P.P. A.: \o

Fiss: \o/

Ken (GM): so, good times?

Adolf S.: ayy

It’s my birthday today gentlemen.

Ken (GM): HUPPY BIRDSDAY

Joush M.: Happy birthday.

Fiss: Happy Hatchday!

P.P. A.: Happy birthday!

Ken (GM): HAVE YOU YET FIRED TWO GUNS WHILST LEAPING THROUGH THE AIR?!

Adolf S.: I have not, but firing a gun today might be a good idea.

I have to go to home depot later and buy a bunch of dumb crap, and then tomorrow or the next day I have to go re-grout a shower.

Tryin’ to make the most out of today despite that.

Speaking of, I’ve gotta go afk for 10 – 15, just popped in to confirm that I am indeed alive and able to play.

Doc: I’m physically here but my coffee isn’t working today

Ken (GM): AMEN. who knew packing for a 5 day road trip would involve effort?

and I keep having to provide for my family UGH

Doc: I have spent most of the last three years knowing that feel

not the family part tho

Ken (GM): mm

schools good tho?

Doc: Spent most of my time living out of a backpack and changing towns every few days, PPA can vouch for this

Yeah school’s off to a good start, ought to have a fun semester

Joush M.: Ugh, 5 days on the road? That’s brutal. Good luck man

P.P. A.: Aye

Ken (GM): wootski

all you can hope for; fun and EDUMACATION

right gents;



WHERE LAST WE LEFT OUR HEROES…





Ken (GM) The Crumbling Keep ruins are yet again just that; a quiet edifice in a thorny bramble, nestled away in the heart of the desolate swamp. The elven cultists have been pacified, with extreme prejudice. The lich has been evicted, and the Rocs are now chum for the scavenger beasts. The trapped souls of countless elves have been released to the wild from their orb’d prisons, and the magic of this place is again still and tepid

Gray rises to his feet and recovers his equipment, preparing and looking around. “Shall we remove the dead and put them on a pyre then? We have little time for other rites, but it seems disrespectful to leave the remains piled like this.”

Syviis nods solemnly

Suðri Skornbrekker nods, eager to clear out the tomb of all the Elven and other corpses.

Ken (GM): nodding intensifies

Ken (GM) the dead come out like cordwood, and a heap is made. The bodies are light and desiccated, as if everything alive of them is gone and only porcelain remains.

Ken (GM): [wheres the pyre gonna be?]

Gray works to pile the bodies and gather tinder for the task, watching the fire begin to spread then race over the people. Cultist and victim alike, burning to ash as they stand by.

Joush M.: Outside the entrance, east of the swampy area?

P.P. A.: maybe up there where the monster-croc was, or outside

Ken (GM): k, nice and clear on the hillside

P.P. A.: outside would be better but that would be a lot of hauling

Joush M.: So many corpses.

Syviis: [If Syviis learns any teleportation spells, she’s NOT using it to mass-haul corpses around]



Ken (GM): and your proof of purchase?

Ken (GM): were you guys taking heads for the council/refugee leaders as proof?

Doc: probably wouldn’t even remain corpses in that case tbh

P.P. A.: A few Elven heads and anything we took from the Lich should be proofs

Joush M.: damn.. Gray isn’t in favor of heads. Do the cultist have distinct weapons or equipment?

Doc: ears are another classic trophy

Syviis: Are they wearing any particularly unique jewelery of the Cult or perhaps name-unique rings/etc?

Even tattoos…while unsavory, would be better than hauling heads.

Ken (GM): The group certainly was a motley crew, through they seem to have come by different clothes and personal effects. They don’t all share a flag or token Mostly the facepaint and decorations; red over the eyes, and streaks over the body like claw marks. in groups of six

P.P. A.: we could also just pile up the corpses, unburned, and organize a small caravan so they can see them for themselves

Ken (GM): [“come one come all! see the heap of corpses we made in the wilderness! Just a few days round trip!”]

Gray, roll perception /search for me for the bodies youre searching?

Gray: rolling 3d6 vs 14 Perception with Night Vision 5 and +4 to Scent from Discriminatory Scent, or Detect (Spirits) with Precise(5+2+1)= 8

Ken (GM): hah well then!

Ken (GM) You stack the dead and discuss the best way to not have to take absolutely disgusting desecrating trophies. Gray investigates, and discovers on the bodies, under the claw pain, three is a rune tattoed on each of them!



Gray shows the other the mark. “Every one of them has this. A ring of diamonds around this spikey glyph”

Ken (GM) it is spidery, delicate, and intricately done on each of them. Beside the heart, under the arm, on the ribs. Each of the women have it under their red paints

The men have it as well, right over the breast

The tattoos are small, maybe the size of a mans palm

(To Gray): You also notice, at this point, the fact there are two men, one satyr, and some 15 women represented here

Gray: “So few men.” He says thoughtfully. “Three, among fifteen women.” He observes, a hand rubbing across his jaw. “Sixteen if we count the woman-faun that spoke of the Fae”

Suðri Skornbrekker: “If they still have the corpses from the night when they attacked, it might be enough to just cut out these marks, to compare them to the ones on those corpses, and to have our proof that way,” Suðri notes, perking up from being lost in thoughts.

Roderick: “We shouldn’t need much. It’s clear from one glance at you dwarves that we’ve been somewhere and done something significant. Any small proof that we fought these cultists should be enough.”

Adolf S.: Dang, look at that tattoo work. Whoever did their tattooing was a pro, clearly

Doc: sick ink brah



Doc: Making sure I read the backlog right: the party has some fancy new guns, right?

Ken (GM): SO fancy; dwarven relics



(To Syviis): ELF KNOWLEDGE

Syviis: (To GM) rolling 3d6(4+2+6)= 12

(From Syviis): match

(To Syviis): Those tattoos are more than marks of taboo; these elves were from different lands, but were each criminal hedonists, the untouchables caste!Cast out for their inability to politely act in society. Sent to live in their own villages and hamlets.

(From Syviis): so nothing that specifically identifies them as cultists…just a common thread.

(To Syviis): To uncultured non-elven minds, that tattoo might be proof enough

(To Syviis): Caste systems are rough business



Gray sets to the grim work, sparing the others from flaying and preserving the ink. “Ideally they would take our word. Failing that, we bring gristly proof”

Gray plans to take that cultist alive. He needs a sick raven tattoo

Syviis: “The Tattoos were done by elves. They are marks of the hedonists who failed to fit within their clans. Basically, they were cast out of…polite…elf society.”

Gray: “Ah.. The Men of Grayhold don’t have a symbol for that” He says thoughtfully. “Do these hedonists often fall in with Dark cults?”

Syviis: “Not always, but it does seem the coming darkness has a preference of using the peoples of the land who are easily tempted and manipulated with promises of power, pleasure and the like.”

Syviis: “Either way, this is proof enough that a large number of them were tempted here by the lich. I have his journal to back up our findings as well. I think it will be proof enough, and anyone who doesn’t believe us can come help us clean up the next pit of vile magic.”

