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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
Mercenary Adventures of the B-Team (closed group)
- Thread starter larryfinnjr
- Start date
larryfinnjr
First Post
[sblock=spoon feeding]
PbPs give you the distinct opportunity to really role play, even more so than at the table, as you have ample time to think up exactly what and how your character might converse with others. Along with that, there is plenty of opportunity to make skill checks to see how you're doing.
I'm not going to spoon feed things to you (Phesic!).
If you have things you want to ask, please do so. Describe how you're interacting with Hatchet (or anyone). Make diplomacy, history, streetwise, bluff checks. Let me know what you want to know by role play and OOCs.
Based on your one-liner to him, the likely response would be a shrug.
No one has made a single skill check yet to know anything about anyone.
Remember, too, I'm allowing skill checks for stunts. If you want to slide down the bannister using athletics as a minor before your charge attack, try it. If it's a good roll, maybe you'll hit and knock the bad guy prone (and if it really sucks, maybe you'll fall off too soon and land on your own blade).
So, bottom line: more role play, more descriptions, more questions, more skill checks.
Please.
[/sblock]
PbPs give you the distinct opportunity to really role play, even more so than at the table, as you have ample time to think up exactly what and how your character might converse with others. Along with that, there is plenty of opportunity to make skill checks to see how you're doing.
I'm not going to spoon feed things to you (Phesic!).
If you have things you want to ask, please do so. Describe how you're interacting with Hatchet (or anyone). Make diplomacy, history, streetwise, bluff checks. Let me know what you want to know by role play and OOCs. Based on your one-liner to him, the likely response would be a shrug.
No one has made a single skill check yet to know anything about anyone.
Remember, too, I'm allowing skill checks for stunts. If you want to slide down the bannister using athletics as a minor before your charge attack, try it. If it's a good roll, maybe you'll hit and knock the bad guy prone (and if it really sucks, maybe you'll fall off too soon and land on your own blade).
So, bottom line: more role play, more descriptions, more questions, more skill checks.
Please.
[/sblock]
That fight was, well... fought. If not well fought if you catch my meaning. You all go on ahead, Ill cover our tracks in case anything comes looking.
Mal sets about giving the Orcs their last rites. In the way of Gruumsh, he poses them holding their weapons as if poised to attack. Further he removes one eye of each as a sign of their bravery. He leaves them unburied so as their strength might pass into the sinews of the scavengers that feast upon them.
After that he does his best to mask the tracks of the party, making their number and make up hard to guess should anyone study the area. [Nature]
Assuming Hatchet does nothing for his comrade, Mal places two coppers on his eyes, and leaves him be.
I try to get a decent look at Hatchet's Hatchet hand to see how its attached.
DMS EYE ONLY[sblock] I try to swipe the teddy bear without anyone being the wiser. Roll for me if you need to. Assuming success, I will try to put it back in Hatchet's pack with a note saying "He fell out back there, he seemed important to you, but I didn't want to call attention to it" - Mal[/sblock]
Mal sets about giving the Orcs their last rites. In the way of Gruumsh, he poses them holding their weapons as if poised to attack. Further he removes one eye of each as a sign of their bravery. He leaves them unburied so as their strength might pass into the sinews of the scavengers that feast upon them.
After that he does his best to mask the tracks of the party, making their number and make up hard to guess should anyone study the area. [Nature]
Assuming Hatchet does nothing for his comrade, Mal places two coppers on his eyes, and leaves him be.
I try to get a decent look at Hatchet's Hatchet hand to see how its attached.
DMS EYE ONLY[sblock] I try to swipe the teddy bear without anyone being the wiser. Roll for me if you need to. Assuming success, I will try to put it back in Hatchet's pack with a note saying "He fell out back there, he seemed important to you, but I didn't want to call attention to it" - Mal[/sblock]
larryfinnjr
First Post
Taken aback by Mal's efforts and knowledge of orcish 'burial' rites, Smash is moved and stays behind to help arrange his fellow Had'rak. Collecting up a few things from them, he presents them to Mal. "You take these. War wins." There's not much - Shoot's longbow, a few battered longswords, and some coin (totaling 45sp and 2gp). He hands them to you not so much as a question of whether you want them, but as a matter of fact - they're yours, you earned them.
Watching with detached interest, Hatchet smiles as Mal places the coppers on Jeeves' eyes. "For the boatman, eh? Haven't seen that done in a long time. Nice touch, appreciate the concern. Jeeves was a good enough guy, what little time I spent with 'im. Only been together a few days on our way to Stump. Lucky shot from that bow, took him right out. Just goes to show ya - one day yer here, and the next..." He trails off, staring down at his not-quite-a-hand hand. "Comon, let's go."
Satisfied with the bodies' arrangements, the group begins to set off for town while Mal stays behind to disguise the area to confuse anyone who might do some snooping. The remaining occupants of the wagon meanwhile climb back or remain onboard while the driver prepares the wagon for the rest of the short journey to Bloomten. Hacking another ball of phelgm from the unknown depths of his lungs, he urges the horse forward. For those paying attention, the horse seems to look back for a brief moment and catch Ches' eye and give the tiefling a quick wink before continuing its trot westward.
