UEMB IMPROV RP GAMING THING.

[SwimModSponges]

@katt_goddess can I get a pin up in here?

UEMB IMPROV RP GAMING THING.

The idea: Y'all ever play D&D? Well I haven't but I hear good things. This is supposed  to be sort of like that, or at least what I understand that to be. Make yourself up a character, come on down  to a rickety old tavern in medieval times, go on quests and shit. I figure on just doing it on the fly, like you could say "(my character) finds a wanted poster on his way into the tavern's bathroom," then you can just run that quest for the rest of the people present. 

Hang on we should probably  whip together some ground rules: 

1. "Yes, and..." motherfuckers. Also don't just destroy shit other people are setting up or force your stuff onto theirs. Like if somebody's running a quest you can't be like "I kill the quest giver and decide to do this other thing I just came up with instead." 

2. Hey you got dice? Google has a nifty dice roller. How many dice should you roll? As many as you want baby. When you wanna roll 'em? I dunno prolly when you wanna do some shit? How do I know you aren't cheating? That's on you mang.

3. We're just gonna start it. 

Session 0: Introduce Your Character

"Can I get another mead over here?" I asked the barkeep.

"Just sold you the last one, Chief." said the fat old man across the bar as a heavy rain beat at the thatched roof of the tavern, the constant drip of a leak not worth patching clanked into the metal bucket behind me. "Not much ale left either, but I've got a boat full of grog in the basement. An actual boat."

I wanted to ask him what sort establishment he thought he was running here, but I knew the answer. I reached into my herb pouch in preparation to pack my pipe, reflecting on my surroundings. This shitty little backwater was the only place within a day's walk that had that sweet sweet mead. That had mead- past tense. Sneaking away from the tribe every few weeks for a quick nip was one of the few luxuries I'd allowed myself during the past year I spent learning the land with the native orcs. I've had enough orc grog to last a lifetime. I passed on the offer of more alcohol as I sparked up my pipe and took a succession of large drags, which were only paused by an explosive fit of coughs which issued from my burning chest. Orcs sure had some good goddamn herbs though. And the women, god-damn. 

"You say something there Chief?" asked the innkeeper. I wasn't sure whether or not I had, but then I was blazed. This was my graduation party after all. 'His training complete, the noble hero returns to the land of men...'

"Chief?" asked the barman again. I responded with something  resembling a 'huh? no...' as he waved off my question and answer and returned to peeling potatoes. I reached for my empty mead bottle and attempted to drink before I remembered the supply had run out. No matter- I left in the morning, so truly it was fortuitous that it had dried up exactly when it did. I said a quick prayer to my dragon god of Time, thanking it for the blessing of serendipity it had bestowed on me. I put the pipe to my lips; again ready to inhale the sacred time-dilating herb, when the door to the inn blew open from the force of the storm.

"Well shit, how about that, a new customer." said the barkeep, rising to greet the first new face I'd ever seen in the dimly lit tavern

"Howdy," I said as I turned on my stool, eager to introduce myself with the orc name I had been given during yesterday's ceremony. "My name is Chief Aldaganja. Y'all like to party?"

OK now you go!

Edited August 3, 2020 by SwimModSponges

[Distinct Lunatic]

How legit will this be? A few of the guys I work with have D&D sessions, I haven't joined them but I know a fair amount of how it works. I made a few characters that I plan to use when that time comes. My go to character being a human monk, ddb.ac/characters/32969003/bMCnO2 https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D9169453/

Edited August 2, 2020 by Distinct Lunatic

[SwimModSponges]

I look over the scrolls covered in runes the shirtless stranger thrust in my face. Way too goddamn many numbers for me to look at in my inebriated state. I squinted at the top several lines of text, trying to decipher what I was seeing "Terrell?" I asked pointing to the top line. "That you? Well then  howdy Terrell. You like ale? Barkeep get this guy an ale. Yeah I'll have one too. And a shirt if you got one. Hey listen-" I said as I turned back to Terrell, "I don't need your name rank and serial number man, I'm not in the goddamn royal guard or some shit. You want to tell me who you are? Tell me who you are." I glanced back down at his scrolls. "Judging by your traveling gear I'm guessing your some kind of monk? What're you doing all the way out here man? Ah, thanks," I said as the barkeep brought us our drinks and a shirt for Terrell. 

[Distinct Lunatic]

'Huh?' Terrell let out inwardly as he heard some stranger calling out to him, it being some person that he had never met before. He shifted around to face the person properly to get a better look at them... judging by all the ale and herbs burning it seemed like this person was either celebrating or in mourning, or just wasting away... or all three, you never know. "You know of me, traveler?" The only thing he could make of with this person was he had a very Orc-ish nature and attitude; before he could get another word in the barkeep handed him some ale, as well as a sweater made of wool. Terrell took the sweater, staring down at it very intently before tugging it a bit in opposite directions, it tearing too easily. "Pathetic." He muttered before tossing it off to the side, as he proceeded to the counter, sitting down on a chair with ale in hand, drinking in moderation. "You seem well informed for a mere traveler." Terrell commented, continuing to look forward, not turning to face the individual. "I belong to a monastery that worships goddess of nature Chislev. That said, I don't consider myself too fond of sitting by in some temple. I seek strong opponents, it's as simple as that." He downed half of the ale before wiping his chin. "Also that sweater over there was frail and weak, inadequate protection."

Edited August 2, 2020 by Distinct Lunatic

[SwimModSponges]

"Ah ha, my friend you are in good company. I too hold nature sacred," I said as I pat my herb pouch. "As for what I know of you friend, only what you showed me when you walked in, yourself and the identifying information on those scrolls you had." I sipped my ale before continuing. "Of course I always preferred hands-on learning over reading scrolls. We have that in common, I think. And I meant no offense by the shirt, friend. I only thought you'd be frigid from the rain. So what brings you to the middle of nowhere?"

[Distinct Lunatic]

"Hmm" Terrell replied simply as he took in the strangers words. "Sharp eye you must have." He responded in a calm and simple manner, glancing down at bottle of ale that he held, feeling nothing even after finishing it off. "I trained among giants back in my youth. It was for a brief while, but after leaving them most normal ale no longer has any effect on me." He placed the bottle on the counter as he pushed it out of his head as he leaned forward with both his arms crossed on the counter surface. "I prefer to spend my days traveling, instead of meditating in some temple. The thing about being a monk is there's surprisingly a lot more freedom than one might think. As long as we stay true to our path and to the gods we're free to live life as we please. Some live in monasteries, others are more nomadic; you could say I fall into the later category." He glanced around the shelf behind the counter, gesturing toward a particular bottle, which was promptly served to him. He took a heavy swig of it, before shaking his head abruptly. "That one has a real kick to it." He glanced back over to the stranger, "Judging by your attire, you some like the fighter type... or are you a rogue? Could go either way I guess."

[SwimModSponges]

"Barkeep, you old goat, I thought I drank the last of the good booze months ago!" I shouted at the inkeeper who waved me off as I brought the pipe back to my lips with a grin.