Ken (GM): hah well put 😀

Suðri Skornbrekker: “Yea. Besides, we have other things to worry about than the approval of some ragged savages.”

Syviis: “True. We are out to save the peoples of this land…not cater to their every doubt.”

Suðri Skornbrekker: “…not that we should neglect them, either; it would seem they are welcome prey for villains such as these here, and perhaps recruits as well.”

Syviis nods, pondering for a moment

Gray works until they’ve got a bundle of the marks, thin hides scraped and briefly dried, packed between layers of thin bark. Enough to keep them legible for a few days, at least.”The task is done then”

Syviis: “It shouldn’t be hard to learn of other elves who were cast out as hedonists…. perhaps we can prevent the next recruitment before they become power-stones, soul-orbs, or simply dashed upon their own sins and used for breeding the darkness.”

([searches the Elvish forbidden escorts website)

Gray nods to Syviis, the towering brute frowning a touch then asking. “Is it.. common, for elves to be exiled?”

(To Syviis): criminals tend to be punished with public markings and shame. Think of it as a three strikes caste system

Syviis: “Not common, but it happens when crimes are committed. Depending on the severity and number of repeats, these tattoos are more of a public shaming act and social banishment… but yes, enough of our people leave the clans and seek out new homes that they could gather together, much like how the Half-Elves do.”



Bomrek looks at the Elf pyre and his comrades selecting and cutting off tattoos. He turns his head from the grisly business, over to the Crocodile. He walks over to it with a handy knife, and starts cutting the thick hide, looking to do some minor butchery.

Bomrek: Can I roll my professional(alligator hunter) skill to butcher this thing, see if I can’t get a good amount of usable meat off’m?

Ken (GM): taking time for it? or did you guys want to hurry back to your things before night creeps up too far?

Doc: How much time do we have?

Bomrek: I figure Bomrek’ll do it while the others are busy with the pyre. Probably take some time, right?

Ken (GM): well, its late afternoon, and its about a 5 hour hike /march back to where you left your cart and wizards

P.P. A.: mind that we spent some time waiting for the last cultist to come back, some of these things could have been done retroactively

I could imagine Bomrek getting bored and wandering off to cut up some alligator while waiting for the Roc to return

Gray nods. “We should at least return to the others tonight.”

Bomrek just wants some Alligator meat, a relatively rare treat out here. Plus with his new condition, he might be able to better enjoy lead salts to spice the meal up.

Ken (GM): ah well then that’s pretty reasonable, yeah; so you’ve got a smoldering pyre, proof of tattoos, some big ass chunks of gator belly and a nice long hide off its back, and its time to march your asses back home

Bomrek: Rad

Suðri Skornbrekker gets up and gathers up his weaponry. “I hope we live to see the day when this place is restored, and mayhap pilgrims flock to see the Allfather’s grave.”

Bomrek wraps up his prized meat in a sack, and ties it to a handy stick for the march back to the wizards. He breaks out his pipe, and packs it with some tobacco, seemingly in better spirits than before.

Bomrek: “We surely will, Suðri . I hope to see it returned to at least part of it’s former glory.”

Gray: “Aye, Suðri . I hope you get that wish.” He says in that deep, rough voice, settling his heavy pack and starting to walk. Alert for danger in the primal forest of the south.

Ken (GM): Bavieca is full up on sweet grasses and various ground rodents

Syviis walks with a lighter step, glad to have some answers despite more haunting sights seen.



(From Bomrek): So, we’re still feeling drunk-like, then? Just, ecstatic, happy, etc?

(To Bomrek): Youre in no pain, for sure. And the buzz is nice. Like the mellow heat of a long days work with whisky on top. The armor is a comfortable thing, an embrace.



Ken (GM): [map magic]

Striking back through the muck? Or electing for the old roadway?

Bomrek puffs at his pipe, contentedly blowing smoke rings up toward the trees when the air is still enough. “This meat should hold for a day or so, especially if the night gets colder.” he says, hefting up the rather full sack of meat hanging from his stick. “I expect this will make quite the meal, whenever we can find the time.”

Bomrek’ll vote the old roadway. No sense dunking this perfectly serviceable meat into muck.

Joush M.: This group is slow enough on the road. Muck would turn this into a slog

Doc: Rod always votes for the cleanest option

Suðri Skornbrekker also votes for the old roadway, it’s easier with the cart and they don’t have to expect any particular danger right now… and The Darkness can attack anywhere, anyway, so might as well travel more comfortably.

Syviis nods, and it may come to pass they will find more things on the road now.

Ken (GM): gotcha; a bit of a brisk march, but the old road is still serviceable enough.

Ken (GM) the land is level and clear along a road that swings back and forth over the bones of the earth coming up from the swamp. The dwarven architecture is long buried under moss and leaf, but the land is flat and easy to walk. The trees barely block the way. (Lucky you didn’t approach this way though, you’d have been quite exposed on the way to the keep!)

Ken (GM) the evening cools and marches slowly to twilight, and as you’re rising up out of the swamp to the plateau, the sun is setting in a blazing glory of red backlighting fat clouds above.



Syviis: [and that’s when the Demonic Helicopter Sharkducks attacked…]

Gray walks more lightly in the sunset and on the road, enjoying himself for a moment and glad to be away from the grim tomb and the scent of death. Trying to get back to the cart, he dosn’t expect to arrive there until after dark.

Ken (GM) You find there, at the end of the old road where it meets the new, the remains of another effigy. A towering heap of meat and tree, it was fashioned with six arms and the horned head of the demon… this one seems to have burned out from within, and the stink of it is all sulphur and rot. It is destroyed, perhaps when the creature was defeated?





Bomrek elbows Suðri in the plate armor, and says quietly in Dwarvish “[How do you feel?]”

(To Suðri Skornbrekker): You do notice when he mentions it; youre in no pain. Aside from the piercing of your heart… you’re grand. No aches, no pains, just alight buzz like a head of alcohol, but none of the dullness of being drunk

Suðri Skornbrekker thinks for a moment: “Surprisingly light on my feet—lighter than before. I wish we had the luxury of time, so I could buy some ores, though, and experiment a little.”

Syviis gladly stops at the effigy as the dwarfs compare notes and makes a small prayer to the land, hoping it will fully reclaim all these vile sites.

Gray nods in grim triumph to the effigy. “Fuck that thing.”

Roderick is still visibly weary, but perks up after passing the destroyed effigy.

Bomrek nods, and then roughly raps his chest piece with his knuckles, and says, again in Dwarvish, “[I think the All-Father graced me with a distillery in my stomach. I haven’t felt entirely sober since… Well, since before we entered the tomb, I suppose.]” he says, clearly deep in thought.

Suðri Skornbrekker: “[…yeah, I’ve been feeling the same way. I wonder—is it that our kind craves alcohol as a substitute for this feeling?]” He strokes his beard, a bit perplexed by that thought.

Bomrek lets out a non-committal grunt, and looks away over at the effigy. “[A question for the scholars].”

