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Welcome to the Exploding Garrmondo Weiner Interactive Swiss Army Penis. |
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Hopefully his legs would work now. Karma and all that. holy shit seriously I still can't walk FELIPE NO |
9 damage to VV, slowed + bloodied Sputtering and coughing, Garrmondo props himself up on one hand only to see the older dwarf staring at his own legs with a mixture of anger and contempt. Maybe the old fellow was coming down with the rheumatism. All these potions, and none of them had thought to bring along some Weretiger Balm. Garr restored to consciousness, HP = 10 "Look!" says Lissa. "I'm helping." She fires off a bolt at the gnome, opening a raw, bloody furrow in his neck. "Seriously, don't set me on fire again." 9 damage to VV ![]() What, you don't want my bikini-clad body? |
He goes to the struggling piglet to restrain it. It wiggles too much, so Argumentus acts to squeeze it to death before he can have a happy roast. Grab gnome, restrain in a crushing bear hug Jam it back in, in the dark. |
Shift southwest. Throwing hammer that sommbitch. Growl. There's nowhere I can't reach. ![]() John Mayer just asked me, personally, through an assistant, to sing backup on his new CD. |
Arg's speed is only 5 so even at a dead sprint he can't reach the gnome. Did what I could. Gabe finally snaps out of his fugue, sputtering and spitting out a mouthful of sludge. When did that happen? Garrmondo wobbles to his feet, taking aim at the frost-covered gnome. Should be an easy enough shot. Should be. Garrmondo was beginning to regret his last adventure. Sure, destroying The Temple Of One Thousand Mirrors was a profitable enough venture, but— well. It's not like nobody warned him. Standing up is a move action (unless you're Bob) The gnome continues creaking along, weighed down by a coat of ice. The reaper slashes away at him all the while. He won't get much further. ![]() oh god would you please just kill it already This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it. |
As the ray struck the gnome full in the face, I cursed the petty gods of luck for making my attacks so accurate and damaging now the fight had been effectively ended by divine intervention, rather than ten minutes ago when we were all about to die. Ray of Frost on VV I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body? ![]() ![]() |
Already reeling from Bob's last icy blast, Von Versteckt gets another icicle to the face. The gnome sneers hatefully, dropping to his knees.
"As ever", he wheezes. "I am failed not by my plans but by my subordinates. And by my weakness for tall, leggy brunettes." He coughs, a bright spray of blood arcing out of his mouth onto the floor. "I guess I won't be getting that promotion—" He crumples face-down on the stones. "Well now", mutters the Reaper. "That'll be that." He hefts the gnome over his shoulder, preparing to spirit the body off to whatever evil lord he serves. "I appreciate the opportunity, gentlemen. Still and all, I don't recommend you rely on me so much. Death comes to everyone sooner or later, and dodging it as you do attracts the attention of certain entities. Gods, mostly. Terribly hung up on all their rules and regulations, they are. Kelemvor in particular is very firm on the matter of— but I ramble. Next time, have the wisdom to flee for your lives before you're all bleeding to death, hmm?" He plucks the gloves from the gnome's hands, tossing them to the floor. "You lot can have these. I've no use for them, and he won't be allowed to keep them where he's going anyway. No offense, but I hope I don't see you again for a while, hmm?" He snaps his bony fingers and vanishes. Eyes darting back and forth, Lissa darts for the ladder and scrambles up to the surface. VICTORY! (sort of): 3050 XP (610 each) I was speaking idiomatically. |
I slumped to the floor, battered and bleeding.
After taking an extended moment to catch my breath, I sprung painfully to my feet again, noting how inappropriate these boots could be at times, and wandered over to investigate the gloves the Reaper had left for us. I also looked around for the mask the gnome had been wearing when he had been pretending to be a vampire. Not wishing to have battled all the way through a tomb without doing some grave robbery, I then gave the room a thourough going over for treasure and secret compartments and shit, before moving to look into the room to the east. Use all my remaining healing surges, check out the gloves and mask if it's still here, search for treasure, secret doors and anything else of value, look into eastern room What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now? ![]() ![]() |
Motsognir starts crying. FELIPE NO |
Whilst searching the room, I couldn't help but notice that my dwarven chum had still not regained the use of his legs and seemed to be rather upset by this.
I paused in my treasure hunting and went over to the little trooper, gently patting him on the head before crouching down and attempting to massage some life back into his stumpy legs. His legs, whilst extremely hairy were also very soft and I made a mental note to try and find out what sort of moisturiser he used. How ya doing, buddy? ![]() ![]() |
Motsognir tries his best to peek down his lady's magic robes as she massages him back to health. Realizing suddenly that the combination of soft hands and flat chests had him... at a moral disadvantage, he stumbles backwards from her. "I'm just going to go... stand in this corner for a minute, look for magic stuff."