"I've been called a rogue before," I said throat a strained throat as I fought to keep the smoke down. "I've been called a warrior, I've been called a scholar. A prostitute once called me a wizard..." I exhaled a few rings of smoke before continuing "But I believe they get paid to say that. I suppose if you'd  ask me my trade I'd have to say I'm a freelancer." I picked up my halberd which leaned on the bar next to me. "Get it? Free lancer?" I made poking motions with the hafted weapon to really drive my pun home. "But seriously. I do a little of this, a little bit of that, honestly I just go where Time takes me. For the last couple of years I've been working on field research projects for the Northrange University." I opened the pack which sat beside me, revealing that it was filled to the brim with scrolls. "About a day's hike west and hidden within some very steep mountains you'll find the Gnur-rusk orcs. For the past year I lived among them, learned their customs, their histories, their arts, their women... Most of all though; their warrior poetry. The Gnur-rusk oral tradition is legendary, but it has never been transcribed until now. Earlier today I sent out a raven to Northrange, and I expect a carriage for me to arrive by noon tomorrow at the latest. It is truly the blessing of the great dragon of Time that we met tonight, nomadic monk Terell. I'm certain the professors at the university would pay to hear about your experiences with the giants as well." I took another massive toke from my pipe. "We hittin' the big city. Bigger city, more people- more chances to find more  interesting people to travel with. It's unlikely we'll meet anybody else cool in this establishment..."

"Hey Fuck you!" shouted an elderly  farmer seated near the fire at the  rear if the inn. 

"Oh you think you got what it takes to fuck up a  dragon old man?" I shouted at the decrepit bastard. "For real though dude you party?" I said  as I reached into my herb pouch and displayed a large array of berries, mushrooms, herbs, chips of bark, insects, and things that defy categorization. "Gnur-rusk herbology is second to none bro."

[Distinct Lunatic]

Terrell just let out another soft grunt, acknowledging all that was spoken. He glance down at the bottle of ale, swirling it around a bit in the bottle. "There's certain types that half-Giants go for that prove far more effective... I only spent a brief amount of time with them and despite it being around twenty years later normal ale still fails to have an effect on me. Though to be fair my constitution is fairly substantial." The free lancer joke went over Terrell's head a bit, him being a more straight forward type of person, not much imagination. "I've never had much talent for magic." He responded, "I have a way of only taking with me what I need. I have unarmored defense (a D&D feature for monks, them having higher defense stats when not using armor or a shield), and with way of the open hand (the way my friend described that one, it's something in between street fighter and fist of the north star type of martial arts) I have no need for magic. But if you're wanting someone to come along for this venture, I could-" Before he could finish his sentence the door to the establishment was pushed open forcefully, followed by a loud footsteps marching into the inn. Terrell heard some sharp gasps before turning around to see what the commotion was... At first he didn't see anything until he shifted his gaze down by about two feet. where a Dwarven swashbuckler stood, a flintlock pistol on his hip, with a blunderbuss strapped on his back. The Dwarven pirate gazed around the room stoically with one good eye, the other having a patch over it. After a drawn out moment he went over to the counter, climbing onto one of the stools, all slumped over as he ordered a double shot of rum.

Edited August 4, 2020 by Distinct Lunatic

[SwimModSponges]

"For sure, for sure," I said as I listened to Terrell describe his fighting style. "Yeah I was never much into magic, when I first got to the Northridge University I took a couple basic classes in some of the schools, but nothing really stuck." I scanned over the various herbs I had produced from my pouch, finally picking out a bit of bark and popping it in my mouth. "I mean I can do most of what I'd need with herbcraft anyways; poisons, healing poultices, that sort of thing. Like I said, I learn best hands on. Orcs taught me pretty good this last year, everything from the aforementioned herbology to advanced spear and crossbow combat, and how to move quick and quiet in heavier armors. Gotta say though my main talent has to be charisma. You know how tough it is to talk your way into spending a year with an orc tribe? About as hard as trying to talk your way into an orc woman's loincloth. Not as hard as trying to talk your way into her sister's loincloth directly afterwards though. They say I have a golden tongue, although I suppose they mean it in different ways depending on whether or not its been inside them..." I spat out the chunk of bark after sucking out all the juices and leaned back. "Luck- that's one of the magics I put my faith in. Luck and Spirit journeys." I closed my eyes for a moment as I could feel the walls around me begin to breath, the sap I ingested flooding my mind with a kaleidoscope of colors. Suddenly there was a large crash followed by several surprised gasps. I opened my eyes to see a dwarven pirate walk up to the bar. "Fuck I might have chewed on the wrong piece of bark... Terrell you seeing this shit?"

(new rule- if you add an NPC that's your NPC to control- that way if somebody is trying to set up a story nobody can steer you off track. for instance I'm not going to name the dwarf or give him a backstory or reason for being here- that's on you.) 

Edited August 4, 2020 by SwimModSponges

[jezebelthenun]

The door slams open as a muscular, female centaur clops confidently up to the counter.  The centaur looks around and rolls her eyes while making a clicking sound with her tongue before turning her attention to the barkeep. "I hear there may be work in this town.  Sword work.  Give me an ale trough and some information, old man. In that order."  As the barkeep scurries back and grabs up a low, wide container in which to put the ale, the centaur slowly, purposefully walks toward the who are men drinking and talking.  As she reaches them, she waits for no invitation before joining in.  "Neflet Grovehold.  I'm seeking work, if you," Neflet takes a long breath through her nose, seemingly searching for a way to speak without disdain, "you fellows know of any, I'll gladly listen".  The words are forced, but even measured.  She stands tall, awaiting a reply.

Edited August 4, 2020 by jezebelthenun

[Distinct Lunatic]

The Dwarven pirate continued to sit there at the counter as he tossed down his rum, with a sullen expression, his Dwarven feet hovering a foot or two above the floor. He finally grinned ever so subtly as he could tell he was getting stared down by a bunch of other folks. "Hee hee," He chuckled in a scratchy voice. "I know, I know, ye be wonderin' why there be a pirate coming about here in some random tavern in a landlocked nation." He stated in a Scottish accent as he polished off the remaining rum before reaching inside his trench coat, pulling out a silver case, opening it up to reveal a bunch of dirty looking cigars. The Dwarven pirate placed one to his lips, using a cutting tool to cut the tip of it as he struck a match, lighting the cigar and taking a deep, satisfying drag. "There I be, about thirty knots out into the sea when a mighty kraken attacked me ship, my crew fought long and hard. I swear we made me mum proud that day." He paused to wipe a tear from his eye. "We sailed into harbor not long after to make repairs, but the second I turned me back on that ship I swear it split in two, falling to the bottom of the harbor." His sullen expression returned as he paused to mourn the loss of his ship. "That ship has been in ma family for generations... I was made on that ship; ma father was made on that ship, and his father was made on that ship..." He had an expression that showed great pain, him drowning his sorrows in more rum. "But I'll tell ya this strangers, if the Gods think they can keep this Dwarf down, they have another thing- Holy shit, is that a centaur!" He blurted out, spitting up some of his rum, him taking a brief second to wipe it up with his sleeve. While this was going on, the monk Terrell simply scuffed at all the newfound noise as he looked down to the ale for half-giants that he held. "I don't think I'm sober enough for this." He muttered softly.