Ken (GM) the march is weary but after a few hours the sun has set and you can spy the hillock you hid the cart in. The trees shelter the wizards still, but you spy the telltale light of a fire under the cover there, smoke trailing up into the still evening. The wyrd green moonlight tonight casts through fat clouds, and is dim



Ken (GM): bookkeeping: everyone roll against hiking/march or soldier for me? Bavieca rolls against HT/mount 15

Bomrek: rolling 3d6(5+2+5)= 12

Bomrek: That’s vs 11, so failure by 1

Ken (GM): if anyone fails; thats margin of FP damage throughout the travel

Gray: rolling 3d6 vs 12(6+6+6)= 18

Bomrek: ayyy

Suðri Skornbrekker: 18v14

Ken (GM): hahaha fuck

Bomrek: If a beastman breaks his leg, do we have to put him down like a horse?

Syviis: rolling 3d6(5+3+1)= 9

Joush M.: Goddamn, that’s a critical fail

P.P. A.: I could use Luck, but I’d like to know the ballpark of the penalty for that fail

a-at least it happened during marching and not during combat

Syviis: She’s down 4 FP due to the hike but all in all, nothing she isn’t used to with her arrows flying around.

Ken (GM): apparently Gray and Suðri are leaning on each other by the end of the hike, with Syviis trailing behind them

Syviis is yawning shamelessly by the time they reach the camp

Syviis: (shameless, because she’s still wearing her little mask thing)

[is she the only one without Hiking as a skill???]

Doc: Rod rolling for himself or just the horse?

Ken (GM): just the horse, Mr.Rider man

Roderick: rolling 3d6 vs 15(5+4+1)= 10

Doc: yeah even Rod has Hiking now

Bomrek has had his pipe stowed for the last 20 minutes, and has been sputtering and coughing the entire time, having accidentally inhaled much too much smoke. He looks back at Suðri , trying desperately to pound the cough out of his diaphragm, fruitlessly since his chest piece is very much in the way.



Ken (GM): no broken legs or anything, just fatigue; only cure is sleep and it means an extra -2 against anything rolled until then



Suðri Skornbrekker is very exhausted, stumbled a few times because he was lost in thought

Bomrek: “What, did the All-Father gift you fish lungs and forget to keep your original set?”

Suðri Skornbrekker: “I guess… hah… it takes some getting used to this…”

P.P. A.: I have Soldier and Hiking, rolled against Soldier which was higher

Syviis: [damn..elf bitch better get on that shit then]

Ken (GM) This week on Grimwyrd, the party is DEFEATED! …by a long walk!

Ken (GM): IRONY

Doc: believable tbh



Syviis watches the others, realizing too late she’s still treading through the empty road like it’s delicate underbrush, and resolves to practice her ‘walking long distances without killing herself’ skill

Gray drops the pack more carelessly then he often will, and stretches, groaning and rubbing pain away. The beast normally finds such task easy, but tonight leaves him grumbling and ready to growl as he looks around to make sure the camp is secured. “Pulled something, I think. Marching at night might have been a mistake”

Suðri Skornbrekker: “Or some marshy elf-shrub irritated my breathing, what have you.”

P.P. A.: ancient hay fever

P.P. A.: invasive species from elfland

Syviis: “Blaming the shrubs on elves now?” Syviis smiles tiredly “It’s about time you realized…those are not thorns…but tiny pointed ears on the vines!”



Bomrek: About what time is it?

Ken (GM): [Not yet midnight, but late?]

Bomrek: Do these Wizards have a fire going or are they too city-slicker to do that?



Bomrek: “The truth comes out, finally.” Bomrek says, letting his pack gently down against a log, and his bag of meat even more gently. If we have a wagon, he’ll suspend the bag of meat above the ground by running the stick through the wagon spokes, before taking off all the gear he can still take off, and finding a comfortable resting position to collapse into.

Gray dosn’t join in the banter for once, holding an arm out and grumbling. “Memory, watch for trouble please. If anyone comes close, alert me, otherwise I’m going to get some sleep” See: I will eat you

Gray strips off weapons and armor, spear, sword, other sword, dagger, splintered shield, surcoat, chainmail and aketon… sets that all aside, the brute dropping to the ground in a tired pile with his back to a tree wearing dark fabric shorts only.



Bomrek: (So, how’d the wizards fair? They were stayin’ here waiting for us, right?)

Bomrek as before; secures his gear, takes off what armor he can, and gets comfortable.

Suðri Skornbrekker laughs, his laughter interrupted by a cough. He drinks a sip of water, and takes a deep breath.

Ken (GM) Your ramshackle group meanders back to the camp, and as you press through the bush you find Rolf and Simon in front of a nice tall fire, huddled against the night.

Rolf: “Youre back! By the circle, I thought the worst of you!” He seems overjoyed at your return

Simon says nothing, huddled in a blanket, staring at the fire

Suðri Skornbrekker drops off his muskets, and the fancy-looking new muskets, though he keeps them nearby.

Bomrek: “Hah, you’re looking at some of the best mercenaries this side of the Dwarven holds, Wizard. We aren’t like’ to die in a mere swamp.” Bomrek puts on some prideful, excited, energized tones, but it’s clear he’s very tired.

Suðri Skornbrekker: “Just the usual ‘worst,’ today.”

Gray grumbles faintly rather then reply with words.

Bomrek: “Wizard, we killed an Alligator and I have some prime cuts of meat here from him, make sure nothing happens to it in the night, I intend it to be everyone’s breakfast in the morning!”

Syviis: “A long day, but we didn’t lose anyone that was not already lost. More clues, more information…more and more…after sleep it might even make sense.” [burrows up into a tree-trunk, as is traditional for elves when they sleep]

Roderick nods wearily with a simple “Aye” as he dismounts and begins the laborious task of removing his heavy armor

Suðri Skornbrekker throws a sidelong glance at Bomrek: “The alligator Syviis shot outside, or the… other…? ‘Alligator’?”

Bomrek half-rolls-half-turns to Suðri and lets out a sleepy, confused “Hrm? The one from outside, I cut into him while you were all carrying the corpses.”

Suðri Skornbrekker sighs in relief, and grins: “I look forward to breakfast, then!”

Rolf: “So…so we can rest?” The wizard seems alert, amped up….wary

Bomrek shrugs from his sitting, soon-to-be-lying position. “I’d suppose so. We’ve got a horse and a magical bird milling about, we’ll be roused to any threat, I should think.”

Gray tells the story eloquently by simple semi-nudity, the vicious healing scar on his side looking months old now. It should be healed by morning, but reveals that grim battle well enough as it stretches across his side and the pink scar slowly fades to white, a little more healed every time someone looks. Massive muscles relaxed, the beast weary rather then wary tonight.

Rolf helps Simon to bed. Mostly just tipping him over and making sure he’s covered from the night. He then settles down himself, nearby.

Suðri Skornbrekker turns to Rolf: “Aside from the Darkness that threatens to swallow the world, I’m not aware of any threats. The cultists are slain, some dark, deathless Elf is too, and we have a few new tools on hand.” He pats one of the ancient guns.

