, item or otherwise, that needs doing or that you want? I also want to update the fanart page with the several pages of it I've missed. Alternately, is there any general backstory or lore that you want OOC expansion on? I'm feeling creative but not like writing a whole update :P
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Jan 17, 2018 15:54
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Barbed Tongues posted:Flashback about young Grimper. Eh, I'm not going to say no, but I'm not sure I want to delve into potentially spoilery stuff... But on the other hand it would be really funny!
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Jan 17, 2018 16:01
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Slaan posted:I would like a Day in the Life of the Queen perhaps edit: day in the DEATH of a queen is probably fine edit: vv haha Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 16:23 on Jan 17, 2018 |
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Jan 17, 2018 16:07
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While the Unexpectables fought and died, Magda dreamed of another Horde - the Asskickers. She'd first joined several decades back, when she was still relatively young and spry, back during the third Reign of Monsters. ROM3, they'd called it, and it was bullshit. The first ROM, that had been legendary - the original Monster, a Töan who'd risen to power with the help of a particularly fiendish bit of Oh-Gee reliquary, had lived up to her name. Her armies had razed the countryside, and she alone had been enough to hold off whole battalions. When the Hundred Spears finally managed to pierce her perfect body, she detonated with such force that she created the Sea of Monsters (thankfully a more pleasant place in Magda's time than way back then). The second ROM had been kicked off by her vengeful adopted son, his passionate rage sufficient to draw many of the old traitor Lords to his side. This same rage proved his undoing, and he died an ignominious death in a duel with Magda the Needle, the Nailmaster’s legendary namesake.  That had all been long before her time, but she'd been called to serve her country in the third ROM, against the original Monster’s great-great-great-great… great-nephew-twice-removed. Boxer was his name - Lord Boxer, to hear him tell it - and he barely deserved the name. The mighty blood of his family had thinned to water, and besides that he was a fool and a coward. But he remained wealthy, and canny enough to gather an army of fools and cowards behind him to challenge Queen Reina. Yes, the Queen had been radiant even back then, and remained so until her untimely demise... She tossed fitfully in her sleep, her dream casting her far away from unhappy thoughts. Yes, Lord Boxer the Monster. The descendants of both the other Monsters wanted nothing to do with him, whether it was because they were permanently stained by association or because they'd become so fabulously wealthy that they felt no need to chance it, so he'd gone elsewhere. Mercenaries from Frö, cast offs from their own recent civil war, were willing to risk it for a share of good land and good pay… and besides, rumors were that the man had somehow found a fragment of his ancestor’s mad power. Magda joined the Asskickers Horde under command of Warlord Frapper, a man who some years later would become Grimper's Progenitor - but for now, he was just Frapper. Tall and beastly, Magda recalled she had a bit of a crush on him that first day. He'd beaten that out of her soon enough, but the respect remained. Her Skillcore was Carving back then, untested and un-Resonated, and she wasn't at all sure how she could use it to help in the war effort. Her Warlord came to her personally during one practice as her hands shook gripping her cleaver. He crouched right down next to her and said “Magda, was it? There's precisely one difference between your enemy and a block of stone - stone doesn't move. Once you get past that, you'll find you can Carve them up just fine.”  And she did. She advanced through the ranks with her skill and her natural strength, and her Horde and others cut their way into the Monster's territory. She even fought against him once or twice directly. Er, not HER, specifically, but she saw him. Handsome, in a weasily way, marred by a completely ridiculous mustache and a preference for gold and ruby trim on his armor. One thing was for certain - he'd found a fragment of his great-great-aunt’s power… a fragment of her, in fact. One of her arms, mummified and Nail-pierced, was his sceptre, and it granted him unquestioned powers over the battlefield, over the very sky itself. The one saving grace was that he was absolute pants at wielding it effectively, and more often than not wounded his own men. He was a laughingstock, but a dangerous one, so they pursued him. Over the course of the campaign, the Asskickers’ mood shifted from terror, to confidence, to tables reckless heroics… to dire annoyance. They'd made a name for themselves among the Hordes of Tö, and won far more than they lost… but when they lost, they lost family. Though the fool of a would-be-Monster kept being beaten down in gravely shameful ways, he would always come back, full of the bravado of the truly, truly stupid. At first they'd hated him for starting this war, and now they just hated his stupid gormless face. Over the six years of the war, Magda became Captain Magda the Carver, became Crusher Magda. She even Ascended a couple of times, though she sorely missed her Glory afterwards. She killed scores, took many lovers, and generally cut a bloody path with Frapper and her comrades towards Boxer. And then, one day, he died. Some said he choked on a date. Some said he was betrayed by his own advisors. Some even said his grisly staff came to life and broke his pencil neck. Whatever it was, she hadn't been the one to do it. Just like that, they were called home. The Branded Wendigo in her Horde - the first ever fielded, conceived in an act of hopeless defiance - were executed and dissected, but the rest of them were free to live out their lives as heroes. She hated it. She'd come to study the art of the Ritual Nail, and due to some fragment of her old Skillcore grew quickly adept at carving and speaking the required codes and patterns into the brutal hunks of iron. With the war done, she was no longer needed - Nails were fashionable and attractive in post-war society, but she wasn’t about to enchant these weak dandies with Rituals like Star-Sparkling Eyes or Steps Light As Feathers. She packed up her kit in disgust and lived in hedonism until the money ran out - all too quickly.  