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Ever pragmatic, Hjalmar did not partake of the looting just yet, instead busying himself with wading through the cesspool of rat corpses, checking each before either moving on or sinking his blade into their necks. In spite of their foul nature, the pathetic whimpering followed by blood chocked gurgling that occasionally drifted towards the group from Hjalmars work, was quite depressing, even saddening to some.
I was under the impression that you've been applying 1 piercing to every shot you've been taking...I certainly have on my end. It's a benefit to offset the drawback of Gunpowder having...explosive 7-9 results.
"Sweetheart?!" Hjalmar called from his position, mirth mixed with surprise in his voice. "Love for yer weapon is a beautiful thing lass. Gonna need a name." Then for emphasis, he killed the oaken stock of Agatha before letting of another thunderous discharge.
With the barrier down, Hjalmar wasted no time in blasting away at the flapping demons, like some infernal varity of skeet shooting. "Get some ya mongrels!" He shouted over the boom echoing out from Agatha.
The shor nearly perforated one demons skull, but by random chance it turned in the air, instead losing an ear.
Wiping the blood from his cutlass on one of the slain skaven, Hjalmar looked up from his handwork, assessing the situation. "What are those beasts doin'? Standin' around waitin' to get shot?" He asked, moving closer whilst sheathing his cutlass and drawing Agatha once more. "Well, I can certain oblige." He said, taking aim.
Laughing loudly as he pummeled the next desperate ratman with the hilt of his cutlass and tossed it into the hole, Hjalmar began singing loudly in dwarven, a deep rumbling tenor. Those afforded understanding of the language could possibly recognize the song as an old battle hymn, a favorite amongst dwarves the world over. "Come now, see if you can slake my thirst for extermination!" He yelled, before launching into the next verse.
[ooc][/Will Emma do that if the chain has already been broken?ooc]
Hjalmar had contemplated going for one of the repeating crossbows. They certainly fired faster than old Agatha, and volume of fire was currently preferable. Then Dhice brought the roof down, and things changed. Holstering his rifle, he strode to the nearest of the two new paths around the hole, before drawing his cutlass. "Cmon the ya lousy gits!" He yelled, taking a few wild practice swings, tossing the cutlass from one hand to the other a few times. "One on one ya pansies, if even one amongst you got the spine for it!"
Hjalmar had been squeezing the trigger in anticipation, precariously close to firing before it was time. Yet he managed to fight the urge to fire every time the rat ogre he had in his sight presented a particularly good shot. As their ambush began, he howled a dwarven battle cry of promised vengeance, so loud he could be heard over the thunderous rapport of Agatha.
The bullet impacted the ogres shoulder with a hollow thud. To Hjalmars annoyance, it tore clean through, as evidenced by the sudden explosion of imps directly behind it. As before, the infernal beasts began jumping around, cackling and clawing at everything in sight. "Im gonna have to commission some more of these." He mumbled to himself as he began reloading. As the two warrior women engaged the horde, he quickly realized they would be needing all the assistance that could be mustered. Getting up and hustling forward whilst still reloading, he began shouting as loud as he could. "Oi! Ya scabrous vermin, over here." He stopped, waving his arms above his head, making every obscene gesture he could think of. "No matter where ya hide, no matter what you do, you still dont have what it takes to stop a dwarf from comin' into yer filthy holes and deliverin' a good thrashin'!" He raised Agatha, pointing it at the vast shape of the skaven queen. "And im startin' with mommy dearest!"
Yup, they are. Heres a link to a well made Wiki about them. Skaven are such a dark race, yet have some rather humours elements to them, like Ratling guns (basically a medieval mini gun), warp lightning cannons (exactly what it sounds like) and Doom Wheels (Basically a giant crushing implement that looks like an over-sized hamster wheel) Quite frankly, I think its this underlying silliness below all the doom and gloom that lets me enjoy this game so much. All that said, this isnt Warhammer, so its not like Mooshy cant depict them however he wants :)
Sighting down his trusty Agathas slender body, Hjalmar kept his eyes fixed on the rat ogres. The things would need to be held up for as long as possible for this to work, and he had just the thing. Resting within Agatha on a bed of coarse black powder, another of the Imp shot was loaded and ready to fulfill its purpose.
This whole skaven rock concert thing is so surreal. On the one hand, the lore nerd in me is screaming "No! Thats not how skaven are, STOP IT!", but on the other, I cant help but enjoy it very much.
Being called by Dhice, Hjalmar huddled up next to the man, peering at the section of the cave he was indicating. "Aint exactly been much of a miner lad, been out in the world since my youth." He grinned. "Though I like to think I remember a thing or two."
He nodded. "Aye, its stood the test alright, but it aint the sturdiest pillar ever. It gets the job done, but I think your brand of magic should be able to bring it down." At Morleys inquiry, he hefted Agatha. "Well, she can certainly reach that far, but at that point we are talkin' at the very least equal parts marksmanship and luck." He looked a little defensive as he none the less added. "She doesnt shoot perfectly straight. Hittin' at that range becomes a bit of guesswork you see."
