Dhice sees Grigori preparing an assault on the ratmen and jumps to his aid, wielding his staff more as a distraction than as any kind of a real threat. Of course, Dhice isn't the greatest combatant, and just ends up being in Grigori's way... As things get inevitably worse, Dhice screams out at the top of his lungs, "Locrian! Locrian?! Grigori is bleeding out!!!"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
The Skaven gets in one last parting toss of a grenade as he flees the field. A more dextrous dwarf would have snagged the bomb from mid-air and hurled it back, but Myk-Myk was no such dwarf, he dove as far away as possible as quickly as possible!
...and, as he's come to expect, stumbles over his feet as he rather ungracefully falls out of the way.
Bless that damned-blessed dwarf, Locrian thinks as he wrests the shreds of cord from his wrists. Never mind that the priest is taking a flask of gods-know-what to the face, very much intended for Locrian: dwarves aren't leading men, er, elves. Plus, he can probably heal it or something...
"Locrian! Locrian?!" Grigor is bleeding out!!!" It takes a moment to realize who is shouting, and where it originates. Dhice, to the left, he settles, and sure enough the channeler and the bladesman aren't far off. Let Grigor think it was Dhice who healed him; they need the comraderie.
Locrian then starts another tune. It takes a moment to match the particular din of the battle, but he find the rhythm and notes:
"...let bravery go not unrewarded
valiant blades and steelier hearts
be quickened, oh my comrade
this isn't your hour, your friend needs you near and now
past hours dire and dark
dirks and talons be not the end of it
rise up in strength
champion of sudden combat..."
Locrian isn't certain the spell won't backfire in some way, but crosses his fingers and sings the f&+# out of it.
[dice=Arcane Art (Healing)]2d6+2
[dice=Healing Value]1d8
Danke!
Rikard, it sounds like you're going after an intimidating Parley! You certainly have Leverage on this character, since he doesn't want you to kill him. Roll +Cha and let's do this.
The pirate fails at his nut-kicking attempt. Fortunately for Hjalmar, the Rat-Ogre's forced vomiting and Bathilda's raging attacks are a significant distraction. The thighs release him and he kicks fiercely at where the beast's balls should be - but the dwarf notices something odd as the Rat-Ogre struggles and squeals, rolling to the side to try to claw Bathilda off his head. The beast's scrote is tiny and shriveled, laughably tiny for the Rat-Ogre's immense bulk. It looks damaged somehow, as if it doesn't fit with the rest of the Rat-Ogre's body. Was this creature the subject of some kind of baleful polymorph or twisted experiment? Your kick is completely ineffective even though it landed, mark an XP.
The Rat-Ogre rolls onto his belly and stands again, bringing Bathilda to full height once more as the barbarian tries to pull the creature off-balance. Heaving and groaning loudly with the straining effort, her muscles bulging and a vein pulsing alarmingly in her neck, the barbarian roars and succeeds in knocking off the creature's balance! It's falling over - and it'll crush you under its bulk if you don't move your ass NOW, Hjalmar! Want him to squish you a second time today?
Atop the Ogre, meanwhile, Bathilda is now put in an uncomfortable spot - her position means she's about to fall into the bonfire when the brute falls over! You can take damage from the flames and try to force the Rat-Ogre's face to stay in the blaze OR you can jump off to get free, Bathilda, what do you do?
Archepex, the rat-man you shot before narrows his eyes at you in hatred as he flees, seeming to study and memorize your face. It looks like that one is escaping the fight. No matter - Mule is more important. The powder has gummed up his feathers terribly and judging from his insistent cries, it burns painfully. You use your fingers at first but it merely sticks to your skin like asbestos. At last, you grab a waterskin from one of the Mousetrap mercs' supply piles nearby and pour it on the bird - relieving it of its pain. You look up again and the Skaven that threw the vial is nowhere to be seen. What do you do?