Eventually, Warlord Frapper woke her from her death-seeking. His rosy eyes gleamed as he smiled down into her face. “Crusher Magda, Nailsmith Magda Who Was Once A Carver… the Asskickers have need of you again!” She sprang up and out of bed and kitted up with whatever she hadn’t sold or lost. She left everything else - but brought her Nails and her gear. There wasn’t a war, but the Queen had need of troubleshooters. Wendigos, Baskers, Raiders, all had grown bolder and widespread during the hangover of peace, and she needed a Horde she could trust. Magda never met her, but just once she caught a glimpse of her silky tresses as she turned to stride away from a meeting with her Warlord. She would cherish that forever. The Asskickers ranged across Frö (and Tö, when diplomacy and relations allowed for it), cleansing the land of filth and mutants and lawbreakers. It was good, and she felt blessed to ply her trade. Frapper died of an internal error, aged one hundred and thirty five. He could have lived half-again as long, but the Breaker program that churned out the Warlords every few years was brutal, occasionally causing problems that could cascade into a failure long afterwards. Magda wept bitterly when he died, but only for a day - he did not believe in grief, did not believe in the pagan traditions that cared for the dead after death. His body was shattered, his Cores dispersed among the potential Warlords in the program. Magda disappeared again, and the Asskickers did too. Last year, when the news of the Queen’s death had soaked through her gin-addled mind, she remembered her hair gleaming in the sunlight when the Asskickers had been honored. She rose without a word, found as many of the Asskickers as she could, and went south to take the fight to the Frömen. She’d loved and hated them over the years, killed some and kissed others, and she felt the keenest betrayal that they would take that light from her. She attacked the first patrol she came upon. Unfortunately for her, it was Commander Cornichon the East Wind’s. All too soon, her old Hordemates fell to the sharp spears of those a quarter of their age with a sixteenth of their experience. She just couldn’t hack it anymore, and when they took her battered old cleaver she just closed her eyes and waited. When she’d woken up, chained in that wagon, she’d wept for the first time since back then.  Then the Unexpectables had found her, and now she was here, deeper in their territory than ever, taking her fight to their door. Only, now she had people fighting for her. Maybe that would be enough. It would have to be. She groaned in her sleep. Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 22:23 on Jan 19, 2018 |
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Jan 18, 2018 21:50
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Yo yo, planning to update tomorrow, small updated about the banner: this  is now  More specifically: Reckless actions will add +1 to the total Banner bonus. The bonus will apply to the total roll of groups of 5 or more! I'll calculate it based on that for the update tomorrow, so if that changes your plan... edit quick!
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Jan 22, 2018 04:58
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CourValant posted:Can we get clarification on this? Does this mean that the Banner Bonus no longer applies to solo actions? Only actions that have 5 or more Hordlings committed to its execution? Yes, that exactly. The issue was that being boosted by every successful attack AND applying to every attack meant that it was scaling extremely quickly and becoming way too powerful. For instance, this round it would have been adding +25 to every reckless attack, which is rather a lot, and that means the many reckless attacks happening THIS round would succeed, further enhancing it. It's supposed to be a powerful item, but not, like, a game winning item. I am not a particularly clever man, not do I consider the implications of mechanics with enough rigor - that means sometimes I need to slam the brakes sometimes and change stuff. Sorry for the inconvenience!
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Jan 22, 2018 13:42
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Half-wit posted:RIP me You can change your action if you want! Or you could just be a risky dudette. She can't kill you, after all, she only deals 2 damage.
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Jan 22, 2018 16:18
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Pretty much exactly like that! I'd suggest you wait until after this upcoming update (today/tomorrow) and then just start acting. There's really not that much to it, and the guys on Discord can help bring you up to speed!
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Jan 22, 2018 20:51
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  Updated portraits, update itself coming later today - voting is closed in the meantime.
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Jan 23, 2018 16:48
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Amidst a background of stars and bright smoke, a banner struck out against the sky. Snödis the Poet, having slipped away from her sabotage of the horsemen, had retrieved the hidden flag from its hiding spot and summited the highest building in Oxnyard. She held it high and proud, and she waved it for all to see - friend and foe. Those few who’d remained behind to control the blaze became aware of her shouting and chanting, but without any convenient means of shooting her down, a whole contingent of panicking animals, and their best fighters out on the fields, they’d just have to let her be for now. The Golden Slinker flew free, inspiring all who could see her! (As mentioned in a previous post, the mechanics of the flag have changed. Successful Reckless actions will add +1 to the total Banner bonus. The bonus will apply to the total roll of groups of 5 or more within line of sight! In effect, brave or crazy actions from individuals will inspire the bulk of the army to fight harder. In the future, I’ll try to make it explicit when an action will boost the bonus, and spectacularly lucky rolls may also add to it. Line of sight is common sense based - if you’re across town or it’s particularly foggy or underground in an ancient deathtrap while it’s on a beautiful sandy beach, you’re not within line of sight. The current banner bonus (corrected to fit this and interpreted a bit) is 20. I’ll update this at the end of the post (rather than per success within this post) for ease of use. I also updated the spreadsheet to the current total - this should make this a little less insane to keep track of! In short: don’t worry about adding the banner to your rolls, it’s all on my end!) --- Portha the Rummager snapped another arrow from her flatpack into her Bowharp and drew down on Jaune. The Commander was distracted, and Portha had a good bead on her - she’d take her right in the kidney, crippling her. She released without a further thought.
