Howdy partner, welcome to Bazrael's Western Herobuilder.
But put your history books and your highschool maps away, this isn't the old frontier you studied in history class.
This is the Fantasy Western Herobuilder. Where the the Dire Bufallo play. A world of magic and super science, witches and clanker bots and all sorts of fantastical things.
And that's where you come in parnter. But just who are you?
A pilgrim making a homestead, a lawman on the hunt, a criminal, a slave, and indian?
That's a story to tell.
Fill this in
>Name:
>Race: (You can play any race in theory, but please try to keep it like a “western character”)
>Fluff: (Make this good, and your bonus will probably be good as well.)
Don't fill this this:
>Health: Good
>Money: $5
>Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy: (You earn this in game)
>Combat Skill: Skills or Equip that pertain to combat
>Misk Skill: (Skills or Equip that don't pertain to combat)
>Equipment:
>Bonus: Based on fluff
>Location: (Pick one, but think about the consequences.I will likely elaborate on the nation you find yourself in if you choose one. I may override your location request based on your fluff)
Old players welcome, and reserved. Will be capping at when I say so
Actions:
Every turn you get 2 actions, unrelated to combat. Roll 2d100.
Map:
I used to put people's colors on the map to tell where they are. And then my map editing program fucked up the colors. So just remember where you are in fluff.
Triangles are towns
Squares are forts
Little colored dots are the armies of nations
JOIN THE IRC!
http://client01.chat.mibbit.com/?channel=%23Nation&server=irc.mibbit.net
Rolled 67, 95 = 162 (2d100)
>>43948756
>Name: Tec'lo'pin
>Color: Darkish Green
>Race: Titan (Otherwise known as a giant)
>Health: Healthy
>Money: $0
>Belongings:
[Titanic Ancestor Clothing]
[Titan's Giant Macuahuitl]
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy: (You earn this in game)
>Combat Skill: Skills or Equip that pertain to combat
>Misk Skill: (Skills or Equip that don't pertain to combat)
[Bound to the Prophet]
9/10 [Power in the Blood]
>Party:
[Meztli, the Titan]
>Bonus: Titan
You are one of the rare giants in the world, reaching about 90 ft tall. You are the tallest and strongest among all the lifeforms of earth, requiring little food. You are not fast, your speed does not scale up. You become hungered easily, and it is hard to grow food at your size. No giant has been killed by starvation yet, but it is possible they go into the great sleep and have not woken up since.
>Location:
Somewhere in Injun lands.
1: A fury boiled with Tec'lo'pin, something that will only be relaxed from the blood of the Yankee soldiers. She must head forwards the metal parasite's railway, something that the successors spoke of. If she rid the white man from his rolling metal boxes, he would have trouble gaining supplies deeper inland, leaving them to suffer from the offence of the Injuns. She must do this, to fulfil what her rage demands.
2: However, before heading off, she awoken the other Titan, and tells him that since the Prophet is too far away to benefit from what is stored in the vault, it is only the feline War Priest that can unlock it. She tells him that he is to guard him and aid with what he may need in the moment, but he should lead him to the vault, to unlock it for Meztli to gain whatever laid inside for himself.
>New generation of Titans, and if Zetol doesn't show up, his choice was the Aztec's Return.
>>43948756
Name: Thorgrad "Doc" Scruffington
Fluff: The Illegitimate son of a Dwarven mage from deep in the south, Thorgrad was never a stranger to hardship. Abandoned by his parents at an early age, Thorgrad had to learn to survive on his own. When he turned 15, he left the confines of the south to head west as his father did in search of fortune and fame. What he found was bandits and bugs. The world was a harsh place, but Thorgrad learned to survive. He spent time in mexico, a mercenary for the Spaniards, helping them suppress the poor Mexicans who just wanted some freedom. After seeing a whole village put to the sword, He scavenged a pair of six shooters from a corpse on the lonesome trail and headed north, hearing tales of the riches to be made in the region of Fort McCornick.
Color: Black
Race: Dwarf
Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
Health: Slightly Injured
Money: $100
Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
Level: 0
Fame/Infamy:
Combat Skill:
Misk Skill:
+[Weak Healing]
Equipment:
+[Sword]
+[Average Revolver]
+[Booze]
+[Bullet Resistant Charm]
+[Average Steel Armor ]
+[Enchanted Luck Charms]
Location: Fort Nucky
Party:
+5 Dwarf Companions
["Pincers" the clanker scorpion]
1/10 [Weak Anti-magic charm]
White Phospherous 1/7
5/7 [Weak Clanker Tinkering]
2/5 Dwarf Hill Home
+[Large Stockpile of Weapon Parts and Explosives]
+[Control Spell]
+1 [Small Horde of Scorpions]
3/7 [Average Healing]
[100 Barrels of Ale]
[200 Boxes of assorted alcohol]
Rolled 99, 1 = 100 (2d100)
>>39870970
>>39862565
"Pincer, If you cut me lose from here, I'll get you enough metal and oil to make a million of your little offspring with. I'll do whatever your little scorpion rune-heart desires, Just get us out of here without dropping us into this fire, then help us kill these pig-fuckers"
>>43948756
POSTING FOR RANDOMPERSON
Rolled 100, 66 = 166 (2d100)
>>39827286
>Name:Urist Irongear
>Color: Blue
>Race: Dwarf
>Fluff: A former clockwork mage in charge of fixing the magic engines and clockwork devices of the CSA military. He was kicked out when one of his inventions exploded. He decided to move west and apply his craft for the good of everyone for once, and maybe set up a good old Dwarven fortress/town.
>Health: Healthy
>Money: $5
>Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy: (You earn this in game)
>Combat Skill: Skills or Equip that pertain to combat
>Misk Skill: +[Control Spell]
>Equipment: 13 scraps, [Amazing Diviner Rod]
>Land: Iron mine
>Clankers: 9 mining clanker, 1 Stabby Clanker + [Weak Murderous Upgrade], 1 [Clanker Forge], [ADVANCED AUTOMATED CLOCKWORK ASSEMBLY] (settings: >Enhanced Clockworkman 1 per one turn
>Clockwork Spider 1 per three turns
>Clockwork Juggernaut Tank 1 per 5 turns
>Clockwork Flyer 1 Per 5 Turns)
(2) 5 Enhanced Clockworkman, 1 [Small Horde of Scorpions]
>Bonus: Dwarven Craft - You are rare clanker mage, capable of understanding and creating Engine Hearts for pseudo sentient clankers, a very prized skill. Mechanics and small amounts of magic are easier for you.
>Location: Fort Nucky
1&2. Forget it! Forget trying to decipher these moon runes! I still got my tools on me and this thing works fine. I can turn this into a self working clanker! Scribe a few runes by this command area and that should do it. Now I hope i can do this fast enough.
>>43948756
Filter your quests faggot.
I hate seeing these dumb anime quests every goddamn day.
Reported, saged, hidden. Just like Father Williams said to do.
1.2. I lob one of the meatpies at Hooper, and more specifically at his eyes. Then I use my Amazing Sniper Rifle and take aim. Then I shoot.
