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Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer

Portrait: J6

Name: Snödis
HP: 3
Glory: 0
Skill: Disapproving Poetry

Backstory:
There are many things in life that a Töian might take an interest in. As a people, they are famed for their much varied excellence. Snödis is no exception, having honed her craft since early childhood.
She is known in the circles that care about those sorts of things as one of the most accomplished disapproving poets in the nation.

Action:
Snödis saw
a great big gate
and scoffed at it
eyes full of hate


Demoralize the Gate: 1d100+10 72

"That aught to show it who's boss!"

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Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


HP: 3
Glory: 1


Once more, Poetry (and a fair amount of throwing things and digging) had proved superior to cold, dead stone. Snödis was confident the same would hold true for cold, dead cardboard cutouts, but ever since a paper-cut had taken all five of her parents to an early grave, she had harbored a deep pathological fear of paper based construction materials.

No, let the rest of the Horde could deal with this Stick Ogre, she had her eyes on the real prize!

Steal the prize-weapon when no one is looking!: 1d100+1 = 27

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


HP: 1
Glory: 2

General Grimper posted:



How Dare You! - Lose A Combat Against Grimper!
“You colossal... unbelievable.. dog! ... your Monster.is.. .. going to steal something..."

The ringing in her ears would never cease, and her right arm was about as useful to her as a tentscratcher in the city of bricks.
It was a lousy metaphor and she knew it, but in her defense she lay broken and bloodied in a ditch and was lucky to even be alive.

But what confused her most, beyond even her injuries, was the Generals garbled prophecy.
She knew more so than other Töians the power of words and so took them to heart, resolving to keep them in mind in case they in the future would prove enlightening.

But she digressed. They had won, and with only one casualty besides herself. With much hardship, she crawled into camp and towards the field hospital, where the unfortunate Gado should have been carried by the more patriotic members of the horde.

Downtime
"Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Is all I'd say,
If you swung wild
and missed your prey.

Yet you did worse,
now your own blood sprays!
Are you thirsting now,
for healing pray?

Well, too bad! Tough!
I'm injured too!
Why waste my talents,
on some lowlife rube!?

...

Oh quit your whining,
fine I must relent!
Just rest your wearies
in the healers tent.

--

(Disapproving Poetry to Entertain the wounded)
Dressing Down: 1d100+12 = 17

--

In hindsight, insulting the wounded probably didn't help.

--

Strategy
"Urgh.. Now my brain might be half scrambled by ol' curbstomp over there, but I reckon the enemy will never expect us ALL to infiltrate them, only to ambush them from within their own ranks when the opportune moment strikes!"

--

Infiltration: 1d100+2 = 26

When the time came, Snödis, still covered in blood, presented her entirely undisguised self to the infiltration team.

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Sep 23, 2017 around 13:44

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


HP: 1->3
Glory : 3

Throwing off her fake Frömanian scarf at the first opportunity, Snödis jumped at the chance to learn how to truly relax, even in the midst of battle.

Salvage Sitting Quietly: 1d100 = 24 + 3 = 27

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Sep 25, 2017 around 21:14

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 3

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

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

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

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

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 4

Snödis said nothing, leaving the camp and all the battle-lusting Töians behind, ignoring all who would call for her attention. She could already tell the others would fail spectacularly in one way or another, and so it fell to her to be an even bigger inconvenience to the townspeople, that they would not realize they were under attack, even from an avalanche, until it was too late.

So she walked, through the gates, through the town square, straight passed the mayors office where hopefully no one could hear the sounds of bones cracking, right up until the largest, most important entrance to the mine. And then she sat down. Right on the tracks, and refused to budge.

Sitting Quietly as a Giant Distraction: 1d100+10+4 = 90

If anyone came up to her, or asked her to move or even implied it, she would give them A Look. With four eyes, this proved quiet effective.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 4->5

"Perfect", Snödis thought to herself as the Three Bell Alarm sounded and utter confusion enveloped the town as an avalanche utterly failed to bury everything. "That'll keep them occupied long enough for me to slip into the mine unnoticed, so I can locate the best stuff before we inevitably blow the mine up by accident. Yes, but I'd need some way to deliver it back to base camp unnoticed..."

"Hey Stårn! Follow me! I have a job for you!"

Search the Mine for Precious Minerals: 1d100+5 84

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 7 -> 8

Smugly satisfied that her group had found the precious ore before outside shennanigans brought the whole mine down upon them, or flooded the caves with angry Fröman soldiers, or even before Grimpner came down himself and squeezed the metal out of them for being lazy, Snödis briefly pondered what else of value could be found here in the Abyssinian depths.

There was of course equipment. Pickaxes, helmets, discarded dud explosives, you name it. There was even a mile or more of rope, and more sharp sticks then you could shake a dull stick at. But Snödis had a mind for something more... dangerous.

She peered around herself conspiratorially, finding at last an old, dusty Fröman sign.

"Danger! Danger!
Don't go further!
Lest you wish to,
end up murdered!"

Nodding to herself, she knew she was on the right track, and headed further in.