Grigor and Dhice are having a rough time of it against their two Skaven, without Archepex's archery or hawk backing them up. It may be a two on two fight, but the humans were injured already, so the opportunistic rat-men had no issues with trying to finish the job before fleeing. Quick as a thought, the Skaven toss their daggers from paw to paw before darting in at their target. They're both focusing on Grigor, and while one Skaven parries his dagger, the other one dives underneath his defense and stabs him viciously in the groin, where his armor protects him less. (Just in the fiction; armor still applies to this damage). Take 1d6 damage... it would be 2d6 choose the worse die, but Dhice is being selfless.
Selfless and bad at close-quarters combat. Though the Channeler's intentions were pure, Grigor can't suppress a wince when he sees the lanky young man try to intercept the dagger and protect him. He protects him, in a way - by taking the dagger stab himself. Dhice, take 1d6.
When he cries out for aid, Dhice coughs up a bit of blood from his stab wound. Thankfully, his words reach Locrian's trained and attentive bard ears anyway. Singing in staccato, the bard heals Grigor and stops the bleeding, but has to expend an extra effort to make the spell go off in the chaos of combat. The extra strain makes its mark in the bard's vocal cords - take -1 to Cast a Spell until you can rest, Locrian.
The bomb that the Skaven threw at Myk-Myk was explosive! When the fragile glass underbelly of the vial shatters on the ground, the dwarf was already in the process of jumping out of the way. Unfortunately, dwarves aren't as good at jumping as longer-legged species, and the explosion singes the hair on the back of his head and sends him flying 10 feet through the air, making him the second dwarf to get tossed in this melee. Take 1d8 damage, Myk-Myk, and then reduce it by 1d6 from your partial escape from the blast. Your ears are also ringing from the sudden explosion. When you land in the dirt facefirst, your head is spinning a little, and when you raise your head up to look around you see wobbly, doubled images of Skaven fleeing the battle all around you. What do you do?
With mule out of the woods Archepex can focus on the battle again. The fight with the big one was going... not perfectly, but it was going. There's not much his arrows can do there.
Dhice and Grigor were the better choice. He pushes himself up to a knee to allow his bow some room then, smooth as butter, he draws, aims and fires.
"Listen here skaven you have no choice, you can either choose to follow my lead or i can remove your sanity. Put your weapons down"
If he does not
Dhice winces at the blow but soldiers on, seeing that Grigori is still fighting despite being in much worse condition than he is. Dhice sees Archepex sighting an arrow, thinking "this will be over in an instant..." but then all hell breaks loose and things go from bad to worse
Throwing caution to the wind, Dhice positions himself to defend Grigori, shouting Grigori! remember the Dragoon phalanx formation! I'll deflect and open them up, you cut their hearts ou--! GAH!
I bleed for 2 (I'm attacking again,) plus attack damage of for a total of 4 points of damage.
I upswing my pilfered longknife up, and towards the skull of the Skaven that hit me. Hack and Slash for a clean miss.
EDIT:It is actually 1 damage. I have magic sand armor and Valaya's Ward.
Pausing a moment to stare dumbfounded at the peculiarly sized manhood of the rat-ogre, Hjalmar recalled the tales of transmutations, brain swaps and the like, almost feeling sorry for the thing. Almost. "Bloody bastard tried to eat me!" He thought. He was already looking about for a proper weapon to continue the attack, when the thing suddenly rose, then immediately staggered into a fall. "Bloody hell!" He shouted in alarm, leaping towards the ogres legs in a bid to reach the opposite side, away from the direction it was falling.
As he dove forward, he realized with sudden alarm that the creatures fall would carry not only it, but Bathilda as well into the flames of the bonfire. Reacting quickly, he wrapped his arms around the leg the creature was precariously balancing on, hoping to steer its fall away from the flames.
[dice="Hack n slash" (Steer) 1]2d6[/dice]
[dice="Hack n slash" (Steer) 2]2d6[/dice]
Got it.