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Blutspitze
Explorer
After a quick post-battle rest spent cleaning off and sharpening Carsys, Fal looks up to the rest of the part briefly. He stands, kicks several of the Orcs (prior to Mal's rites, naturally).
You and your brethren fought well, Smash. It's unfortunate that we were better.
Fal tightens his already firm grip on Carsys and looks at Hatchet and Smash.
So, gents. Anything you can tell us about Stump? What kind of work is he offering to people in the area?
Fal quiets his voice and looks to and speaks just the other party members...
What do you all think of this Hatchet guy? Are you sure we can trust him now?
I roll endurance because I can. And have little else to roll on. I'm probably dealing with hanging out with a Tiefling Pyromaniac. Yes. That works.
You and your brethren fought well, Smash. It's unfortunate that we were better.
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Fal tightens his already firm grip on Carsys and looks at Hatchet and Smash.
So, gents. Anything you can tell us about Stump? What kind of work is he offering to people in the area?
Fal quiets his voice and looks to and speaks just the other party members...
What do you all think of this Hatchet guy? Are you sure we can trust him now?
I roll endurance because I can. And have little else to roll on. I'm probably dealing with hanging out with a Tiefling Pyromaniac. Yes. That works.
larryfinnjr
First Post
The staccato beat of Surgeon's ever-present clump-thump, clump-thump is nary the only sound present as the party ambles towards Bloomten and the wagon disappears into the distance. Obviously trying to get a better look at Hatchet's blade, he abruptly stops short and regards the disfigured warforged.
"Look, if you're staring, then it means you have no idea who I am. Name's Hatchet. Yeah, original I know. But it's not like people like us get to pick our names. This?" he says, lifting his arm up for all to see, the folds of his cloak falling downward exposing where wrist becomes weapon, "this is a memory. A reminder. And a warning. A memory of what can happen when a team decides individual goals are more important that the job. A reminder to never, ever again allow myself to get into that position. And a warning to gnolls everywhere, not to ever f--- with me. Ever."
(this is a partial post - more to follow later)
larryfinnjr
First Post
Post #57 continued
If you weren't street-hardened types, the look of Hatchet's arm might cause you to wretch. The arm-proper ends about 2 inches or so above where his wrist should be. A stained, filthy, otherwise benign axe-head is affixed to a simple wooden shaft, which disappears beneath an inch or so of scar tissue. The end of his forearm is actually wider than near the elbow...Surgeon guesses the handle must be buried at least halfway up the arm to cause such a bulge, causing the bones to widen and stretch against the skin. Nothing magical seems to be holding it in place; at least it's not giving off any aura that can be detected.
"I was the last to survive. They tortured all of us...cut off body parts now and then and feasted on them before our eyes. Used this very blade, over and over. Legend has it there were 10 of 'em. Legend has it ol' Hatchet gave it to every last one of 'em with their own blade. Funny, legends. Part truth, part bullsh-t. Heh."
"Well, nevermind me - what's your story, Trainwreck? You look like Moradin's worst nightmare came to life and then puked you out on the world. Makes my hand look like this year's fashion statement."
"And you, Fireball?" Hatchet asks the demure tiefling with a sly look in his eye. "Where'd you learn to burn like that? Not something you see every day..."
If you weren't street-hardened types, the look of Hatchet's arm might cause you to wretch. The arm-proper ends about 2 inches or so above where his wrist should be. A stained, filthy, otherwise benign axe-head is affixed to a simple wooden shaft, which disappears beneath an inch or so of scar tissue. The end of his forearm is actually wider than near the elbow...Surgeon guesses the handle must be buried at least halfway up the arm to cause such a bulge, causing the bones to widen and stretch against the skin. Nothing magical seems to be holding it in place; at least it's not giving off any aura that can be detected.
"I was the last to survive. They tortured all of us...cut off body parts now and then and feasted on them before our eyes. Used this very blade, over and over. Legend has it there were 10 of 'em. Legend has it ol' Hatchet gave it to every last one of 'em with their own blade. Funny, legends. Part truth, part bullsh-t. Heh."
"Well, nevermind me - what's your story, Trainwreck? You look like Moradin's worst nightmare came to life and then puked you out on the world. Makes my hand look like this year's fashion statement."
"And you, Fireball?" Hatchet asks the demure tiefling with a sly look in his eye. "Where'd you learn to burn like that? Not something you see every day..."
larryfinnjr
First Post
"You fights better. I's not fighter, I make stick and stakes pointy for others." He points to the POS longsword at his side. "Not mine. Wish I's was better...." He trails off, head lowered as the beaten, dejected thing that he is (in Falkrunn's eyes at least), and drags his feet as he walks on back toward town.
Looking back at the rest of the party, Fal can't help but think about how he ended up here, with this rag-tag band. Eh. It certainly wasn't a bad situation to be in. He knew that, if he really worked at it, he'd eventually get his chance at the conspirators who killed his king. This Stump guy, though, and now Hatchet... Can't help but worry what we're getting ourselves into.
