Farkas Nimblefoot looked around the crowd. The hell am I doing here? Farkas wasn't a hero. Deamon had said this crowd would be good pickings but it seemed like these guys were just poor men. Not even proper banner men.
Well, let's see. There was a group already made of gruff looking warrior types, all armor and swords, not a ounce of brains among them. Then the axe and wizard guy, still arguing the finer points of killing things, and damn near ready to demonstrated on each other. Hotheads like that might work for clean pickings but they might get me killed before then. Then Farkas found a dwarf, covered in tattoos and drinking heavily on a wagon. That there looks like a finest sucker if I never saw one.
"Why, my follow lover of the drink." Farkas said as he came up to the wagon. "You know its a bad oman to drink alone on a wagon. Something about beard baldness and ugly weather. How about you share a swig with this sorry soul and we can turn our fortunes around."
Barthas sighs. This is often how these things start, he thinks to himself --- the unprepared led straight into the slaughter, all as a trial. "With a couple weeks' training, Pren would have made these fellows into warriors," he mutters to no one. "Some of them can't even handle their dinged swords properly..."
He begins surveying the adventurers, giving a wide birth to those already grouping together, out of habit. "What I'm looking for is..." Barthas' eyes stop on what first seems to be an elaborate suit of plate mail, but with a detectable spark of life. It --- he? --- odd --- seems to have been built for a task such as this. Barthas' curiosity gets the better of him, and he approaches from the automaton's side, testing the waters as he often does, striking up a conversation without playing all his demon-faced cards right away.
A dwarf and a halfling get increasingly tipsy nearby. He tries not to worry about that just yet, though they still seem a bit more capable than some of the poor whelps looking for adventure.
"Lovely weather we've having."
Geth roll 1#d6 for [Priestess Positive] Blessed be those entering world's combat...
Geth roll 2#d6 for [Diabolist Conflicted] ...and may the light blind those that seek to destroy it.
3DS: 2466-2307-8384 PSN: bssteph Steam:bsstephanTwitch:bsstephan Tabletop:13th Age (mm-mmm), D&D 4e Occasional words about games:my site
Geth roll 1d6 for Blessed be those entering world's combat... (Priestess Positive)
Geth roll 2#1d6 for ...and may the light blind those that seek to destroy it. (Diabolist Conflicted)
Blessed be those entering world's combat... (Priestess Positive):
1d61 [1d6=1]
...and may the light blind those that seek to:
2#1d6 2 # 3 [1d6=3] 3 [1d6=3]
3DS: 2466-2307-8384 PSN: bssteph Steam:bsstephanTwitch:bsstephan Tabletop:13th Age (mm-mmm), D&D 4e Occasional words about games:my site
With a whir of servomotors, Clank rotates its bullet-shaped head towards the creature that addressed it. It pauses a moment, as if processing the words, then swivels that head up towards the sky. Rain pings on the creature's metal surfaces intermittently, and splashes off its glowing golden optics.
"An excess of atmospheric water vapor is being shed from the colder air above us, partially due to our proximity to the Midland Sea. I regret to inform you that the storm will soon exhaust itself." Clank returns its optics to the creature that addressed it. "A dwarf once told me: 'rain can really rust machines, but at least it gets the clunkers clean.' He told me this on a previous occasion in which I stood in the rain. He then showed me his teeth."
A small nictitating iris flicked water from Clank's optics. "I do not have teeth to show you, but I hope you will accept my greetings regardless of this deficiency."
Minion, roll 1d6 for GGW positive
Minion, roll 1d6 for TDK neutral
Minion, roll 1d6 for spooooky deeeemons negative
Hey guys, sorry, school is piling on me fast as hell. Aaaand, I just can't really get into this system right now. There's just too much I end up not liking about my character, no matter how I build him. I'm gonna bow out and let @Auralynx have my spot.
Hey guys, sorry, school is piling on me fast as hell. Aaaand, I just can't really get into this system right now. There's just too much I end up not liking about my character, no matter how I build him. I'm gonna bow out and let @Auralynx have my spot.
Sorry, again.
No problem man. Thanks for letting us know! Good luck with school. @Auralynx, what say you?