Edited August 5, 2020 by Distinct Lunatic

[jezebelthenun]

Neflet whirls on the pirate as quickly as her huge frame allows.  "What a surprise.  Someone who has a problem with centaurs". Her sarcasm is as thick as her tail.  Peering around again at the pathetic clientele, a look of utter astonishment crosses her face.  "Gods, this is why I hate bipeds.  Pathetic!" Stomping her hooves, she moves back to the counter and calls to the barkeep.  "Still waiting, fat two-legs!  If I don't get either a drink or a job in the next twenty seconds, I'm going to start letting my true nature show"! Unsheathing her sword, she bellows, "What's it going to be"?

Edited August 5, 2020 by jezebelthenun

[jezebelthenun]

Neflet gets tired of waiting and kicks over the stool on which Terrell sits, sending him to the ground with a thud.  "How about now?", she smirks and looks back around the room, attempting to command some attention.  

[Distinct Lunatic]

Was gonna wait for Sponges to get a word in before proceeding

[jezebelthenun]

OOC I get impatient.  I forget how long message board RPs can take.  I'm GOGOGOOOOOOOOOOOO

[SwimModSponges]

"I couldn't get on the computer last night but feel free to just run with what you got, so i can run with it too." I said, my head spinning as the bad batch of bark made me talk in gibberish that had nothing to do with anything currently happening, the hallucinogen putting me in a strange world where i sat tapping at a glowing tile.

Edited August 5, 2020 by SwimModSponges

[Distinct Lunatic]

Terrell was caught off guard by the centaur's outburst, him being knocked off from his stool. The Dwarven pirate simply had a drunken blurt of laughter until he accidentally spilled some rum over himself, something that went completely unnoticed by himself. "Now, now, settle down girlie." He urged as he hopped down from his stool. "The name is Banarr, Captain Banarr if you fancy; Captain Shortbeard if yer feelin daring." As he said all that, Terrell got up from the ground, brushing the dirt of his legs. "That wasn't very civil there, stranger. I would ask that you remain calm, or see yourself gone." He stated calmly but in a stern manner, glaring at the centaur.

[Distinct Lunatic]

Depending on how far or serious this thing gets I've made some boss / villain types.

Govias: A halfling (DND version of a Hobbit) that kind of had a skull kid like experience where an evil mask became attached to his face, turning him into a warlock. Chaotic Neutral alignment.

Vomm: A human berserker type, a former general that lives for war and destruction. Lawful Evil alignment.

Viira: A former slave that sold her soul to escape her fate, becoming a warlock. Chaotic Evil alignment.

Vahalen: A Tiefling (DND version of a half-demon), him being an evil bard. Chaotic Evil alignment.

Edited August 6, 2020 by Distinct Lunatic

[jezebelthenun]

"I was told there would be drink and work.  I do not like wasting my time."

Neflet sneered at the pirate.  "Now, Shortbeard, I'm always feeling daring.  Moreso when I'm feeling impatient.  Do you have anything interesting to talk about, or are you just going to go on about yourself?"  Her eyes slid to Terrell.  "And you," she said stifling a laugh, "just where will I go?  Do you plan to smother me with flowers and sic the squirrels on me?"

Her equine frame deflates a bit, and she shifts to a tone of frustration at herself more than the men.  "I've been four days travelling to this pit on what I thought was good word worth my time.  Folk don't trust centaurs, and one day I'll learn to stop trusting folk.  If there's no information to be got, I'll drink my sodden ale in silence and be on my merry.  Otherwise, I'll await the trough at the large table in the corner.  Should anyone approach, I'll not protest, but be warned, if anyone so much as breathes threateningly, he'll eat this sword."

[Distinct Lunatic]

Terrell eased up, lowering his guard some. Picking his stool, sitting it back upright. "You're pretty far from home, centaur's rarely leave the company of their own. If what you're looking for is aid, I can-" His words were cut off as Banarr perfectly flung a trout at his mouth to cut him off. "Don't listen to that boring nonsense, girlie." Banarr began as he dragged a chair across the floor beside the centaur, climbing on top of it and sitting down on her back like she was a mere horse. "If fortune is what you seek, I know of a source of great treasure, far off into the mountains. A few days journey from here. Perhaps even less if on horseback."

[jezebelthenun]

The centaurs rears, throwing the tiny rumsucker to the ground.  "Mount me again without my say and I will trample your bits until they resemble cherry pie filling!"

She takes a moment to settle herself.  "I do not seek aid or fortune.  Just purpose.  I am," she hesitates and looks down, "was a soldier.  I led my people through the last great spar against the wild ogres.  Led them to victory, as well, but not without losses.  Among them, our Chiron's own son."  Neflet begins to pace, taking an odd, short hop to change direction, given the small space.  "What victory?  I failed my people and robbed them of the heir who would lead them benevolently into prosper!  Now I. . . "  Her eyes meet Terrell's with both sadness and anger.  "Perhaps I seek a sort of aid after all.  A way to keep my body strong, my mind sharp, and my heart from crumbling.  No gold or poultice will suffice, I'm afraid."

[Distinct Lunatic]

"If purpose is what you seek, you might be able to find short term satisfaction through battle or plundering gold," Terrell began as he removed the trout from his mouth, slapping it across the Dwarven pirates face. "For long term satisfaction it's important to accept the past and give meaning to it. Through a change of character or seeking redemption." While the monk went on with all that, the dwarf stood behind him, moving his hand in a mockingly yapping way, before bumping him aside as he made his way forward, staring up at the centaur due to the obvious difference in height. "If redemption is what ya seek, than there be no better way than an adventure. Up to the mountains perhaps?" He tried ever so desperately to urge the party.

[SwimModSponges]

"Barkeep," I began, "Barkeep... I mean, you're seeing them too, right?"

"I'm not half convinced I ain't caught some huff of something or other from that goddamn cloud you've got going there," said the barman "but if you see them too... Strangest day o' my life. More outsiders than I e'er seen in this town, much less this tavern. Think it's got something to do with that raven you sent off to the university?"

"I mean I figured they'd send a carriage..." I said, "and that horse lady doesn't seem to want to be ridden..." By this point I had come down quite a bit, the initial bad vibes subsiding now that I was once again aware of my surroundings and had the reality of them confirmed by an outside party. Assuming the barkeep was real. I started to touch his  face.

"Knock it the fuck off" said the bartender as he swat my hand away. "Hey, maybe you should listen to that goddamn dwarf and pay your tab and leave."

I'mma try rolling dice here.

*I try to bluff out of the bill* D20 roll: 10

"So hey, I mean, living out with orcs is more of a long-term investment..." I said to the barkeep, who I could tell was already in the early stages of rage. "I mean I figured I would go ahead and send you a raven with a check once I got back to the university?"

"You mean to tell me you've spent an entire year guzzling my booze, thinking I'd settle for a GODDAMN RAVEN WITH A CHECK?!?"

"Hang on man hang on..." I stammered. "That dwarf sounds like he's got a sure bet out there in them mountains..."

"The only sure bet you've got here is that I'm gonna gut you." said the barman.

"Wait wait!" I said flinching "Collateral- take my crossbow as collateral. then whenever we get back with this dwarven treasure, you get 20% of my share!"

"40." said the barman. "And a handy."

"50%, final offer." I said. The barman nodded.

"All right," I said, turning to the dwarf. "Let me just send another raven to kill the first raven before he gets there and we can be off."