Jam it back in, in the dark. |
The pretty dwarf seemed to recover the use of his legs rather quickly and almost immediately ran off into the corner, blushing, the big tease. Well, if he wanted to play hard to get that was his prerogative.
I continued looking my hunt for valuables, the dwarf could wait until we had finished up here. There's nowhere I can't reach. ![]() ![]() |
Seeing that the big retard had finally crossed the line from handicapped to literal braindeath, and that he wouldn't make it out of the dungeon, Motsognir starts to loot Argumentus' living corpse.
Take and equip Iron Arm Bands of Power Take and equip Belt of Vigor Take and equip Helm of the Stubborn Mind Take his rope, too. And his waterskin. Shameless. This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it. |
The dwarf collapsed against a nearby wall and shook his head. He was not feeling especially chosen at the moment, and if he was to be honest about it, his faith in Kord has been shaken. He'd followed the edicts, defended the defenseless, and yet still his allies fell around him like wheat before the sickle. Hanging his head in disgust he tossed his shield to the ground and hefted his axe across his knees. He would struggle through this. He still lived, and as long as one of the party lived, it was not defeated. His moment of pity over, he turned to piety, offering a quiet prayer of thanks to Kord for his divine intervention in keeping him alive. It was the only possibility.
burn healing surges to full hp I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body? ![]() John Mayer just asked me, personally, through an assistant, to sing backup on his new CD. |
![]() He then wanders over to the discarded vampire disguise Von Versteckt had abandoned when his ruse fell through. While the voluminous robes are too large for anyone short of a half-orc to wear (and moth-eaten besides), the mask was another matter. While its golden glow was apparently another product of the hallucinatory mists, the iron mask is still intimidating enough in its own way. ![]() With the obvious loot collected, Bob gives the room a good scouring. Anything in the sarcophagus? Nope, just some old dead guy. How about these other caskets? Nope, more bones. Maybe the statues have some inlaid gems, that's a fairly routine — feh. Well, the tapestries should be worth a few coins if nothing else. Maybe he can grab them on the way out, they're a little awkward to carry around. In the meantime, what's in this east room? A dusty tome lies open on a lectern, faintly.... humming? Bob quickly averts his eyes. This was a telltale sign of Explosive Runes. If he wanted to get that book, he'd have to disable the runes somehow — without looking at them. Risk to his own hide aside, such explosions tended to ruin the books themselves. Bob's HP +18 Confused about his feelings, Soggy wanders off into the northwest corner of the room to "search for treasure" on the body of the dead farmhand. Remarkably enough, he finds some. Who gives magic equipment to a ghoul, honestly. It takes some unpleasant work to disentangle the apparatus from the moldering corpse, revealing the most convoluted farmer's tan in history. ![]() Thus enriched, Soggy then helps himself to the vast majority of Argumentus' better gear. The big lunk appears not to notice — but then he appears not to notice much of anything. Seeing the delicious ham vanish before his eyes, spirited away by what seemed to be a cackling snowman; it was too much. It was all too much. Sister Tabitha's Home For The Utterly Dense was dull at the best of times but at least a man could get a decent meal. Maybe it would be best if he just stayed to tend this farm all the fighting was supposed to earn for them. Arg had heard that a man with a farm could, somehow, generate his own food from the earth itself. It seemed almost impossible, but he was willing to try. For their parts, the paladin and the newcomer were content to merely sit back and tend to their wounds. Garrmondo's HP +33 Gabriel's HP +33 I was speaking idiomatically. |
The book on the desk intrigued me. It was clearly magic and clearly had some power to it but it was also clearly rigged to explode. I considered my options... I still had that book on enchantment transference but I wasn't sure if I was clever enough to understand it yet and even if I was, the chances of me having the correct reagents were slim and I didn't really fancy sitting in this crypt for several hours learning the ritual anyway and it probably wouldn't be any use for transferring runes out of a book. I figured the best bet would probably be to just close the book, from a distance using my mage hand and work out how to disable the runes later. Do a arcana skill check thing to see if Bob knows how to disable the runes here and now and how likely he'd be to blow his arm off trying it. If he's clueless, shut the book with Jedi mind tricks and carry it off for later, probably tied shut What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now? ![]() ![]() |
Motsognir, happy with his new armor, saw to his wounds and climbed up the ladder.
Heal to full FELIPE NO |
Reasoning that he really didn't have time to sit around studying the book right now, Bob just shuts his eyes and flicks the book shut, tucking it carefully into his pack. He'll examine it more carefully later. Ideally, someplace where first aid is more rapidly available.