[Gunslinger +9].
http://pastebin.com/UwtsLMmK
Rolled 73, 49 = 122 (2d100)
>>43948883
dice
>Name: Wosey Jales
>Color: Dark Grey
>Race: Human
>Fluff: Wosey had only ever wanted to be a farmer. But when Union thugs calling themselves 'guerrillas' torched his home and killed his wife, leaving him with a bad scar and worse loss, he picked up his revolver and swore vengeance. The CSA was a fine home for his anger, and he joined in with a band of Confederate fighters to get back at them redlegged bastards up north. Quick with a gun but slow to speak his mind, Wosey picked up the habit of chewing and spitting tobacco. One of these days, he'll get them back for what they done, even if he has to fight them himself. Will he cause plenty of damage along the way? He reckons so.
>Health: Healthy
>Money: $0
>Belongings:
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy:
>Combat Skill:
>Misc Skill:
>Equipment: [Average Horse], [Good Compressed Air Pistol], [Average Compressed Air Pistol]
Bonus: [Something of a gunslinger!]
[A True Cowboy]
>Location: The South, near Oklahoma
Nothin' beats a good horse to carry you 'round, and I ain't some damn zookeeper. They can keep their mutants, I'll stick to good old equine reliability.
As fer a gun, I'd rather not take these flesh-grown 'firearms', but I'll take what I ken get. At least it'll be quieter. Two guns is better than one, I reckon.
1/2 - I got my weapons, I got my horse, now I just need a posse. Find out who's in charge round here, see if I can't get a few good horsemen and riflemen to go out a-raidin' with me. Even if the horses ain't horses, and the rifles ain't rifles.
>Rolled 63, 82 = 145 (2d100)
Rolled 71, 32 = 103 (2d100)
>>43948756
>>39794794
>>39794898
>>39794954
I wasn't fucking first in line last game or anything.
>Name: Corey "Singer" Williams
>Color: Black
>Race: Human
>Fluff: Corey's Grandpa was a preacher, his Pa was a preacher, and he's a preacher as well - or he was, anyway. Ordained and educated, Williams spent his life tending to a small but faithful flock in a small town of the CSA, and his voice against injustices grew louder as he got gray. One day, he spoke a bit too loud and proud, and some of his faithful staged a little coup of their very own. In three days, nearly the whole town was in a grave. With enough faithful to count on one hand, Williams has picked up an old rifle and left town, vowing to make good on the words that got good folks killed, and right what's wrong down south at the tip of a barrel. Corey quickly picked up the nickname 'Singer' for the church hymns he constantly hums.
>Health: [Healthy]
>Money: $5
>Belongings: Preacher's Robe, Rucksack
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy:
>Combat Skill: [Good Accuracy]
>Misc Skill: [Synergy: Emily the Crazy]
>Equipment: [Good Rifle inscribed with John 14:6]
>Followers: [Emily, Cured Crazy], [+3 Friendly Rebel Soldier Prisoners], [Slave Town Garrison]
>Bonus: [Praise the Lord, and Pass the Ammunition] Increased combat skill, especially against certain evils and persons.
>Location: Danielsville
(No time to type up a full, massive response right now, I'll continue talking with the soldiers later.)
1/2: No. The Union might free slaves but that's just about the only good thing about that damnable place. They took away slavery of some people for slavery of everyone, and they sure as hell ain't liberators. I don't know about y'all, but I'm not gonna support any Union invasion. In any case, I think it's just about time for us to move out. We're armed, ready and full of spirit, so I think it's time to draw some attention and free some slaves!
Fill this in
>Name: Grimsbly Stanford
>Race: Human
>Fluff: Once a practicing medical doctor, and addiction to drinking and gambling led to Grimsbly owing money to the wrong people, and needing to skip town.
He now makes his living (and funds his addictions) as an amateur surgeon, most often to people who don't want to be asked questions about how that bullethole got there
>Health: Good
>Money: $5
>Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy: (You earn this in game)
>Combat Skill: Skills or Equip that pertain to combat
>Misk Skill: (Skills or Equip that don't pertain to combat)
>Equipment:
>Bonus: Based on fluff
>Location: ( Any small town would be appreciated)
Writing
Rolled 21, 55 = 76 (2d100)
>Name:Andrew Johnson
>>>Color:Brown
>>>Race:Human
>>>Fluff:tldr
>>>Health: slightly Injured
>>>Money: 475
>>>Level: 1
>>>>>Fame/Infamy: Custer's Survivor
>>>>Combat Skill: Officer Pistol Training +3, Weak Accuracy
>>>>>Misc Skill:
>>>>>Equipment:Flashy Officers Low-Caliber Range Revolver, Officer's Rifle, Union Shotgun, 1st Aid Kit, Canteen of Water, Bag of Hardtrack, Union knife, Indian Charm, Honorable Discharge Papers, Cheap Clanker Truck, Union Soldiers Outfit, Fine Clothes
>>>>>Party :Alicia the Centaur Indian [Deathly Loyal], George Buster Johnson [Centaur Son], Cam Rose Johnson [Human Daughter], Calfuray Diane Johnson [Human Daughter], Indian Inlaws
>>>bonus:Runs with centaurs, Brawler Reputaitom, Secluded Cave with Water, With your Officer riding skills and Alici's expertise in such equestrian matters, you find a great job training riding horses.
>>>Location: Great Plains]
>+[Blessing of the Horse Spirit]
1-2: "Kids why don't I tell you about the horse and the wolf?
Once upon a time two of warring packs of animals fought each other. On one side there were the horses who were very wise and plentiful, but if you got to close they'd kick you in the head. On the other side were the wolves, while they snarled and growled like monsters they held a sense of honor.
Our story begin when a young wolf was put into battle against a group of horses, his pack was outnumbered and he was left wounded and very injured. As he laid their a young horse found him and brought him back to her camp. She cleaned his wounds and made sure he'd be okay. The wolf always wondered why the horse was so kind to him, but whenever the horse asked she would only shrug it off. After a couple weeks the wolf was all healed and would have been able to go back to his people, but he decided to stay with the horse and her tribe. The two lived together for many years, over coming many different hardships, but in the end they lived happily ever after."
Name: Adam Evening [AKA: "of the Evening"]
Race: Human
Fluff: Adam Evening has no history. There are some who say that he is dead, or that he will always be alive. Adam known for his viciousness, callousness, and brutality. He derives glee from the slaughter and chaos in the world; he finds war and combat to be reflective of values most high. He is both a cynical nihilist and a creature of violence, but is a perfect fit for a violent age; he is no Christian man.
Rumors are that Adam was an officer during the civil war, but grew annoyed after charges were levied against him for establishing a bordello for his men where he entertained his own amusements with captured Confederate women. Normally this would have been overlooked given his excellent combat record – he had a chest full of medals and commendations -- but one of the women found chained in the back of the bordello was the underage daughter of a ranking Union official that Adam had kidnapped. Growing bored of her, he had simply left her in the back room to engage in some drunken brawling; a partially cracked door provided enough impetus for a disloyal few soldiers to investigate, and Adam's entire operation was blown wide open. That being the case, Adam fled with a small retinue of cronies -- his best men -- to earn whatever money men with no conscience and viciousness of heart can in the vast waste of California or beyond.
Adam himself is a menacing figure. He wears a red bandana as a mask, all of his medals from the war, as well as several dried ears from Confederate (and Union) soldiers as a necklace. “They say that I am the criminal now, but the only thing I am guilty of is having fun in a world of evil. It is god's only truth is what we feel, and I feel things that I must express in action; small minds and weak hearts will never understand. Only god and the devil will, and all men of flesh are only here to help me express myself to those powers.”