Suðri Skornbrekker looks around, but any considerations to build another low earthen wall or something fall prey to his tiredness, and he quickly finds sleep.

Bomrek “Mmhmm’s” from under a piece of cloth, covering his eyes from the light of the fire. “I’ll be making [Dwarvish phrase for an obscure food, that sounds very guttural, but also colorful in pronunciation.] ‘Ought to be good.”

Ken (GM) The evening falls over you, the fire crackles, and sleep overtakes weariness

Joush M.: We didn’t even put the gator on to smoke before we went to bed. Damn we were tired

Adolf S.: No need, the meal itself produces plenty of smoke.

Ken (GM): GASP

P.P. A.: I was worried he was going to cook the many-legged, many-coloured one

the big one shot outside seems safe to eat

Ken (GM): the basilisk?

Bomrek: Fuck, I should have. What a mistake I have made.

Ken (GM): it’s nest of young made quick work of it… cannibalism

Bomrek: Waste not want not, Ken.

Joush M.: Should have just caught some of the young ones. Stuff ’em with wild rice and onions

P.P. A.: we Dungeon Meshi now

Adolf S.: >rice >onions

Adolf S.: A fool’s errand, the best option with ‘Alligator would be some tubers and berries, maybe a sweet sauce thrown on for the last 5 minutes of cooking.



(From Bomrek): Speaking of, I’d forgotten OOC and didn’t bring it up. Could we retcon and say Bomrek got some of those eggs intact? Or Roll for it maybe?

(To Bomrek): Rolls it!

(From Bomrek): DX? Can I get a bonus for spending additional time as well? If so, how much?

(To Bomrek): Call it a 12

(From Bomrek): rolling 3d6(6+2+6)= 14

(To Bomrek): no eggs for you; the shells were delicate and most if not all seem to have hatched.

(To Bomrek): Also, roll versus HT

Adolf S.: rolling 3d6(3+6+5)= 14 vs 11 HT

(From Adolf S.): Failure by 3



Ken (GM) Morning rises with clouds bunching up on the dawn sun. Rose and Ruby, and the fire of the sky quells the green of the moonlight. The embers of the large fire are poked and prodded by drowsy tenders.



(To Suðri Skornbrekker): Roll vs HT

(From Suðri Skornbrekker): 5v13

P.P. A.: oh, I need to roll for nightmares! :DDD

Suðri Skornbrekker: 8v12

Suðri Skornbrekker somehow managed not to dream of heaps of corpses and cackling headless dragons, yay! The experience was probably overshadowed by dwarfy things



Ken (GM) The dwarves awake, stiff and odd, creaking and groaning. Bomrek in particular awakes with one arm stuck up in the air. Suðri shakes it off immediately….

Ken (GM) Bomrek’s right arm is clad in a thick armored shell! It seems to be clodded with earth and part of his blanket!

Bomrek: >one arm in the air

(Shit, was Bomrek dreaming about Germany, Earth, 1935 – 1945?)

Joush M.: Damn, Bomrek’s gone full Kafka



Gray wakes and stretches, glad for the rest and feeling faintly guilty at his terse and unfriendly nature that night, but he dutifully goes to checking equipment tiredly and asking Memory. “Anything happen while I was asleep?”

Memory: “The night was quiet; the only stirring was the fire and the elementals shuddering as they grew over the dwarves”

Ken (GM) Suðri seems to have awoken no worse for wear…with armored legs built up out of his shelled chest!

Suðri Skornbrekker looks to Bomrek. Refreshed from the night’s deep sleep, he can’t help but chortle: “You need more iron in your diet—or steel, or bronze!”

Joush M.: He will emerge as a ~beautiful butterfly~

Gray: “Thank you for watching” He says respectfully to the totem, then walks closer as he watches memory speak to Bomrek.

Suðri Skornbrekker lifts up his blanket to get up, and notices his legs.

Bomrek doesn’t take this event with such light-hearted-ness, and stares at his arm with great concern.”You, Bird, what is this?” he gestures his arm at Memory.

(To Bomrek): Youre arms is stuck upright, jammed up with the armored…whatever it is. It seems to have grown out of your shell…but poorly

Memory tilts her head “Your elemental: it grows. You feed it, and it grows.”

Bomrek: “I can’t move my damned arm, Bird!” Bomrek turns to Gray “Beastman! Bend this thing at the elbow, quick!” he says, angry, concerned, but not really scared, strictly speaking.

Memory: “Perhaps it starved?” she tilts her head this way and that

Suðri Skornbrekker starts to take this seriously and walks over.

Roderick: rolling 3d6 vs 12 for Nightmares also(2+2+4)= 8

(To Roderick): Sound sleep overnight; you vaguely remember the smell of flowers as you awake, but not their color…



Suðri Skornbrekker takes a look at it. “…I was only half-joking. My intuition after yesterday is… Do you feel hungry?”

Bomrek: “Starved? Starved!?” he says twice, increasing his pitch. “It’s an arm, not a pet fish that I forgot about over the weekend!” Bomrek sounds indignant.

(To Suðri Skornbrekker): Theres a depression in the earth under him; as if the thing was eating the earth below him to make his armor

Bomrek: >Do I feel hungry

Do I feel hungry?

(To Bomrek): No more so than ususal. That gator will hit the spot nicely

Bomrek: “I feel about normal, Suthri.”

Gray: “It dosn’t eat food. Metals, right?”

Suðri Skornbrekker glances a bit to the side of Bomrek, and then back at the fellow Dwarf. He looks unconvinced. “Do we have any spare metal? …other than the treasure? Some spare weapons perhaps?” he asks the rest of the party

(From Bomrek): So, can I still feel my hand within this metal arm?

(To Bomrek): Yep, its in there. Youve got some wiggle, but its like it’s in a cast or something

Rolf raises a hand from where he’s sitting “Uhhh….what?” he seems quite confused

Bomrek: “Dwarves eat metal, Wizard, now give me some hobnails.” he says mockingly.

Rolf flusters, standing up quickly “Oh! right! where are my manners?” and he begins digging around in his cloak.

Rolf produces from his wizard-place….a heap of swords

Rolf jumps to the side and curses as a heap of weaponry clatters to the ground out of his cloak “Shit! that’s…damnit! I stacked those poorly in there!”

Adolf S.: Rolf here’s never worked retail and had to stock Shelves

Gray watches suprized at that, then asks. “Magic cloak?”

Rolf: “Oh, no, just the same place I kept that food. I have a trans-dimensional zero-point tucked in here. I keep the locationality embedded just under my left side, by my Eastern Chakra, here” He points proudly.

Gray: “Right. Magic.”



Bomrek gets up as best he can, stuck in his semi-permanent nazi salute presumably, and walks over to the swords, slowly lowering himself to them.

Bomrek: (How appetizing do these look to me?)



Ken (GM) the heap of metal are some newly smithed swords. Simple lines without much decoration. The metal is possibly steel, but there is an odd shine to them.