Proof, laying in mud with a few empty and broken bottles around him, rolls on to his side and vomits.
Propping himself up on his axe, he smiles. "Worlds better now, I think. Probably shouldn't have had that jug of elven wine."
Slowly, he notices he is surrounded by a crew best described as motley, "Nope. I've got to be still drunk. Never seen mining equipment that happy before." Proof rubs his eyes, mostly succeeding in further covering himself with mud. The two halflings and two oddly red men converge into one each into as his vision refocuses.
"Oh. Thought you'd brought more." He hefts his axe onto his shoulder. "We'll need more."
Proof wanders in the direction of the elf that helped him split that jug of wine.
He liked that elf. Couldn't ever remember his name. Tallfur, Telluriye, Tim? Why couldn't they just have normal names, like Franzibald!?
He arrived at Talfryn's tent. It was fancier than he remembered, but it spun more last night. Focusing his power for a moment, Proof attempts to clean himself off somewhat.
Elfs are very picky about their dirt, and this one is especially peeved about their most ancient mess. Best not to irk him.
"I... uh... huh. Yes. Hi." Barthas is at a loss for words, but is happy enough to not be in another fight. He smiles a toothy grin, sincere, but still appearing a bit uncertain, hoping that he doesn't anger the automaton. "My name is Barthas. My friends call me Bart, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. You definitely seem built for war, is that what brought you here?"
3DS: 2466-2307-8384 PSN: bssteph Steam:bsstephanTwitch:bsstephan Tabletop:13th Age (mm-mmm), D&D 4e Occasional words about games:my site
"Hello, Master Proof," Talfryn says as the dwarf stumbles up. "I was just trying to recall a joke I heard once... something about a dwarf, a halfling, an empty bottle, and a paladin whose mouth is bigger than his boots." Talfryn tries to spit to emphasize his opinion of Orram the overly-shiny. The Frost Rangers were fond of spitting, but Talfryn had never mastered the art. He often wondered if growing a beard was the key to proper expectoration. "I'll be surprised if our first task is not to polish his armor."
He casts an eye over the crowd. The Queen's banners were here, but he'd seen no one he recognized, nor had anyone recognized him. All for the best, perhaps. He gives Proof a hearty slap on the back. "Well," he says as mud splatters off the dwarf, "I suppose it would be a shame to have traveled all this way without making a few friends. Who do you like the look of?"
Geth roll 2d6 for The Elf Queen
Geth roll 1d6 for The Orc Lord
"I believe I know the joke you are referring to." Farkas says as he looks around Talfryn's tent. "A dwarf and a halfling are sitting at a bar when the dwarf says 'I bet you 50 dragons I can finish my bottle before you.' the halfling smiles and says, 'You're on.' The dwarf starts chugging when suddenly the halfling picks up his cork and stick it back on the bottle. The dwarf looks confused and goes 'What's the matter, don't like drinking?' and the halfling says, 'No, its that I won. You forgot you buy the next round.'" Farkas finally looks back at the elf and the drunken dwarf. "I'm Farkas, and I'm guessing everyone here is going for this platemail's psycho quest?"
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AuralynxDarkness is a perspectiveWatching the ego workRegistered Userregular
Having read Elementalist over, I'm loving that idea and will revisit it tomorrow and make a guy. Any suggestions from everyone else?
"Ya know, Talf, yer good people!", says Proof, staggering from the pat on the back.
That elf didn't look like much, but he wasn't a limp-wristed-tree-hugging-tower-dweller.
Shame no one ever taught him to spit. Yet.
"There's not many out there that look like they know which end of a demon to stab, but this halflin---waitabloodyminute! That's Clink! Crank! THE BLOODY DEMONMASHIN' MACHINE!"
Proof takes off as fast as his awkward stubby legs can carry him. It is not at as elegant or refined as the elf who catches up quickly. Before he can react, the halfling is there too. Sneaky git. They're always a useful type to keep around, and to keep an eye on.
Panting and out of breath, Proof slides a little in the mud.
"It really is bloody you. Oily you. Clonk! Blank! Clunk!"
I'm kind of thinking that Clank will be a bit of a legend mixed with gossip throughout the ranks of the GGW. Details are scarce, but they all agree that it slaughters demontypes wholesale.