While Soggy has no particular use for the harness (especially since it would necessitate removing his hard-won (ahem) new belt. Still, some idiot merchant with more money than sense would surely take it off his hands later. Seeing no reason to remain in the crypts when they'd accomplished what they'd come here to do, Motsognir and Garrmondo double-time it up the ladder and find themselves in the Hargast cemetery. The zombies were, predictably, now absent (since they were mostly lying around the inn in various states of mutilation) — but the open graves and ruptured caskets still remained. Somebody was going to have a hell of a mess to clean up. Probably the townsfolk would have Ewan do it. He seemed like an easy sort to boss around. Lissa greets them as they reach the top of the ladder. "Listen, this may sound strange to you, but I — I wanted to thank you. I know you don't want to hear my life story, but I've spent the last year getting trapped in one bad situation after another. It's a shame it took so much killing to get loose, but there it is. Married at spearpoint to an ugly oaf, blackmailed into tending for his two rotten brats... and then the narcolepsy acts up and they bury me, so you can see why I —" Lissa's eyes roll up in her head, and she tumbles face-first onto the grass, snoring. Soggy's HP +27 What, you don't want my bikini-clad body? |
The dwarf tromped up the ladder and glanced down at the sleeping woman at his feet. He shook his head in annoyance. It had been a bad day. He'd lost his two best friends thus far, and they'd made a deal with a demon to survive. Kord would not be pleased, to say the least. He took a deep breath, shutting out the sounds of the stars in his head. He'd come to know the difference between them and the voice of his god, and he worried he didn't hear the latter so much in these fell days.
"Bad few days" he grunted, and then headed off towards the path that lead to the tavern. "Bad few days ahead, I'll warrant." How ya doing, buddy? ![]() John Mayer just asked me, personally, through an assistant, to sing backup on his new CD.
Last edited by No. Hard Pass.; May 22, 2009 at 03:37 AM.
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Motsognir merrily skipped his way back to the tavern. He was alive, and he had just won himself some land. Pretty soon, he could be drunk! Things were looking up!
There's nowhere I can't reach. |
I followed the others and headed to the pub. It was definitely time for a drink...
This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it. ![]() ![]() |
The Horde gradually wends its way back to the Feral Dog, burning away a week or so in the prolonged consumption of most of the pub's stores of ale, wine and spirits. The Skaug 1384 is especially heady. It takes a few days for Ewan to ride Hargast's only mule to the refugee camp and back with the good news, and he spends the remainder of the time dragging the ex-zombies back to their graves. When not in one of his darker moods, Gabriel occasionally sees fit to assist him.
Eventually, the aftermath of the zombie uprising is (mostly) tidied away, just in time for the rest of Hargast's population to finally return to their homes. Even at this late date, the tavern's proprietor still hasn't returned from his trip to Freeport to seek help. Either he found something more interesting in the port city, or something interesting found him. Regardless, it doesn't take long for the city fathers to declare him dead — — and anyone who should see this man should recognize him only as dead and should he walk he shall be recognized only as an abomination on the earth, and should be slain as all the walking dead must be, and furthermore — — and to grant the majority of his property to young Ewan, as specified in his last will and testament. Soon enough the Horde is in possession of the promised two acres of land, although exactly whose pack the deed resides in tends to vary from day to day. At any rate it's a decent chunk of dirt, hardly enough to make a business out of but enough space to raise cabbage and a goat or two. Argumentus, bone-weary of fighting things with the wherewithal to fight back, decides he may as well lay down his pick here as well as any other place. He's a good fit with the mostly dimwitted folk of Hargast, and after a few frustrating lessons in trial and error his little vegetable patch brings him enough coin to live on and buys the occasional tickets to see a fight in the Freeport Arena. Maybe someday he'll have to raise his shield again, in defense of his adopted home, but he doesn't think it'll be any time soon. As for the rest of the Horde, wanderlust, curiosity and greed still far outweigh their collective desire to not get killed by some slimy thing in a dank pit. Hargast's a fine little village as they go, and it's a worthwhile place to remember if they ever need a hiding place well out of the public eye. But for now, adventure calls. Adventure and loot. Adventure, loot, and the crushing of iniquities. Adventure, loot, iniquity-crushing, research into— Still mostly potted, the four of them meander back to their quarters at the Diving Fin. By some miracle, the platemail Gabriel left lying in his room remains unplundered. After a few days spent letting the last few scratches knit up (and waiting for the last few hangovers to pass), the Horde are ready to find more work. Well, as ready as they ever are, I