>>43948848
>>43948848
[Tec'lo'pin]
>>Previously
You are Tec'lo'pin, a revived giant and titan from the age of the ancient aztec empire, now serving in the defense of their descendants the Indians of these lands.
And on this day you have found a great many things. You found an ancient temple to the almighty Aztec Empire, who ruled like gods until their cataclysmic defeat at the hands of the same bug menace that now plagues the Indian lands.
You found Meztli, the Titan, an ancient being much like yourself strong and mighty, who spoke the old language like you.
And you found Zetol, the indian war priest who sought to bring about the return of the Aztec Empire. Together, you slew a small Union army, and have taken prisoners and spilled their blood on the ancient sacrifice grounds.
Now upon this time the time of the aligning of stars and planets, the time has come.
You and the War Priest have chosen the following blessings:
>Return of the Titans
>Aztec Return
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43949375
>>43948848
>>now
The ground rumbles, the earth groans, and Tec'lo'pin and Meztli are knocked onto their feet.
From beneath the earth, enourmous pyramids burst through the soil and rise into the heavens, their steps and walls shimmer with bright glowing runes and markings. The steps are slick with the blood of sacrifices, that glow a deep red shimmer as they coalulate. Before your eyes you see veins, bones, muscle begin to reform until at last the true revelation.
An Aztec Army reborn. Not any mere construct of living stone or magical creation but true flesh and blood warriors, wielding their glowing spears of light, breathing the air of life anew.
And the hills! The hills are breaking! Out of the mounds and mountains breaks forth new Titans from their long awaited slumber, their bodies were hidden well.
The Titans rise again!
Tec'lo'pin and Zetol feel the magic coursing through them. But something happens to the small war priest.
Zetol is weary, his body is weak. The great magic has drained much from him, and he will need to rest. Maybe for a long time. This wasn't supposed to happen. Before he goes into a great slumber from which only few can guess when he will wake, he says one thing, almost in a voice not his own:
“Follow the Titaness. . .and seek out the true Leader of the Descendants. . .”
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43948858
[Thorgrad]
You are Thorgrad the Dwarf, and with your newfound companion Urist Irongear you seek to bring about a new age for the western Independant territories. Not Union, Not Confederates, Not Russians, Not Bandits, none of those would be conquerers or rapists would take their hold on this land. The both of you have deemed that Dwarves will rule themselves here!
Together you have established yourself in a scrap yard, building up fantastical clockwork creations and devices that rival even the mighty Union, hoping to build up an army for whatever purpose you serve.
And you, Thorgrad, were going about fulfilling that quest. In recent days, the Independant territories has come under siege from the Bandit warbands, staging a massive Coup, hoping to establish themselves as self-titled leaders and dictators of the so called “Republic of Californica” and create ties with the Confederates to cement their evil rule. These mass slavers, rapists, and thieves now swarm over the western lands perpetuating their iron fisted rule.
And you sought about to end it. It was when you came upon a slave caravan and a bandit warband that you decided to act.
And act you did. . .much to the detriment of those poor slaves. In your judgement, you thought to have your tiny clockwork scorpion minions do two things:
Release the Bandit Crazies from their chains
and
Release the Enslaved Monsters from their cages
Which resulted in the general massacre of the slaves and a considerable amount of bandits, who with their skill in this sort of carnage ended up restraining the crazies, recapturing the monsters and, a third thing. . .
oh right.
Capture you.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43949627
>>43949627
You now find yourself tied up and roped up, evidently, after the amount of damage you caused to their “cargo”, they plan to kill you cook you and eat you. Or was it eat you, cook you, then kill you? You forget which.
All you know right now is that you are staring at“Pincers” your first and brightest scorpion clanker robot, who not very long ago thanks to somecrit shenanigansnot only became intelligent but learned the art of reproduction, producing a veritable army of self replicating scorpion bots that eat metal to make more scorpions (much thanks to the creation of a mate for him “Princess”)
You and Urist had to subdue them and put them under a runic spell to stop this. And right now, it seems Pincers is the only thing that will free you from what will surely be a the unpleasant dinner you've ever had.
The scorpion tilt's it's head and stares at you quietly while you shower it with promises and pleads to free you. However, there seems to be no way to actually do this. There are far too many bandits everywhere, and even were the scorpion to cut the bonds, Pincer's realizes you would just be caught again.
Still you ask your pet to do something, anything.
Rolled 99, 1 = 100 (2d100)
>1
>100
And, well, Pincers DOES decide to do something. He summons his hundreds of little children that swarm and surround you. Thorgrad thinks they are going to free him and is relieved.
That's when the first one stings. And then the second.
Relief instantly turns to terror and panic as the poor dwarf can only writhe in his bonds and scream at the top of his voice, which is quickly muffled by the entrance of thousands of little metal scorpions. Soon all that can be heard and seen is a giant squirming pile of metal scorpions and blood streaming between them.
A terrible fate has befallen the poor dwarf, as his desire to not be eaten alive seems to have backfired horribly!
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43949722
Somewhere, in a little house in a scrap yard, a river of tiny mechanical scorpions crawls under the door frame.
They all gather around a large machine, a Clockwork Forge, a device of magic and science created by Urist where new parts and pieces are constructed.
There is a moment of silence, before all of them turning to their leader, Pincers, whom they part way for.
Pincers walks it, clearly the head of this operation, and on his back rests a curious object. A red heart, fleshy and severed from its body.
A still beating and pumping heart. There is a powerful magic being enacted upon it by the combined living scorpions, their individual magical runes enacting upon the still remains of their former master.
They have allowed their master to escape. Now, now they have to rebuild him. They can rebuild him. They have the technology. They can make him better than he was. Better, stronger, faster.
The Scorpions switch on the machine, and get to work.
---
Thorgrad awakes, wondering if this is heaven or hell, as he cannot feel his body. All he can hear is a strange thumping noise. The Dwarf tries to get up, and as he does an unearthly whirring and groaning noise follows him. He panics as he realizes he can't breath, before also realizing he doesn't feel the need to.
That's when he freezes, and looks down upon his body.
His /new/ body.
Add:
Bonus: Clankerborg – You are a robot. The result of a series of unfortunate events. The only living part of you is your heart, which contains your soul. Protect this at all cost.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43948880
You are Urist Irongear, Genius (see Amatuer) Dwarven inventor with a knack for all things mechanical and machine, and with your friend Throrgrad you set about making your own little machine army to fullfil your political goal of establishing a dwarven nation in California.
Right now that's not important, what is important is that you somehow ended up in a cavern deep beneath the earth, and into a strange machine. This thing. . .is not like any machine you have ever seen. It shows no resemblance to any clockwork device, and as far as you can tell it's intensely magical and intelligent.
It, in a voice that spoke to you as you entered the device at sat down at what seems to be a control seat, calls itself a 'Prototype Mobile Mecha-hospitable unit 'The Turtle'' whatever the hell that means.