"I was called Clank by the dwarves that used me as mining apparatus." The automaton went still for a moment, its glowing eyes fixed on Barthas, before continuing. "I do not know why I was built. It was my feet that brought me here."
Clank recoils slightly as the dwarf comes running up to it. The irises blink twice before it responds to the exclamation. "Who else would I be?"
Farkas looks around, trying to see if another group is available. This dwarf is going to get me killed before I can pocket anything from this group. But as his luck would have it, most groups were made, and those who weren't looked worst than the Dwarf. Plus, this dwarf knew of a Dwarf-forged, which could be a lot of money to the right buyer... Farkas's mind starting going through his list of blackmarket people who might be interested in a Dwarf-forged when his eyes came across the red faced hooded figure. Farkas said nothing but made sure his crossed his hands, slowly reaching for the dagger on his hip. If this Diabolist cultist made a move, Farkas was going to be ready. "My drunk friend" Farkas said with his eyes never leaving Bart. "I don't believe you have properly introduced us to your friends."
Barthas sees where this conversation is going to go, but in his experience, it's best if he lets their suspicion come to him rather than appear defensive, so he leaves the introductions to Clank.
3DS: 2466-2307-8384 PSN: bssteph Steam:bsstephanTwitch:bsstephan Tabletop:13th Age (mm-mmm), D&D 4e Occasional words about games:my site
This dwarf is going to get me killed before I can pocket anything from this group.
You know it, baby. Live fast, die pretty.
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AuralynxDarkness is a perspectiveWatching the ego workRegistered Userregular
Submitted for your approval: Yancey Rumbleroarer
Yancey was a halfling child who got terribly, horribly lost in the Rolling Hills and never came back. Taken in and raised by earth elementals, he grew up with a profound affinity for the elements and absolutely nothing like normal socialization. He's a nice guy and very eager, but has no concept of personal space and no off switch.
+2
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Erin The RedThe Name's Erin! Woman, Podcaster, Dungeon Master, IT nerd, Parent, Trans. AMABaton Rouge, LARegistered Userregular
Erin The RedThe Name's Erin! Woman, Podcaster, Dungeon Master, IT nerd, Parent, Trans. AMABaton Rouge, LARegistered Userregular
edited January 2014
@Kilroy : You have a 5 from the orc lord. Pos/negative/conflicted? And your 6 is from the elf queen. positive? @Auralynx : Roll dem relationship dices!
Banked rolls:
GG -> (-5) Diabolist
Oats -> (-5) The Three
Jdarksun -> None
Bss -> None
Kilroy -> (-5) Orc Lord, (~6) Elf Queen
Auralynx -> (+5) High Druid
Erin The RedThe Name's Erin! Woman, Podcaster, Dungeon Master, IT nerd, Parent, Trans. AMABaton Rouge, LARegistered Userregular
Waiting on an intro blurb from @Auralynx , with some icon rolls, and we will go forward from there. No rush! Just keeping folk updated. Feel free to keep your interactions going.
AuralynxDarkness is a perspectiveWatching the ego workRegistered Userregular
edited January 2014
Yancey was pretty sure he'd seen another halfling somewhere in the crowd, but he hadn't been certain until a drunken dwarf had nearly run him over in his eagerness to get over to what looked like some sort of clockwork statue. He'd seen Farkas carried along in the barreling warrior's wake.
Dwarves were the only people Yancey could remember who'd been any fun to hang around besides the rock folk, once they'd settled the treaty about mining rights. Before the treaty, not so fun, and he was pretty sure he'd learned a Dwarf greeting, so he took a chance and followed them. Slipping up behind Proof, Yancey tugs on his belt.
"<Hey! Don't Touch That!>" he says, grinning like an idiot.
Geth roll 2d6t5 for Druidity
Geth roll 1d6t5 for Dwarvishness
"You! Fat and drunk!" the source of the tug exclaims.
"I'm glad somebody noticed!" Proof punches the halfling on the shoulder in affection, and then hugs it. "Not nearly drunk enough though."
Setting the halfling down, Proof thinks a moment. "Took that tap well, little man. You feel like punching some demons in the gribbleys?"