(Miss, but ranged attack means you take no reprisals) --- Humbug the Sleuth regarded Commander Jaune blearily as the ringing in his ears cleared. She wasn’t nearly as aggressive as Agenou, that much was clear, but her ability to shape the battlefield couldn’t be ignored. She was building something, slamming nails into wooden beams at precise angles with a single blow and tossing the finished pieces into a neat pile. She kept her eyes focused on the battlefield as she worked, not even bothering to look at what she was doing. It did not appear to slow her down even a little bit. He pressed his fingers to aching temples as he squinted at her, trying to suss out exactly what she was doing. All he could tell was that it wasn’t an Onager or a dog house or a shelf - she was just working too fast to follow! (Humbug isn’t feeling so good, but he’s mostly shaken off his confusion by now. He does not, however, figure out what she’s doing.) --- Forgemaster Pendelo bled from dozens of wounds across his broad body, and he struggled against the cage of his shattered armor. And yet, he wasn’t out of the fight just yet. Wielding the haft of his broken hammer, he swiped at his attackers. Gado, Gabber, and Mason surrounded him, then Noggins the Carpenter swept in past a clumsy stroke and silently offered him a single chance to defect. The beastly Fröman hesitated for a fraction of a second as she went to engage the incoming horsemen, then gripped his hammer all the tighter and took a step forward.
Noggins’ mouth tightened a fraction, but she’d done what she could. (Yeah with a roll like that he deserves to die) --- Bamboo the Virtuoso called out to the Old Guys for aid, shellshocked by the deaths of her comrades - past and present - and by the state of her own wounds. Her wails rent the air to no response until Gryph pulled her into cover. He held a hand over her mouth, but not because he was worried that she'd call down their legendary cruelty, but because she was attracting rather a lot of mundane attention and putting herself at risk. quote:"The Oh Gees help those who help themselves, To! You want Vengeance? GET UP AND FIGHT!" (No one answers your call. Whether that means no one is listening or because they don’t care about you or that they answered your call by sending allies is a matter of philosophy - you do not power up. Gryph attempts Combat Healing, but fails because his roll is lower than Bamboo’s. Had his roll been higher, he would have healed her 1 HP for the duration of the battle. Combat Healing is not ideal, and pretty much requires the wounded party to just sit and chill out (which will lower their opposed roll), but in a pinch in a drawn out combat it could be useful.) --- Hob the Singer and Neebs the Salestöan saw Portha fail and figured they could do one better. Hob drove his heels into his infected charger, sending it into a loping, wheezing gallop that would bring it up to speed for his attack. Jaune tracked him with her eyes, assessing him and even taking a step towards him - when Neebs appeared before her, extoling the virtues of the Battl- the Wonderbrüm! And why not? It could clean messes, vanquish foes, or even first one then the other! Or over and over! Why, there simply wasn’t a reason not to-
Jaune, for her part, was scrubbing frantically at her flesh where the blood touched her, cursing and irate. Her hat bore a glowing blue line, but seemed otherwise undamaged. (Neebs gets boxed like Jö - she takes 2 Damage, and is out for the battle. Hob also takes 2 Damage - but the horse absorbs 1 instead and dies, splattering the area (and the Commander) with Monsterist Goop. That’s probably bad for her? Hob also breaks his arm really badly - without medical attention next Downtime he’ll be Crippled, locking him at 1 HP. For now, he’s just got a -10 penalty) --- The Knights charged at the Unexpectable formation, but this time they were ready. Trinh the Taxidermist charged at their charge, eyes wide and arms outspread. However well trained the Knights were, their horses were not down with Friendigos, and they balked. Their riders stabbed upwards at her as she leapt.
(You further wound the Horsemen, dropping their Difficulty to 32. You also scare their horses, forcing them to take a -5 penalty per roll due to their terror! +2 to the Golden Slinker Standard!) --- Sp-Cra-Splut and Marra watched Grimper and the others mow their way through the Fröman army towards them with a thrill of sickly excitement. Yes, it was good that the Warlord had entered the fray - but every moment they lingered in the midst of the enemy army was one in which THEY could be mistaken for an enemy. Time to act. Captain Splut spoke up first, joined soon by his subordinate, asking whether they could really trust the Knights. Look, they were fleeing battle! Look, what was clearly a Knight with a magical hammer had unhorsed and was attacking their forces! And, lo, was that a Knightly charger that collided with the Commander!? Traitors!
(Welp, that sorta worked? You knocked 3 Difficulty off the Bunch of Guys rather than the Knights, bringing them to 57. You also spread dissent, amounting to a -1 to each of their rolls.) --- The Boars tossed their great heads amongst the Horde like they were rooting, their tusks slick with gore and theirs flanks heaving with exertion. Ringo the Pick watched them as they closed the distance, flush with Pigilante Justice. These pigs had avoided his fury last time, and people had suffered because of it. Not today, pigs! He squealed in challenge and they came to face him!