You could tell more about the machine if there wasn't something even more pressing at hand. Just outside the machine past the window is a GIGANTIC LAVA BEETLE. A monstrosity of a bygone age, as the cavern you are in begins to flood with magma and lava, as its spawn also begin to fill the room
With all your efforts you tried to get the strange machine to work, pulling levers, poking at the strange glow button things, and begging the machine to respond. . .
>CON'T DON'T POST
Rolled 10, 11 = 21 (2d100)
>>43950242
Rolled 100, 66 = 166 (2d100)
And after much effort, nothing happens!
Frustrated and angered you pull out your Diviner Rod and use it as a makeshift wand, and inscribe a rune of control on the control mechanism of the machine.
And it responds!
“Alternate console control. . .accepted! Detecting interface. . .Verbal. Please state a command”
>Gain:
Futuristic Mecha:
Prototype mobile hospitable unit 'The Turtle'
The Turtle is a prototype unit made to act as a mobile self sustaining town and resource collection.
>Heat Counter: [Hot]
>Weapons: +[Artillery Cannon (Right Shoulder)]
>Abilities: +[Turtle Down] The Turtle bunkers down into an impregnable fortress for one turn, having no damage be dealt upon it. Cool DownD: 3
+[Transform] The Turtle shifts into its village form.
+[Quadrupedal] Bonuses depend on environment.
>Defects:[Very Large Frame] -25 to maneuvering rolls.
>Fighting Style: +[Very Defensive] +defensive/retaliation -to offense/engaging enemies
Rolling for GIANT BETTLE ATTACKING YOU
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43948883
[Ssen Jadewalker]
You are Ssen Jadewalker, a young Lamia girl, having recently lost your father you set upon a quest to make something better of yourself. A hero you'd like to think, and for the most part that you have been.
You've accomplished some great feats, freeing your friends Brakbul and Airwrecka, young Ork children from the clutches of an evil Lizardman Bandit Slaver known only as “Big Bad Barney”, whom you killed and dispersed his group of bandits, ending one of several child slaver camps on your hit list.
Now you find yourself in what is perhaps the biggest and most twisted slaver camp of all. An entire city! Built in the middle of a mountain range and isolated from the world, this. . .”Sesame City” is a huge complex built soley for the subjugation, indoctrination, brainwashing, and subjugation of masses of kidnapped children by wicked Bandits using black science and magic, using mind control devices, molding them into the perfect subserviant child slaves to fit the purpose of any buyer around the world. Sold as 'orphans' to be adopted oblivious Union city folk, or to the South where children of color or abhumans to become the next generation of slave, or for much darker purposes to those who would exploit them. . .and for some well paying monsters, eat them.
No more. You are putting an end to this madness once and for all! And you have new allies, as a hidden resistance movement lurks within the city, waiting for you to open the door to strike and free the other children.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43950601
In your way however, is the gun store of a bandit named Cooper whom is spraying you down with a wide assortment of bandit guns as you take cover. You were just able to distract him with, what can only be described as a pilfered meat pie thrown and onto his face, the man angry at the sudden mess of meat and pastry has distracted him long enough for you to quickly leap out of cover and with one well paced bullet end him.
Now you find yourself alone and in a store full of guns, no doubt an alarm having been raised. But you are so close to your goals.
Cooper's store was the last stop in between two important target's of opportunity for you. There is of course “The Nest” where in lies Boss Big Bird, yet another monstrous bandit lord. Kill him and you cut the head of this gigantic operation, the chaos may be enough to give your allies a chance. There is also “The Count's Castle” in another direction, where in lies both the control mechanism to the slave children's helmets, as well as your recent nemesis the Vampire bandit who survived your previous attempt on his life after he tried to enslave you.
The choice is yours where to go from here, oh, and feel free to take a selection of any of Cooper's fine guns. The store owner doesn't seem to mind anymore.
Available:
>Bandit Chaingun
>Bandit Flameshot
>Bandit Hand Cannon
>Bandit Saw Launcher
>Other? Use your imagination and roll for it!
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43948901
[Wosey Jales]
You are Wosey Jales, a man with a grudge against the north and all it stands for, having been wronged by them.
And being the patriotic sort of gentlemen you have decided to stand by your country, the Confederate States of America. Standing in the name of state rights and independence, the various southern states have banded together, uniting themselves under the common banner of Darwinian industry, freedom from tyranny, and state sovereignty. Against them stands the industrial Clanker Union, hoping to crush the fledgling nation under an iron heel.
You have opted to become a Confederate Rangers. Acting as scouts and skirmishers, you keep an eye on the front, the rear, and everything in between, watching for enemy movements or when need be delivering justice.
You look around for a suitable posse, and find several options available to you [PICK 4]
-Wizard
-Witch
-Sniper
-Cavalryman
-Indian Ally
-Darwinian Beast Tamer
-Lawman
-Mercenary
>CON'T DON'T POST
>Name: Garret Ashcroft
>Race: Werewolf
>Fluff: Born to extremely minor nobility (Namely an Earl who's territory encompassed only a few villages) Garret was the second son and in line to inherit next to nothing of his father's wealth and instead was sent off to the military colleges for most of his youth and spent his time home mostly in his Fathers forests hunting. Things were looking up as he was almost ready to join in an officer opinion until one dark and stormy night.
It was too dark to see but he suspects the hole that broke his horses leg was manmade but that thought was the last thing on his mind as the howling started. It was like the whole forest silenced itself except for the running of a boy not yet a man through the underbrush and the screaming of his horse until it was promptly cut off. He ran for what seemed like hours no idea where he was going except away from whatever killed his horse. That lasted for a while as he convinced himself the thing was satisfied with just his mount but those hopes were dashed when a flash of silver and gray fur passed in his peripheral vision and then everything went black as the impact knocked him unconcious, He'd wake up the next day thankful for his good luck and wondering about the scar across his back until the next full moon and the change came upon him. Thankfully noone important was hurt before trapping him in the cellar but once sun rose his family gave him two options, Die with dignity and we claim it was a hunting accident or lose the family name and move to the new world where you can't bring shame upon us.
Knowing that even the cities of the new world were no place for him to survive Garret made his way out into the Wild West as a Bounty Hunter.
Don't fill this this:
>Health: Good
>Money: $5
>Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy: (You earn this in game)
>Combat Skill: Skills or Equip that pertain to combat
>Misk Skill: (Skills or Equip that don't pertain to combat)
>Equipment:
>>43948901
[Corey Williams]
'Father' Williams, at least, that's what they used to call you when you used to be ordained. Now most folk call you Corey.
After your town was brutally slaughtered by bandits you renounced your role as a priest, but not your faith, deciding that in order to save people you have to actually save people, and this may entail taking up the sword or dying by it, something you could not do as priest. Vowing to rid what you saw as a south corrupted by the vices of slavery, infested with lawlessness, and worse, under attack from a godless Union you seek to bring about change to the South.
Your goals to simultaneously end slavery in the south, while preserving its independence in the north does however bring many questions and conflicts, especially in terms of how you plan to do this. But you do have your faith, and your determination to see your goals come true, and will stop at nothing to do this.
And so far, you have done well. You saved an entire town from a repeat of the bandit massacre, rescued a bandit psycho woman whom you named “Emily” and are trying your best to bring rationality and sanity too, and right now just lead a successful raid by free'd slaves on a shipment of armaments.