Bathilda had been called stupid more than once in her life, but the truth was that she did have a brain and it did work. When she sees where she was going to end up if she didn't move, right now, she decided that a leap out of the way was just the thing she should be doing now.
Archepex never misses his shot; he prides himself on this as an elf. However, that doesn't mean he always kills his target. His shot embeds itself in the shoulderpad of Dhice's Skaven's armor, knocking him forward a little from the impact but causing no actual damage. The Skaven the ranger shot growls and twists his knife in Dhice's flesh, making the channeler scream in pain. Mule rapidly shakes the water loose from his feathers and takes to the skies once more!
Things are looking bad for the two humans. The Skaven they're fighting have the scent of the blood of their victims in their noses, and they're stabbing you both again in a frenzied staccato of sharp pain. You both take another 1d6 damage from the vicious assault of the rats. Luckily, Grigor's armor is absorbing the worst of their pointed stabs, but Dhice isn't as protected and blood stains his robes. Grigor, the rat you're fighting lurches forward with his huge incisors bared, seeking to tear out your throat for the killing blow! Dhice, your Skaven is stabbing forward with his dirk over and over, forcing you backward! What do you both do?
On the other side of the bonfire, the beleagured Rat-Ogre is finally brought low by the combined efforts of the pirate and the barbarian. Bathilda jumps clear, but the Rat-Ogre reaches out and snags her tunic! The huge brute is clearly on its last legs, but, perhaps knowing that escape is impossible for it, it is simply trying to kill as many of you as possible. The Ogre has one of its meaty hands around your lower leg, what do you do Bathilda?
The Rat-Ogre is down, but not out. The Dwarf pirate avoids being crushed by his bulk, but the Rat's huge fists were nonetheless quick enough to smack Hjalmar away. The backhanded blow connects directly on the bridge of your nose, Hjalmar - take 1d8 damage and you're concussed (-1 Wis mod until healed). Your head is spinning, and you can just make out the huge beast turning his attention back to the barbarian...dragging her back to his mouth! What do you do?
Rikard, the Skaven is clearly willing to listen to you...but your tentacles are a huge diplomatic distraction. "I will...do as you ask... he says, sweating from the roaring fire just behind him. "Just...put the tentacles away and let me go..."
If you voluntarily shed your aberrant gifts (by giving up the rest of your Hold) and let the Skaven live, he will obey one order of yours. Choose wisely.
"Pain don't hurt, rodent!" Grigor screams as he aims a desperate swing at the ratman's neck.
Hack and Slash
for damage.
Dhice's head snaps around as he sees his battle-worn brothers and sisters starting to regroup as the ogre nears death. He figures that just staying alive would be his smartest move here. "I really need to get better at utilizing this ridiculous get up" he grumbles to no one in particular, as he realizes that he's failed to take advantage of his mismatched leather armor throughout the chaotic battle. This time he tries to remember the techniques he was taught, and only points of damage. To the few who've noticed, it's actually shocking how much damage Dhice's stick thin, awkward body can actually absorb. Perhaps his earth magic imbues him with a steely constitution...
He swings his staff in a defensive arc and does his best to keep the Skaven at bay until the others can take them down. The extra layer of protection that my sand coating is offering Grigor appears to be helping keep the fighter on his feet, he thinks, so it stays.
=hold 1.
Dhice uses his hold at his next opportunity, halving any damage to himself.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Myk-Myk hits the ground with a healthy 'Umph', rolling ass over tea kettle and more dazed than confused. The world is a blur and he has a terrible headache. Through his foggy head he hears a muffled cry out, he can't tell from whom "{{Locrian, Grigor's bleeding out!}}"
He's so confused, in fact, that he slips back into Everpeak Dwarven instead of his broken common. "Oy Valaya, I'll never make it to him until my head clears. I've asked much of ya today, but please, dear Valaya, Heal Grigor, keep him up until he can be properly bandaged. I pledge my hearth and heart to thee.