Disapproving Poetry to find and loot the most Dangerous Thing: 1d100 4 + 10 (skill) = 14 + (7 = 21, if glory counts for this?)

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 8 -> 9

By this point in time, Snödis was hopelessly lost in the mines. A thing she readily admitted, if only to practice her disapprovement.
The signs had lead her nowhere fast, apparently Fröians used them as warnings rather than as clues - which had led to quiet the culture shock when she discovered not heaps of treasure but rather abandoned shafts.

Lamenting her poor luck and failing skill, she tried to find her way back to camp, all the while whistling the Töian National Anthem quietly to herself, perhaps in the hope that some nearby hidden cache of sonicore might reveal itself, or maybe just to dissuade any cave-bats from battacking her on her way back.

Skilless Whistling: 1d100 = 96 (+8 with glory? not sure it counts for looting)

After about half an hour of aimless wandering, one of the abandoned mine-shafts whistled back.
She could not tell if it was just her echo, some sonicore or perhaps a small, lost, helpless creature that needed her to adopt it, but she could not very well let the mystery rest.
She took the side-path, hoping that the army she came with had not left again by the time she came back.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 9 -> 10

--

Snödis trudged out of the mine just as Magdas preparations for the Nail ritual had ended, so instead of a good nights rest in the clean outside air, she was instead treated to a chunk of metal being driven right through her shoulder blade.
Inconvenient, as she had rather hoped to get some armour fitted before they headed out, but now couldn't on account of the nigh unbearable pain.

Through gritted teeth, she muttered "take it all" when some poor accounting-tö showed up, polling the soldiery on how to treat their new Fröian subjects and more specifically their larders.
Snödis was not feeling especially merciful at the moment, and either way they had beaten those low-lives fair and square, anything they had was ours by right, or so she reasoned to herself.

When at last the time came to once again move out, Snödis was quick to join the expedition heading towards Nägel.
She had heard rumors that her Nemesis (and sometimes Romantic Interest) a Töian Battle-Rapper named Tö-Päin, had been captured after an ill conceived skirmish with a squadron of knights from the Fröian Nobility.
In all honesty, she did not much care weather they held him in the deepest vault or the tallest tower, weather he was guarded by wild beasts, or terrible wendingoes; in her mind, nobody was allowed to hold or hurt him but her.

As they marched towards the prison, she spouted verse as was her wont, hoping to spur her colleagues into greatness with mere words alone.


"Nägel, more like Mögel,
on account of all the stench.
To breach it will be childsplay,
inept wardens life-force we shall quench."

Disapproving Poetry: 1d100+9 27

Of course, words did little against walls of metal and stone, but that is why she made sure to join the squad the Siege Expert was on, after all.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 10 -> 11

"You can't rush Art, Qwäg. That's how the war started, you know. Not this one, mind. Another one. Earlier. The Art War. You remember it. Terrible times. Just terrible.

Now, as for your plan? Less terrible. Terror is always more effective than injury. And frightened guards make mistakes.
What we need is someone on the inside to exploit those mistakes. Someone that is already supposed to be there, so they wont draw any attention to themselves, or to us.
Luckily, I know just such a person. Tö-Päin. <Snödis involuntarily blushes as she speaks his name.>

We just need to get him the message. How? Easy. He speaks rythm, and as you pointed out, what we have here is Frö's biggest gong. Let us ring it most spookily. Just follow my lead.

With your permission, Stårn, I'd like to make use of the Ram."

ooc: suggesting we contact the famous and locally imprisoned battle rapper, Tö-Päin, or any other rythmspeakers in the prison using the Ram to belt out a message on the wall.

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Oct 19, 2017 around 18:29

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 11

Snödis had always had her eye on Tö-Päins battle-rap skillcore. Even before he knew she existed, but she had never been powerful enough to simply wrest it from his cold dead body.
Oh she had tried, tried and tried again. She even went out with him a few times, when her constant failed attempts to murder him endeared them to each other. It didn't last. But then it did. It was complicated.
Now she didn't really know what to do. She just knew that, whatever had happened to him, he was behind the largest, most formidable wall she had ever seen, and no amount of graffiti was going to tear it down.

Fortunately, she brought her army. Well okay, AN army. A horde, really. But at least they were fighting for her, or at least in the general direction she was going.



Snödis thought that perhaps she had not thought her cunning plan all the way through, but with the Shadow of Grimpner looming behind her, perhaps it was better for her to just act like she knew what she was doing, lest she end up like Ringo - or worse.

PsyOps Sieging the Prison Wall: 1d100+11+20 130

Amazing what a little motivation could do.

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Oct 22, 2017 around 20:31

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 11 -> 12
Ritual Glory -> 1

When the echoes of the ram had finally stopped ringing through the night, Snödis was already out of sight. She had explained her plan to the rest of the Rambushers in, well, not so much detail as a half coherent ramble, but she had explained it all the same.

Weather the team wanted the guards captured or killed or even ignored entirely, there would have to be some explanation for the noise lest Nägel lock down even harder. And what better way to explain it than a Monster on the loose? Snödis would play her part - sitting out in the open where they would be sure to see her, still and unthreatening as can be so they would not kill her on the spot, but eerily silent enough that they would know something was wrong with her. It would be a difficult balance to be sure, and the other Rambushers could use this confusion to flank the guards or slip away in the night. Whatever they did was fine with her, in either case she would be closer to her quarry.