Holy relationship dice, Batman. Four 5s and a 6.
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Erin The RedThe Name's Erin! Woman, Podcaster, Dungeon Master, IT nerd, Parent, Trans. AMABaton Rouge, LARegistered Userregular
edited January 2014
As some parties make their way towards the registration area, a few representatives of various icons make their way through the crowd.
"If you would be so kind as to make your way towards the registration tent, it would be greatly appreciated!" says a smiling woman in a long and flowing dress. The white fabric is amazingly un-muddied.
'All groups, move to the exit,' says a bearded man. The bottom of his robe is caked in filth and the ends of his sleeves are singed. He is creating motes of light which float lazily in the direction of the afforementioned tent.
A nimble elf moves gracefully through the muck. She seems to be light enough on her feet to not sink into the sludge as she moves about. Interesting! She is visiting small groups here and there and discussing with them.
As our humble adventurers talk amongst themselves, a figure approaches. She is bulky to say the least. At least 6 feet tall and clad in several layers of overlapping metal scales, you are amazed that she managed to get close enough to you to talk and yet remain unnoticed, being as she must weigh as much as a... heavy thing. Heavy things aren't usually silent. "You lot. Are you together? Are you ready? There's work that needs be done, and Emperor knows it needs doing as soon as possible." Without waiting for a response, she says "Get to the tent. There's supplies, and a mission for you. Like I said. Time's short."
Here's how we are gonna play with our relationship dice:
You are free to use your banked icon relationships at any point you'd like. Just make sure to @ me in your post, and let me know which one you would like to use.
A 6 is a good result for you that comes from your relationship with that icon.
A 5 is a good result, with some sort of downside to it.
Clank surveys the group that seems to have formed around it, glowing eyes briefly focusing on each of the shorter creatures."This composition is acceptable. Let us depart."The automaton shifts its maul from one shoulder to the other, then begins walking towards the tent indicated by the armor-clad female. Its feet - four-toed claws like those of a bird - tear great gouges in the muck, and every step is accompanied by a distinctive 'clank' as its armor rebounds off its metal frame.
Erin The RedThe Name's Erin! Woman, Podcaster, Dungeon Master, IT nerd, Parent, Trans. AMABaton Rouge, LARegistered Userregular
edited January 2014
hmmm. it probably will.
Yeah, let's go for that.
Keep the flavor stuff non-bold, and bold the speaking parts.
(Going forward. Don't worry about editing old posts or anything. That's silly)
"And no proper introductions? Fine group we will make; a drunk dwarf, a clockman, two halflings, an elf, and..." Farkas looks over at the hooded Diabolist "...him. So eager to die that everyone rushes off to the tents like Kobalds to a Dragon's Jaws. A find group we'll make. How about we call ourselves the Fool's Luck, because that's all we'll have to live on."
Posts
Well, let's see. There was a group already made of gruff looking warrior types, all armor and swords, not a ounce of brains among them. Then the axe and wizard guy, still arguing the finer points of killing things, and damn near ready to demonstrated on each other. Hotheads like that might work for clean pickings but they might get me killed before then. Then Farkas found a dwarf, covered in tattoos and drinking heavily on a wagon. That there looks like a finest sucker if I never saw one.
"Why, my follow lover of the drink." Farkas said as he came up to the wagon. "You know its a bad oman to drink alone on a wagon. Something about beard baldness and ugly weather. How about you share a swig with this sorry soul and we can turn our fortunes around."
He hits the ground hard.
It isn't hard enough. He knows it won't ever be enough. He hates himself, his drinking and the Three, sure.
Mostly right now he hates that halfling making his head ring.
"What are the odds? I needa drink too. This one's empty."
Geth, roll 2d6 for the hangover-est dwarf in the service of the Gold
Geth, roll 1d6 for the dwarf on the run from dragoncults
Partial success on my negative relationship eh? Cultists incoming.
"Better make it a double."
He begins surveying the adventurers, giving a wide birth to those already grouping together, out of habit. "What I'm looking for is..." Barthas' eyes stop on what first seems to be an elaborate suit of plate mail, but with a detectable spark of life. It --- he? --- odd --- seems to have been built for a task such as this. Barthas' curiosity gets the better of him, and he approaches from the automaton's side, testing the waters as he often does, striking up a conversation without playing all his demon-faced cards right away.
