Terek

Gorn Steelbreaker's page

669 posts. Alias of Atlas2112.


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Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"I'm sorry, guys," Gorn had said dourly as the group shuffled in from their mostly-successful foray. "I don't think I'm cut out for this. I just want to crush skulls and mix egg whites into a fine meringue. Tonight I didn't get to do any of that.

I feel like I'm just holding you back. You need someone more like...well, more like one of you."

Gorn turns to go.

On they way out, someone runs in to him.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Yeah, the barbarian class is wholly inappropriate for this AP.

The PARTY is gonna KICK down the DOOR! RAGE!

Nope, nope, we're gonna talk our way out of it....

You are AMBUSHED in the ALLEY by a SHADOW ASSASSIN! RAGE!

Nope, nope, the whole fight is gonna be broken up in two rounds making it pointless.....

The PARTY is SPLIT! You have SHAKEN off YOUR guards, but the OTHER TWO are in DANGER! Get ready to RAGE!

Nope, nope, there's a clean getaway and no pursuit after that....

It seems like we don't have a Face man and we really, really need a Face man.

I'll put together a 3rd level bard.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn ignores the strange girl and rumbles like a thunderhead toward the swirling combat.

60 move because Fast Movement doesn't kick in until 5 th level for some reason.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"Well that was easier than I expected," Gorn rumbles at Grim.

"Let's make like a tree, and get outa here."

He pauses to look at the bird he killed.

Rusty Grackle: Inedible, comes across his internal HUD, and he turns away to follow the WarCleric away from the scene.

Silver Crusade

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| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn turns to Grim, and the motion makes him aware of the lacy undergarments clinging to his crown. He grabs them and throws them in disgust at a small black bird scrapping at ground. The force of the thrown lingerie kills it instantly.

"Two on two, chummers. That the kind of odds you thought you'd have when this started? Why don't you run along and we'll forget this all happened."

Intimidation Advantage!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn chuckles, casually twirling Shellcracker in his hand. "Heh. It looks like they have us...

...right where we want them.

You sure you wanna do this here, guys? Yer a loooong way from base, and ain't no one getting here real soon. Ain't you worried about me?"

Intimidation!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

Unfortunately, during the chase Gorn got a pair of bright lacy pink panties caught on his head, and the gay splash of color on his crown makes the whole effect more laughable than anything else.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16
Evendur "Grim" Greymantle wrote:
Dammit... I have buyers remorse. Lol. That 20 would have gotten me a horse. Oh well. Options for the future

Wait, so, a horse doesn't actually makes us faster? It just changes the roll to Animal Handling? I think I'm having buyers remorse getting one....

Handle Animal!: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

"Wait, what am I doing? I don't know how to ride this." Gorn gets off his horse and offers it to Grim.

Obstacle?: 1d20 ⇒ 11

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"Giddyup, Buttercup," Gorn states in flat sarcasm as he mounts the horse and knocks his ankles against its flanks.

Obstecelle!: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn ducks behind a building, and as a horseman draws level with him, he swings Shellcracker in a mighty arc!

Jab!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Grim, since we've only got 2 horsemen chasing us ya wanna lure them into an alley and beat them up?

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Insight!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Gorn only knew to continue GLORIOUS COMBAT until something wasn't moving. Him or them, it ended the same place.

He ran fast to try and catch them before they got out of the light's radius.

Attack!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Attack Advantage!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Damage!: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (4, 6) + 3 = 13

Silver Crusade

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| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

bull blank tery? bull blank tery? Bull...terrier? He's done with the puppy dog? Maybe I should call someone a cow s*$&zu and see how it goes....
...okay, yeah, I see how this website is prejudiced and hateful against dogs and needs the blanks.

"I'm the last one to preach about caution, girl, but seeing as how you're getting your butt kicked while I'm fresh as a daisy, I thought I'd give you an out. Your ride, though.

STAND AT YOUR POST, SOLDIER!" Gorn blares at the guard, stepping on Grim's rational advice. "We got three highly trained professionals in there. Ain't nothin' a teat-wet baby like you can do to help if it's more'n they can handle, but if this alley-sneak has a friend, we're gonna need more eyes."