Gray looks around the camp to watch for danger, then back to the swords. “They look.. odd. I don’t know enough to speak to the metal, but they don’t look like the Grayhold steel I’m familiar with or Old Kingdom blades”

(To Gray): Aside from startling some birds and the horses a touch, nothing seems to be hiding in the shadows. Typical morning in the farmlands



Bomrek looks very displeased, unhappy to accept this situation. He takes one of the swords and nibbles one of the edges. (How natural does this feel?)

(To Bomrek): Theyre cheaply made, but serviceable looking things. The thought of consuming one feels…odd? Like hunger pangs, but not quite.

Suðri Skornbrekker picks one up and smells it, licks it. He doesn’t know if he can actually smell or taste anything about the swords but he tries!

(To Suðri Skornbrekker): Its A silver-steel blend. Very unnatural.

(To Bomrek): Tasting it, Its A silver-steel blend. Very unnatural.

(To Gray): the swords smell…off to you. They stink like something poisonous. Acrid

Bomrek: “Gray, don’t touch these blades.”

Rolf stares as the dwarves literally taste-test the swords

Gud Sif

Gray frowns. “Don’t.. Humm. They smell of poison; Something wrong“

Suðri Skornbrekker backs away and puts it down.

Roderick begins to wake with all the commotion, but assumes he’s still sleeping when he sees the dwarves eating swords

Suðri Skornbrekker: “I would not eat these.”

Bomrek: “Why is that, Suðri?”

Suðri Skornbrekker: “Well, not without learning more about them. There is something strange about them,” he answers Bomrek. “I have never before seen swords made of a silver-steel alloy, in any case.”

“…or tasted, but this was the first time I have tasted any sword.”



Gray: “What are these, wizard? Where did you get these?”

Rolf: “Well…” he collects himself, stops staring “These were from the same stores as the fine food I stole the other night. A whole bundle of them tucked away. Lord Jadeite has been having them made and issued to the wizards at the academy” he continues, puzzled “Which is madness, really. Only a few of us have any sort of training with them. I barely attended any fencing tutelage myself! My father didn’t think I would need much what with my powers…” he rambles



Gray: “An interesting development. What does Jadeite plan to fight with silver?” He ask with a frown, leaning down and studying the blades without touching them. Sniffing them.

Suðri Skornbrekker turns to Syviis: “Are they enchanted with anything?”

(To Syviis): You see no obvious auras; they seem inert, magically speaking

Syviis: [Dwarven Eat Man, coming to an anime near you!]



Bomrek sits down gently on his butt, and listens to the conversation, and idly chomps at the sword’s cross-guard, meaning to consume it.

Ken (GM) bits of metal disappear from the thing as Bomrek nibbles.

Bomrek: (If I don’t experience any discomfort, I’m just going to continue eating this thing until my arm works again, or its gone, whatever comes first)

Ken (GM): the sword disappears into Bomrek over the next few moments. It proves no match for dwarven hunger

Suðri Skornbrekker looks over to Bomrek: “So these are fine? The metal seems to taste— refined, I was just a bit worried they might be infused with magic or something.”

Bomrek: “Better than eating thin air.” he says between chews.

Syviis: “Are you seriously worried about eating magic when your chest-piece is allowing you to eat metal?”

Suðri Skornbrekker looks at Syviis, a bit confused because that seems rather obvious. “Yeah.”

Syviis rolls her eyes and walks off, deciding to pick breakfast off of berry bushes

Ken (GM): [oh look! Raspberries!]

Bomrek calls over to Syviis “Find some tubers if you can, Elf!”



Bomrek: Does my arm feel less stiff after eating it? Do I need to break out the bengay?

(To Bomrek): Roll VS HT

Bomrek: rolling 3d6(3+3+4)= 10

ayy, pass

Suðri Skornbrekker shrugs, and decides to eat a sword as well, so he can fashion it into a new bardiche head. The golden one won’t last long, he fears, and it’s also a bit too… gaudy.

Ken (GM) the second sword also proves defenseless against Suthri; it is consumed with little effort

Ken (GM) Bomrek Grunts, and his arm wriggles; scales of silver jam through the clots of earth and in a flex of his arm the whole thing dramatically sheds it’s weight in a heap of gravel and dirt below the dwarf. His arm is a shimmery aegis of newly minted armor, shining silver-clean!

Bomrek: “Well, that’s better!” Bomrek says, relieved. He plants it in the earth to right himself upward, and then cleans it off with his other arm.



(To Suðri Skornbrekker): HT roll!

Suðri Skornbrekker: [9v13]

Syviis: mutters in elvish about how the tubers are already in the Dwarves skulls, but after a handful of berries, dutifully hunts for potato plant leaves as she looks around

Gray settles into the rhythm of preparing for the day’s travel, stretching and working out the aches and pains of yesterday, occasionally looking over. “Aren’t silver swords expensive? Something like four or five hundred silver marks for an alloy?”

(From Suðri Skornbrekker): Armoury (Melee Weapons)?

(To Suðri Skornbrekker): Yes!

Suðri Skornbrekker: 9v11

(To Bomrek): Gray’s got a point…Silver shouldnt be alloyed with steel. Its way too soft…it should be plated, or edged. Not blended like this…

(To Suðri Skornbrekker): Gray’s got a point…Silver shouldn’t be alloyed with steel. Its way too soft…it should be plated, or edged. Not blended like this…

(From P.P. A.): can they be separated?

(To P.P. A.): inside you?

(From P.P. A.): like I produce a steel blade and then poop out silver ingots?

Suðri Skornbrekker looks up from his sword, eaten down almost to the hilt. “I heard once that silver is effective against certain creatures, like were-wolves, is that true?”

Suðri Skornbrekker asks mostly Gray and Rolf, figuring they’d know

Bomrek nods to Suthri, “Aye, Silver hurts beastmen rather well, as I understand it.”



Ken (GM) Suðri grunts, and a halberd head is drawn from his chest like before; a scraping of metal and the thing pops out fully formed.

Following after it, another handful of metal! This time a small ‘ingot’ of silver?

Suðri Skornbrekker: “Hnngh!”

Bomrek shrugs. “It doesn’t make much sense to me, these swords. Still, I’d rather waste a good bit of coin than go without a working arm.”



Rolf seems mesmerized, watching two dwarves eating swords and magically producing armored shells and weapon blades

(From P.P. A.): I’ve been laughing almost non-stop for the last hour or so

Suðri Skornbrekker takes out the steel blade and inspects it. He looks satisfied.: “Hmm Beastmen… Do they plan to attack the refugees!?”

Bomrek: “They may do well against other beasts, for all we know. Demons, perhaps”

Gray: “Aye. Scorned and wolf blooded can’t abide the metal of the moon. The goddess is angry with us.. Though silver hurts me no more then it would hurt a human, the problem is it takes me longer to heal and burns like fire when it cuts in” He shakes his head and shoulders in a worried reflex, shivering “Anything cursed by the goddess of the moon won’t enjoy it. Some more then others. Memory, do you know anything about that?”