[jezebelthenun]

Neflet takes a moment to think about the adventure.  Finally, she looks down at the Pirate Dwarf and scoffs, "Your ass so much as grazes me again and you'll wish your mother had never drunkenly slapped you out of her gods forsodden nethers." With that, she hoofed to the barkeep.  "I'll pay for the drinks had by this lot on this day.  What do we owe?"

[Distinct Lunatic]

Far off in the distant mountains, while the band of misfits were having their little get together in the tavern, a small, young Halfling was wondering through the dense forests, it being pitch black due to it being night time, this occurrence happening while the travelers were sorting out their business. The Halfling tugged his overcoat shut due to a sudden cold breeze that swept through the woods, sending a chill through his bones. "That's rather odd... I might be in tha mountains but that kind ah weather is a long ways away." He said softly to himself as he held a free hand up to the torch he was carrying. His home wasn't too far away, him out searching for a type of mushroom that grows best under the light of a full moon. Cutting through the sound of the wind came the strums of what sounded like a fiddle, which caught the Halflings attention. "Hello!?" He called out in a confusing tone, "Is someone there?" He stared off into the far distance in the direction of the melody, but no matter how much he squinted his eyes it was too dark to see... And then came a sharp crack on the ground behind him, the Halfling spun around, coming face to face with a grinning demonic looking individual, a sharp grin spread across his face, the light from the torch illuminating him. "WHA-!" The Halfling attempted to shriek before the Tiefling slapped something cold against his face, pushing him down backwards, pinning him down to the ground, with his unwavering expression of enjoyment. "Oh, Govias the Halfling, had a heart of gold. All the forest critter loved him. Truly was a friend to nature, but alas a new purpose in life he will have." He began as he straightened up, reaching behind him to bring his fiddle back out, strumming along like a jolt of lightning, doing a strong solo. While he strummed away the Halfling was clawing at his face, trying to tear off what seemed to be a mask that was sealed to his face. It was not long before the darkness rooted itself within him. He didn't see the demonic figure after that, all he could hear was the sound of a fiddle fading away in the distance.

Edited August 6, 2020 by Distinct Lunatic

[Distinct Lunatic]

Banarr took a moment to rub his beard with his thumb and middle finger, grinning triumphantly as he managed to acquire a party of adventurers. "In no time at all, I'll be sailin the seas once more in a new vessel." He chuckled in a very noticeable way, not being as subtle as he thought he was. "Speak of your treasure now, Dwarf." The monk Terrell ordered sternly as he stood off behind him with his arms crossed. "Uh, yes, of course." Banarr quickly composed himself as he headed over to the nearest table, reaching into his trench coat and pulling out a rolled up parchment. After unrolling it it was revealed to be a map of the current nation. "I heard stories of an abandoned fortress on top of the mountains a few miles West of here. About a century ago it was operated by a powerful warlord. Place is abandoned now, but they say the warlords fortune still remains there to this day. And we're gonna be the next band of misfits to seek it out." He chuckled at that as he took out another cigar from his pocket to replace the one that was just finished.

[SwimModSponges]

"I think I've passed by that fortress while I was sneaking between this place and the Orc stronghold right over here," I said while pointing at the dwarf's map.  "Here, look, um... give me one of those-"   I began, acting as if I was going to use the dwarf's cigars to represent something  on the parchment

*I try to bum a smoke off the dwarf* D20 roll: 5

"Why?" asked the dwarf, crossing his arms.

"Well, I was planning on smoking it." I said, my plan clearly foiled.. "What do ya... what do you got in them bad boys anyways?"

"Fuck off, ya ginger minge." said the dwarf as he flicked ashes at me. "Barkeep that 50% of his take you were getting just got a lot smaller."

"Well, we know how he can make it up." said the barkeep.

"Listen, I'm not giving you a hand-"

"You listen!" interjected the barkeep. My roof is leaking and I need the help of a handy!"

"Oh, you mean like, a handyman?" I asked, relieved.

"I don't care who does it, so long as someone jacks me off while I fix the roof!"

"Son of a bitch. All right, listen..." I began, trying to bargain my way out of a terrible roll."Keep the crossbow. I can probably find another in a pawn shop next time I hit the city. Deal?"

The barman stroked his chin, considering it for a moment, before finally nodding and going back to his mug cleaning.

"Anyways," I continued, "I know that area well. It should be an easy expedition to get there at least- though I never set foot in the fort myself.

 

 

[Distinct Lunatic]

Banarr scribbled down some quick notes on the open map. "This quest might seem precarious, but I have a trick up my sleeve." He chuckled ever so subtly, "Cost me a bit of coin, but you have to spend money to make money, as they say." He paused to swat away the weird party members hand.

Terrell had his doubts about all that was laid out, him leaning against the bar counter and glaring intently at the Dwarf." So let me get this straight Dwarf; somehow this immense treasure that you speak of managed to persist in a fortress that has been abandoned for well over a century, and yet somehow our ragtag group is gonna succeed where Gods know how many have failed?" Terrell laid out his words condescendingly. "Well, I mean, that's typically how these things go." Banarr responded with a shrug as he stared forward for a couple seconds as if he was showing off to unseen observers.

The sound of the front door opening got Terrell's attention, him turning his attention to the doorway where he saw an armored man standing stoically. This individual had a sheathed longsword and a shield on his back, with a small dagger on his right hip. His skin was pale, his hair was black, pulled back into a secure bun. The two immediately locked eyes, glaring intently at one another. "Pahn." Terrell scuffed. "Monk." The stranger known as Pahn retorted. Pahn proceeded inward, scanning the room, taking a mental note of all the guests. There seemed to be only a few normal customers, but the active party present stood out to him. "A monk, a Dwarf, some... ruffian." He said judgmentally toward Aldaganja. "And... is that a horse or a person!?" He blurted out as he observed Neflet. "Her name is Neflet, and she's a person." Terrell interjected, defending his fellow party member. "Oh wow, you actually named it?" Pahn spouted, sounding like a grade A douche. He proceeded to the counter, his eyes taking note of the laid out map, a brief glance was all he needed before Banarr snatched it away, rolling it up. "How... interesting." Pahn grinned.

Edited August 7, 2020 by Distinct Lunatic

[SwimModSponges]

"Oh sure, white night the horse lady but ignore this asshole calling me a ruffian." I said. "Ruffian up your mama." I said to the new warrior. "How many tanks does this party need, anyway? Maybe a mage can roll up next?"

[Distinct Lunatic]

(The new guy won't be a party member, just a reoccurring nuisance)

[SwimModSponges]

"Whelp," i said, standing up and stretching. "I got a raven to send and a bed to get to. Assuming nobody else is planning on busting through the tavern doors i suggest y'all do the same. It's a a rough hike out thataway and im about to pass out."

END OF SESSION 0.

(@Distinct Lunatic since you set up the quest you'll be the main person running session 1)

Edited August 8, 2020 by SwimModSponges

[Distinct Lunatic]

(was wanting @jezebelthenun to get a post in, me doing something that involved her character)

[jezebelthenun]

OOC: sorry, I got tied up at the end of the week.  If I don't post for a day or so, always feel free to move on and I'll just jump in with a shitty excuse for not attending to conversation.

[SwimModSponges]

I figured thatd be about the best way to do this online. 