He'd only tried something like that a couple of times before- Valaya preffered a direct touch- and both times before...yep, there it was, he got a severe headache. He sat down, temples throbbing, hoping he'd at least done Grigor some good.
"No. No! NO! I am NOT getting eaten by a damned, overgrown RAT!"
Furious, bloodied, and just plain filthy, Bathilda was not in the mood for getting eaten. She kicks at the rat-ogre's fingers and manages to bruise and batter them enough that she can get free and away from the thing.
Now that that was done, she looks for a rock that's big enough to brain it from a distance.
"Soddin' brute! Forget this, stay right there." Hjalmar yelled, as if the creature was ever going to act upon what he said. Sprinting to where he had last seen his musket, he started digging around, trying to retrieve it.
However he was still seeing stars from the impressive wallop he had just sustained, unable to focus properly and squiting.
The battle seems to be won, but cleanup was still in progress. Archepex resumed his kneeling stance and calms his nerves. Seeing mule smoking has shaken him and he has to repeat a breathing exercise to still his shaking hands. A job needed doing. Rats need killing.
Mule dives a little slower and turns a little less sharply, but the fire hadn't dulled his talons or break.
"Aha, there ya are Agatha, come to papa!" Hjalmars voice rang out from within the stacked pile of equipment. Moving from behind the debris, he was now carrying his trusty musket, his powder horn and shot satchel tossed over one shoulder. Finishing his preparations, he tracked the rat-ogre, aiming down the sight. "Hows about a kiss from my sweet lady?" He growled with a smile.
"DIE, HUMAN! DIEEEEEAAAA-crunch." The Skaven battling Grigor is fully immersed in bloodlust now, forsaking his longknife in favor of his outsized teeth. However, he hadn't factored in the excessive armor Grigor was covered in through Dhice's spell. The rat-man sinks his teeth into Grigor's arm, but Grigor, heedless, yanks the Skaven closer. After staring deep into the flat, black eyes of the Skaven, allowing the rat-man to chew fruitlessly on his armored forearm, the fighter raises one fist high overhead and caves in his opponent's skull with his free gauntlet. Grigor, take another D4 for deliberately exposing yourself to the Skaven's attack to do your extra damage.
Dhice is similarly furiously engaged. His Skaven is ambidextrous and uses it to his advantage, tossing his longknife's handle from paw to paw and using it to strike at the channeler from surprising angles. After scooping up his staff from the ground where it had been discarded, the channeler swings it in rapid circles that provide a defensive arc in front of him.
A stab of the Skaven's dagger is met by an answering thwock of the staff on the hilt. The Skaven tries an uppercut with the knife extended to the throat, and Dhice bends fully backward to dodge it. The Skaven brings his longknife down in a ferocious overhead stab that slices across the channeler's knuckles. Take 1d6 damage and cut that value in half, rounded up, Dhice.
Blood from the channeler's cut knuckles flows onto the bo staff and is flung around when Dhice regains his composure, his teeth slightly gritted. The Skaven and the channeler about to square off again, when the Skaven's eyes go wide.
It had just raised its head to scream a warcry, and a black-tipped arrow seemed to violently erupt out of his throat. Gagging on his own blood, the Skaven wavers slightly on his feet, clutching at the arrow...and Mule flies down and flicks the Skaven once with his talon, causing the rat-man to fall down dead at last.
Near the bonfire, the Rat-Ogre is struggling to rise. Its mouth is a mutilated mess, dripping blood. Growling in pain, it climbs to its knees, heaving heavy breaths. It gags painfully, spitting the dagger that Bathilda dropped in its mouth out. Its tongue is a mangled mess of bloody ribbons from the dagger essentially being force-gargled in its throat. Vomit covers the ground near it and Bathilda.