Sitting Quietly to distract the guards and or be captured: 1d100+11+10 = 26

ooc: edit:: forgot to add my skillcore bonus!

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Oct 25, 2017 around 17:19

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 12-13
Ritual Glory: 1

Snödis complied without resistance to the demands of her captors, letting her four eyes wander over every minute detail of the science-prison as they escorted her ever deeper inside.
lingering just a while longer on the caged Wendingoes than either wise or appropriate, she mapped out the place in her mind a well as she could given the circumstances, searching for any sign of her on-and-off-again boyfriend, Tö-Päin.

Her fellow captive, some mook named Dack, was oddly silent. Perhaps he had taken both of their shares of terror and intimidation, or perhaps he was just playing it cool.
Either way it left Snödis as the only one of their number with the sense to respond. She waited until the researcher had finished her barrage of questions, and set about to answer them, knowing full well her reply would be heard even amongst those Fröians not here present.


This prison of yours, Is woefully kept.
With Wendingoes abound, it's bound to get rekt!
So consider my words, before you get eaten!
The Fröian Nation, is about to get beaten!

By a rag tag gang of radical monsterist,
with no obligation to any false monarchist!
Whose message is spread by lyrical accomplishment,
a memetic fever all up in your establishment!

And no we ain't got time to answer your questions,
For my people will rise up against your oppressions!
With our roots spread wide all across the wörld,
from East-westphalia to Lower Abörld!

So hear me, you squares, you bureaucratic rot-faces,
you ain't even got time to get in my good graces
For this hymn that I'm spitting is so sick, it's so fly
It's already started the riot, go on, check outside.

Disapproving Poetry to start a Prison Riot: 1d100+10+13 = 108

BB)

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer

Previously: on Break Down That Gate...



How will Snödis get out of this one?!

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 13 -> 14
Ritual Glory: 2?

Snödis eyed Head Scientist Zapanda critically as she lead her to an even more secure chamber for enhanced interrogation. She had no intention to comply of course, but she was still suitably grateful when she was once again given the opportunity to speak.
Really, after what just happened she was surprised they hadn't sown her mouth shut on the spot.

Perhaps they should have.



♪Did you really want to be a torture scientist?
To spend your whole life in this deep, dark pit?
Never going out with that handsome pianist?
Who set your heart aflutter with his trademark Töian wit?

Do you really want to follow those Dark Old Ways?
Capturing us monsterists, even making me your slave?
Enabling the Warden and his heinous blood-craze?
Is that truly something to take with you to your grave?

You hear the sound above you, you must for you have ears,
You know full well Tö marches, but let me soothe your fears.
From us you need not worry, for what you hear are cheers!
We march for noble purpose, all equal with our peers.

You need not even surrender, for our varied horde takes all,
Come and be my friend forever - or stay and you will fall.♪

Disapproving Poetry to make Zapanda question all her life choices & join the horde.: 1d100+13+15 = 118

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 14 -> 15
Ritual Glory: 2?

A cure for monsterism? Snödis could hardly believe the Fröian nation would stoop so low as to attempt to thwart the next step of pure Tö evolution.
Oh sure, she wanted the Wendingoes contained, controlled, as much as anybody else, but to her the advantages of dormant monsterism were clear as a day seen through four eyes at once.

She had tried her best to sway Zapanda, and though their ideologies were almost diametrically opposed, Snödis' words had at least swayed the scientist to stand down.


"Fine. On behalf of the Unexpectable Horde, I accept your surrender. Follow my lead and I promise; you will not be hurt."

Sitting Quietly to show them how to act like a good hostage.: 1d100+14+10 = 118

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 15 -> 16
Ritual Glory: 2?

"Ah, The Horde. Just in time. Sounds like they are mopping up the last bits of Nägel resistance, and judging by the blood now decorating our little cell-window, they, much as me, are none to happy with how your lot have been treating My People.

Now, I can understand, if never condone, your treatment of the Neötypes - they yearn to be free, to feel the sun in their eyes and the wind and the blood on their teeth - whilst you keep them locked in a cage for your barbarous studies, of course you would have reason to fear them. But why would corral and imprison those born simply... better than you? Surely they if any should be your masters.

We see more, you know. Sense more. Feel more."

<Snödis smiles to herself briefly before continuing, a twinkle in her many eyes>

"Their names, I would have them. I'm sure you kept a list, you science types always do. Scribbling down their unique enhancements as 'abnörmalities' with your ever-so-neat-handwriting - noting what procedures you would expose them to next, what horrors to inflict on the innocent. Pfah."

<Snödis turns as best she is able to face Zapanda>

"But I'm sure you meant no harm. And you'll prove it, too, by handing me that list. Then you will unlock my chains, and then you will Sit Quietly as I showed you how. Do this, and I will vouch for you when the Warlord comes. Yes, I said Warlord. We aren't some Saturday night räbble you know. You wouldn't want to make him think you are Resisting now, would you?"