That was enough talking, Gorn's brain told him. More fighting!

Attack!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Attack Advantage!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...
Damage!: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (2, 6) + 3 = 11

Silver Crusade

1 person marked this as a favorite.
| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"Go get her, Ray!" "That's the plan? Go get her Ray? It's a great plan. I'm proud to be part of it."

Advantage!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Thank you for heelz. At max now! Time for buttkicking for goodness!

Finally knowing where the enemy was, Gorn was DONE with not kicking butt.

"Confound it, girl! Get behind the cleric! You taken enough pain...time to dish some out."

Gorn advances steadily throbbing stink of magic. At the same time the leash he keeps on his patience snaps and his blood SINGS with the rush of adrenaline.

At the same time...

Magic Rage!: 1d8 ⇒ 6

...the multicolored lights from before return and he lights up like a gay Christmas tree come to life--dazzling and beautiful to some, horrifying and odious to others.

AC=17. HP = 40. Using Reckless Attack to cancel Disadvantage.
'Doing so gives you advantage on melee weapon attack rolls using Strength during this turn, but attack rolls against you have advantage until your next turn.'

"Playtime," he rumbles, lifting his hammer high.

Attack!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Damage!: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (6, 5) + 3 = 14

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn was surprised by the assassin, and when it disappeared, his brain couldn't quite latch on to a stimulus to attack.

It was then, in the limbo of surprised confusion, that a part of himself he had not known existed, reached through his person and opened a gate he had not known was there.

Suddenly he could feel himself open to to perception unknown to any but the most learned, and even they could not know this at will. He stood and stared and tried to comprehend what it was he was seeing.

Action: Magic Awareness
As an action, you can open your awareness to the presence of concentrated magic. Until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any spell or magic item within 60 feet of you that isn’t behind total cover. When you sense a spell, you learn which school of magic it belongs to. ... Hence, if the assassin either is using a magic effect, or has a magic item, I should be able to see them. I'm not saying this is a guaranteed thing, but there's no way I can make a 22 Perception. ^_^

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

How about I stay outside? We've only got the one guard. And youve got enough inside.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Advantage!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

Well that is better!

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn was getting tired of this.

A ham-sized fist closes around the tunic of the quivering guard. "You will do your JOB soldier!" he yells, onion-and-tumeric spiced breath pouring over the man. Skull-sized shoulder muscles lift the man bodily off his feet. "You will MAINTAIN your POST and you will STAND with HONOR! We are THE LAW!"

He finally lets the man down.

"You can worry about mewling mob of cowardly rats that would allow filth like this to walk all over them.

Or you can worry about me."

Intimidation! With Strength!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 ._.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"Amrik," Gorn says nonplussed, "you do know that everything you say I'm assuming is a lie?

I've known your kind before. Several times over, depending on how you count, and the more amicable you try to make yourself seem, the more I want to rip your tongue out then feed it back to you, though well seasoned and slow-roasted, just to say that I had done it."

Gorn didn't look like he was serious, so he was probably joking.

Probably.

Mrmmmph. The instant they make Intimidation Str dependent, I'll be rockin' like Dokken. As long as it's based on Cha I'm not beating anybody....

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Apologies. Weekends can sometimes be...bad for me.

Yes, I give Donal Advantage.

I keep thinking this character is bad for the setting. So too, if we've rebelled against the Fist, I don't grasp our motivation for helping them do anything.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"Y'know, I never wanted to be a Fist," Gorn muses to the captive as he keeps his wrist in a vice-like grip, filling the silence as Mal studiously flips through the supple red book. "I wanted to open my own restaurant. I have a name. GutBustsers! I'd call it. Okay, maybe that's not the best name. But I'm working on it.

I'd have two sections, one for the rabble that just want a mess of slop on the cheap, and one for fine dining.

For the dining I'd take a pig, cut out the choicest bits, cover it in oil, salt, pepper, garlic and onion, and my chops would be world-famous.