I'd avoid taking multiple turns by yourself without someone jumping in between, but otherwise no real "turns". So long as we shy away from taking other characters agency (saying *i slap chief*, rolling dice and and giving chief a relistic reply to your action and roll, that's cool. Saying *chief slaps my character* without impetus/dice roll is a no-go.) If a character doesn't respond for a bit assume they're still there they just don't have anything important to say at the moment.

[Distinct Lunatic]

"Hmph," Banarr retorted disgustingly, glaring intently at the arrogant douche. "Mind your manners, Dwarf." The strange man known as Pahn stated harshly, even though the same could be said of him. "I can see that you're planning to have a go at Fortress Nevervold. Do you even know how many adventurers such as yourselves have died attempting to- On second thought, just ignore me." Pahn had a complete change in attitude as he started walking away, still facing the direction of the aspiring party. "Safe travels, you're gonna need it." He chuckled to himself as he stopped to take a brief second to slap the rear end of the horse-like creature,

His action was met by a reflex kick from both hind legs, sending him through the big glass window on the front of the tavern.

Banarr shifted his attention toward Terrell. "So, monk. I heard ya callin tha guy by his name just a moment ago, clearly ya know 'im?" Banarr questioned in a way that made it clear he wanted to know who that prick was. "Back when I was a kid living in some small town, his family were a bunch of wannabe nobles that pretty much ruled those lands. He was just as much of an arrogant, disrespectful bastard back then as he is now. I guess it's to be expected when your parents are first cousins." Terrell said with a shrug, with a slight grimace. "Back in my teen years he baited me, I sucker punched him and broke his jaw, hence I was never allowed to return to those lands." Terrell wondered forward beside Neflet to where the idiot noble slapped, patting that spot lightly as he walked past. "I have a room at the nearby inn; you're free to do whatever, but at dawn we'll set out."

Edited August 8, 2020 by Distinct Lunatic

[jezebelthenun]

Neflet's anger fades into a mixture of pity and acceptance as she watches Terrell stride ahead.  At the same time, she can feel a warm flush cross her cheeks.  For all of her rage and anguish, she allows herself a moment of vulnerability at being defended by someone else for a change.  Perhaps, she thinks,  this Terrell can be a suitable compatriot. 

"I suggest that all of you take time to gather rations, balance weapons, refit armor, and say goodbye to anyone stupid enough to care for you.  At dawn, we meet, we plan, we go."

Neflet strides out newly made hole in the front of the tavern to seek out the smithy, being sure to stop over Pahn on her way.  (Roll for Intimidation d20 = 19 +1 skill mod = 20)  Giving a menacing stare and lifting a hoof over his head, Neflet's intentions are not only received, but are ingrained into Pahn's mind.  He will steer clear of the centaur for the foreseeable future, and is more likely to do as she says anytime their paths cross.

 

[Distinct Lunatic]

"~One Day Later~" Said the narrator from Spongebob.

The Dwarven pirate was snoozing loudly and obnoxiously as he slept in one of the corners of the tavern, sleeping in his own filth, with his dirty and crusty pirate clothes. The sound of his snoring was practically loud enough to shake the building, which only stopped once he received a swift (but not forceful) kick to the side from the monk, Terrell. "Hey, cut that out." Terrell said in a heavily annoyed tone, standing above the Dwarf, who rubbed his face, gazing upward with his vision all blurry. "Ughhh... mama? Is tha' you?" He mumbled groggily, resulting in another kick. "Get up, you drunken Dwarf." Terrell scolded as he walked away from the smelly Dwarf, "What part of be ready by dawn do you not understand." Terrell added as he walked over to an open space to the side of the room, sitting down in a meditating position, needing to clear his mind and cool down before the Dwarf gives him a brain aneurysm. "Hehe, well ya see," Banarr began with a grin as he hopped up onto his feet, and with one strong shake managed to fling off all the dirt and grime that covered his trench coat. "Ol' barkeep and I were at each others throat all night. He kept sayin' I had too much to drink, an' I said there's no such thing as too much to drink. So I kept goin' and goin' and after awhile I got hungry for some of me mum's chili, which I ordered but then he had the gall to try sayin' he doesn't know how to make me mum's chili, so I ended up pushin' him aside and makin' it myself." Which explains why the kitchen at the back of the tavern looks like a horde of ogres passed through it.

[SwimModSponges]

"Mornin' y'all!" I said as I stepped back into the tavern. "Man you look a bit worse-for-the-wear there little buddy. Here, put these nuts in your mouth." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of small black spheroids. "Chew em on up; packed full of stimulants, orcs fuckin' love 'em when they're on a warmarch. Freshly picked this morning while I was out gathering supplies. And check this thing out-" I say as I pull out a crudely made branch-bow which I whipped together in like half an hour. "Imagine I could get about three shots outa it before it goes to shit on me, if I'm lucky."

I shouldered the bow and pulled out my pack  "Otherwise I got all the stuff to make a traditional orc breakfast..." I was met by looks of disgust. "The stereotype that orc cuisine is unpalatable is nothing more than prejudice. Look here- this mountain potato? Hollow it out, crack an egg in there, and roast it on an open fire. Top it with yak milk cream and peppercorns, serve it with seasoned rabbit. Breakfast of goddamn champions right there."

"Kitchen's closed." said the barkeep.

"That's all right, I haven't had a kitchen to work with in a year," I said as I walked over to the tavern's fireplace and began to cook everyone breakfast. "So what's the plan, stan?"

 

[Distinct Lunatic]

( @SwimModSponges@jezebelthenun I made a document here of all characters I have planned for this. Was about to post the link to it here, but realized that'd literally give out my full name and email address. Fortunately I can copy and paste it here as is)

Spoiler

Terrell:

Race: Human

Class: Monk

Occupation: Adventurer

Age: 40

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Bio: Terrell was born in a small town that was largely a farming community. Despite this however, he always rejected the idea of becoming a farmer. As a child as well in his teenage years he always found himself causing trouble wherever he went, ruffling feathers with all manner of folks. His parents gave up on him and passed him onto his grandparents. Ultimately what happened was that Terrell got in a scuffle with the son of a noble family that ruled those lands. Terrell had no choice but to leave his hometown, to never again return. Within his first year living off the land he came across a tribe of mountain giants that surprisingly were willing to take him in. Terrell proved himself to be tougher than most other humans, which aided in the giants growing fond of him, as well as finding him most amusing. It was in his twenties when he met a monk that was a much older man named Gilles. Their initial encounter was pretty brief, but it left a strong impression on Terrell, which resulted in him seeking out Gilles and becoming his disciple, training to become a monk.

 

---

 

 

Banarr “Shortbeard” Brewhelm:

Race: Dwarf

Class: Rogue

Occupation: Pirate

Age: 43

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Bio: The Dwarven pirate known as “Captain Shortbeard” was born with the name Banarr Brewhelm, him being a swashbuckler by trade. Banarr is a fourth generation pirate, his old vessel “The Broken Dwarf” has been passed down through his family. The way Banarr would put it; he was made on that ship, his father was made on that ship, and his father before him was made on that ship. Banarr might be a pirate, and while he would never turn down the opportunity to make some cold, he does have a heart of gold buried deep under layers of dirt and grime. He’s known to run his mouth and spout a bunch of nonsense, but he’ll always prove himself to be more cunning than he lets on.

 

---

 

 

Vahalen:

Race: Tiefling

Class: Bard

Occupation: Manipulative son of bitch / puppeteer

Age: ???