A dwarf and a halfling get increasingly tipsy nearby. He tries not to worry about that just yet, though they still seem a bit more capable than some of the poor whelps looking for adventure.
"Lovely weather we've having."
Geth roll 1#d6 for [Priestess Positive] Blessed be those entering world's combat...
Geth roll 2#d6 for [Diabolist Conflicted] ...and may the light blind those that seek to destroy it.
Tabletop:13th Age (mm-mmm), D&D 4e
Occasional words about games: my site
Geth roll 1d6 for Blessed be those entering world's combat... (Priestess Positive)
Geth roll 2#1d6 for ...and may the light blind those that seek to destroy it. (Diabolist Conflicted)
Tabletop:13th Age (mm-mmm), D&D 4e
Occasional words about games: my site
Geth roll 1d6 for Shadowy Motives
Geth roll 2d6 for Dealing with Demons
"An excess of atmospheric water vapor is being shed from the colder air above us, partially due to our proximity to the Midland Sea. I regret to inform you that the storm will soon exhaust itself." Clank returns its optics to the creature that addressed it. "A dwarf once told me: 'rain can really rust machines, but at least it gets the clunkers clean.' He told me this on a previous occasion in which I stood in the rain. He then showed me his teeth."
A small nictitating iris flicked water from Clank's optics. "I do not have teeth to show you, but I hope you will accept my greetings regardless of this deficiency."
Minion, roll 1d6 for TDK neutral
Minion, roll 1d6 for spooooky deeeemons negative
Penny Arcade Rockstar Social Club / This is why I despise cyclists
Sorry, again.
No problem man. Thanks for letting us know! Good luck with school.
@Auralynx, what say you?
Propping himself up on his axe, he smiles. "Worlds better now, I think. Probably shouldn't have had that jug of elven wine."
Slowly, he notices he is surrounded by a crew best described as motley, "Nope. I've got to be still drunk. Never seen mining equipment that happy before." Proof rubs his eyes, mostly succeeding in further covering himself with mud. The two halflings and two oddly red men converge into one each into as his vision refocuses.
"Oh. Thought you'd brought more." He hefts his axe onto his shoulder. "We'll need more."
Proof wanders in the direction of the elf that helped him split that jug of wine.
He liked that elf. Couldn't ever remember his name. Tallfur, Telluriye, Tim? Why couldn't they just have normal names, like Franzibald!?
He arrived at Talfryn's tent. It was fancier than he remembered, but it spun more last night. Focusing his power for a moment, Proof attempts to clean himself off somewhat.
Elfs are very picky about their dirt, and this one is especially peeved about their most ancient mess. Best not to irk him.
@Killroy, we're ready for your close-up.
Tabletop:13th Age (mm-mmm), D&D 4e
Occasional words about games: my site
He casts an eye over the crowd. The Queen's banners were here, but he'd seen no one he recognized, nor had anyone recognized him. All for the best, perhaps. He gives Proof a hearty slap on the back. "Well," he says as mud splatters off the dwarf, "I suppose it would be a shame to have traveled all this way without making a few friends. Who do you like the look of?"
Geth roll 2d6 for The Elf Queen
Geth roll 1d6 for The Orc Lord
Steam | Twitter
Geth roll 2d6 for The Elf Queen
Steam | Twitter
Up to you. We've got a No Humans Allowed thing going on which I'm sure our benevolent GM won't ever use against us.
I think, of the optional races, dragonborn-thing and aasimar aren't yet taken, if you're the sort who wants to be a unique butterfly.
That elf didn't look like much, but he wasn't a limp-wristed-tree-hugging-tower-dweller.
Shame no one ever taught him to spit. Yet.
"There's not many out there that look like they know which end of a demon to stab, but this halflin---waitabloodyminute! That's Clink! Crank! THE BLOODY DEMONMASHIN' MACHINE!"
Proof takes off as fast as his awkward stubby legs can carry him. It is not at as elegant or refined as the elf who catches up quickly. Before he can react, the halfling is there too. Sneaky git. They're always a useful type to keep around, and to keep an eye on.