Then I'd take what was left of the pig, render it down in to a slurry, soak thick-cut bread in it, toast it to crispness, and sell that to the common man as a meal-on-the-go. It'd have fat, protein, and salt. All the things a working man needs to keep going in his busy day.

And I'd be maximizing product usage so I keep prices low for everyone."

He sighs. "It could've worked."

He looks off into the middle distance, almost on the verge of tearing up.

"If you offer me a loan, Amrik, I'm going to rip your arms off," he states without malice.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16
GM Infinity wrote:
"The sauce which...no...nope, sorry, thought I had another one. Does my selection settle thy nerves, dear philosopher?" he swirls a glass of wine in one hand, sticking his crooked yet handsome nose almost entirely inside to enjoy the vapors.

"The sauce which melds together the stroganoff," Gorn finishes in a monotone. He was the OPPOSITE of in the mood to put up with this. He hurt, he was cold, he'd have to rage -again- to kill this guy. The bar-owner-lady hadn't even acknowledged his attempt to ask her out (it made sense at the time!)

"Wait, are we actually going to work this time? As in 'I shall stomp upon all who oppose me. The stomping shall be swift. The stomping shall be painful. And I shall show no mercy in all of my stomping,' kind of thing?

Or are we going to work as in you knock down a guy, but then just when I get going we sit down and talk all our problems out?

I just need to know this time."

Gorn didn't mean to sound gruff. But he had raged and he hadn't been allowed to kill anyone. He hated that.

"I'll stay here and make sure Mr. I-Can't-Think-Of-A-Good-Sauce-Metaphor-Because-I'm-Dumb actually does stay here.

I make no guarantees for his condition, though. Especially if Clara moves. Well then I guess I can't guarantee her condition, either."

Intimidation: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

He was trying to sound tough, but he was still all vexed from the Cone of Cold from before. And he was aroused and confused. It had already been a strange day.

"Pssst. Grim. Heal me quick. Parts of me are still frozen."

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn turns top follow Donal.

But first he leans in to Ms. Thundreth. He gets close. Closer. Closer still. Very close.

"If I survive this," he rumbles softly. "Maybe I'll let you buy me dinner."

He chuckles deeply before moving on.

Silver Crusade

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| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"As you say, Donal, we cool," Gorn mutters, releasing his grip on the comely barmaster.

Only then does he notice that some mewling rat has laid siege to his arm. His head swivels to the new man like a heavy turret acquiring a target.

"If we're not cool, this one dies," he rumbled, putting Laraelra in a bit of a Hero's Choice.

Readied Action, if Laraelra takes a hostile action, attack on the Helping guy.

Readied Attack!:

Readied Attack!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Readied Damage!: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (2, 4) + 3 = 9

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"Already tried that, chummer," Gorn breathes out at Donal, wiping some melting blood from his chin. "Some girls just like it rough."

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Con Save!: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

Gorn is blown back by an epic-grade artic blast that lifts him off his feet and immediately severs his close grip on the lovely bar-owner.

42 - 17 = 25 hp

As he stumbles back, reeling and trying to get a grip on WHAT THE F~#% JUST HAPPENED a small, heretofore unknown part of his brain is blinking that he was just attacked by a spell. An evocation spell. The location of the spell 6 inches, just in front and a bit down.

He thanks that part of his brain and tells it to go away and shut up.

Recovering from where the blast of unimaginable frost blew him, yet still in control of the majority of his assets, he turns to the mage with a baleful glare and spits out a large hunk of bloody phlegm.

He stands, swings one huge hand behind his back and brings out Shellcracker.

"My turn.

Einz! Zwei! Amen and Attack!"

Attack!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Damage!: 2d6 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (4, 2) + 3 + 2 = 11

At some point in the melee, with a motion so smooth any onlooker would even question if such a thing could happen, he stuffs one of his trademark and -excellent- oatmeal raisin cookies in his mouth, restoring his strength.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16
Donal the Seeker wrote:
I think we may be punching above our weight class here, boyos!