Memory: “The moon is a fickle being, and in ages past has cursed men to become wolves, or sunken sheep into men’s dreams so that they might dream of soft woolen beds” She regards the dwarves “There are others cursed so by the silver’s bane. Hags, witches. Trolls. They were rare in Gorgoth, but their legacies are known to me”



The Spirit Guardian, Memory

Gray nods to Memory, thoughtful at the words, looking there with a thoughtful scowl as the towering beast watching the golden blade. “Humm.. Something to think about”

Suðri Skornbrekker: “We should keep some silver with us, so we can make weapons of it if we encounter a foe who requires it.” He tosses away the hilt of the sword as though it was the gnawed-off bone at the center of a hearty chunk of meat. “Witches and trolls; who knows what we might encounter?”



Suðri Skornbrekker gets to work affixing the blade to his bardiche’s pole, removing the provisory golden one. He looks up to Rolf: “I should emphasize: any Dwarven craft you might see was forged by the able hands of skilled smiths in the sweat and heat of fiery forges. Works of art. We are…” he wriggles his hands, idly swinging the axe head ” …’improvising’ here. This is not usual.”

Bomrek stands up and stokes the fire, bringing out a cooking pan and preparing for breakfast.: “Elf, the tubers!” Bomrek calls over his shoulder.

(To Syviis): You have found some odd yam-like things.

Syviis walks back with ‘yams’

Bomrek takes the yams, feeling them over, and decides they’ll do.

Lets see if this roll fucks up.

rolling 3d6(2+4+2)= 8

Nope, perfectly fine.

Ken (GM) the Yams do not explode

P.P. A.: the yams do not jam

Joush M.: He’d better be careful. Don’t want to end up wearing yam armor

Syviis: [you am what you yam]

Bomrek lightly sears some Alligator meat, cooks some yam up with whatever grease it produces, and whips up some nice sweet sauce after pilfering the Elf’s berries. The end result is a little tough like all Dwarven food, but only just so, and very sweet and tender, with the some savory yam on the side.

Adolf: (I like to imagine it’s like rib meat that’s not-soft, but still delicious.)

(This really makes me wish I’ve had food today. I oughta go make something.)

Gray nods his thanks to Bomrek at the meal, the brute tearing it apart with sharp fangs and having little trouble with ‘tough’. Especially enjoying yams cooked in gator grease and salt.

Bomrek is most concerned over whether he’ll like it himself. He takes a few taste tests. Should I grab the cheese grater and a hunk of copper?

(To Bomrek): Delicious. You appear to still enjoy food

Suðri Skornbrekker thanks Bomrek (and the All-Father) for the meal, and digs in. He seems pretty satisfied. “Very nice.”

Rolf happily accepts the exotic food, and doesnt even balk at the dwarven toughness of it. He helps Simon eat, who takes whatever is given but remains slack faced and quiet



Bomrek also eats his meal with gusto, and whatever alcohol they still have left.

Ken (GM): [there goes the brandy]

Bomrek: “I think I’ll just keep the pistols for now, Suðri .” He says absently, over the food and the fire to him. “My musket is far too precious to abandon, and two muskets to carry around at once may be too much.”

Suðri Skornbrekker nods. “With the weight of the armour taken off of me, maybe I can strap another musket to my back. We should keep the other two safe.”

Gray had stocked them with a few gallons of hard alcohol months ago, for medical use and all. Taking stock he is surprised at how much they’ve used, especially when he taps a cask, then sets it aside to discard, empty. The big bad brute loading the cart with their supplies and extra weapons, the muskets covered with oilcoth and hung on the side of the cart in easy reach.

Bomrek pats his belly and says “Alligator meat is always a treat. Back when I hunted them, I could never quite track them right, or bait them into range where I needed… but when I got lucky, it was something worth celebrating!”

Roderick wakes fully to the smell of breakfast. The smell is pleasing, but the sight of sword hilts on the ground is disappointing. “I suppose I wasn’t dreaming, then? You were really eating swords?”

Suðri Skornbrekker: “For breakfast, even!” He holds up his shiny new bardiche.

Roderick nods at Suðri’s observation. “I should hope so, it’s far too early in the day for dinner.”

Rolf laughs at that one, slapping a knee

Suðri Skornbrekker laughs too.

Bomrek finishes the last of his food rather messily and without concern for etiquette, and gets up to dust himself off, and secure his gear.

(From Bomrek): Speaking of gear, so, this armor can’t be taken off, right? If Bomrek tries, what would he experience?

(To Bomrek): Prodding at it, as you of course have, youve found the suit is secured to you. It’s not uncomfortable at all, but it also does not come off.



Rolf: “So then , Sirs, Lady, what do we do now” Rolf wipes up a smear from Simon with his cloak tail. “Do we stride into Timberkeep, triumphant now? “

Gray: “Aye.. more or less. We return at best speed, in any case. We’ve already lost time on this errand and we are needed in the North.” He sets the cannon on the wagon, checking it again. Making sure the supplies are loaded and secured, getting things hitched up to go.

Bomrek straps his brace of pistols to his chest, securing each of the Dwarven relics gently and with care, and slings his musket onto his shoulder, ready for march.

Ken (GM) the pistols alight as Bomrek handles them; their gems glowing red at the handle and tip

Bomrek peers at them peculiarly. Did they do this last time too?

Rolf manhandles his swords away into his wizard-space, the metal clanking about

Rolf: “Just let me know if either of you need a quick bite” he chuckles to himself a bit lamely

Ken (GM): (Rolf isnt the most graceful person; he’s banging shit around in his pocket space putting them away)

Bomrek always assumed wizards would be more gentle and careful in their actions.

Rolf seems to take much more care helping Simon to the cart; he makes sure he gets a firm handhold and then fusses to make sure he’s “comfortable” as well

Gray winces at that. “You should wrap the swords in cloth at least. Letting the edges rattle like that..” He shakes his head. It’s not really his problem to solve. He nods as Simon’s loaded on the cart, then ask the others. “Ready to go?”

Bomrek stares at the two wizards as they load up, and then walks over onto the cart as well.

Suðri Skornbrekker makes sure he’s licked up the last of the food in his bowl, and nods.

Bomrek: (Also holy shit, look how fat that horse is)

(I forgot about that)

Ken (GM): lol

It’s not that fat

Bomrek eyes the horse hungrily, but distracts himself by looking over his still-new pistols.

Doc: t h i c c

Ken (GM): [So then, back to Timberkeep, post haste?]

P.P. A.: aye

Ken (GM): [MAP MAGIC]

Bomrek: (I’ma grab some food, afk for a min’. Breakfast will probably be a microwave sandwich and popcorn, woo)

Ken (GM) The road passes below you and the sky crawls above, and you travel back to Timberkeep somewhat uneventfully. The effigies on the roadway are picked at by crow and sparrow, the previously magic and sinister heaps now nothing more than carrion for the birds. Their horned king is not in this place, and there is no power here anymore. The sky gets cloudy, and the sun hides behind silver skies, but the time passes quietly, peacefully.