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Bio: Vahalen strives to be as chaotic as possible. Every action that he would perform would be dictated solely by how much entertainment and amusement that he’ll get from it. Even if it’s something as detrimental to himself as having an enemy brought back to life via the raise dead or resurrection spells. As long as a target is still capable of providing him with amusement, he won’t ever allow that person to die so long as it can be helped. There is no rhyme or reason to anything that he does, he specifically targets groups of adventurers because they have the most entertainment to offer, he doesn’t normally interfere with cities or nations, which is why he isn’t considered a threat in the grand scheme of things. Vahalen’s biggest strength is his ability to create minor and major illusions, the ability to inflict curses, as well as his ability to disguise himself. In an actual fight he doesn’t really have any other tricks up his sleeve other than that. When it comes to Vahalen, he’s a 5th generation descendant of one of the devils of the nine hells, something he utilizes to the fullest. In exchange for setting up contracts between individuals and his distant grandfather, turning them into warlocks by selling their souls; his distant grandfather lets him do whatsoever he pleases. Vahalen has died three times by the events of the story, and with each death he lives it up in one of the nine hells, eventually a warlock that formed a pact with his distant grandfather will perform the true resurrection spell, bringing him back to life. So even if Vahalen were to be killed off, at some point he’ll be brought back, even if it was decades or even centuries later. Vahalen has a set of individuals that he manipulates into serving him through various means. One effective way to deal with him is to cause him to fall out of favor with his distant grandfather, which would involve preventing him at all costs from having contracts made with aspiring warlocks.

 

---

 

 

Govias:

Race: Halfling

Class: Warlock

Occupation: To be determined

Age: 25

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Bio: Govias was a simple and peaceful creature. He spent much of his life living up in a forest covered mountain, where he tended to all manner of plants and creatures. He would have a way of befriending just about any forest animal he came upon, as well as tending to various plants and vegetation. He truly was a pure and peaceful being… until Vahalen forced a cursed mask on his face, that can’t be removed by any method known to Govias. More likely than not, either Vahalen himself has to be the one to remove it, or an exceptionally strong wizard or warlock. The mask was quite literally just an experiment by Vahalen to see if he could force an individual into a contract, disregarding their ideals or character. Govias himself had zero latent magical power, meaning the mask he’s cursed to wear is the source of his magical power, if it were removed he’d go back to being a simple Halfling unless he decided to become a warlock again by selling his soul. Govias is still in control of his body, but there’s no way at all to differentiate his thoughts from the mask’s thoughts, making his personality and attitude incredibly unstable, as he regularly forgets which personality is his own.

 

---

 

 

Viira:

Race: Human

Class: Warlock

Occupation: Witch / Minion

Age: 73

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Bio: Viira was born to a family that was poor, but happy. They didn’t have much of anything in life, but her parents always put her needs above their own, and did the best to provide for them. Unfortunately however, her parents were murdered by a group of bandits that passed through and terrorized her hometown. Despite being a child, she was foolish enough to try standing up to them. They didn’t kill her, however they beat her and kidnapped her, and eventually sold her off as a slave, to a violent and cruel master. On her sixteenth birthday she forged a plan to escape with the love of her life, however their plan was thwarted due to another slave selling them out, her love murdered in front of her. It was later that night when the Tiefling known as Vahalen appeared before her, able to sense a strong amount of latent magical power. Vahalen made her an offer; sell her soul to his grandfather and become a warlock, and she will gain the power to rise above her masters. Vahalen let her do as she wished for several decades after, before eventually appearing before her once more, making her pledge her loyalty to him. What Vahalen needs the most is a warlock that’s very skilled in magic, to bring him back if he does meet his demise. What Viira doesn’t realize is Vahalen needs her much more than she needs him. Which is why Vahalen, without her knowledge of course, has already started grooming a successor. Despite it being over fifty years since Viira was a slave, she chooses to keep her shackles on her ankles as a reminder of where she came from.

 

---

 

 

Ilyana:

Race: Elf

Class: Warlock

Occupation: Necromancer

Age: 9

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Bio: Elves as a race have very long life spans (upwards of 750 years), which makes Ilyana come across as especially young in comparison to others of her kind. She used to live in a community of elves in a forest, however at a young age she was kidnapped by slavers, her parents murdered by the men when they tried to rescue her. It was when Ilyana was six years old that Vahalen appeared before her, able to sense far more latent magical power than what his aging witch was capable of. Not knowing any better, Ilyana was lulled into selling her soul and becoming a warlock at such a young age. Vahalen left her a tome of necromancy, which Ilyana used to learn how to reanimate corpses and raise the dead. Ilyana is as naive and impressionable as you can expect from a child, her genuinely believing there to be nothing wrong with necromancy. Using the logic of “they’re already dead so it’s not hurting anyone”. She freed herself from her captors by raising the bodies of slaves that have died, using them to rush her captors, allowing her to slip past and escape; all without killing anyone. In the short few years that passed since Ilyana became a warlock and escaped, Vahalen would occasionally drop in on her, giving her pretty dresses as well as sweets (her having a major weakness for baked goods), all to maintain the facade that he cares about her. In reality Ilyana is being groomed to succeed Viira after her eventual death or if she turned on him. Vahalen has desires for strong warlocks that will eventually be capable of using true resurrection in the event of his death; Ilyana being far more suitable to Vahalen due to the very long lifespan she possesses. Ilyana, not aware of any of this, leads a fun and carefree lifestyle, traveling from town to town. Typically what she’ll do is raise some dead, then come along as a traveling wizard, defeating the undead, and then be treated like a hero. Showered with praise, offered free bedding at inn’s, as well as all the pies she could ever ask for.

 

---

 

 

Pahn:

Race: Human

Class: Fighter

Occupation: Noble / Soldier / Minion

Age: 41

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Bio: Pahn was born to a house of minor nobles; house Bishop owning a fair amount of land, including the town that the monk Terrell grew up in. Pahn always had a chip on his shoulder, and felt the need to flex his authority at any and all opportunity. The man is a borderline sociopath, having zero empathy for others. He spent his whole life only thinking of himself, and furthering his own interests. Back in his youth he often picked fights with Terrell; just like with himself, Terrell also had a chip on his shoulder and caused trouble wherever he went. There was one time Pahn baited Terrell into a fight, Terrell sucker punching him and breaking his jaw. Pahn demanded his parents sentence the commoner to death, however his parents were far more simple and mild mannered than him, instead they banished Terrell from their lands. Pahn would have lived an aristocratic livelihood, however house Bishop’s fortune took a turn for the worse. Pahn ended up being forced to serve in the Imperial King’s army; becoming an accomplished military officer in order to preserve house Bishop’s honor and fortune. It was in his late thirties when he was forced to resign from his military career following an injury that he received in a battle. The injury was nothing that couldn’t be fixed by a little magic, but the truth of the matter is they didn’t want him to return, regardless of if he recovered or not. Since then Pahn has become something of a mercenary / thug, doing all manner of bad deeds with zero remorse for the sake of personal wealth. The idea for Pahn is very early into Terrell and company's adventure he’d be killed off in their fight, around a day later though Vahalen would appear beside his corpse with his witch Viira at his side, ordering her to revive him. Despite her capable of using true resurrection, Vahalen would have him brought back with raise dead, which adds fears / phobias to the target. Pahn’s appearance would have degraded some due to the decay, something that could have been undone by magic, but Vahalen had Viira prevent that. Vahalen would go on to have Pahn become a pawn of his, under the pretense of Vahalen granting him power and fortune should he succeed, as well as fully repairing his body as well as purging his mind of all fears and phobias, something Vahalen would never actually follow through on. It’d likely be a running gag where Pahn’s always getting killed off by the party or by random events, each and every time Vahalen would have him brought back with raise dead, adding to the fears and phobias. Even committing suicide would be inescapable for him. Pahn’s misery would add to Vahalen’s enjoyment.