I am 100% okay if Gorn dies here. I can think of no better swan song than to die to a caster 3x one's level.

I have thoughts...many thoughts...on this, but I'll save them until the end of the scene.

Heh. I even have a new character all ready to roll out. Let's just say, if that's what it comes to, I'm not screwing anymore. ;-)

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

'Well I guess that's The Signal,' Gorn thinks as the party leader bowls over the doorman.

At the first sound of the forced entry, Gorn's hands shoot out to the lady Tibs is talking to. In the space it takes his hands to travel from himself to herself, he lets slip the chain that holds down the rage that is ever-bubbling just beneath his thin veneer of civilization.

One ham-sized fist grabs around her wrist as another clenches on to the middle of garment. The force of his fist closing on the dress leaves no mistake that the clothing will fail before he does.

Grapple!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Rage Strength Advantage Grapple!: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

"Laraelra Thundreth, the Flaming Fist needs to investigate your establishment regarding certain recent violent and heretical events. We are not after you, though. Tell your men to stand down.

This can go the easy way, or," his hand curls, tightening its grip on her gown, "the hard way.

Your call."

But that's not all that happens.

As Gorn raises, ever so slightly, the fetters that contain his bubbling anger, so great is his personal power that forces even he does not fully understand are set loose upon the world.

Wild Magic!: 1d8 ⇒ 6

6: Until your rage ends, you are surrounded by multicolored, protective lights; you gain a +1 bonus to AC, and while within 10 feet of you, your allies gain the same bonus.

A scintillating spectacle lights up around Gorn as if he was a Peacock Elemental of the Plane of Glitter. It is a thing to behold, both terrible and wondrous. All who look upon him are disoriented ever so slightly but palpably, and all know this man would not go down easy in battle.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Oh my goodness for the first time in my life I just ate some ham while also eating some raisins. My mind is blown. This is so good I can not, at this moment, understand why the human race would have any other eating options that are not ham and raisins.

*Welcome to Big Hamm's Ham and Raisins, may I take your order?*

"Hi, yeah, I'd like an order of ham, but does that come with raisins?"

*Yes sir, all of our ham comes with raisins.*

"Honey, I'd like some raisins, but does that come with ham?"

"Hey! Ah, does your raisins come with a side of ham?"

*Yes, sir, all of our raisins come with ham.*

"Hey, that's great. Okay, I'll take a Big Hamm's Ham and Raisins, one Mrs. Hamm's Raisins and Ham, and, hey, son, what do you want? Uh-huh, uh-huh. Hey, do you guys serve cheeseburgers?"

*Uh, sorry sir, I'm only 17. I don't know what that is.*

"Ha ha! I got ya! Yeah, sorry, make that 2 Big Hamm's."

*Thank you, sir. Please drive forward.*

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Having been stymied on both fronts, Gorn sighs audibly and turns away from waitress and Drow.

'Aaaaaaand this is why I don't go to these places. Or talk to people,' he thinks as he walks next to Tibs.

"Place looks pretty dead," he rumbles. "Doesn't even have their own chef. LameZ0rz."

Silver Crusade

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| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Cha!: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2 Nailed it!

Gorn bends down low to the bird-folk. "Do you serve any food here at all?" he says, slowly, in small words, to make sure he's understood.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

For me, (and these people) Dwarves will always be Scottish. =)

Oooo! I found the battalion of Dwarves wielding cabers!

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

I know, right? Doesn't that just fit the best!! =}

Wouldn't the orcs, who bring warfare to a new level, be on par with the people that invented concept like Blitzkrieg and weapons like the Strumgewehr and the Sturmgeschütz.

I mean, even if you don't know what a Sturmgeschütz is (I imagine there might be one or two on the planet that don't know, so I'm mostly speaking theoretically) just by looking at the word it sounds like it's gonna kick something in da buttocks!

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Suddenly Gorn espies something a tad more interesting than dead seagulls.

And then the fear sets in.

It starts deep in the belly, then crawls, like a spider made of ice, upwards, along the spine, through the heart, into the head. It rests then in the eyes, making them big and bug-like as a palsy sets upon the brain, forcing out any other thought that is not 'I want to do everything but I can do nothing.'