(Warboars are dead or driven away, and either way not likely to be a direct threat. However, until the battle is done, they may interrupt any combat, on either side. This may be dangerous or just silly.) --- The Knights of Oxnyard were bloodied but undefeated, and their morale remained high. After all, they were a noble breed, and they had been trained well. Besides that, the blue aggressors had suffered casualties as well, and they looked far closer to breaking. They spurred their mounts onward. They were decidedly not expecting to be pelted with fist sized rocks from above. Stårn the Sieger fired another precision volley, collapsing a Knight's helm in an eminently not survivable manner. He barked a cruel laugh and loaded another. Death from above, bastards!
Also 6 Of The Dorks Fell Off Their Terrified Horses (Knights are scattered by your might! More on that later!) --- When the largest armies clashed, Jaune finally acted. In a flash of motion, she launched several dozen sharpened stakes the size of small trees into the air. All of them blazed with azure light, but otherwise appeared to be on a ballistic path towards the clash. Grimper's eyes widened and he smiled, eager to finally have something to really push himself against. With a quick peal of laughter, he launched himself into the air with such force that the ground around him buckled.
Qwag led the pack, as she often did, but the Wendigo was pleasantly surprised to see even regular soldiers picking up the slack - Mookay the Bland, an otherwise unremarkable soldier, triggered the Monsterist’s Enervating Brew crackling across her Nails and drove her spear clear through two Frömen. Qwag cracked a too-wide grin and shouted an acclaim, but Mookay just removed her spear with a sort of self-conscious awkwardness and moved on, and the battle moved on.
(Three for three! But wait!) --- Grimper’s giant grin shuddered as he detected a spike of activity from Jaune’s direction. She looked right at him, rolling another stack of stakes with her feet and kicking one into her hands. Grimper raised a condescending eyebrow, as if to say ’this again? I already beat you once, Runt, what makes you think you’ve got what it takes?’ Her eyebrows didn’t respond. She merely grabbed a handful of them spread them out in the air like a fence, and struck them into the air one after another. The Warlord snarled and rose up to slash them out of the air. The Commander didn’t follow him with her eyes, only kept sending more and more whizzing through the air.
The Unexpectables didn’t have time to watch her. All around them, a building was growing, like a barn demolition in reverse. Beams slammed into the earth, riveted themselves into place, and were interleaved within seconds by a latticework of wooden planks. Unbelievably, flecks of crimson red paint blasted them like a sandstorm, scoring their flesh and scouring their lungs before coming to rest against the walls. Friends were seperated, allies were pulled apart, and the Horde was pushed into uncomfortably close contact with their enemies. Finally, a great roof slammed down over them, plunging them into complete darkness. Grimper’s bellows echoed through the maze of halls: “Unexpectables! Find her and finish her off! Tear this place to the ground!” (Alright, things are going to be a little different. Everyone, roll 1d6 You’ve been trapped by the construction and split off from the others, finding yourself fighting in unfamiliar territory clearly controlled by the enemy Commander. Based on that roll, you have the limited options seen below. Due to the situation, you are also cut off from the Slinker Banner! Reckless attacks may still boost it, but bonuses will not apply because it can’t be seen!) ROLL 1 - Pitch Black Room (-20 to ALL Fighters)
STARN
HOB
Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 15:43 on Jan 24, 2018 |
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Jan 24, 2018 06:22
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there was a post here it's gone now Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 15:45 on Jan 24, 2018 |
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Jan 24, 2018 06:23
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Barbed Tongues posted:thrusting the reinforced iron at the horse with the stupidest face. Haha
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Jan 24, 2018 16:32
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Holy poo poo room 3 is the party room obviously
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Jan 24, 2018 17:52
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There Bias Two posted:One thing that amuses me about this game is how much the whimsical-looking art style contrasts with the absolutely brutal story content. This is my favourite part of writing this and illustrating it this way. I shy away from showing direct depictions of carnage (Harlee being exploded and Qwag murdering that guy notwithstanding) but writing about it is great fun. Update is coming tomorrow-ish, but as Discord people heard earlier I have an impromptu family ski weekend that's slowing my ability to write. Also, I've been partaking heavily of borrowed alcohol, and that's unfortunately putting me in a situation where I have to reread stuff I've been writing. Including right this exact moment when everything is swimming so pleasantly. Also that Jaune fanart is spectacular! Have a safe weekend my companions!