You find yourself in a massive underground slave refuge, alongside a massive tunnel project to canada known only as “The Underground Railroad” where the slaves are hoping to dig their way to freedom. Recently, you were in a debate about just where the movement should go. Questions were raised, do we try to help weaken the Confederacy to let the Union come and liberate the slaves? No you say, for they are just as bad a master.
Then what now? They ask.
To you, you have chosen only one option: resistance.
To free yet more slaves, and liberate the Confederacy from within.. How you plan to do this remains to be seen, but with your skill at speechcraft and your history with you have an army of armed freemen.
What are your orders?
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43948901
>>43948931
*mislink
>>43948968
Bonus:
[Dammit Jim I'm a doctor!] - What it says on the tin, you can an affinity and bonus towards all things medical, medicinal, and even slight science and biology
You start off around a small town near the west coast, a bit in between the Spanish Territories and the newly formed Californica.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43949103
>>43949103
[Andrew Johnson]
Oh the things that can be said about you. A Union Cavalry officer left to die on a battlefield where you not saved by Alicia, an indian Centaur, now your wife and the mother of three of your children.
The adventure's you've had together are more than you're able to properly tell. From rescuing her from a bandit sorcerer, reconciling your status as a deserter in the Union army, participating in Colonel Buster's disastrous last stand and witnessing the Bug Uprising first hand, even after you were honorably discharged you headed west through Indian Territory where your wife nearly died from a spider bite, only to be saved by Elven Indians. Tradegy continued to trail you as their great Tree was torn asunder by a massive godlike spider, that you only barely escaped.
Finally, at long last, you arrived at Alicia's tribal village, where, as it turns out, she was the daughter of a Chieftan. Your marriage, though legitimate, was not complete until you passed the Indian rites of passage, which despite being a foreigner, you did prevailed yet again, gaining the blessings of an ancient spirit.
Now a new challenge faces you. Alicia's father handed control of the village to you, no doubt in the face of the nearby Union railroad who'se soldiers are now occupying it, having you act as both Chieftan and Ambassador would spare his tribe (now your tribe) much suffering.
At least, that is what you hope.
For now things seem peaceful, the Union builds its railroad, and you grow accustomed to being the father of your family and now a clan.
A clan of several hundred.
---
And Right Now, Alexander is telling a story to a group of children. It is a tale he is very familiar with. And the Children listen intently. You can expect at least a few of them are bright enough to draw inferences.
The children will go home and in turn, people will start to trust you more.
So far, so good.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43949327
[Adam Evening]
Bonus: Inspiring Leader - Your dedication to your belief that life exists for the thrill of it, letting neither morals nor law get in the way of you, and your assortment of trophies and medals makes you an intimidating bandit figure indeed. You gain bonuses to leading, intimidating, or interacting with bandits and intimidation in general.
You are a man for whom the ends don't justify the means, the ends ARE the means. You live life to it's fullest, taking anything and everything you see fit, and letting no one and nothing stand in your way. Evading those who would deem you a criminal and a villain, you have taken a small posse of loyal followers and decide to make your stake in this world, and carve out a piece of it somewhere.
Someone has to.
You stand on a mountain top near the expansive Rockies, before you lies the whole world, the Union to the north, the Confederate to the south, Spanish Meixco to the Southeast and Californica to the west.
Supposedly you hear from your fellow bandits that there's a "big party" going on in the west for all bandits, and that something big is happening there.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43948756
>Name: Amelia 'Rider' Dixie
>Color: Pink (or whatever is available)
>Race: Human
>Fluff: A young Texas witch, Amelia was raised on cattle drives before her magical gifts were discovered by a group of Texas Rangers passing by. 'Recruited' to the Rangers, she received training and helped bring justice to a number of Spanish bandits that plagued the territory before the Confederate States of America sought to bolster their own forces at the expense of the Rangers. The independent spirit of the young witch has chaffed at her superiors and her tendency to borrow horses to sneak away for rides has resulted in quite a few soldiers 'gifting' her a lecherous nickname. The scum.
>Health: Healthy
>Money: $0
>Belongings: Clothing
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy:
>Combat Skill:
>Misc Skill: [Pockets of Holding]
>Equipment:[Average Wand] [Average CSA Uniform] [Strange Rifle from your Pocket]
>Bonus:[Witch] - You have a strong aptitude and knowledge of magic and the magical arts
>Location: Barren Mounds
>post from last time http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/thread/39793950/#q39868632
BRB
The game is still on, sorry for the major delay I am trying to account for a lot of stuff behind the scenes.
Looks like it's that time again
>>43951087
[Garret Ashcroft]
Bonus: Wolf-Man - A lycanthrope is what you are, and you find you are stronger, keener than the average human in the day. A night at will, you have the power to transform into your beastly self. However, during the full moon, this effect is permanent until the dawn.
Lycanthropes are no fairy tale, but they are extremely rare and for this reason heavily scrutinized and often ostracized among the human populace, though less so among non-humans and Indians. People tend to not trust you, but you are still prized as a naturally gifted fighter and you hope to put this to use as a bounty hunter.
Right now however, you find yourself at a crossroads. Where do you wish to take your chances at? Do you board a train into the union west, or sneak your way across the border into the confederate south? Or head somewhere even further?
>CON'T DON'T POST
Rolled 80, 42 = 122 (2d100)
>>43951965
You are a witch, having been trained from a young age to harness your powers for your country. Joining up with a group of Texas rangers, you've had some. . .interesting magical accidents, the most prominent of which is incidental dissipation of clothing.
Nevertheless now you truly find yourself truly on the battlefield, following your captain and contingent of Confederate Rangers deep into the Barren Mounds, where the Confederacy is trying to make a push to link up with Indian. All around you the noise and sounds of battle as the roars of Darwinian beasts charing Union War machines can be heard, metal and flesh being torn asunder admits bullets and cannon fire.
You yourself trail your group of rangers, and right now you're doing your best to see how you can be useful. Maybe you can capture an enemy officer, or even take down an enemy witch.
Using your wand you try to find one! However, an ear piercing shriek pains you and almost makes you drop your wand, and you turn to see where that sound is coming from.
Up in the sky you see where the siren noise comes from. An older woman in a blue uniform sitting atop a flying broom, staring down at you with a staff pointed.
"Hello my pretty, and prepare to die!"
You only have enough time to recognize the magic missile headed your way and hear your captain yell. "TAKE COVER!"
"RIDER TAKE OUT THAT WITCH!"
>roll for combat!
---
>POST POST POST
>>43951520
*Andrew
Rolled 16, 6 = 22 (2d100)
>>43949627
>>43949722
>>43949910
Name: Thorgrad "Doc" Scruffington
Fluff: The Illegitimate son of a Dwarven mage from deep in the south, Thorgrad was never a stranger to hardship. Abandoned by his parents at an early age, Thorgrad had to learn to survive on his own. When he turned 15, he left the confines of the south to head west as his father did in search of fortune and fame. What he found was bandits and bugs. The world was a harsh place, but Thorgrad learned to survive. He spent time in mexico, a mercenary for the Spaniards, helping them suppress the poor Mexicans who just wanted some freedom. After seeing a whole village put to the sword, He scavenged a pair of six shooters from a corpse on the lonesome trail and headed north, hearing tales of the riches to be made in the region of Fort McCornick.