The Rat-Ogre is beginning to emit a magical aura and its body is pulsing slightly. Its huge fingers clutch at the dirt. What do you do?
Get back! Archepex yells at Bethilda. Magic auras were never good news. Especially coming from a Rat Ogre. He waves to get Hjalmar's attention and signals to open fire. Light it up!
He draws a black fletched site from the other side of his quiver, so mule won't follow, and fires with Hjalmar
Rikard, the Skaven is clearly willing to listen to you...but your tentacles are a huge diplomatic distraction. "I will...do as you ask... he says, sweating from the roaring fire just behind him. "Just...put the tentacles away and let me go..."
If you voluntarily shed your aberrant gifts (by giving up the rest of your Hold) and let the Skaven live, he will obey one order of yours. Choose wisely.
The order is spread my patrons influence to other skaven
I lose the tentacles (but only the tentacles) "Do you see the powers my Lord of the Stars offers? Skaven i have removed 2 (or 3 whichever it actually was) of your compatriots, sent another running with but whispered words. My Lord has such power that you could not even being to understand, his very words would crush your mind; sight of him would blind you. I have only a small amount of his power coursing through me, i could help you learn about my patron if you would pave the way for my patron in your cities/towns/camps."
I'll take half this minus 1
Dhice simply collapses to his knees in the mud and unwinds the elemental weave that binds the sand to Grigor. The sand forms a cloud around the fighter and then streams back to Dhice's forearms, again causing the leather strips on his arms to flail about wildly. You catch a glimpse of his heavily abraded, bleeding forearms.
"Dont have to tell me twice laddy." Hjalmar howled at Archepex with a manic tint to his voice, his howling laughter momentarily drowned out as Agatha roared with flame and smoke. The bullet struck the rat-ogre in the chest, a small round wound that would have seemed like nothing, were it not for the wheezing, sputtering sound coming from the hole. "Lung shot. Even if he eats us all the bastards goin' to be dead soon enough." Hjalmar thought to himself even as he started reloading.
"Bloody 'ell," Bathilda says flatly before running away from the glowing rat-ogre. She'd seen magic, and it rarely ended well for her when she was on the receiving end of it.
The Rat-Ogre is beginning to emit a magical aura and its body is pulsing slightly. Its huge fingers clutch at the dirt. What do you do?
"Wait a second, the Dragoons once captured a mutated rat-donkey that everyone thought was hilarious, until it started pulsing and freaked everyone out. What was it that Lieutenant Morrick said about that cursed thing..?" Dhice racks his brain trying to remember how that story ended.
bite damage to me.
(Dhice, have I lost my sand armor?)
I scoop up a pontificating Dhice and sprint towards where Mykmyk landed, as that seems a safe distance (to someone who knows nothing about magical explosions.)
Edit: Pick up an enemy sword and belt it before grabbing Dhice.
Myk-Myk, muttering in the old Dwarven tongue, feels the grace of the Goddess with him. However, there is a tang of displeasure about Her countenance. You feel a command, felt within the heart rather than spoken to your mortal ears. You are aware that your Mercenary allies could be brought into Valaya's fold as followers, but you have not been ministering to their souls, only to their physical injuries.
Take -1 to create an Invocation ongoing, until you have advised another of your companions on the grace of the Goddess.
Grigor you lose the armour -after- the skaven dies.
Hjalmar and Archepex fire on the only remaining enemy, the prone Rat-Ogre...though Hjalmar's is the only one to deal actual damage to the thing... Archepex, lose 1 Ammo and gain 1 XP.
The aura pulses and grows as the Rat-Ogre slowly bleeds out into the dirt. Dhice, you recognize it an instant before anyone else can - it's a transmogrification aura. They usually adopt "warm" color hues, and this one's a ruddy orange. The Rat-Ogre rolls onto its side after Hjalmar mercilessly blasts it, and its hulking body begins to...shrink.