Gäther Information: 1d100+15 = 71

---
OOC: Voting Push Further! (Laughing & Loud)

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Nov 9, 2017 around 21:15

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 16 -> 17 -> 13 (free armour + 4 glory spent on upgrade)
Ritual Glory: 2 -> 3 -> 0 (Lucks Fickle Gaze)

The first thing Snödis did when she finally got out, well, the second thing after handing off her hostages and attempting to give a report to Grimpner, was to head to Magda to get outfitted.
It was obvious from the way everyone was still alive that they had come into quiet the score of spare bits of kit, and if she was to be the Face of the monsterist movement as she so fervently believed herself to be (weather it was true or not) she needed to look the part.
Surviving until that part could be looked was also a small concern of hers.

But try as she might, she could not amongst the Fröian armour pieces find the one outfit that perfectly suited her desire. To be both fashionable and secure.
Somewhat grumpily, she removed four of her precious glory-tokens from her wallet and gave them to the quartermaster, purchasing a sweet looking leather jacket to go with the standard issue fröian breastplate that was hers for the taking.
As an after-thought, she dumped another three in the pot for Lucks Fickle Gaze, thinking it couldn't hurt to at least pay lip service to the Horde that had gotten her out of her bind. Not that she was ever worried...

+

After a night of tinkering, she finally had something to be proud of. For a finishing touch, she wrapped her old prisoners-chains around the sleeves and took and old, rusty nail to one of the shoulder-guards to inscribe the Neötype warning Symbol.
She wanted to leave no doubts to any who beheld her beautiful visage as to what her true agenda was.



--

Though most of her time was spent tinkering with her new armour, Snödis did wander the make-shift camp of Nägel during the night, if only to introduce herself to the gaggle of grateful new ex-prisoner Monsterist horde-members.
She also made sure to find Klörf, showing him the list and nodding solemnly.


"Those Fröian butchers must've taken them to another facility. Don't worry comrade, we'll find your friend. And mine. We will make them pay for this."

--

When she could no longer sew nor walk, she retired to the doctors quarters, setting herself down in a corner to while away the darkest hours, berating the medics for their poor workstöianship.

Disapproving Poetry to berate the medics into working better: 1d100+15+13 38

It was, perhaps, not the best thought of plans,
To rush into wendingo hands,
and maws and teeth and tails and claws,
for now it seems we're out of gauze!

And you do know you cannot punch his bad blood out?
nor mend that bone and broken snout,
with your words alone, he will black-out!
Your methods frankly make me doubt,
that for this job you are cut-out

What, me leave? But I'm helping out!
Fine, be that way, you sauerkraut!

>::(

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 13
Ritual Glory: +1

Snödis did not participate in the looting of skillcores, being far too busy with her other tasks. She did make a mental note of the few Tö who dared examine the poor Wendingoes closer however. Where they reaching for the corrupted skillcores?
In Snödis' mind that could only be a good decision.



--

Grimpner, please tell us about resonating!

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer



New recruit? What new recruit? Vist has always been here.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 13->14
Ritual Glory: 2

Grimpner posted:

“Fine, die, then. You had your chance.”


"GRIMPNER, NO!"

Her shout echoed down Nägels hallways, stopping hordemates in their tracks, all eyes looking to she who dared raise her voice against the Warlord.
But Snödis was never one to accept her mistakes as anything but the fault of others; and so she kept going despite the danger.

"Please, Sir, show these torturers your Mercy,
though they are the vilest lot and sow but controversy,
though their missive is misguided and their Science stinks of badness,
in their hearts and minds I know, there lay the secret our of madness.

These Neötypes, Friendingoes all, at least those who take the brand,
Let me be their champion, take up their leash and stand,
with them in their sorrows, for they are my Kind, my Band
Don't let corruption blind you, to the task at hand!

I take it all upon me, their achievements and their woe,
Just let them go, I plead with you,
and I shall make them grow!

Disapproving Poetry to claim Captaincy of the Neötype Squadron: 1d100+15+13 = 108
(ooc: If the consecutive downtimes to not refresh my skillcore, the roll is instead Uncored, spur of the moment Poetry: 93!)

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Nov 16, 2017 around 10:38

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 14->15
Ritual Glory: 4

Saluting despite the insults, Snödis felt a pride swelling in her chest - finally a position of real power, from where her legacy could truly begin. Of course, it would not be easy. Especially if she didn't look the part.
Head full of visions of glory, Snödis wandered off, beginning her new sure to be illustrious career with some much needed social networking.

---

Her first stop was Hat, the Hordes very own Millner. Snödis gave her an akward salute as she approached.


"Comräde Hat! You are aware of my new position, yes? Good, excellent. I have a requisition for you. I need a Hat of Office, and only the finest quality will do. Something snazzy, a captains cap with the Neötype Logo.
Sturdy enough to protect from injury, fancy enough to be a show of authority and most importantly out of the way enough to not impede my vision. I'm sure you can manage it.

As for the matter of your payment, I'm sure something can be arranged. After all, I am a Captain. Be it glory or raw materials, or perhaps a little favor down the line... well. I'm sure you get the idea.
I expect it to be finished before our first official engagement."