Color: Black
Race: Dwarf
Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
Health: Healthy
Money: $100
Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
Level: 0
Fame/Infamy:
Combat Skill:
Misk Skill:
+[Weak Healing]
Equipment:
+[Sword]
+[Average Revolver]
+[Booze]
+[Bullet Resistant Charm]
+[Average Steel Armor ]
+[Enchanted Luck Charms]
Location: Fort Nucky
Party:
+5 Dwarf Companions
["Pincers" the clanker scorpion]
1/10 [Weak Anti-magic charm]
White Phospherous 1/7
5/7 [Weak Clanker Tinkering]
2/5 Dwarf Hill Home
+[Large Stockpile of Weapon Parts and Explosives]
+[Control Spell]
+1 [Small Horde of Scorpions]
3/7 [Average Healing]
[100 Barrels of Ale]
[200 Boxes of assorted alcohol]
Bonus: Clankerborg – You are a robot. The result of a series of unfortunate events. The only living part of you is your heart, which contains your soul. Protect this at all cost.
1/2. After several minutes of screaming, Thorgrad accepts his fate and goes off to see what Urist is up too, deciding to figure out what the hell to do once his friend discovers the new him.
Rolled 81, 58 = 139 (2d100)
Name: Adam Evening [AKA: "of the Evening"]
Race: Human
Fluff: Adam Evening has no history. There are some who say that he is dead, or that he will always be alive. Adam known for his viciousness, callousness, and brutality. He derives glee from the slaughter and chaos in the world; he finds war and combat to be reflective of values most high. He is both a cynical nihilist and a creature of violence, but is a perfect fit for a violent age; he is no Christian man. “They say that I am the criminal now, but the only thing I am guilty of is having fun in a world of evil. It is god's only truth is what we feel, and I feel things that I must express in action; small minds and weak hearts will never understand. Only god and the devil will, and all men of flesh are only here to help me express myself to those powers.”
Health: Good
Money: $5
Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
Level: 0
Fame/Infamy:
Combat Skill:
Misc Skill:
Equipment:
Bonus: Inspiring Leader - Your dedication to your belief that life exists for the thrill of it, letting neither morals nor law get in the way of you, and your assortment of trophies and medals makes you an intimidating bandit figure indeed. You gain bonuses to leading, intimidating, or interacting with bandits and intimidation in general.
Location: [near the expansive Rockies]
[Actions]
1.2. Adam heads west with his small group to California. Something is afoot in state, and he wants to see what the westernmost regions have to offer. Along the way he keeps an eye out for easy bits of fun -- wagons and travelers are easy meat.
Rolled 98, 76 = 174 (2d100)
>>43950824
>Name: Wosey Jales
>Color: Dark Grey
>Race: Human
>Fluff: Wosey had only ever wanted to be a farmer. But when Union thugs calling themselves 'guerrillas' torched his home and killed his wife, leaving him with a bad scar and worse loss, he picked up his revolver and swore vengeance. The CSA was a fine home for his anger, and he joined in with a band of Confederate fighters to get back at them redlegged bastards up north. Quick with a gun but slow to speak his mind, Wosey picked up the habit of chewing and spitting tobacco. One of these days, he'll get them back for what they done, even if he has to fight them himself. Will he cause plenty of damage along the way? He reckons so.
>Health: Healthy
>Money: $0
>Belongings:
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy:
>Combat Skill:
>Misc Skill:
>Equipment: [Average Horse], [Good Compressed Air Pistol], [Average Compressed Air Pistol]
Bonus: [Something of a gunslinger!]
[A True Cowboy]
>Location: The South, near Oklahoma
>Companions:
Witch
Indian Ally
Sniper
Cavalryman
A horseman is a definite, need someone who's as capable on four legs as two. Course, I reckon we'll be needin a Red to help as well, seeing as we're headed for Injun territory. They oughter be able to help navigatin. A witch'll be nice too, even if I don't prefer the idea of broads servin in the milit'ry. Take what I can get, I reckon. Lastly, guess a sniper'll do a lot to keep the reds and the redlegs off our tails. And if nothing else, a second steady hand wit a gun'll go a long way. Sixty yards or so, I reckon.
1/2 - With that bein' done, suppose we'd best be on our way. Have off then, once we're all good an' ready. Head on up north, t'wards Fort Kentucky. Seems like the best way to get into the action, maybe get a few'a them bandit scoundrels on the way.
Rolled 25, 42 = 67 (2d100)
>Bandit Flameshot
A little fire goes a long way.
>Preparations : Discuss with the Tunnel Snakes
When the children become freed they will still be young and vulnerable to the predation of the monsters around them. However with the aid the Tunnel Snakes we can change that. Depositing the bulk of Cooper's weapons around the city and then passing them out to the freed children once I have shut down that control device we will form an army against these monsters.
>Go where
The Count. I will have to go mostly alone, but I'm good at that.
1. Go to the Count's castle
2. Train my stealth while I travel. I'll need it.
Rolled 39, 87 = 126 (2d100)
>>43951150
>Name: Corey "Singer" Williams
>Color: Black
>Race: Human
>Fluff: Corey's Grandpa was a preacher, his Pa was a preacher, and he's a preacher as well - or he was, anyway. Ordained and educated, Williams spent his life tending to a small but faithful flock in a small town of the CSA, and his voice against injustices grew louder as he got gray. One day, he spoke a bit too loud and proud, and some of his faithful staged a little coup of their very own. In three days, nearly the whole town was in a grave. With enough faithful to count on one hand, Williams has picked up an old rifle and left town, vowing to make good on the words that got good folks killed, and right what's wrong down south at the tip of a barrel. Corey quickly picked up the nickname 'Singer' for the church hymns he constantly hums.
>Health: [Healthy]
>Money: $5
>Belongings: Preacher's Robe, Rucksack
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy:
>Combat Skill: [Good Accuracy]
>Misc Skill: [Synergy: Emily the Crazy]
>Equipment: [Good Rifle inscribed with John 14:6]
>Followers: [Emily, Cured Crazy], [+3 Friendly Rebel Soldier Prisoners], [Slave Town Garrison]
>Bonus: [Praise the Lord, and Pass the Ammunition] Increased combat skill, especially against certain evils and persons.
>Location: Danielsville
1/2: Refer to >>43948931
>>43953021
Of course I forget to include my stats.
http://pastebin.com/UwtsLMmK
Rolled 72, 82 = 154 (2d100)
>>43949375
>>43949393
>Name: Tec'lo'pin
>Color: Darkish Green
>Race: Titan (Otherwise known as a giant)
>Health: Healthy
>Money: $0
>Belongings:
[Titanic Ancestor Clothing]
[Titan's Giant Macuahuitl]
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy: (You earn this in game)
>Combat Skill: Skills or Equip that pertain to combat
>Misk Skill: (Skills or Equip that don't pertain to combat)
[Bound to the Prophet]
9/10 [Power in the Blood]
>Party:
[Meztli, the Titan]
>Bonus: Titan
You are one of the rare giants in the world, reaching about 90 ft tall. You are the tallest and strongest among all the lifeforms of earth, requiring little food. You are not fast, your speed does not scale up. You become hungered easily, and it is hard to grow food at your size. No giant has been killed by starvation yet, but it is possible they go into the great sleep and have not woken up since.