suppose. It's not saying much. The main thing is they try real hard. They're on their way out the door to spend some of their ill-gotten gains and find themselves a new a contract, when the front desk clerk hails them from across the room. "You there! Delic Ulthar Marrada Addrackana Sa-tine Swagger demands your obedience!" An athletic man in his mid-30s regards the group cynically, idly polishing a smudge off of his custom-fitted armor. "Peasants!" he barks. "Be thankful, for Delic Swagger is here to see that all your undertakings come aright." Well, he hasn't actively tried to kill them, so as traveling companions go they can do a lot worse. "Lead on, peasants! Lead on — to adventure." And moreover, should something terrible happen to him his family would likely pay top coin to see his body returned home. Nobles were silly like that. At any rate, like any day in Freeport the shops are open and there's always dirty work to be had. Swagger follows the Horde wherever they go, occasionally pausing to pose heroically in front of a random lass or gesture threateningly at a passing minotaur or gnoll. Otto's Blades & Baldrics The Portable Hole Vinely's Ecumenical Herbert's Miscellany Notice Board So, as ever, buy and sell whatever you need to and then see what missions seem interesting to you. To avoid the clusterfuck of everyone voting for a different adventure, we'll be selecting the next adventure on a (sigh) points system. Each of the 5 of you has 5 points to distribute among the 15 adventures. If only one of the adventures seems interesting, put all 5 on it; if 5 of them seem fun, split the points evenly among them, and so on. After each of you has spent all their points, the adventure with the most points will be the one we go with. Most amazing jew boots |
"Ahahaha, Gentlemen!" says the newcomer, "Let us make haste to friendship! Or the very least, the wiles and charms of my blinding smile! Oh ho ho! Who wants a song?"
I was speaking idiomatically. ![]() |
Motsognir slipped away quickly from the new human. It seemed to him that the last human they'd met and this new fellow would probably start... being best acquaintances, and ol' Soggy wanted to avoid that while he still could. The short time he'd spent in prisons was enough for him. Thank the lords I have my Lady he thought wistfully, wandering down to the shops.
Sell Ancient Helm (+50GP) Sell Muleback Harness (+104GP) Sell old Battle-Axe (+3GP) Sell old Light Shield (+1GP) purchase 10 potions of healing How ya doing, buddy? |
I spent the rest period trying to figure out how the enchantment transference ritual I had a book on worked and wracking my brain for a way to disable explosion runes.
After a couple of days, I decided some shopping would help me think better. I stepped out of my room to find the pretty dwarf seemed to have the same idea, and the rest of the party were not far behind. I'll admit I was a little upset when the big guy had decided not to come back to the city with us and I was rather worried that he might drop down dead without my presence there to keep him animated. Still, we needed someone to look after the field for us and the recent outbreak of zombies showed that there were clearly some sort of dark arts at work in the village so hopefully, he would stay undead. The newcomer to our group seemed nice enough although he was a little flamboyant for my tastes. I had always hated those chaps in the scene who felt the need to let the whole world know of their bedroom preferences just by their mannerisms, I always thought of myself as a man's man. Or perhaps that should now be a dwarf's elf... As we left the inn, we were accosted by a young nobleman. I disliked him immediately. Throughout my childhood I had been shunned by the other noble children on account of my mother's low-born background. The forest land she owned had been won by her father in a card game, rather than acquired through centuries of repression of the lower classes and our lack of landed gentry in half of our family tree had made the other kids look down their noses at me and call me Peasant Bob, no matter how many serfs I kicked or maidservants I pushed down the stairs. The man started talking, the same garbled dialect that seemed so popular round here. Not understanding a word of what he was saying, I followed the dwarf to the shops. I traded in my magic goggles and the charm I had looted off the sacrificial victim and bought a couple of healing potions and a book on pyrotechnics, which seemed like my kind of thing. Sell Goggles and Charm for 208gp, buy 2 healing potions, pyrotechnic book, twenty days trail rations and enough reagents to use all my rituals once. Try to learn enchantment transference (I forget what level it is) and try to work out how to diffuse the runes, possibly ask the dude in the magic shop or for RP purposes, his assistant who's undead or a demon so Bob can understand him. Additional Spam: Job-wise, I quite fanced a boat trip but then I also considered our party's unique skills of diplomacy could be helpful with the ransom situation. I had also always wanted to be a secret agent, I found it tough to decide... Protect the boat - 2 Ransom situation - 1 Extract secret agent - 2 FELIPE NO ![]() ![]()
Last edited by Fluffykitten McGrundlepuss; May 24, 2009 at 12:18 PM.
Reason: This member got a little too post happy.
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