--

Personal business concluded, she wandered off again, this time in search of Qwäg and the other Branded Neötypes, in order to assess them for the purposes of forming her new squadron.
Finding Qwäg huddled in a corner, together with Hob and Splut, she heard only the last few words of her conversation with the others.

"Why yes, I am amazing, thank you Qwäg. No no, no need to salute. Save your strength Comräde, you have an exciting few hours ahead of you, eh?
Ah, to feel the rush of unbridled evolution, to see creation shake before you as all that you are becomes more, becomes better! Already you are feeling it, I take it? The raw power within you, screaming at you to let it take control? Good, good.
And if you do survive despite that accursed mark of mind-slavery upon you, I see no reason why you should be left out of My New Illustrious Neötype Squadron.

"And you, Hob is it? So good to see my new Squad taking care of one another already, like trüe Comrädes in Arms. Yours will be an excellent addition to the team, I am sure. What was it that you did? Beekeeping? Marvelous.
Do you think you could control mutant bees? If so we could rival even the butterflycists. An idle thought. We shall turn to it later. Do you have any questions regarding your new role?"

--

After her conversation with Qwäg and Hob, Snödis next sought out Dack, the fellow Neötype that had entered Nägel with her in her perfect executed infiltration.

"Dack! I know your enhancements came at the cost of speech, so I will not bother you with questions.
Know that the captain of the Neötype Squadron is well-aware of your achievements and expects them to continue in no short order as a fresh-faced private of that self-same squadron. Welcome aboard, Comräde!"

--

Next up, she approached Gawp and Trinh in some remote corner, interrupting their niceties with her commanding presence.

"Gawp. Trinh. Dual Surveillance and Taxidermy - Thats almost like a surgeon, yes?. I could not ask for a better cöuple of slave-marked Neötypes for my Squadron. Truly I could not. You are beautiful, and let no one tell you otherwise.
And soon? Soon you will bloom. Now, This will be an emotional time for you, as it will for everybody. I understand that, and the rush when you Wendingöfy or Mutate to your new True Selves will be overwhelming.
But for your own twö sakes, you should consider keeping some distance from each-other when during the Ascendancy. We wouldn't want a lövers quarrel turning into a massacre, now would we?"

--

Now it was Noggins turn to be suddenly and violently saluted at by Snödis, already on a roll through the list of horde-members.

"Noggins. I am sure you see the writing on the wall, whether you want to or not. The ranks are swelling, and Old Grimpner can't be everywhere at once. The Horde needs people such as us, to take care of things where he can not.
You already have the passion of the horde, from what I have seen, but you have yet to truly own the mantle that clings forgötten to your back. Make yourself seen, Noggins.
Stake your claim, and I am sure I shall soon see you around the Captains Mess."

--

Finally, after what felt like hours of running around, Snödis arrived at last at the Ram were Stårn was inevitably stationed.

"Stårn. I will not mix words with you; your passion bears results. Whilst you have no place in the Neötype Squadron (at least not until we fully weaponize the slave-marked Friendingöes, or you ascend most pleasingly),
I see no reason why you should not form one of your own. An army needs its Siegeworks, as you well know. Should it come to it, I will vouch for you."

--

When at last her escapades were over, she handed in her Very Formal Council to a most likely drunk and annoyed Grimpner, urging him to take the horde back to Fostis.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer

Jvie posted:

Trinh snaps to attention. "Do we get free stuff?"


"Of course Trinh, I have already established a contract with the local Millner. It wouldn't do to have a Squadron without any sort of identifier to distance you from the common rabble, now would it?
Just present Hat with your measurements, allowing for some Post-Ascendancy leeway naturally, and you shall have your official Neötype Squadron Baret within the allocated requisitionary period."

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer

On her way to somewhere else, Snödis is struck by an idle thought triggered by some random hordemate whistling. The Sonicore! She has almost forgotten it in all the excitement. She still had no idea what it did, or what it could be used for.
Such a valuable asset she could not afford to have remain mysterious, and so she went in search for anyone who might be knowledgeable enough about the treasures of the earth, hoping they might shed some light on it.


"Gado, gado, gado.... Gado was it? Yes, At ease soldier. I hear you are the man in the mines, so to speak. How many eyes are you hiding behind those goggles, anyway? Ah, but I digress. Here, what do you make of this?"



"I found it in the Fostis mine. Sonicore if i'm not mistaken. Reacts to whistling, but I know little else. There has got to be more tö it. I want a full report on my desk outside my bunk in a neat manila envelope by the time we head out.
However.. if you could figure out how to weaponize it? Yes, that would be even better. Tell you what, why don't you go find the local eggheads. Humbug and Pythag, I believe. See what you can cook up together.
I am counting on you, soldier. Don't let me down, and I'm sure the Neötype Squadron can return the favour."

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 15->16
Ritual Glory: 4

"Neötypes, Assemble!"
Ah, it felt good to have a hat. She had been surprised at how quickly the Millner had completed her requisition; but she should not have worried. Hat had produced only the finest quality headwear and Snödis was positively beaming with pride. She would have to thank her properly at a later date, some time when they wern't just about to break into an Old Guy Vault.