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Jan 28, 2018 02:08
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In the claustrophobic confines of the Barn Of Death, the Unexpectables dealt with this very unexpectable situation in their own ways. The immediate animal terror of onrushing masonry having passed, the Horde found themselves separated and facing opponents that were far less disoriented than they. The defenders of Oxnyard allowed the changes to flow around them like water, then pressed the attack, even the horses clearly drilled on this eventuality. Well, the Horde never had any idea what was happening, so this was actually familiar territory. Besides, it didn't change the basic arithmetic of things: see a Fröman, kill a Fröman. Easy enough! Grimper shouted out orders that echoed queerly through the uncanny structure, but his men already knew what to do. [Room Six - The Plain Room] Sucy the Mushroom Farmer found herself in a non-descript room with a few allies and a near parity of enemies. She held back for an instant, tensing for a nastier surprise, but when none seemed forthcoming she took a running leap and kicked at the nearest soldier. WIN ROLL Her armored boot shattered his jaw, sending him sprawling, but she was already moving, her powerful Skillcore humming inside her and propelling her further and faster with each blow. She found herself grinning as her feet crumpled their armour like a warhammer, and realized for the first time just how much stronger she'd gotten. Her allies followed her lead, riding her momentum into a crushing blow that finished off the rest of the defenders. Before she knew it, Sucy was panting for breath, foot resting on her sixth kill of the day. Her shins and calves were caked with gore, but her spirit was light. As an afterthought, she slipped on her Ring, dimly marvelling at how her pain and the sounds and smells of the battlefield dropped away entirely. She ‘saw’ a shape she recognized as Commander Jaune to the north, and another she recognized as Grimper to her west. It was strange - dimly flickering lines, like spider webs or veins pulsed outward from the Commander and into the building around her. If she concentrated - or, uh, unfocused her ‘eyes’? - she could dimly see the shape of the structure as represented by the veins. Notably, the veins were brighter and more densely clustered around her Warlord. No, she couldn’t focus on that, she had a plan. Starn. Starn had been flying outside when things had gone down, so probably he was still there - unless he’d crashed. She ‘looked’ up and tried to find him, but whatever made people show up in her ‘vision’ wasn’t working for him. Worth a try anyhow. She called out to him like she’d tried to do with Jaune, and watched her words squiggle out in a twisted line of light. She had literally no idea whether it worked. (Victory! Moving right along…) --- Hob the Singer wheezed for breath, but he was alive. His arm was busted, but his arms had looked worse in his time. He was an insectoid monstrosity only recently, for instance. He coughed a laugh and crawled towards a torch. He couldn’t look backwards. Couldn’t dare. He could hear its uncanny double neighing, hear the spidery clatter of its hooves. They’d done something bad, something wrong, he knew it. He finally reached the torch, the fire burning bright spots in his eyes that stayed there when he closed them - he gripped it firmly with his good arm then threw it behind him, watched the equine thing blaze up- but, no, there was nothing there. He panted against the wall, sweating thick beads that matted in his hair and fur. A dream? A hallucination? No - look. Streaks of blood, leading away from the fire. Away from him. He collapsed against the wall, delirious from pain.  (huzzah you weren’t eaten by your horse) --- [Room Two - The Slanted Room] Shiny the Thief, Gelia the Student, Spleen the Detonator and the others standing near them in the general melee closed ranks when the ‘storm’ hit. Their opponents just watched while it was going down, stepping expertly up onto steps and platforms as they formed around them. The room skewed crazily, slanting down from the far corner where the enemy stood and tilting with a nauseous pitch that made footing treacherous and skewed ranges. The enemy didn’t look as though they were entirely at ease with it either, but that didn’t start them from rushing in! The two mounted Knights in the room nodded to one another, then charged, their nervous mounts yet trusting their riders. Shiny squared off as they charged, daring them to come for her. WIN ROLL Shiny dodged their swipes, then reached over to tear at their damaged saddle straps, knocking them off their mounts. The already panicked beasts trampled their riders and Shiny shook her head with mock sadness. Such disloyalty. Gelia and a pair of allies faced down two bloodied Knights who’d lost their horses in the earlier scrum. They looked brutal and determined, but they were outnumbered, and she felt just as ready to fight as they did! WIN ROLL The Knights fell, bleeding out in their armor. The Boars, scenting blood and already half mad, went on a rampage, turning on the remaining soldiers and cutting them down with broken tusks. Spleen wasn’t the type to look a gift horse in the mouth, and helped them along. The soldiers broke, beset by enemies on all sides, and foolishly opted to defend against the boars first. WIN ROLL Soon enough, the boars were dead, the soldiers were dead, and the Unexpectables leaned on the twisted walls, painted in their guts. They looked at one another, too exhausted to laugh or cry. Instead, they just listened at the walls to see how their allies were faring. All they could hear was screaming, muffled through expertly fitted walls. Gado, for his part, shivered and grit his teeth. He could see his veins pulsating through his skin, and he felt like he could hear them. If he could just hold on a little longer… if Grimper could take her out in time… (Flawless so far! Also, Gado is feeling mighty sick. Unless Grimper wins it here, he might be in