Syviis tries not to show it but she is incredibly happy to see nature again.



Ken (GM): [camping again at the previous spot, then heading out?]

Doc: Most likely

P.P. A.: yea

Ken (GM): rightyo

Gray thinks that seems reasonble too. Using the same camp isn’t good if they are being tracked, but it’s best for the way they are traveling

Ken (GM) The night passes with only a light drizzle of rain, but the next day threatens dark, with rumbling black clouds on the Southern skies. By midday, The Refugee camp sprawls ahead of you again, and Timberkeep sits atop it’s perch on the hill overlooking the city and the river.

Ken (GM) the thing to note as you re-enter the shanties and tents… is the lack of shanties and tents.

Syviis: concern

P.P. A.: they built gypsy mansions in their stead?

Ken (GM) Throughout the farms overtaken by the scorned people, you find homes! Shacks, but also now huts of what appears to be a kind of adobe mud, with plants hanging from the walls in trellises and heavy thatched top roofs!

Here and there are the rover caravans, but also mud-stone walls. Small partitions of earth risen up, and overgrown with wildflowers, or rows of planted things!

P.P. A.: In just a few days? Wow

Ken (GM): Its as if, in a few days, they performed weeks of work…

Gray looks around in surprise, the beast restlessly scenting the air and frowning thoughtfully at the changes.

(To Gray): Smells like homes. Much less like poop too. Somehow theyre fixing that problem. Cooking fires, people, sweat and labor. And fresh flowering plants, everywhere. Waaaay out of season though…odd

Suðri Skornbrekker: “…they did this all in just a few days?”

Gray: “Remarkable work. They’ve improved sanitation too. At least latrines. The scent is better… but the plants are wrong” He observes, walking to one and turning it “This shouldn’t be blooming this time of year.”

Suðri Skornbrekker looks worried.

Rolf: “I thought the refugees only showed up a few weeks ago?” visibly confusion marks his face

Gray: “Memory, what day is it?”

Memory: WARK “The same it has been since this morning, Gray. Two dozen days since the lighting of the green moon.”

Bomrek looks around the area with very minor disgust, either that or just strong dislike.



P.P. A.: Is there anyone nearby whom Suðri could approach?

Ken (GM): Theres not a lot of folks about, some small children, an old crone on a rocking chair. It appears there is some sort of gathering up ahead through the camp though. You can hear the commotion is closer to the city walls.

Suðri Skornbrekker decides to wait and see what the situation is like up ahead

Gray: “Silver hair” He ask the crone. “What day is it?”

Ken (GM): “A day of reckoning!” She calls back “There is to be justice today!” she shakes a fist in the air, clutching a cane of twisted wood and cackling

Gray: “Fuck” That sounds bad

Suðri Skornbrekker: “For whom?”

Ken (GM): “The men of Greyhold take a Moot! They speak with the elders, and wish to find a way to clad us in iron!” She seems quite riled up about it, stuck in her chair so. Shes old, gnarled like wood, and shes ugly. Possibly human, (and maybe a bit ogre?) “I’ll grind their bones for bread before they shackle me!” she screeches cackling

Gray: “Where?” He looks to the others. “We should be at this moot”

Ken (GM): “Hither! Go tall one! Strike fear in them for me! My feet are gnarled but you can do justice today!”

Suðri Skornbrekker: “Yea, let’s. Maybe the nobles have taken action?”

Gray goes swiftly, following the woman’s gesture and the sounds and scents of the crude brick town. Hunting for this gathering.

(To Roderick): Legally speaking, calling a moot means making laws come into effect, and deciding on the details based on public opinion. Whatever they’re deciding, you specifically should be at it



Ken (GM) the makeshift town continues as you reach the wall. Some of these new huts have a second level! But the even more remarkable thing is the crowd ahead; the masses of refugees are here, shoulder to shoulder, and they’re all shouting at once, over and with each other.

Ahead, a platform has been erected. On top are the three lordly heads of the noble guilds (whom you’ve bartered with at the estate), as well as Ulm, and several other well-dressed rovers and scorned. They seem to be heatedly speaking to each other over the din, though its impossible to understand through the crowd



Roderick: “Whatever they’re planning, we should not give them the opportunity to come to a decision in our absence.”

Ken (GM) the thing you notice, the Timberkeep nobles are holding iron collars and manacles, and the savage elders seem quite angry. A small group of armored pikemen and musketeers are doing crowd control at the base of the platform, headed by your dwarven captain! Your men!

Rolf takes control of the cart, and ambles it out of the way for you all.

Gray growls at this, watching a moment then nodding. “Rolf, stay with the cart and be careful here. Let’s work our way to the sage.” He starts forward, breaking a path though the dense crowd.

“Stand aside!” He commands! “Make room!”

Suðri Skornbrekker: “Make way,” he shouts, (making use of his seldom-relevant Penetrating Voice), as they make their way to the representatives. Suðri compensates for his diminutive height by (carefully) waving around his new bardiche

Ken (GM) the crowd parts between the shouted dwarven orders and the manhandling by Gray. Slowly you make progress forward and some of the language used becomes intelligible

“Liberty first!” alongside “Never iron!” and “Scorned first!” each ring out from the crowd in various fluctuating powers. As they part for you, the crowd cheers, jeers, and sneers, in equal measures.

Once at the stage itself, you can hear Ulm and the chancellor having it out over the whole ordeal “You cannot clad us in chains! You have no right to take us by force!” Ulm shouts, while the older man responds “These are simple tokens of law! I assure you they are necessary and will no meaningful way intrude on your day to day work!”

Gray makes his way to the platform and stands aside, allowing Roderick to climb up first. He is holding back a growl, resisting the urge to speak until he understands.

Ken (GM) the press of the crowd is angry and near-riotous, but you make it through to the wall of soldiers, and the Dwarven captain seems nearly jovial at the whole situation!

Suðri Skornbrekker lets Roderick take the stage, and instead tried to talk to the Dwarven captain over the the noise of the crowd: “Hail. What happened here in these couple of days that we’ve been away? All that we saw outside of the town must have taken weeks, at least, to build.”

The Captain: “You would not believe it if I told you! Those golden eyed ones, the horny Scorned? Those goat-heads are wizards, the lot of em! They can make the earth rise up and make buildings and shit! It’s absolutely crazy!” he speaks casually while prodding people with the butt of his pike “So the guildmasters here, they get it in their heads to put the scorned to work, I think, but the crowd ain’t for it, y’see. They wanna serf‘ the lot of em! Make ’em wear the old iron bands; pledge their sons and all that, so the Nobles will take ’em in!”

Suðri Skornbrekker ‘s eyes open wide in surprise; notwithstanding that he can nowadays eat metal and protrude weapons from his chests. He nods to the explanation of the current upheaval, though. “Both understandable positions. I trust Sir Roderick to try and find a compromise; a shame if it comes to bloodshed.”

The captain sneers at that “Yeah, a real shame” hand on his sword’s hilt “a real shame indeedy“. He continues to prod the crowd from swarming the stage, with his men.