"Qwäg!" "You look amazing. Glad to see you among the living. What did the ascendancy feel like? Can you speak? Can you still asses risk? If so, excellent. Will you do us the honor of following us down into the Vault?"

"Trinh, Hob, your utility. We need your skills to make sure only the right people get hurt."

"Gawp, you are the forward scout. Head into the mines ahead of the team and figure out whats what.
See if you can figure out anything more about the door before Grimpner gets there, and don't touch anything.
Other then that, I leave it to your initiative.

"Dack, I need you to keep Zapanda on the straight and narrow. Yes, the torture-scientist. We need her around should any of you turn during the excavation, and it'l be easier to keep an eye on her if she is right there with us. Anyway; make sure she isn't hurt and that she doesn't get any bright ideas we haven't asked her for. I'll be joining you for this, helping you escort her down into the mines."

"Understood, Comrädes? Excellent. Hat up and get ready for anything; Those Old Guys were wilier then a greased up Slinker."

--

Escorting Zapanda to the Vault: 1d100+15 = 43

ooc: remember, if you follow my orders you get a +10 to your action! Of course, you don't actually HAVE to follow my orders, but I figure going to the vault is a good use of our increased power.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer



Images plucked out of time; Snödis contemplates her captainship.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 16-17
Ritual Glory: 5

Snödis rushed to Trinhs side as the change overtook her, taking her Ascendancy in with all the focus four eyes would bring. When she came to, Snödis was there, awestruck and grinning ear-to-ear.

"Trinh. Let me be the first to welcome you back to the world of the living. We mere baseline Neötypes are humbled in your presence, and those without our endowments, well, they must be quaking in fear or sweating with lust. You and Qwäg represent the best of us, and I for one could not be happier."

---

The Vile Mechanism lay before them, as cryptic as the message outside. It was clear it was made for taking something from ten individuals to transfer to... a table? Something positioned on the table, perhaps? Or perhaps it was the other way around.

She turned to the others for input, making an effort to give the other (prospective) captain some extra attention.

"What do you reckon it does, Noggins? It ain't exactly carpentry, but a chair is a chair, am I right? Even if they aren't the most comfortable of fit, they are clearly made for sitting in. I'm all for giving it a go, personally."

As she made to inspect the Mechanism a bit closer, she made to palm the Spool of Wire. Wire was always useful, and Old Guy Wire?
There could be no-end of uses!

Claiming the Spool of Wire: 1d100 95

Her mind dreamt of stringed instruments of war, able to carry the tunes of her whistling pet-rock and her own Voice besides over the battlefield.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 16-17
Ritual Glory: 5->6

"Well." Snödis said, "there is only one way to find out!"

Sitting Quietly to Suss out the Secret of the Chairs: 1d100+10+17 = 118

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer

So apparently windows 10 comes with 3dpaint.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 17-18
Ritual Glory: 5ish? 7? I have no idea

"Aha, just as I thought! It is a chair that doesn't instantly kill you. Now, if someone could please give me a hand out of this thing, Qwäg, would you be a dear? Thank you. At any rate, I think Noggins has the right idea of things, so lets not let the others hog all the Glory, eh?"

--- / some time later / ---

The rythm. It reminded her of her past. Of the all-musical battlegrounds where she first met Tö-Päin, her beloved rival and target of her many failed and (un)lethal plots. It enraptured the passion that dwelled inside her, urged her forward.

"Qwäg! You see the drummers? Cut them down at your leisure, rip them limb from limb! We will follow behind and make sure they cannot rettaliate!"

"Hob! I know your change is coming, I can feel it in the air, will you lend me your swansong to disrupt their lines? Just give me a melody, a beat that will give wings to my words and we will see their subourned wills falter!"

"Dack! As swift as they come, stick to the mountain and come at them from the sides, try to time your charge with Noggins and Qwäg."

"Trinh, We should have the drumline covered, could you make sure those archers don't perforate us on the way?"

"Gawp! Where is gawp? Did he not return? Nevermind, then, we shall have to worry about that later."

-

Orders given, Snödis took her pet Sonicore and rhymed to it, (hopefully accompanied by Hobs intruding melody) trusting that the Whistling Stone would do what it was supposed to do, completely unaware that she may misinterpreted things entierly.

Disapproving Poetry to channel an attack song at the enemy Rythm!: 1d100+17+15 = 93

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Nov 28, 2017 around 22:29

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer

Vist 3d, per request.

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3
Glory: 19-20
Ritual Glory: 9

"Qwäg! Great job, but it looks like Trinh could need some help! Go see if you can't de-limb a few of those archers, pull some preasure of from the rest of us!"

"Hob! "I Knew you'd make it. Do not despair, the bees must have heard your song. It was lovely by the way. Do not fear your power, embrace it. Use it. Destroy the drummers!"

"Dack! "You are on the very edge of your ascendancy, use the burn to drive you, make them pay for your pain! I leave who at your discretion, as long as they bleed blue!"