Gorn, the Unbroken, the Breaker of STEEL, he who waltzes in to Magical Palaces and serves a legendary Twenty One courses to Horrors of the Outer World, he who has literally stared into the face of the Death and laughed and served oatmeal cookies...is afraid to talk to girls.

He shakes his head vigorously to clear it. Perhaps Gorn the Barbarian has nothing to say to a brace of lovelies. But he is not the only one here tonight.

"Ah! There you are!" Gorn says to the girls, approaching them with a wide smile, like a happy charging bull. "I had heard rumors, of course, but truly they did not do you justice.

"Mit solch schönen Mädchen mithalten," he says, kissing the hand of one of them.

"Wir bräuchten zwei Sonnen, um aufzugehen," he finishes, kissing the hand of the other. Without permission or introduction. He has seen this before, by other men who actually are good at talking to strangers. It was summed thus: Audacity audacity, always audacity.

Orcish:
"To rival such beautiful girls, we'd need two suns to rise."

"Ah! But what is this? You have been left to drink this swill without even so much as a weiner wurst brioche to assuage your appetites? I'll not have it! You will think me an uncaring philistine were I to not right such inhumanity upon the instant. To think, that two creatures as sophisticated as yourself would be left without a Salmon en papillote en Steak frites to tickle the pallet is insufferable.

Ah, to me my lovely," he says, snapping at the kenku. "Does your chef have the power to create a passable Croque monsieur en Tarte tatin?" he asks the server.

The act is simply a brain-fever mad plan that is a continuation of the audacity that had taken him over. If their kitchen can make the courses, then he gets to impress two beautiful girls while sampling some truly superior cooking made by what must be a professional in his field.

Then he might get to see these two naked, which is no bad thing.

And if they can't then he can volunteer his services, and start to ingratiate himself with the kitchen staff...where he can find out, probably, All The Things.

Hopefully Mal will know a long con when he sees one, but not everyone can stand the heat of the kitchen, for it can be a hard and unforgiving place, so there's no hard feelings if he doesn't.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"There are gonna be chicks here, right?" Gorn says, totally just keeping up the act for the sake of the mission. Totally.

He gives the ravens a direct glance to see what they're doing. He never liked ravens. Can't pet 'em, can't cook 'em.

Grant Aid on whatever Mal wants to do to the ravens.

Silver Crusade

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| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn's back itches a little as Shellcracker rides mostly-comfortably in its new home. As an added bonus, the bangles and jangles on the new coat make so much noise, he decides to keep his armor, and he makes as much noise wearing the stuff as not. He paid a pretty penny for this stuff and he intends to use it!

He keeps a small handaxe as a backup in a side pocket also, just in case.

"Hear about the new restaurant called Karma?

There’s no menu: You get what you deserve!"

Gorn replies to Mal's joke with one of his own, laughing heartily and ready to get this party started!

And there's a mission too, I guess.

Silver Crusade

2 people marked this as a favorite.
| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Apologies. I've been working too much.

Gorn rumbled into the tailor's store like he owned the place. In truth he'd never been here and was only recently aware that it existed. He'd never considered tailored garments to be critical to his chosen profession--either of them. But if one wanted one thing then one needed another thing and here we are.

We slaps down 5 gold onto the table and mumbles, "Fancy coat."

The older man behind the desk shifts his eyes glumly to the money. Without moving any other body part, an arm disappears below the desk, to re-emerge with something between a barge sail and a six-person tent.

Gorn scowls at this and comes up with another five gold. "Fancy coat that would make me look good."

The proprietor gives himself a few shallow nods and meanders over to what might be his Big&Tall section. He comes out with a...moomoo. It's a moomoo. It's a delightful emerald color with cloth-of-gold swirls dancing around, over, and through it's 200-thread count finery. But it's quite obviously a moomoo, and might even be made for a woman.

Gorn sighs audibly and produces another 5 gold. "And it has to hide a hammer."