Panting and out of breath, Proof slides a little in the mud.
"It really is bloody you. Oily you. Clonk! Blank! Clunk!"
I'm kind of thinking that Clank will be a bit of a legend mixed with gossip throughout the ranks of the GGW. Details are scarce, but they all agree that it slaughters demontypes wholesale.
Clank recoils slightly as the dwarf comes running up to it. The irises blink twice before it responds to the exclamation. "Who else would I be?"
Penny Arcade Rockstar Social Club / This is why I despise cyclists
Tabletop:13th Age (mm-mmm), D&D 4e
Occasional words about games: my site
You know it, baby. Live fast, die pretty.
Yancey was a halfling child who got terribly, horribly lost in the Rolling Hills and never came back. Taken in and raised by earth elementals, he grew up with a profound affinity for the elements and absolutely nothing like normal socialization. He's a nice guy and very eager, but has no concept of personal space and no off switch.
@Auralynx : Roll dem relationship dices!
Banked rolls:
GG -> (-5) Diabolist
Oats -> (-5) The Three
Jdarksun -> None
Bss -> None
Kilroy -> (-5) Orc Lord, (~6) Elf Queen
Auralynx -> (+5) High Druid
Steam | Twitter
Dwarves were the only people Yancey could remember who'd been any fun to hang around besides the rock folk, once they'd settled the treaty about mining rights. Before the treaty, not so fun, and he was pretty sure he'd learned a Dwarf greeting, so he took a chance and followed them. Slipping up behind Proof, Yancey tugs on his belt.
"<Hey! Don't Touch That!>" he says, grinning like an idiot.
Geth roll 2d6t5 for Druidity
Geth roll 1d6t5 for Dwarvishness
"You! Fat and drunk!" the source of the tug exclaims.
"I'm glad somebody noticed!" Proof punches the halfling on the shoulder in affection, and then hugs it. "Not nearly drunk enough though."
Setting the halfling down, Proof thinks a moment. "Took that tap well, little man. You feel like punching some demons in the gribbleys?"
Holy relationship dice, Batman. Four 5s and a 6.
"If you would be so kind as to make your way towards the registration tent, it would be greatly appreciated!" says a smiling woman in a long and flowing dress. The white fabric is amazingly un-muddied.
'All groups, move to the exit,' says a bearded man. The bottom of his robe is caked in filth and the ends of his sleeves are singed. He is creating motes of light which float lazily in the direction of the afforementioned tent.
A nimble elf moves gracefully through the muck. She seems to be light enough on her feet to not sink into the sludge as she moves about. Interesting! She is visiting small groups here and there and discussing with them.
As our humble adventurers talk amongst themselves, a figure approaches. She is bulky to say the least. At least 6 feet tall and clad in several layers of overlapping metal scales, you are amazed that she managed to get close enough to you to talk and yet remain unnoticed, being as she must weigh as much as a... heavy thing. Heavy things aren't usually silent. "You lot. Are you together? Are you ready? There's work that needs be done, and Emperor knows it needs doing as soon as possible." Without waiting for a response, she says "Get to the tent. There's supplies, and a mission for you. Like I said. Time's short."
Here's how we are gonna play with our relationship dice:
You are free to use your banked icon relationships at any point you'd like. Just make sure to @ me in your post, and let me know which one you would like to use.
A 6 is a good result for you that comes from your relationship with that icon.
A 5 is a good result, with some sort of downside to it.
Why are you bolding quotes?
Penny Arcade Rockstar Social Club / This is why I despise cyclists
Penny Arcade Rockstar Social Club / This is why I despise cyclists
Yeah, let's go for that.
Keep the flavor stuff non-bold, and bold the speaking parts.
(Going forward. Don't worry about editing old posts or anything. That's silly)
"And no proper introductions? Fine group we will make; a drunk dwarf, a clockman, two halflings, an elf, and..." Farkas looks over at the hooded Diabolist "...him. So eager to die that everyone rushes off to the tents like Kobalds to a Dragon's Jaws. A find group we'll make. How about we call ourselves the Fool's Luck, because that's all we'll have to live on."