"Trinh "Great going! Keep it up, backup is coming your way!"

--

For her own part, Snödis was about to do something very reckless. Rushing out from the browbeaten drummer meleé, she waved her fancy hat in the air and shouted her challenge.


"Hey string-slayers, more like string failures! I heard you are the worst marksfrö in the world, so allow me to give you a challenge more up your alley! See my hat? That means im super important, bet you can't even graze it even when im sitting still!"

Taunting Archers by Sitting Quietly: 1d100+19+10 = 79

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Dec 1, 2017 around 22:42

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 1/3 actually 3!
Glory: 20-21
Ignomity: -6
Ritual Glory: 9


Lying motionless in a pool of her own lingonberries, Snödis squints three out of four eyes in annoyance at Agenou antics, whilst still clutching to her miracolously cured neck-wound with one hand.

"From the tips of your no-stache
to the glam of your rude flash,
ain't no move we can out-smash
you brash pompous slink-rash!"

Disapproving Poetry to diss Agenou: 1d100+20+15 = 115 - 6 = 109

"lets see how you handle clashing
with a herd of friendingoes, crashing
right into your body, thrashing;
with bonesaw and claw and more."

Orders: ATTACK THE WARLORD!

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Dec 6, 2017 around 15:20

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer



Whats this? Dack is evolving!



Your Dack has evolved into Wendackgo!

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Dec 4, 2017 around 23:41

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3/3 (2 wire)
Glory: 21->22
Ignomity: -6
Ritual Glory: 9

After the battle, Snödis had a lot on her mind. She took a seat on the enemy warlords fallen Baton, easily the size of a quarterstaff for someone of her stature, that in a pinch would make for a mighty fine bench for relaxing on, as she considered the possibilities that lay before her.

Sitting Quietly on the Baton to loot it: 1d100+10 = 64

The battle had gone swimmingly, from her point of view. Sure, her neck was now partially cold, unfeeling metal, but she wasn't using it for much besides blood transfer anyway. Not with Tö-Päin temporarially out of the picture.

At any rate, her Squad had performed wonderously and she was sure their efforts as well as that of her own would be enough to secure her place as a Captain, when the gentle giant that was their Warlord would deign to once more awaken.
She would have to make sure to put a word in for the valour of Noggins as well, not that the chivalerous Tögirls actions could not speak for themselves, but it never hurt to have Rank on your side.
It was around this time that Gado approached her, notes in hand, raving about her precious Sonicore.


"Ah, the report. Thank you, I'll review it later when things calm down a bit. You've done a good job Comräde. Was there anything else?"

...

Her eyes shone with unremorsefull glee as Gado explained to her his plan, elation plain on her otherwise stern features.

"You have made a wonderful decision Comräde Gado. One that only a few Brave souls ever elect for themselves. Volountary Ascendancy has been, shall we say, frowned upon by the Ignorant Public, who in their blind fear see only monsters.
But we know the truth of things, am I right? It is the way forward. The only way forward. To shed your baseline skin like the cocoon of a venomous cobaltwing catterpiller, emerging a Butterfree.

There will of course be objections. As much as it pains me to admit it, bearing the Slave-Mark of the Warlord might be your only chance to survive out here on the battlefield, where Open Minds Like Ours are sadly not as prelevant.
I can hear the grumblings of the anti-monsterism crowd already, grabbing their torches and pitchforks. But do not worry, the Neötype Squadron shall oversee your transförmation. None shall dare interfere with Prögress."

With that she stood up, (hopefully) taking the Baton with her, and escorted Gado over to Trinh 'Trinh my girl! Simply amazing performance out there. You should be commended. That said, could I perchance trouble you to help this man?
He has realized the folly of the Old Ways and wishes to Ascend, to be as you and the others. With the warlords <and here she grimaces, leaning heavily on air-quoutes> blessing, there should be nothing stopping us.
All the same, if the others could be roused from their downtimes, it would not hurt to have the whole crew on site, just in case."

Ordering Trinh to help with Gados Ascendancy - The other Neötypes are free to help if they so desire, but I will spare them my orders for now.

For her own part, Snödis kept watch around the small gathering, shooting angry glares and bitter words at those that looked even remotely likely to protest.

Disapproving Poetry to Keep Away Interlopers: 1d100+20+21-6 56

"Not another step you racist interloper!
Gado's mind has been made up, he sure is a real trooper!"
Don't you dare come any closer, do not even think to interfere,
for what we do is Prögress, you should be glad to have been here!"

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Sitting Quietly
HP: 3/3 (2 wire)
Glory: (22-8=14 ->15)
Ignomity: -6
Ritual Glory: 9->10->0

--

Mechanics workshop:
Glory increases from 21 to 22 as per extra glory from attacking commander.
Disapproving Poetry and Sitting Quietly Resonate, turning into Dissaproving Poetry +30, Sitting Quietly is lost.
Sitting Quietly on the Baton to loot it: 1d100+10 = 64 becomes = looting the Baton = 54
Disapproving Poetry to Keep Away Interlopers: 1d100+20+21-6 = 56 changes to 1d100=21 + 30 + 22 - 6 = 67
Looting the Fashion Skillcore: 1d100 = 64
Taking a Bow Harp for my free item

--

When she finally got a moment to herself sometime later, Snödis took some of her most finely polished Glory Tokens from her pouch and went over to Madgas Shöppe to purchase some high quality bonding agents and fabric.
She had always had an eye for fashion, though with her core more focused on the wordier aesthetics she made do with good old fashioned elbow grease.