>Location:
Somewhere in Injun lands.
The Titans rose out from the surroundings, awakening once more from the call of spilt Yankee blood, to follow the warpath that Tec'lo'pin brought. She herself knew that with this army of titans, the dusk of the white man would soon follow...
1: Tec would first seek out for the true 'Leader of the Descendants' that the semi-possessed feline spoke of, and his name is Wendigo. Her feeling would soon bring her to head eastwards, for she feels that he shall be found on the frontlines, removing the Yankees from the lands which belong to the Indians, to the Aztecs, to the true Americans.
(Their journey would be following the Union's railway, destroying them in the process.)
2: Meanwhile, Meztli would aid in reuniting the titans. For while they are armed with weaponry beyond the power of a mere white man, their formations are of a mob: Easy to break and destroy. With that and other factors, Meztli would seek to restore the discipline to the titans, to focus them for the bloodshed of the white men who lay ahead.
Rolled 59, 78 = 137 (2d100)
>>43950262
>Name:Urist Irongear
>Color: Blue
>Race: Dwarf
>Fluff: A former clockwork mage in charge of fixing the magic engines and clockwork devices of the CSA military. He was kicked out when one of his inventions exploded. He decided to move west and apply his craft for the good of everyone for once, and maybe set up a good old Dwarven fortress/town.
>Health: Healthy
>Money: $5
>Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy: (You earn this in game)
>Combat Skill: Skills or Equip that pertain to combat
>Misk Skill: +[Control Spell]
>Equipment: 13 scraps, [Amazing Diviner Rod]
>Land: Iron mine
>Clankers: 9 mining clanker, 1 Stabby Clanker + [Weak Murderous Upgrade], 1 [Clanker Forge], [ADVANCED AUTOMATED CLOCKWORK ASSEMBLY] (settings: >Enhanced Clockworkman 1 per one turn
>Clockwork Spider 1 per three turns
>Clockwork Juggernaut Tank 1 per 5 turns
>Clockwork Flyer 1 Per 5 Turns)
(2) 6 Enhanced Clockworkman, 1 [Small Horde of Scorpions]
Futuristic Mecha:
(Prototype mobile hospitable unit 'The Turtle'
The Turtle is a prototype unit made to act as a mobile self sustaining town and resource collection.
>Heat Counter: [Hot]
>Weapons: +[Artillery Cannon (Right Shoulder)]
>Abilities: +[Turtle Down] The Turtle bunkers down into an impregnable fortress for one turn, having no damage be dealt upon it. Cool DownD: 3
+[Transform] The Turtle shifts into its village form.
+[Quadrupedal] Bonuses depend on environment.
>Defects:[Very Large Frame] -25 to maneuvering rolls.
>Fighting Style: +[Very Defensive] +defensive/retaliation -to offense/engaging enemies)
>Bonus: Dwarven Craft - You are rare clanker mage, capable of understanding and creating Engine Hearts for pseudo sentient clankers, a very prized skill. Mechanics and small amounts of magic are easier for you.
>Location: Fort Nucky
1&2. "Well I certainly hope you are smart enough for abstract commands. Here is your first order, fuck up those bugs! Fire whatever guns you have!"
Rolled 53, 25 = 78 (2d100)
>>43952758
>Name: Amelia 'Rider' Dixie
>Color: Pink (or whatever is available)
>Race: Human
>Fluff: A young Texas witch, Amelia was raised on cattle drives before her magical gifts were discovered by a group of Texas Rangers passing by. 'Recruited' to the Rangers, she received training and helped bring justice to a number of Spanish bandits that plagued the territory before the Confederate States of America sought to bolster their own forces at the expense of the Rangers. The independent spirit of the young witch has chaffed at her superiors and her tendency to borrow horses to sneak away for rides has resulted in quite a few soldiers 'gifting' her a lecherous nickname. The scum.
>Health: Healthy
>Money: $0
>Belongings: Clothing
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy:
>Combat Skill:
>Misc Skill: [Pockets of Holding]
>Equipment:[Average Wand] [Average CSA Uniform] [Strange Rifle from your Pocket]
>Bonus:[Witch] - You have a strong aptitude and knowledge of magic and the magical arts
>Location: Barren Mounds
Oh shit!
1&2.
Rider grits her teeth, jumping to the side and throwing her magic into a shield to deflect the incoming missile.
The Union witch had the advantage so long as she was atop the broom. Rider focused upon what came naturally to her.
She was going to rope that flying union bitch with a binding spell and see how well she took a nice, hard pull into the ground.
Rolled 38, 66 = 104 (2d100)
>>43951520
>>Name:Andrew Johnson
>>>>Color:Brown
>>>>Race:Human
>>>>Fluff:tldr
>>>>Health: slightly Injured
>>>>Money: 475
>>>>Level: 1
>>>>>>Fame/Infamy: Custer's Survivor
>>>>>Combat Skill: Officer Pistol Training +3, Weak Accuracy
>>>>>>Misc Skill:
>>>>>>Equipment:Flashy Officers Low-Caliber Range Revolver, Officer's Rifle, Union Shotgun, 1st Aid Kit, Canteen of Water, Bag of Hardtrack, Union knife, Indian Charm, Honorable Discharge Papers, Cheap Clanker Truck, Union Soldiers Outfit, Fine Clothes
>>>>>>Party :Alicia the Centaur Indian [Deathly Loyal], George Buster Johnson [Centaur Son], Cam Rose Johnson [Human Daughter], Calfuray Diane Johnson [Human Daughter], Indian Inlaws
>>>>bonus:Runs with centaurs, Brawler Reputaitom, Secluded Cave with Water, With your Officer riding skills and Alici's expertise in such equestrian matters, you find a great job training riding horses.
>>>>Location: Great Plains]
>>+[Blessing of the Horse Spirit]
1:Begin taking account what we have to work with tribe wise. Are any resources running low? Is there any diseases moving around? Are people in need of medical attention for injuries?
2:Get a feel for the Union officers in charge of overseeing this tribe. Try to see if Andrew can work his way into a get together between the two.
[Writing]
Rolled 58, 86 = 144 (2d100)
>>43952414
>Name: Garret Ashcroft
>Race: Werewolf
>Fluff: tl;dr English nobility -> werewolf -> bounty hunter
Don't fill this this:
>Health: Good
>Money: $5
>Belongings: Clothes, Rucksack
>Level: 0
>Fame/Infamy: (You earn this in game)
>Combat Skill: Skills or Equip that pertain to combat
>Misk Skill: (Skills or Equip that don't pertain to combat)
>Equipment:
>Bonus: Wolf-Man - A lycanthrope is what you are, and you find you are stronger, keener than the average human in the day. A night at will, you have the power to transform into your beastly self. However, during the full moon, this effect is permanent until the dawn.
Arriving on the union trainlines our erstwhile hero is far from anyone that might know his face.
1. A man on the run needs more than the clothes on his back to be a man of the almost law. A man needs a gun and a destination. Ask around for both.
2. Might as well make myself known in a flashy manner, See about any local bounties on monsters.
>Still writing pls hold
Rolled 80, 15 = 95 (2d100)
>>43953035
Rolling for reasons
>>43953035
>>43954193
Event: Slave Uprising
They came out of nowhere, some say from beneath the very earth itself.