The shopkeep's eyes to wide, as though this new demand, and new payment, has awakened something inside him. Finally feeling the fervered grip of inspiration, he disappears into the back. A great crash of pots and pans is heard, followed by a few muttered words, and at least one quick shreik.

At last the merchant reappears with an enormous and equally gorgeous leather long coat. Made of the hides of several different animals, it's multi-tone hide fabric literally crawls with dangles and straps and laces that let everyone know that a man walks down the street in this summabeach, he ain't afraid of anything.

That the interior is lined with hidden hooks and straps designed for easily concealing, say, good cookware, is only a bonus.

Gorn takes the coat, nods once, and leaves.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"Nah, I'm taking a break from personal cheffing," Gorn says, looking sidelong at the wall, as if chewing on an uncomfortable memory.

"But I have faith they'll have dancing girls out," he finishes, hopefully.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

You want me to just hang back and give Aid to all the rolls? I can do that.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"What, you saying I wouldn't make a good leader?" Gorn rumbles out, pointing out that he was the only name not included in Donal's list.

For some reason he wonders if he would sound more convincing with something in his hand. What did that freakazoid say they'd see him holding? Oh yeah, a whip. Are whips cool? He'd honestly never given the matter any thought.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

'I feel like this may have been a mistake,' the large barbarian thinks as things go from strange to THIS IS VERY VERY STRANGE!

Even before he sees a real live monster, the protean nature of the house has him questioning all his life decisions from this day to that. 'But, but, but...but why?' he constantly thinks, seeing neither rhyme nor reason to have so changing a design. Unless that is the point.

When he at last sees the dinner guests, it takes all his iron will to not just turn around and leave. Screaming. Only the heart-felt praise of the luminaries in attendance keep him from doing just that. With the honesty in the praise, he lets himself absorb the feeling of a job well done. And if they know good cooking, can they really be all bad?

"Ah, yes, much gratitude, Most Noble Kyrix-Vasilog!" he stammers out, complete with a bow.

Gorn was a man who disdained words, and approached most conversations with the solid belief that, no matter what, he can crush the man he's talking to. No matter how well guarded, he's at least always believed that he can crush any given speaker of words. That he now really REALLY CAN NOT is shocking in a way he doesn't want to admit.

"Given so august an occasion and so sublime an opportunity, how could I say no?

But soft! Is there something amiss? You say this is unique...torment? My good sir I had been aiming for some emotion a bit higher and, dare I say, softer? If this is some jest, might I be let in on it?

And leadership potential? Me? Oh good sir, I might be able to order around your passing fine waitstaff, who have done yeomen work this day, I should like to say! But that is, alas, the extent of my skills. Ah well, we all have our parts to play."

Alright, yep, definitely time to ex-fil out of here. Bot how?

"Now, my lords, if there is nothing else you require of me, if you could point me to thy seneschal, I will give my parting debrief and be on my way. You do, of course, know how to contact me for any further engagements."

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn rested heavily on a grounded Shellcracker, snacking on a leftover petit four. 'Wow. These came out really well,' he thinks, looking back over his ordeal as a great warrior might look over a battlefield, victorious, strewn with the enemy dead.

Still, the victory did not seem complete.

For starters, without a merry band of visible and corporeal kitchen staff to smack about and laugh with, there was no camaraderie that had always followed such a great effort. And then there was the question of who they were cooking for. Usually the master of the house would dip their head in, either to deliver someone's 'compliments to the chef' or to give some commentary or final directive on the direction of the courses.

So too, despite the protean crow's helpful handling of Dennis (and, he hadn't known he had been called Dennis, but then he hadn't bothered to find out) he -still- hadn't seen hide nor nor hair of all this promised compensation. And that bothered him.

Well that tears it. It the mountain wasn't going to come to Gorn, then....

Gorn bursts into the main room, a great smile plastered on his face and his thick arms held wide in triumph.

Let the games begin.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

"No no no no no no nonononononono NO!!" Gorn yells at the seriously squirrely raven. "That is NOT how you do it. Aaaaaaand _this_ is why I'm the chef and you are not.