trouble.) [Room Four- Spiked Room] Gabber’s eyebrows rose as the room came together, first a skeleton of wood frames covered by a layer of interlocking stone which were then pierced from behind by steel spikes. Lots of spikes. Dozens or hundreds every square meter, and each of them bright and shiny with piercing potential. The room was crooked, jutting with harsh corners and uneven floors to trap the unwary. Armored and well-trained, the Horsemen charged in, unconcerned with the rabble facing them. WIN ROLL Well, they ought to have been. Gabber and his allies didn’t break when they were expected to, welcoming the charging animals in with open arms, clanging weapons against shields. All it took was one of them to balk and the tight quarters forced them to awkwardly wheel away, slicing their flanks on the spikes and causing further panic. The Horde descended, gleefully pulling them down off their beasts to spit themselves on the spikes. Valthax the Glutton took on the few surviving Knights with a grim leer plastered on his face, daring the pair to challenge him. Their backs against the wall, they did. WIN ROLL It wasn’t enough, and they were kicked into the wall of spikes to shudder and bleed out. That left only the few Fröman soldiers, and Burnie the Cook and his compatriots were more than a match for them. To their credit, they didn’t surrender. WIN ROLL Their impaled corpses were very brave. --- Starn and Snodis found eachother outside the structure within a few moments of it showing up and spent a solid minute just looking at it. It looked like a barn, like any of the other structures around it, only larger, and with windows barred and fortified. It also had no doors that they could see. It was evidently something designed to keep people IN. Which was okay, because that meant it wasn’t something designed to keep people OUT! Starn fairly bounced in his seat as he considered how best to do this. The Onager was out - he needed many more people to operate it, and it needed tweaking besides - but the Ram… could work. Sure, he didn’t have enough people to actually lift it, but between the two of them and Flutter they could probably do sommmmmmmmJAUNE LOCATION X15660Y52323Z32533 HI TEST TEST THIS IS SUCY WASSUPeth…  Starn woke a moment later to Snödis shaking him by the shoulders and Flutter gazing down at him with something like concern. His head hurt, but he had an idea! Of where Jaune was! A really good idea, actually, a precise location, right there. The two Töans wiggled and lifted and pulled the Ram up a hill, calculated a fairly decent vector for a rolling cylinder, then let it roll. LOSE ROLL The Ram rolled, bounced, and clattered Mason-head first into the building. The weight of the Orichalcum slammed it through like a nail through a board - but then it stuck there, sticking out like a sore toe. Hmm! Back to the drawing board. (Oh well! At least you learned something?) --- [Room One- Pitch Black Room] They could see nothing. For a sick, hanging second, all they could hear was breathing - then the clash of steel against steel, sparking brief snapshots of desperate fighting. Tix the Survivor knew where she'd started, caught a glimpse of their surroundings before she'd been shut in, but after a that all dropped away within seconds. She heard the horsemen charge, but couldn’t figure out which way to dodge. Instead, she clambered up a set of indents embossed into the wall to her left and waited. One spark, in this all-consuming darkness, was enough to reveal their location. She jumped. WIN ROLL She fell roughly, taking one of them off their saddle to collapse into a dull heap. She stabbed the man with his own blade and heard a scuffle of neighing and shouting from behind her. She heard half-hearted cheering from familiar voices and cracked her neck. One group down. Verika the Perceiver could see better than most, and this darkness was almost enough to blind even her. Almost. Keeping silent, she pressed her back against the wall until she was certain she was watching the enemy. By their limping gait and shining armor, she inferred that these were the de-horsed Knights. She took a steadying breath and fired several precise missiles. WIN ROLL Gasps of pain rewarded her shots, and her allies homed in on them like bloodhounds, cutting down the wounded targets. She didn’t celebrate just yet, just kept watching the room for another opening. Others, both Frömen and Tö, grappled in the darkness, with more than a few instances of mistaken identity slowing the process immensely. Eventually, the grunts and shouts tapered off, leaving behind a low groan and a weary roll-call. The Unexpectables had taken the day, little worse for the wear than a few bruises and flesh wounds. The darkness felt calmer, now, like a soft blanket rather than a shroud, but they couldn’t just wait here for their enemy to come for them. They drew themselves back together and began to search for a way out. [Room Five- Narrow Room] As the room came to be around them, the Unexpectables were pushed together tighter and tighter, until they found themselves in an L-shaped corridor with scarcely enough room to maneuver, let alone fight. Worse, the enemies had them pinned, themselves forced into to masses at either end of the corridor, looking significantly less surprised than was ideal. Worst of all, Grimper was crammed in here with them. He flexed and braced against the ceiling, and it attempted to crush down on him further, the linkages between the straining materials glowing a blazing azure. “My Horde! I leave this scum to you - Jaune cannot be allowed to face our warriors alone! Paint the walls with their blood!” With a final roar and a counterpulse of rosy flame, the Warlord surged upwards. WIN ROLL After a moment’s hesitation, the wood splintered, the stone shattered, and Grimper vanished into a swirling black hole of debris that sealed itself within seconds as he passed. But there was no time to watch him - they had their orders! Bamboo the Virtuoso, recovered from her crisis of faith, was in fine form. She kicked off one wall, then braced herself as high as she could reach, scrambling towards the Horsemen like a crazed spider. Already constrained by the tiny area, they had a difficult time getting at her, while she lashed out with her hooked garotte with impunity. And - when one was fool enough to stand on horseback to get at her - she looped it around her fool neck.  