The aura grows to be almost painfully bright for a moment, and after the orange glow subsides, all that remains is a mangled and pathetic rat. Not even a skaven...a simple, feral, dying, rat. The aura subsides, and the rat expires in the dirt. What do you do?
Rikard, the Skaven gives you a small smile of relief as your tentacles shrink back into your body in a very disturbing manner. This Skaven has seen your handiwork first-hand, you sense no doubt in him of your power. With the certainty of a cult leader, you know you have acquired a loyal follower.
He begins rocking back and forth a little on his feet, excitedly, as you whisper your commands to him. "We have seen the power of the Faceless Ones," the Skaven murmurs, a grin spreading across his vermin countenance. You sense that treachery is not a foreign concept to this one's kind. "It should not be difficult to find those...of a like mind. Your will be done. Now set me free...and I will spread the word of the Lord of Stars. Set me free!" his voice takes on an insistent, hard edge, and the fallen Skaven fingers his weapon.
I go to where they threw our gear and re-equip myself.
"You will spread my patron's influence, you will prepare the way. Now begone and do your duty"
Still on Fire and bright i will rush over and see if i can help any of my allies, if no skaven is alive i will drop the Human Torch.
The skaven nods fitfully and darts off over a nearby hill, fleeing somewhat near to Hjalmar in his mad dash. In moments, he is gone. When you stride over to the others, Rikard, you find that the Skaven have indeed been routed, and even the Rat-Ogre is now a harmless house rat.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Oh, hey! That was being a good show lads! Be coming close now, who is in the needing for patching ups?"
Myk-Myk locates his belongings among the stash of goods and retrieves his last pack of bandages. 'I'll have to resupply those as soon as we reach civilization, didn't realize I was getting so low.' He sets about to patching up the battle torn, and mumbles on while he's about his work (and has a somewhat captive audience).
"My family was always being miners by trade, that's not being the uncommon for Dwarven folk, I am knowing, but that was the way. Grungni is being the god of the mining folk, and that is being who we are worship for long and long. Grungni is being a good god, a solid god, and watching over many the miners. Ah but Grungni is the good healing god. If you are being crushed by the ore cart, Grungni help you for surviving maybe, but scarred or amputated you may being for the resting of your days. Being miners though, Grungni was being the god for me and mine."
"That is until Brother Korin was being attacked by wolves while out on the hunting. A terrible wounding they did upon him, his arm was being mangled to near beyond use, as well as the having of other terrible woundings. It was being good tidings for him that Uncle Jonathon was in Everpeak for the seldom visiting, for Jonathon was being a cleric of Lady Valaya. I was watching of close attention as Jonathon with much preparing, praying and bandaging was putting Korin back to being right as rain. A better job than being done by any priest of Grungni."
"I was being convinced then and there's and devoted myself to the following of Lady Valaya's path. A good helping it would be for some of you to be walking the path alongside - being given your line of works."
"I am doing talking too much. Be deciding yourselves, and if you are being interested, services will be done at dawn on the morrow."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Seeing another skaven fleeing near him, Hjalmar brought his gun around, tracking its movement, his tongue sticking out in concentration.
Once more Agatha bucked and spat in his hands, a clean shot tearing into the skaven.
Ever puzzled by Mykmyks peculiar speech, Hjalmar shrugged once the cleric finished preaching. "I know Valaya well enough, all the dwarven gods in fact. Only proper for a dwarf." He said, his chest swelling with pride. "I was always more of a big picture kind of guy though, the whole pantheon." He rose from his seated position where Mykmyk had been bandaging him, clasping the other dwarfs hands in his own. "My thanks to you and your lady, brother. I suppose it would be prudent to keep Valaya first and foremost in my prayers on this journey." He let go of Mykmyks hands with a nod. "I shall attend on the morrow."
Seeing the fight was over, and that they were victorious, if only just, Bathilda looks at vomit and blood covering her and sighs.