You don't -actually- use a hammer to crack shellfish open. Not if there's another way.

Just slice it apart, boil it for 8 to ten minutes, then use a knife to pry it open.

Admittedly this might take a slightly larger knife, but the point is that you don't actually need to hit it with a hammer to get it open.

I mean, if we had a dozen Roc eggs, that would be different. Obviously.

Alright, go try that and let me know how it goes."

Gorn takes a moment to tap his chin in ulfish thought.

"I'm burning with curiosity. What was the plan normally to deal with that thing? I mean, had I not been here or not had Shellcracker with me? Do you normally use your normal-crab-sized crableg crackers on that? I mean, for a kitchen this well stocked I'm just a bit surprised that you don't have a specialized tool for that. Anyway, nevermind, go do what I said and let me know how it goes."

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Sorry, I seem to have forgotten the rolls.

Chefs!: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Inspiration
Chefs!: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Chefs!: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Chefs!: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16
GM Infinity wrote:

An Uncommon Taste (Gorn)

For a few irritating moments the lonely chef wandered, increasingly prey to a series of unfortunate but ultimately harmless accidents. First stepping on a spatula and launching a salt shaker missile a few feet behind himself. Next the cheese he was eating mysteriously disappeared, to be replaced with a trail of morsels leading to nowhere. Then there was the thunderous, booming flatulence that he prayed didn't come from the rothe. All accompanied by a chorus of chittering snickers from the shadows.

The letter had promised an experienced kitchen team at his command, but they were certainly no where in sight.

Mercifully a raven alighted upon a pan handle, squawking a quick avian greeting (was there a rookery in here?) but also speaking in a language Gorn understood (what was in that cheese?) "Hey there, you look lost? Hungry? Shouldn't we get started? The others are getting kinda bored." tilting its head inquisitively. "Ah right, you probably can't see them. But don't worry, we can hear you and work better this way. Come on, get dressed and tell us what you need. We can't disappoint Master." before flying off to the eastern wall, where a tall lazy-suzan spun round to reveal a toque blance, double-breasted white jacket, and of course an apron (sporting a rather tacky "I ❤️️ Crabs" logo).

Gorn stares non-plussed at the suddenly talkative raven. "This is...not usual. If it's gonna be like this, then I should like to see half my payment set before me to make sure I'm not made sport of with this talk of 'invisible waitstaff that are, like, totally a thing, honest'."

It had been his intention to wait and do nothing until more clarification was made. But he was never one to be given to inaction, and after only a few minutes his curiosity becomes unbearable.

"Well then get some water boiling!" he calls out, mostly to see if anything actually happens, and because hot water is needed for anything worthwhile.

"And someone go kill that giant crab-man-thing and start bringing me its meat. It looked tasty but I'm not going to waste my time harvesting it," he says, wandering over and putting on the apron.

As it proves out that his words are the spark for action for the invisible servants that flit about, he becomes more comfortable barking about the constant orders that are needed in feeding a lot of people a lot of meals.

He challenges himself to not do any cooking himself. At least, he wants to see how reliable all these helpers are. He assumes that yelling at them will make them work better. It seems to be all the rage.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16
Evendur "Grim" Greymantle wrote:

Your... world is strange to me Mal. But in for a copper, in for a gold as they say. I'll follow your lead. The ledgers are, as you say, going to help prove the case. That said, perhaps we could arrange or pay for a suitable distraction to draw their eyes and guards. A hungry desperate mob of refugees? We'd gave to guarantee food for them... pricy in these desperate times. But we can do both good and have our distraction.

"If it's food you need, I can supply that. I'm good for two things, neither of them very subtle. But yeah, if you can line up the mob, I can line up a mess of slop on the cheap.

I suppose I could probably lead them, too. Cat-wrangle the thronging horde and stiffen their spines. Me with a horde? Yeah, that'd take a bit to move us."

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

'This...is not the usual clientele I'm used to,' Gorn admitted to himself as he made his way into the palace. He wasn't really sure what he had expected, probably overly-dressed poshes that only cared that their food was as un-pronounceable as their tailor.