Suðri Skornbrekker leaves this uncommented, his own expression ambiguous.

Gray climbs the platform. Between him and Ulm, the beast and scorned presence might be overwhelming and he makes himself stand back with his hands flexing slowly, restraining himself as he looks to the irons, then to Roderick. Giving the human a chance to talk and defuse things before he does anything.

Syviis stands at the ready, but keeps mostly an eye out for the magics in the crowd and air, trying to see if there is a threat or influence not of normal energy

(To Syviis): Ever been at a concert, and looked back at the crowd, and picked out the one shady looking guy? Imagine that but with the laserlight show in your eyes only

(To Syviis): The auras in the crowd are many and everywhere, roll PER +talent!

(From Syviis): Cool, target is 16

Syviis: (To GM) rolling 3d6(1+2+1)= 4

(From Syviis): YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

(To Syviis): The dice gods have smiled upon you and have indicated, with some clarity, the precise distribution of mages in the crowd

(To Syviis): the majority are simply mages, and are understandably angry. There is however, in particular, a mage out there with The Darkness tangibly in him, and you can see it on his aura. He is feeding into the crowd with some power. He’s a horned, red skinned , golden eyed mage. He has brass rings clad on his head and you won’t forget his face for quite some days…

Roderick takes a deep breath and pushes forward on his horse, making his way to the center of the platform



Ken (GM) Rod takes the stage with the others, the crowd hushes a bit at his coming, some of which cheering “Lord Rod!” out in some volume

Doc: (obviously dismounting if it looks too flimsy)

Ken (GM): [Bavieca takes no offense, it is only a stage after all]

Syviis frowns as she looks back at the crowd, then develops a sly little grin and slips away, blending in best she can

(To Syviis): He’s both powering his magic with the raw emotion on display here, and pushing hatred out into it. You can feel and see the sea of red around him

(To Syviis): shadowing at +8

[The mage, in this case also managed to fumble horribly on a distracted-to-start-with perception roll, M.O.F. was 8 -Ken]

Syviis: rolling 3d6(2+2+5)= 9

(From Syviis): beat by 9? Goddamn

Syviis moves silently through the crowd hoping to blend in to the ebb and flow of the angry mob gathering

(To Syviis): Ridonkulous, thanks to the crowd, you safely get around on him, and have a great little ambush position



Bomrek: Back, w e w. Sorry, What’d I miss?

Joush M.: Welcome back

Ken (GM): A RIOT

Joush M.: Locals found out some of the Beastmen are earth-bending mages and now they want ’em all as slaves. Gray seems to be considering just killing the smug fucker holding the chains, but he’s letting Roderick try and get the “No Decaptations” Achivement for this chapter

P.P. A.: All the serfs died in battle so now the nobles want to en-serf the Beastmen

Bomrek: A Quiet Riot?

That sounds reasonable of them. How do they plan to corral the beasts?

P.P. A.: it’s their land after all, so if the Beastmen are cultivating it now the should logically be their serfs



Ken (GM): oh balls its past 4

NEXT WEEK

P.P. A.: aw

Ken (GM): ROD TAKES THE STAGE

Bomrek: Damn

Ken (GM): AND SHIT GETS REAL

Adolf S.: That was a shitty phone call too

P.P. A.: btw, shoudl I reduce the weight of my leg armour to zero now?

Adolf S.: I have my regrets.

Oh yeah, what’s the deal with armor. You said keep what armor score we already have, and reduce weight to zero, right?

Gray: Bad call?

P.P. A.: since that’s what you told me to do for the breastplate

Ken (GM): ppa; yes! and Bomrek currently needs to zero out his arm!

Adolf S.: Not bad, just very unproductive and dumb.

Joush M.: Shit gets real! Maybe killing the fuck out of a lot of people

Ken (GM): a whole lot of people

Adolf S.: Radical

Fiss: We can only hope they’re all evil…or at least folk who talk during movies.

Joush M.: Gray’s just going to just berserk and keep killing until everything is all calm and quiet

P.P. A.: I actually have a few good arguments ready in favor of en-serf-ment already

Fiss: the worst kind of evil…

Ken (GM): not-coaster-users

Joush M.: Afterward, he will just say they were all super evil. Nobody around to disagree

Adolf S.: A good few whats in favor of enserfment? Bomrek’s opinion is that these people are on the humans land, using the human’s land, etc. Serfdom seems right from that angle alone.

P.P. A.: yeah that’s the first one

Adolf S.: Besides, what else are beastmen good for besides working at the direction of others?

Ken (GM): Ladies and Gentlemen: Dwarven Politics, with your hosts, Practical and Racist!

Adolf S.: :OOOOOO which one of us is practical, and which one of us is Racist?

I like this skit

P.P. A.: “The feudal structure is necessary because it provides for a military class who will protect the peasants so they can farm in peace.” —> “Who threatens us with enslavement if not the nobles?”

“Do you want the Elves to invade? They might destroy your houses and plant forest everywhere, or what have you!?”

“The nobles didn’t protect us from the Happening that destroyed our homeland!”

—> “Well, were you someone’s serf back then? Checkmate communists!”

Fiss: If I see Gandalf Hitler did nothing wrong painted on the walls…I swear to Elfjesus…

Joush M.: As a counterpoint, who bells the cat? Who wants to try and be the one to put chains on Gray? Because.. that person’s just dead

Joush M.: Like, he will eat their heart on the stage. Nothing practical about getting your throat ripped out then heart eaten

P.P. A.: they shouldn’t do the chain thing though, that’s humiliating

just have them sign a contract they can’t read

Joush M.: Exactly Get some of that institutional, legal racism. None of this chain shit. Make it all metaphorical and bureaucratic

Adolf S.: Trade them some beads and blankets for their indenturement.

Ken (GM): hahah

this is fucking glorious

I wanna put it verbatim on 4chan, and just gloat about you fuckers

Adolf S.: ^

Please do, it’s one of the main reasons I go to Gurps gen

Ken (GM): but you know me, I’d at least blur the names

Joush M.: Ha, sounds good

P.P. A.: go ahead

Adolf S.: screw blurin’ names, s’fine.

Doc: I hope I’m just tired and not sick

Joush M.: Hope you feel better soon man

P.P. A.: yea

Ken (GM): planning a cold?

Doc: I dunno man, my brain just isn’t working today

Ken (GM): mm, understandable. mine didnt work for any of Uni

hell, it STILL barely operates

Doc: I’ve actually been trying to make Rod do things this session

Ken (GM): oshi-

Doc: But my wheels are just spinning

Fiss: Sorry gents, I’d better run, brain is starting to get Matt Damon, might need some sleep.

P.P. A.: I had a shitty morning (slept badly, computer problems, other minor but frustrating bs) but this session lightened my mood again at the end of the day

so thanks everyone!

see ya Fiss!

Adolf S.: Yeah, good game.

Ken (GM): gg y’all

4xp each!

Ken (GM): and dorfs, zero your appendages!

P.P. A.: Done and done!