"Great, I hope the washtub's still about," she mutters before looking for both her gear and the washtub in question.
Rikard, you watch as your new cult follower tries to escape but gets blasted by the gun-toting dwarf Pirate. The skaven is shot with a direct hit to the back of the head, and the rat-man falls to his knees before tumbling in a heap in the dirt and expiring. Hjalmar and Rikard, I recommend adding a new Bond related to how Hjalmar shot and killed one of Rikard's loyal cultists of the cult of the Lord of Stars.
Myk-Myk ignores the fact that his gear is still scattered about and focuses on untying the rest of the Mousetrap mercs that were still bound. There are several bodies of your former comrades lying around as well, those that were killed in the first wave of the Skaven ambush. The Priest moves from corpse to corpse, trying to keep his tone lighthearted as he closes the eyelids of the slain. He unties Wicks the Halfling, who dusts himself off and immediately begins patting down the dead mercenaries to collect their loot. His face is a grim mask as he moves from body to body on his grim task before moving to the Skaven bodies. Despite the horror of the death, Myk-Myk feels some small measure of satisfaction at having brought Hjalmar closer to the Light, even if it's just a little. Remove your -1, Myk-Myk. The Goddess smiles upon you once more.
Looting:
When you survive a pitched battle and there are spoils to be had, roll +Wis. On a 10+, you find a mixture of coins, consumables, a weapon, or armor, at GM discretion using secret rolls on a loot table. On a 7-9, you find something, but it's less valuable. If you fail, you just find some currency and 1 XP.
While searching for her gear and something to take a hot bath in, Bathilda also keeps an eye out for loot. After all, there might actually be something worthwhile in the this mess.
After collecting his own gear and helping to free the remaining prisoners, Grigor starts looking around for any valuable salvage...
finding some cool secret lootz he will be told about later.
After that, I look around at our fallen comrades and ask Mykmyk about the burial rights of Valaya. "I've never been much for religion, but I'll try anything once for a lady that saves my hide!"
Seeing that looting had commenced, Hjalmar quickly joined in. "What self respectin' mercenary wouldnt, right?" He thought to himself, a bit put off by looting men who had been previous comrades in arms. Still, their expedition was in no shape to disregard perfectly serviceable equipment.
Bathilda: Roll 2d6+6, gain that many coins. Roll 1d4, you find that much Salvage in the form of miscellaneous weapons and armor. Generally, I let players decide for themselves what form the Salvage takes, but Salvage is never an upgrade over your current gear unless you find a ranged weapon that you didn't have before, or something. Salvage has 1 weight. Coin has 1 weight per 100 coins.
Grigor: You find a collection of vials on the body of the cowled Skaven that was riding atop the Rat-Ogre. The Rat-Ogre crushed most of the vials, leaving the Skaven sodden with formula, but there's one that can be recovered from the corpse that is still full of a viscous, purplish fluid. You also find 2d6+10 coins, a simple, unmarked golden talisman on a dirty necklace made of what looks like hair, and a collapsible spyglass.
Hjalmar: Gain 5 coins.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Coming out of combat rather unscathed, Locrian struggles for a moment whether to check on his companions, or recover his archaic songbook amongst all the company's gear. He notices that everyone seems to be gathered odds and ends up, and no one looks in need of serious attention. Phew.
"Anyone see my book? I swear if those rats did anything to it..."
Archepex moves through the camp methodically trying to save all the gear he can.
Have a great time, Locrian! When you return, gain 2d6+6 coins and 1 salvage. Bathilda looks like she found most of the salvage already.
Archepex, gain 2d6+10 gold and you find a strange bundle of arrows on one of the Skaven archers. You unwrap one and hold it up to inspect it in the light, but as the sunlight touches it the arrow dissolves away. Quickly, you cover up the remainder of the arrows, numbering 1d4+4.
Grigor, Archepex: To comprehend how magic items work in Dungeon World requries a successful Spout Lore roll.