Not a rebellion, or a riot, but an army.
An army of slaves. Blacks, xenos, monsters, all armed with stolen organic Darwinian weapons. They overpowered the guards with ease, killing them (and in some cases eating them) while busting open chains, breaking gates and freeing yet more. Fires break out in the nearby buildings, some per accident, but the chaos soon spreads as the guards are caught COMPLETELY unawares. Under your careful guidance and discipline and orders, you manage to put down and kill most of the major looters and rapists either during or after the affair. Most of the local civilians have either fled into their homes or away from the chaos as possible.
The slave camp is yours!
And expectation of freed slaves were even higher than anticipated. No less then 300 slaves of various species are yours including some curious exotic and even a few magical types.
>Feel free to look around for any specific types you might want, or to find interesting individuals
However, word is it that the nearby military camp has been called and already troops and a militia are being mustered. While it can be said most of the soldiers have been moved to the front, that doesn't make a contingent of reserve homeguard troops any less dangerous. They will be bringing heavy Darwinian beasts and artillery, and even a few witches are being summoned.
You have but only a few turns before they march in to town to put down the rebellion.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43952937
Thorgrad goes to find Urist, wobbling and getting accustomed to his new robotic form is difficult. Everything feels strange, and he can't shake the feeling that sometihng is /missing/
Oh right. Everything is missing. Breathing, the touch of his skin, warmth, cold, even hunger and the simple taste of air or feel of his tongue in his mouth. All gone.
It's a living nightmare.
He does fine where Urist is though.
He's in that Giant Hole in the ground that looks like it goes on forever. There is the sound of explosions and fire in the distance waaaay down there.
It's too far to see how down it goes.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43952995
Lucky lucky!
On your way out west, don't just find A wagon.
You find an entire WAGON TRAIN!
Even in the middle of civil war, there are always people headed west looking for a better life. You can also tell right away there are some Indian refugee's among them, evidently they too have been displaced and are looking for a way out west.
There's at least a few dozen people going along, and 7 on horseback with guns and bows, however most of them are armed to an extent. And it's just the five of you.
You do have a few tricks up your sleeve. You could try and sneak away some easy pickings and ride off before anyone catches wind. Or maybe you're clever enough to go broke and trail them to find a way to bag the entire wagon convoy? You do that you'll be significantly richer than you are now.
Right now they're snaking around a mountain trail while you on horseback have the advantage of more off-road movement.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43952997
Your party decides to take the train, just as most of the confederate forces are. Lucky for you you seem to have caught a small military transport train but there is just enough room for you.
The horses are loaded up onto the animal cars, while you each take your seat, being given a single room, as a large beast begins to move trailing the cars behind it before headed off in a full sprint.
Night falls shortly, though the five of you aren't yet close enough to share more than a few bits of small talk. Maybe you'll want to bridge the distance between your party, or maybe you don't.
Eventually the others are lulled to sleep while you yourself stay somewhat awake, thinking about what's going to happen when you reach the fort.
That's when the witch wakes up, Julia you think her name is.
"Something's wrong."
You ask what is wrong, but she doesn't know. All she knows is what she feels.
"Something is definitely wrong. I'm going to cast a barrier."
She speaks a spell, and just as the others wake up to the commotion a barrier of light surrounds the entire room. You're about to ask what the devil she is doing, when she points to the door. Beyond the window into the hallway you see a thick, noxious black cloud pour around the windows.
"I can sense it." she says. "It's poison gas."
Suddenly the train begins to lurch and slow down. And you hear a scuffling beyond the barrier. Something is definitely wrong here.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43953021
1. Alarms are sounded as noise is raised, and you tell your allies to go gather the guns at Cooper's before any more of the guards converge, which they rush to do.
You however have another task.
Sneaking around alleyways and the rush of guards and monsters, you make your way to the bleak and ominous castle of the count. It stands tall and forboding.
You presume that the most important place is probably that big tall tower sitting at the top. The question is how to get there.
There is a moat surrounding the castle, and you could try and swim across it. But don't moats usually have a reason you don't swim over them? The only actual entryway is a drawbridge that is guarded by guards. You could maybe try and wait to see if there's a wagon you could sneak on or something. Last but not least are some electrical wires hanging over the moat, but you're smart enough to know the risk about that.
You have however gained great mastery over your near chamelon like ability to blend in while standing still, as guards pass you by inches without batting an eye.
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43948756
>Name: Blake Young
>Race: 3/4ths Yankee Human, 1/4th Coyote Shaman Indian
>Fluff: The Young family moved from the heartland of the Union territory two generations back, settling a bit south of Los Anglos. They build Orange Ranch in some good territory, and have been building up ever since. Grandfather Young was single when he moved out to the West, and after a stay amongst the Indian Tribes, met and married [in both traditions] his wife, a daughter of a shaman of Coyote, the trickster singdog.
His son exhibited no traits, but Blake, his youngest grandson, has a bit of a wanderlust and a personality geared towards pranks and tricks, but as he grew older also learned how to hunt and forage in untamed lands in the West, and spent a summer with his kin amongst the Tribes not too long back.
Blake was set out from the house not too long ago, on somewhat friendly terms after one too many pranks, and told "Come back when you've calmed down some". Admittedly that was supposed to be a few hours.
>>43953068
1-2. You have the Titans gather great logs, and boulders, and even find a few ancient titan shields and armor for them to wear.
Many of them are warriors, and already well trained. But you inform them of the enemy. Of their landships and skyships, of their mechanical monsters, their guns and cannons. Telling them of how you have seen them fight, and what they fight like.
Meztli becomes their defacto leader, and leads the Titans, meanwhile the Aztec army follows your command, as you carry the weakened War Priest in your arms.
However, before you can begin to tear up the rail roads, the barely conscious War Priest stays your hand is able to mumble something to you.
"Not here, Tec'lo'pin. . .head east. . . Cut off. . .enemy reinforcements to the barren mounds. . .speak with . . .the prophet. . ."
>CON'T DON'T POST
>>43956943
Your host moves swift and fast, lead by your army of giants, easily crushing the occasional bug that gets in your way. Many of the Aztec's relish in this vengeance.
That is. . .when you see the true battle.
The mighty Indian Warhost.
The Prophet himself.
Wendigo.
>CON'T DON'T POST
Best Girl to the rescue
>>43953079
>>43950262
"Combat protocols activated!"
And just like that, a large cannon extended from the "shoulders" of the strange machine.
Right into the jaws of the fiery beast.
The explosion was followed by a rain of bits of magma and rock. Whatever this thing was, it must have been a true elemental creature as there were no organics within.
The remains of the giant Magma Beetle's body slumped back beneath the depths of the Lava River.
"Warning! Heat level's reaching critical. Engaging evasive manuevers."
And just like that, your fantastic machine climbs the walls of the cavern, up and into the blue sky again.
"Engaging cooling protocols. . ."
You stand in the middle of this amazing device, behind your machine is a deep pit leading to untold lava deposits and ores, and you are once more safe and sound.
>CON'T DON'T POST
Rolled 17, 76 = 93 (2d100)
>>43953115
Rolling
self bump while I write
NOTE: if thread 404's those of you who did not get an update will get an update next wednesday.
>>43959337
And a Vulmerian bump
bumpa bumpa, whats your thumpa