Insight!: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

That he had found himself in a menagerie of the who's who of extra-worldly...things...was, even to him, a bit disconcerting.

But most of that burned away like morning frost when we got to the kitchen. Yep. Best. Kitchen. Ever. He lost track of time as he first randomly, and then systematically, went through every door, pantry, locker, drawer, nook and cranny to take account and stock of all the tools of the trade that could be seen.

'But I bet they don't have a rice strainer. Hardly anyone has a rice strainer. I bet I'll never find a--oop, there it is, it's just a better kind of rice strainer than I've ever seen.

Wait, am I supposed to...prepare that guy?' he asks, thinking about the giant-crab-man-thing. 'That. IS a LOT of crab meat.' He hoped he'd have help other wise he'd be a fortnight just killing the thing, never mind preparing it for table.

'Yeah, probably a micro-brewery,' he thinks at the locked door. When he found the mistress of the place he'd be sure to ask. And get access. And a few samples.

So...where is the mistress of the place? Did they expect a Chef de Cuisine to prepare a Big Two One without so much as a Sous Chef or Saucier to hand to assist? Impossible. The food would be old enough to vote and demand rights before it was served.

As one simply MUST needs not be hungry when preparing for a great work, Gorn sliced himself off a healthy chunk of a white cheese that tasted something between a well-done steak and honeysuckle. When munching it he went in search of...well kitchen staff would be nice, but the person who was going to hand over a bag of the much-lauded compensation would also be good.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Gorn's mouth opens and stands agape at the powerful magicks revealed now. So too, there are a great many questions. Why hide such wealth, in this place, where wealth is meant to be displayed? Why have the entrance so in-carefully guarded? Too many for answers. Perhaps, there will be no answers at all.

"Gratitude...uh, you seem to have me at a loss. You know of me? How is that? And who are you? Are you some seneschal meant to greet me? If so, then, in the future, you might want to pick different places as your waiting place. Had I not almost annihilated you, I would have started crab-cracking the door. And then things would have been...awkward.

Can you at least tell me your name?"

If an answer is quick in forthcoming, that's really all he has time for. As things are he -is- brave, and neither waiting room nor sitting room nor foyer have any means to capture his attention. Not when perhaps the greatest kitchen he has ever, and probably will ever, seen is now begging for his entrance, to be held by him, used by him, and begging for him to make himself its master.

One does not leave such situations in waiting.

Without another thought (nor even to think this might be an elaborate trap, for with such finery he can guarantee that if any try to take him here, he will make it more costly than the effort is worth) he follows the directions, all five senses in perfect unison.

He is happy to be, as the Storyteller goes, within sight of a palace and within smell of a kitchen.

Silver Crusade

| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Acrobatty!: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19

Gorn bends down almost double to see what wee fey of a thing is shouting some unintelligible gutter-speak at him.

"Das ist eine große Klappe bei einer kleinen Sache," he barks back, just as happy to trade insults in different languages as the next guy. "The operative word here being 'klein' or 'small'. And your big mouth would be of better use if it had more civil words in it."

Deciding he had given as good as he got he does indeed give the thing some room. He rests on one knee to get a better look at it.

"Greetings, small one. I think we got off on the wrong...foot." He snickers, proud of his little joke. Good ones like that don't just end up in one's lap and ya had to get them when ya could.

"I am Gorn. Steelbreaker. And I was sent to intrude on your personal outdoor spa by this letter," he says, holding the invite up. He was greatly doubting its sincerity and had no qualms about sharing it around now. "It seems someone is having sport with me, which meant troubles for you. So it seems, to me, that we on the same side, for the nonce."

Silver Crusade

2 people marked this as a favorite.
| HP: 29/40[2]| Rage: 2/3{+2}|SnaX: 1/2 HD 3 melee: +5/2d6+3 |Init: +2 Perc: +3 | Insp = no |Human Barb3| AC: 16

Tibs! I was just thinking about you. Glad you're back.

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