WIN ROLL The demoralized Horsemen were easy prey for half of the trapped Horde, while the Fröman soldiers in the other half of the corridor clashed against the other. Outnumbered and trapped by ill luck, the Unexpectables rolled over them too, securing yet another victory. But where the hell had Grimper gone? [Room Three- Wide Room] And somewhere at the centre of all this was Commander Jaune. She held one hammer to the floor and one outspread in the air, as though feeling an intangible current. Her eyes were grim and blazing with defiance and challenge. The storm unequivocally revolved around her, and even as they watched tiles and flagstone and timber revolved around her, periodically reshaping and resettling in forms that protected her from damage. The boars took up a loping run in a circuit around her, wild and angry but still under some modicum of Command. The few Horsemen that remained whistled at them and goaded them into a mixed charge that struck sparks off the stone floor. Rik the Soloist and Biggo the Fist took point, outnumbering and distracting them to leave Jaune open to the heavy hitters. WIN As the beasts groaned and fell and bled and died along with their riders, Trinh waded into the dozen soldiers that stood their ground between her and their Commander. Alone, a dozen of them would challenge even her… but she wasn’t alone. WIN One by one, they fell, until at last only Jaune was left. The Commander dropped to her knees, head hanging low, hammers suddenly weighing her down. The building stopped creaking, and the few materials that hadn’t yet found a home clattered to the floor. The Horde approached warily, but then she spoke. “You weren’t supposed to come here. These kids weren’t ever supposed to see combat, in our wildest nightmares certainly not this soon. This was a training camp, a production facility… I hate fighting. I want to build. I want to make something.” She stood up, hammers in hands, and glared at them through tear-stained eyes. She knocked her helmet off with one sweep, revealing a blazing aura like a cloud a smoke from a furnace. “I guess I’ll settle for this!” She clashed her hammers together, releasing a spark that blinded them all.  LOSE ROLL Ringo the Pick recovered first, his powerful eyes tracing her motion through the air. She was fast. Much faster than him, but he swung his Wendigoad out to trip her anyhow. She slid under it, her knees skidding against the stone, before taking his legs out with a single swipe. He hung in the air for a sick moment as he turned to strike her again, then her other hammer took him in the guts. He was slammed downwards into the stone, which splashed up and wrapped him in a granite sarcophagus. She moved again, each step taking her several meters, each motion designed to bring her hammer against her opponents in a vicious strike designed to cripple rather than kill. Indeed, she seemed to be trying her hardest not to take their lives, and the effect was one of supreme confidence, a knowledge that she didn’t need to kill them to crush them. Dack drew particular ire, however, and he thought in the moment before impact that her eyes looked a little funny. Was she infected? And then he was hit, and whatever thoughts he had sputtered away along with his brains. Finally, with Noggins she paused, considering the trembling speech. “There’s always a choice, Carpenter. If you survive this, make better ones next time. Try building something with that hammer of yours instead of tearing it down. I accept your apology… but I’m not sorry about this.” She wound up, faster than Noggins could see, then struck h- Grimper plowed through the wall, broken hand blowing heat like a torch, and fell towards the much smaller Commander like a comet. “My soldiers won’t fall to the likes of you! Taste the power that killed the Dancer!” Jaune’s eyes widened, and she threw herself backwards... GRIMPER + SOLDIER ROLL = STILL LOSE ...in time to bring both hammers up into Grimper’s guts, sending him off-course to plow through another wall. Jaune’s eyes flicked back towards Noggins, filled with renewed anger and something else, something sickly. “There’s always a CHOICE! YOU CHOOSE THAT!?” She hit her with an uppercut to her shield that sent her flying in a great parabola to clatter against the floor, which dutifully folded up to seal her unconscious body in a coffin. (Grimper could have saved you here, but he whiffed hard enough that even added to your roll it wasn’t enough to beat her! Noggins takes 1 Damage - her Tuned Shield rings like a bell, but holds, having prevented some pain. Splut, Mookay, Marra, and 8 Mooks take 2 Damage, killing 6 Mooks. Ringo takes 2 Damage, and Dack Grimper stomped back into the room, bleeding and wheezing, but looking far angrier than damaged. Jaune, on the other hand, could barely keep her feet. She held both hammers up and ready, but her arms were shaking. The room was studded with coffins, fourteen of the Horde’s bravest taken down by The Wall. The Warlord regarded them neutrally. Brave, but losers. They’d failed. No, he’d failed them. He was a loser too. His aura faltered and Jaune quirked an eyebrow. “Second guessing yourself, Breaker? Considering that maybe this berserk assault isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?” It flared again as he bristled at the insult, and he stood up straighter, his shadow dwarfing her. “Hardly. Your forces are defeated - thanks to your division, mind you. We would have killed them all anyhow, but without you it would have taken so much longer. And your soldiers must surely have died knowing it was thanks to your boneheaded tactics. And they trusted you.” She blew out a hot, angry breath, then rolled her shoulders. “They trusted me, and they knew their training. You