 

---

 

 

Vomm Dagannoth / Nevervold:

Race: Human

Class: Berserker

Occupation: General / Warlord

Age: 54

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Bio: Vomm Nevervold, or Vomm Dagannoth as was his identity for his entire career in the Imperial Army, is the descendant of a warlord that once had an army so large and so powerful that he was able to openly wage war against other nations. Warlord Nevervold lived and died well over a century ago. While growing up, Vomm had to hide his true name, adopting the surname Dagannoth as he enlisted in the Imperial Army where he came to be a force to be reckoned with. Just like his ancestor before him, Vomm is a true military genius, and a powerful warrior. In truth though, Vomm carries a deep and intense hatred for the Imperial nation, as well as the noble caste system; wanting to eradicate that system entirely. Vomm’s military accomplishments would gain him the rank of general; him having the power and authority to command the king’s armies. His true goal is to seek out and promote those that have true allegiance to him, to filter things to the point where he has absolute authority over the king’s army; an army that will obey any command given to them, even if it was to kill their own king. Vomm’s true goal is to take complete control over the Imperial Army, using them to replace the Nevervold Army that was long defeated. The idea is for Vomm to become a true boss, while Vahalen in comparison would just be a nuisance. Things making way for Vomm some time after Vahalen is dealt with, whether that means he’s dead or just moved on to target other adventurers.

 

[jezebelthenun]

That's a LOT of guys

[Distinct Lunatic]

1 minute ago, jezebelthenun said:

That's a LOT of guys

I spent 2010 to 2012 doing a metric fuck ton of online RPs. Making characters is what I do best.

[jezebelthenun]

"I know no Stan, but I feel confident in my ability to take rear guard.  I'd recommend the Dwarf and another dually lead the way.  I'd feel better about our situation with an archer middling."

Neflet looks around warily.

"What can each of you do?"

[Distinct Lunatic]

While the group down in the tavern were ironing out the kinks in their mutual partnership, about a half days journey past town, along the route most direct to the fortress the group intended to go to was the noble bastard Pahn, with around a dozen small time fighters that work for him. The mountain in particular was very dense in trees and vegetation, there being only a few paths that went to the summit, Pahn deduced that Terrell would urge the party to take the safest looking path, which is where they're situated. At that moment in time, Pahn sat atop of a large boulder, gazing off in the direction of the town. Realistically the smart thing to do would be for him to make it to the fortress before the other party, but it became a matter of pride after he was made a fool of by getting kicked out of a window. "Hey, cut that shit out!" Pahn shouted in a loud voice, intimidating voice, getting the attention of his men, whom were all just sitting around on the ground playing card games. "When the time comes I expect every single one of you to carry your weight." Pahn added. His men quickly put their cards away, shaping up. "Bunch of idiots..." Pahn muttered under his breath, rubbing his forehead. "Well, what do you expect when you hire based on brawn and not brain?" Came an unknown voice from behind, which immediately made Pahn go on full alert as he leapt forward off the boulder, turning around on the ground with his sword drawn. Standing up where he once sat was a demonic looking individual wearing dark violet colored clothing, with a top hat on with a pair of long horns poking up and through them; a giant and intimidating sword hanging from their back. Pahn readied his stance, expecting a fight. "You... I know your kind." Pahn shouted at the creature, Tieflings are largely discriminated against due to them quite literally being half-demons. The Tiefling simply stood atop the boulder with a large, sharp grin spread across his face. "Is that so?" He chuckled softly, in an odd ball sort of way. The creature slowly reached his hand up in the direction of his left shoulder where the hilt of his massive sword was, Pahn prepared to go on the attack but the Tiefling held out his hand, signalling him to stop. "Something troubling you, human?" The creature smirked, "If you're worried about this here," He said pointing a sharp finger up at the hilt of the sword. "I assure you it's entirely for show, I never once actually used it." He laughed; instead he snapped his finger, making a fiddle appear in his hands, readying himself as he began to start strumming, creating a jittery melody. The creature just continued to play his fiddle, more and more. Quickly eroding away at Pahn's patience, "I don't have time to listen to that shit you call music!" The noble bastard shouted angrily, resulting in a sharp screech sound as the Tiefling stopped playing, a melodramatic look of devastation on his face. "If that's how it's gonna be..." The Tiefling muttered in a manner that made it seem like he was trying to contain himself, before grinning once more. "I guess I'll be on my way then," He said playfully as he jumped down from the boulder. "I was gonna offer you a chance to change your fate, but I think I'll let you continue on that path there and die in about... six hours and thirty-five minutes from now." The Tiefling said as he pulled out what appeared to be a pocket watch from one of his pockets. "Wai- what!?" Pahn responded in an alarmed way, but the creature simply returned to playing his fiddle, disappearing into the wind.

Terrell opened his eyes as he looked up from his meditation position on the floor, there being random nuts held out in front of him. "Umm... nah, I'm good." He said simply as he got up, wiping the dust off his leggings. "Oh oh! Me me!" Banarr jumped up, going over and snatching them, tossing them in his mouth, followed by a very loud crunching sound. "Need somethin' after the complete disappointment tha' was me mum's chili." Him shuddering at the failed attempt to recreate it.

[Distinct Lunatic]

In response to the centaur Neflet's inquiry, Terrell shifted his attention toward her. "As a monk I have unarmed defense, meaning I require no armor or shield..." He began. "And clearly not a shirt either." Banarr butted end, Terrell glaring at the Dwarf annoyingly. "Shirts are optional... and restrictive. As for combat, I'm not particularly experienced in ranged weaponry or with weapons at all for that matter. My body is the only weapon I need." Banarr yawned, the single toned response boring him to sleep. "Now, as fo' me." Banarr began, bumping the monk aside. "I have me  ol' trusty pistol here," He said patting a holstered flintlock pistol. "As well as this big bad fellow 'ere." He said motioning up to the blunderbuss he had on his back. "Yes, until you fire a single shot from each and have to spend time reloading them with your next action." Terrell interjected, deflating Banarr's ego a bit.

[SwimModSponges]

"My main talents pretty much come from living off the land." I began, as I pulled the tater eggs from the fire and plated everyone's breakfast. "Scout, tracker, forager, hunter... i move quick and quiet, i know when to hide and where to strike- i'm pretty great with a crossbow," i looked over at the barkeep who was setting up a line of apples as targets at the end of the bar in preparation to test out the weapon i surrendered to him in lieu of a handy. "I'm not terrible with a regular bow either, but this bow is terrible and far from regular." I pointed at my primitive branch bow. "Still, whipping shit together out of stuff i find laying around is another skill of mine. Same with herbcraft, i can usually find the things i need for healing potions and the like somewhere in the woods." I started to dig into my breakfast. "That an my trusty halberd. Oh, and i'm usually pretty decent at talking my way out of things..." i looked back at the barkeep. "Present company excluded, i suppose."