Fal tightens his already firm grip on Carsys and looks at Hatchet and Smash.
So, gents. Anything you can tell us about Stump? What kind of work is he offering to people in the area?
"Stump has likker, and girls, and werks for peeples like you. Get this. Steal that. Kill him. Find her. Always has..." Smash seems to be trying to remember something. With a glimmer of memory, he seems to recite: "Has 'Sumthin fer Sumone and Sumone who needs Sumthin.' Or somethin. I think."
"Heh. My orcish idjit, you are a font of brilliance. Stump's a fixer. Not a Had'rak, but rolls with 'em cause he gets new territory to work while he brings in whores, food, booze, whatever makes 'em happy 'til the local till runs dry. Then they pack up and move on, blazin' a path of hell before 'em."
Eyeing the pyro, Falkrunn swallows back the acid reflux he gets every time he remembers that very, VERY drunken night back in Billburry. The burn on his right asscheek has long healed over, but it still itches when he thinks about it. Fighting back the urge to scratch it and give Ches reason to snicker, again, he presses on, vowing for the umteenth time to just FORGET it..... GAH!
larryfinnjr
First Post
(pre-post)
Arriving in Bloomten
You can smell thick smoke through the trees and everything around you seems musty and dank. There's a lingering foul odor, like a severed foot in a wet boot left out for days. Following the path into town, you see a pair of orcs standing on the side of a trail, one of them pissing in a bush, the other watching you arrive. Smash grunts something unintelligible in their language, and the trailwatchers go back to their business of watering the underbrush while you pass into the village proper.
You’ve heard the stories of hamlets, farmhouses, and wagon lines sacked by vicious creatures, left to burn under the noon sun... but the thought of such sieges has never quite prepared you for the look of this once prosperous village. Every building is scorched with burns. Windows are shattered and doors are bashed in and crudely replaced with hunks of wood and debris. Smoke lingers in the air, as if this place had only been raided days ago. Hooting and hollering is all that can be heard, as orcs, goblinoids, and humanoids of all kinds revel with drink, smoke, slaves, and sluts in hand.
Lining the cartways are executed villagers, long since rotted, with birds pecking at the meager remaining flesh. The area is still well guarded by patrols, but you are allowed to pass without question, though sized up and down by all.
A lone church sits in the midst of it all, surrounded by tattered tents and crude huts that has become a massive complex of orcs, all wearing the red and gold hues of their tribe. The bulk of commotion seems to center around a barn. Reasonably intact, it seems to have been modified into a tavern where music and even louder shouting can be heard coming from inside.
"Hungry Orc." Smash says, pointing at the tent.
"That a statement or a question, numnuts?" Hatchet swats Smash in the back of the head.
"Oww! That Hungry Orc there! Where Stump is, axman. Smash goes now and sharps pointy things for fighting orcs."
Assuming you allow him to wander off, Smash makes his way around the camp and out of sight amidst the low-key chaos that is post-occupation Bloomten, leaving you to wander, look around, gamble, eat, screw, fight, whathaveyou.
The world, or Bloomten rather, is your collective oyster....what next?
|
Arriving in Bloomten
You can smell thick smoke through the trees and everything around you seems musty and dank. There's a lingering foul odor, like a severed foot in a wet boot left out for days. Following the path into town, you see a pair of orcs standing on the side of a trail, one of them pissing in a bush, the other watching you arrive. Smash grunts something unintelligible in their language, and the trailwatchers go back to their business of watering the underbrush while you pass into the village proper.
You’ve heard the stories of hamlets, farmhouses, and wagon lines sacked by vicious creatures, left to burn under the noon sun... but the thought of such sieges has never quite prepared you for the look of this once prosperous village. Every building is scorched with burns. Windows are shattered and doors are bashed in and crudely replaced with hunks of wood and debris. Smoke lingers in the air, as if this place had only been raided days ago. Hooting and hollering is all that can be heard, as orcs, goblinoids, and humanoids of all kinds revel with drink, smoke, slaves, and sluts in hand.
Lining the cartways are executed villagers, long since rotted, with birds pecking at the meager remaining flesh. The area is still well guarded by patrols, but you are allowed to pass without question, though sized up and down by all.
A lone church sits in the midst of it all, surrounded by tattered tents and crude huts that has become a massive complex of orcs, all wearing the red and gold hues of their tribe. The bulk of commotion seems to center around a barn. Reasonably intact, it seems to have been modified into a tavern where music and even louder shouting can be heard coming from inside.
"Hungry Orc." Smash says, pointing at the tent.
"That a statement or a question, numnuts?" Hatchet swats Smash in the back of the head.
"Oww! That Hungry Orc there! Where Stump is, axman. Smash goes now and sharps pointy things for fighting orcs."
Assuming you allow him to wander off, Smash makes his way around the camp and out of sight amidst the low-key chaos that is post-occupation Bloomten, leaving you to wander, look around, gamble, eat, screw, fight, whathaveyou.
The world, or Bloomten rather, is your collective oyster....what next?
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