caught us in the middle of the night, took us off guard… not much of a fair fight. But then, that’s your prefered way of fighting, isn’t it? Taking what you can get, scraping for every advantage you can get. I don’t blame your men for it, though. With such a weak overlord, it’s a surprise more of them haven’t died. It sure as hell isn’t thanks to you.” He roared and began a scathing retort, but she cut him off. “Enough. You know and I know I pushed myself too hard on this. It delayed you enough that some of my guys got away. It’s enough. So, let’s do this.” They fell towards eachother like magnets, and when they hit blue and fuschia light sprayed like blood. WIN Grimper looked down at her corpse, singed but otherwise unharmed. His face betrayed nothing, but he broke through here breastbone with a fingertip and consumed her Lattice. Slowly, like falling leaves, the building began to fall apart. Not collapsing, simply losing coherence, walls and board and bricks drifting away in an unseen current. Grimper waved his cape at a wall and it blew away like fog, revealing his Horde. No casualties… except here, in this room, where he'd been too slow to save them. Even Ringo, that beast of a Töan, had been battered, and he narrowly avoided losing a Wendi-oh. Oh right. The Digger. He found the man curled into an agonized ball, blood Monsterism levels terrifyingly high. He'd rather forgotten about the chap. He pushed his way through the floating remains of the death house until he broke free into the clear night. Several of Oxnyard’s buildings were on fire, sending a clear signal to Noostra that they were coming. Whatever. It hardly seemed to matter. They were in this, now. They had no choice. They needed to broadcast their signal to the Regency Council - and it certainly wouldn't hurt to tell them he'd killed two Commanders. The precise details of his victory could be omitted until later, and by then he would either have succeeded in his mission or died himse- no, he WOULD succeed. Death wasn't an option, nor failure, even if he had to sacrifice every last one of them. The thought sobered him enough to recall that he was still carrying Gado. Ah, yes. He kicked Magda's wagon to wake her, then wrenched open the door to Zapanda’s wagon. Her filthy, bleary-eyed crew stared back at him, though only she met his eyes. He dropped the sickly man on the floor in front of her. “You, fix him.” He pointed next at Magda. “You, give her what she needs. If she acts up, bite her head off.” Zapanda's hate-filled glare gave him the validation he hadn't gotten from Jaune's stoic disdain, and he allowed a cruel smile to crease his face. (Zapanda jabs Gado with drugs, giving him an additional 1d6+3 = 5 rounds of grace period, on the house. He may, however, want to buy some extras, or talk to her for additional info.) --- Back in the strange ruins, the Horde gathered themselves and took stock of their wounds. Overall, that had gone pretty well! Sure, a couple of them had bitten the big one fighting the Commander, but she’d been tough and kind of cool… and besides, Grimper had probably hosed it up somehow. A few nervous titters at that mutinous thought, then back to looting. Lots of quality cores here, including several in the Commander's corpse. Not as many as Agenou, though - maybe that's why she was so small? Most interesting was that two of the Cores were visibly tainted with Monsterism. How the hell had that happened? Either way… Grimper wasn't there to tell them not to take em’. (Oh boy gonna get dem Skillcores! Jaune has seven Cores, all centered around Craftmanship: Building +25, Measuring +25, Patience +25, Crafting +25, Smithing +25, H̸͏̷a̵m̷̛̀͘҉m̡͘̕ȩ̸͜͞r̀͟į̀͘n̵̨̢g̛̀,̧̧͝and ̨̛E̸n͜҉̛͡ģ̛̕i̡̕͟͡͠n̢͘͢e̶͝e̵̵̡͢ŗ̕͏í̶̧͞͡n҉̴̢́̕g̷̛͢. Yep, those last two are corrupted, and operate under the same deal as last time. Pendelo had three: Smashing +15, Smithing +20, and Reshaping. You also got a whole poo poo ton of other Skillcores: Riding x10, Slashing x8, Smithing x3, Wrangling x5, Climbing, Fisticuffs, Cooking, Carpentry, Hiding, Close Quarters Combat x5, Eating, Wrestling, Honour, Secretly Murdering Innocents, Waiting AND (thanks to Grim Harvest) Camouflage, Submission Holds, and Surgery.) --- Later, Grimper gathered the survivors and pointed at the flashing spire of the Thumbscrew. “That's Noostra. By tomorrow noon, we're going to be breaking down that gate. Our objective is to get to that tower as fast as possible, then leave with as many of you as possible. I'll be frank - not all of you will make it out. We'll need to move too quickly to secure our objective to try to stick together, and some may be left behind. But take heart - should we succeed (and we WILL succeed), this intelligence will save many Töan lives!” He roared and the others cheered with him, though a worm of fear was growing within. “Tonight, we rest and drink, and finally sleep. We’ll need it to assault the Southern Jewel, Noostra. Her walls are thick and strong, but we shall pierce them, my Horde!” (Very quick Downtime starts now. Heal, cook, build, and loot quickly, because you’ve alerted your - much more numerous - enemies to your presence. You don’t have the luxury to stay here and strip the place bare, so take what you can. AVAILABLE ACTIONS (You can do any or all of these three, or none if you're some kind of jerk)
* Roll for Skillcore * Basic Downtime action (Loot a thing, heal or craft, etc.) Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at 18:55 on Feb 1, 2018 |
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Jan 31, 2018 02:40
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Working on Cards - they'll pop up here over the course of today. Mounts first!       There are three of each easily available, but you can roll to see if you can find another if the one you want is 'out of stock'. These last two types aren't mounts, per se, but there were some there too! Three of each of these guys, too.   More stuff coming later!
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Jan 31, 2018 20:58
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