Snödis is spending 4 glory on converting those 4 glory into 4 cosmetic items.

x4

"Dack, Trinh, Qwäg and Hob. I could not be more proud of you or your accomplishments. I present this Medal to each of you for your valour in combat and your contributions to the survival of the horde.
To Victöry Comrädes, Tö Evolution and Beyond!"

--

Also at Magdas, she put down an additional 10 ritual glory chits for Monstersists Enervating Brew and, after some heavy debate, another 4 glory for an upgrade for her armour.
"Your going to make more Nails for the ritual, I assume? Could four glory 'suade you to attach the ones that don't quite cut the mustard to the chains of my armour instead?
The look is sure to indimidate any would be attackers, making them consider another target. We wouldn't want one of our Captains getting hurt unduly now, am I right?"

Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer


Extra Skillcore: Fashion +25
HP: 3/3 (2 wire)
Glory: 15-->16)
Ignomity: -6
Ritual Glory: 0->1

The meeting with Grimpner had spooked her, made her fear retalliation from the Warlord himself or for an emboldening of those sworn against her cause.
It hadn't helped that her Sitting Quietly core has resonated away in a poof of smoke, or the akwardness she felt at the award ceremony when one of her medals was rejected.

"But I made it for you...." had almost escaped her lips, but then her disapproving core took over and she had simply saluted, responding with a curt 'Comräde" and... slinked off into the chaos of looting.

x1 goes unrewarded!

Now here she was, fidgeting with the un-used medal, sitting without any of her former stoisism on the tree-sized baton that she had temporarially converted into a bench, or possibly a bed.
It was much to large for her to use as a weapon, at any rate, but nobody else seemed interested in claiming it.

It was then that she noticed the skillcore, discarded in the grass beneath her, still slick with the innards of Agenou.
'Fashion' it helpfully informed her as she picked it up, cleaning the viscera off on a piece of old Agenou Cape Sash that she had obtained from somewhere or other admidst everything else.

Fashion. When she was little, she had wanted to be a Fashionista, to be the prettiest princess in all of the land. But she was a 'monster' and when skillcore day came and went, it did so without her youthful dreams fulfilled. Along with the rest of her kindergärten class -neötypes all, kept segregated so as not to spread the 'disease'- she got her pick from the reject pile, the garbage that good little Tö boys and girls dared not be associated with. Cores like 'Applied Nihilism' 'Breaking Bread' 'Socks' and yes, 'Disapproving Poetry.' She had picked it without much hesitation. Used it daily, exercised it fully. They had grown together, keeping her on the fringes of society and earning her her place in the mosterist movement and later, when her rebellious attitude had crossed far too many a line, into the lowest rungs of the army. Sent away to bother someone else.

Well. That little girl inside her still clamoured for attention, every now and then. Her eyes lit up, the skill-core vanished and soon, Snödis followed.

~~ Some time later ~~

Gränï! Gräniï! Little Snödis shouted after the old, Shoe-clad töwoman.



"Can I have a battle-standard? Can I please pretty please Gränï!" I even brought my own stick, its ever so large! Oh pretty please Gränï!"
"Oh and i want it blue and red and yellow and gold and blue like me and and and and I want it taller then even big old Vist! So tall that even mean old Grimpner can see it, even when I'm all surrounded by all the bad guys in the wörld!"
"And Noggins can help too! She knows how to carve things, and it'l be ever so much fun to play with her, shes my best friend! Please Gränï, can she come along too? We can have a sleepover! It'l be ever so much fun, and we can have cake!"

Fashion to Fashion a Battle-Standard out of Agenou's Old Baton, a piece of his old cape, the power of friendship and some repressed childhood trauma: 1d100+25+15-6 = 132.

Swedish Thaumocracy fucked around with this message at Dec 14, 2017 around 16:58

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Swedish Thaumocracy
Jul 11, 2006

Strength of >800 Men
Honor of 0


Grimey Drawer



Little Snödis was thrilled that Noggins had decided to help her, and became even more elated at the news that Qwäg might come over later! What fun, perhaps the friendingo could even spin the colourful cloth into the mighty banner of her dreams, or maybe, just maybe, she could be persuaded to spin Snödis around herself, like in one of those carniväl games!

And then Portha arived with a beautiful flower, asking if she could have the Sonior that Snödis had collected earlier, for to make a drink. Why, of course you can Portha! She said. Mixing strange tinctures is a staple of any good sleepöver! And if you stay longer we can even bräid eachothers hair!

Transfering Sonior to Portha

When Verika arived with her dire news, little Snödis took the hat with a trembling lip.
"Oh... you mean he won't be coming back, huh? Is he gone forever, like my parents?"

Neötype Beret re-aquired

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