[SwimModSponges]

10 hours ago, Distinct Lunatic said:

Yes, until you fire a single shot from each and have to spend time reloading them with your next action." 

Spoiler

In the interests of keeping the game going quickly I'mma say there's nothing wrong with taking multiple actions per turn/post, so long as it flows logically, makes sense, and adheres  to the dice. Like, if Banarr shoots and rolls a 3, then yeah he probably shouldn't get to do anything else in that post other than receive the consequences. But if it's a decent roll, he could probably shoot, you say he's reloading while other stuff happens (like the enemy attacks, maybe something in the environment happens, whatever, so long as the scene plays out long enough for Banarr to reload. I'm also fine with multiple dice rolls. (Banarr shoots, rolls a 10, wounds an enemy, starts to reload, but the wolf is pissed now and attacks him. He rolls a 15 and manages to hide behind some rocks to finish reloading before popping out and shooting again, rolls a 5, misses his shot). So long as it doesn't get abused. Also it'd probably work best to not be super specific with the enemies (Yes, and... is rule #1). Like maybe don't say "there are five wolves and I kill three of them" Say "there's a pack of wolves, I kill a few, but there are still some left." That way anybody else can get in on the combat too- again, provided it makes sense. if somebody somewhere along the line gets a grenade, a pack of rats, and a good roll, then go ahead and wipe them out.

 

[Distinct Lunatic]

(was meant to be a bit of a 4th wall break. DND has some firearms, but it is a case where firing one shot uses your entire action. Though if you have the right feat you have a second action related to that where you can either reload then so you're ready for your next turn, or if you have a second gun could fire that one as well but then have no ready guns for your following turn. Translating that to an RP would be Terrell saying Banarr is the type that wouldn't think that far ahead and would leave himself vulnerable)

"Breakfast AND nuts!?" Banarr seemed to overreact to offer of more food, the dirty pirate wasting no time in stuffing his face, as crudely as possible, getting some egg yolks on his big Dwarven beard. "I think I'll pass..." The monk responded, him finding the Dwarfs eating habits to be pretty... grotesque. Banarr wasted no time in insisting that he have his portion. "It's like me mum always said, never look a gift horse in the mouth." The pirate said in between bites, crumbs and small bits landing in his beard. "Don't mean to be rude, Dwarf... but have you ever considered shaving?" Terrell said bluntly, taking a side glance at the Dwarf. Banarr had a completely offended expression on his face as he placed his hands on his beard protectively, "I'll 'ave ya know I've been growin' this here beard a man since I was a young Dwarf at the age of twelve." Terrell backed down before turning his attention to the self proclaimed chief. "What we need is to wrap up our business here and move out, we're burning day light. I reckon if we leave soon we should reach the base of the mountain in about... six and a half hours." He estimated roughly.

[jezebelthenun]

"Then Terrell and Banarr will lead, the. . . uh. . . Chief, will middle, and I'll take the rear."   Neflet scratches her head.  "Sorry", she says, looking at the Chief character with a sour face, "Your new name is Monocles.  I'll be damned if I feel referring to you as Chief.  You're no Chiron of mine."

The centaur takes a bit of the food that's been prepared and eats it discreetly, nodding in approval before taking more in a large dish.  "

As soon as we've finished this meal, we head out.  And before a single one of you even tries to throw a single item on my back, know that I am no pack mule.  I'll leave it on the path as sure as my hooves continue forward."  Then looking over to Banarr and Terrell, she raises her chin slightly. "What is our path?  Terrain?  Expected encounters?  And what do we make of that wretched Pahn?  I suspect we'll meet up with him most coincidentally.  How much of a threat will he be?"

[Distinct Lunatic]

Just as that was said, all of Banarr's hopes and dreams shattered as he quickly changed course to hide the fact that he was about to toss his bundle until her back, whistling nonchalantly. "Pahn has an ego, that I can't deny. He did get kicked through a window, so I wouldn't rule out the possibility of him plotting something." Banarr walked his short Dwarf ass over to a nearby table, rolling out the map from before. "It's just abou' a six hour journey to the base of the mountain. Once there, there's a number of paths that lead up to the summit. I'm partial to this one here," he pointed at a spot on the map. "There's a system of caves and tunnels that span countless miles. There be pitfalls to be wary of, and a few cliffs that will need scaling. I heard there was a tribe of goblins that made themselves at home in those tunnels, but I think we can take em." He finished up with a proud chuckle.

It took all of Terrell's willpower to keep from punching the dwarfs head off. "Did your parents drop you on your head, Dwarf!?" Terrell questioned insultingly. "What could possibly make you think we need to take that route when we could just you know, walk there?" Banarr went over and tugged on Terrell's arm to make him crouch down to his level, putting his arm around his shoulder. "I'm gonna level with ya a bit Sonny, I hate pigeons. Those rats with wings won't get the better of this Dwarf again!" He shouted defiantly. Terrell responded by elbowing the Dwarf in the ribs to get him to let go again. "How do you expect a party with a centaur companion to be able to scale a cliff?" To which Banarr just shrugged, "What goods an adventure without a bit of risk?" To which Terrell flat out ignored and headed to the exit, "We're playing it safe and taking the most direct route. Worst possible outcome we have to fight some highwaymen or a mountain bear or whatever."

[SwimModSponges]

I follow Terrell out the door of the tavern, along with the rest of the party, making sure I stay in the middle so as to not get kicked by the horse lady for stepping out of turn.

"So hey uh... Neflet, was it?" She looked down her nose at me with a haughty expression.

"Monocles." she replied coldly.

"Yeeeaaahh...." I began. "Chief is just a nickname the folks at the tavern gave me because I lived with the Gnur-rusk tribe for a year learning their ways. A few days ago I underwent an Orsimer rebirthing ritual as my final act before coming back to what the 'Noble' races of men and mer call 'Civilization.'" I reached into my cloak and withdrew my traveling pipe before continuing. "The name that has been given to me is Aldaganja. Toh-ken Aldaganja. Not that I mind being called Monocles..." I backtracked as I exhaled, still preferring to not  be kicked. "In fact, 'Monocles' is a very powerful name, when you think about it. Like, 'mono' means one, right? but there's an 's' at the end, which means there's more than one. So it's like, more than one one man. Monocles..." Neflet continued to glare at me. "No? Better just call me my name then I suppose."

Our party marched silently for a few dozen yards. 

"So hey, mind if I scout ahead a bit?" I asked.

*I try to scout ahead* D20 roll: 11

Neflet huffed and continued walking, which I interpreted as an A-ok to be on my merry way. Breaking into a sprint I left the shoddily cobbled road and darted off into the scrub of the mountainside.The path on  the dwarf's map  showed a long slow bend up ahead, but I had traveled these lands before and I knew there was more than one footpath which traversed the land more efficiently. Within no time I had found a game trail to follow. Unfortunately I was not alone...

Leaping out from the branches of trees growing from an outcropping of rock above them, I landed, panting, before the party on the road.

"So hey, uh... Just pissed off a handful of timberwolves," I said, looking back the way I had come. "So... Scouting complete I suppose? Shit here they come."