That was awesome Hjalmar!
"Was gonna try to save these." Hjalmar grumbled as he loaded one of the imp shot into his rifle. Taking aim, he squinted hard to try to pick out the ugliest of the lot, before firing in a thunderous roar of smoke and flame.
In an impressive display of marksmanship and sorcery, the shot took the skaven clean through the chest. There was a short shocked silence amongst the skaven, then a rising cackling. One voice became two, then three, then four, each more whiny and loud than the next. Then finally, the wounded skaven burst open in a spectacular shower of bones, gore and imps.
I've heard that hard vacuum is inimical to squishes. Unless supplied with specific adaptations for space walks, most chrome domes wouldnt much enjoy the experience either, though they could probably handle it way longer. Someone was kind enough to send me links to the books. Are we using the Uncharted Worlds system with the Archetype class creation?
Archepex, ya think ya got enough wind in ya to tell that bird to watch my back?" He called down, warily checking his rear every so often.
"By The Holy Throng!" Hjalmar half whispered half shouted as he reached Archepex just in time to see him tumble to what Hjalmar could only assume was his demise. Then the stone impacted below, well before he would have expected. Moving to the edge, he spared a glance at the rangers prone, yet thankfully twitching form below. "Someone get to him." He practically commanded, crouching at the edge and swiveling his gun around, looking for any targets in the cave.
Im going to be going over the recruitment thread later, but thought id pop in with my initial idea for what I want to play, make sure im not stepping on toes. My first thought was a scientist and/or doctor, probably a boring old human late thirties to mid forties, with an addiction problem. Im thinking simply alcohol, both for potential humor and so as to not make it an overly bothersome trait (You can still fight while drunk. Drugged up, probably not so much) He will have a bit of an apathetic world view, though he values the companionship of his crewmates highly (Even if he rarely admits it) Im thinking it would be fun to play him as a rough and tumble warrior, who likes to get into melee when he has the option, and probably augments himself with drugs (non-addictive). He is a doctor with all the sworn oaths that come with it, but tends to see it as far more effective to remove the harmful elements instead of waiting around to heal the damage they inflict. He was probably a bit gentler and more optimistic in his early life. Right now im thinking he is the classic war vet who has seen some stuff and thats why he drinks. This is all a bit vague, but thought id get it out there now so anyone who has a similar character already can tell me as much. Cheers. EDIT: Btw those ogres look ripe for a storyline about some organization weaponising them. 7 weeks for full grown 7 foot tall "super soldier"? Jackpot!
Shouting curses, Hjalmar dove into the crack, squirming after the ranger as fast as he could "I told you, we should go down, but would you listen!" He shouted as he did so.
Are there still spots? I kinda spaced out on the invite im afraid.
Just not as fun when a downside to the class is a downside for everyone. I dont know about you but I dont much enjoy my characters dying because someone else forced a roll on me.
Am I the only one a bit wary of zombie plague being a thing? I mean sure, if we didnt have a team member who will routinely be making them I wouldnt mind so much, but hes barely even begun doing it and already Bathilda was looking at a potential death sentence. Just really irks me.
Imp-losion rounds
Hauling his find from its hiding spot, Hjalmar called out to the others, bullet satchel raised above his head "Bingo!" He smiled widely. "Imp Shot or Imp-losion rounds if ya wanna get real fancy." He pulled one from the satchel, holding it up. "One of these puppies strikes somethin' livin', all hell quite literally breaks loose. But no worries, the imps will only attack whoever the bullet hits." He smirked with a twinkle in his eye. "So ya know, best to not blunder into my line of fire."
"This is rat turf." Hjalmar said, having wandered to the door to peer upwards towards the sound of more skaven. "My money is on goin' down. Whatever they are doin' up there, preparin' for us, we will be better off lettin' them just sit there until they get impatient and come after us." He checked his gear absentmindedly as he spoke, out of habit. "A runnin' battle will be to our advantage, walkin' into prepared rats will not. Agreed?"
Keep in mind that pretty much everything that pertains to fluff in this game is guidelines, not hard and fast rules. You can play the mutation as something you were born with, if thats what you want. Fx, im playing a pirate because I wanted a dwarf with a rifle who is prone to doing crazy stuff in the heat of battle. Hes not particularly piratey outside of that being the name of his class. Darn, now im thinking of Space Marines. Born with the right stuff, then modified with science.
I would imagine any slayer organizations to be atleast partially grounded in some sort of religion, since that is the most reliable thing to cause people to stand up and fight the unholy (thinking you are protected by your god). How deeply is up to you, theres no reason the organization couldnt be rather ancient, but have changed over time to only give token homage to their god, focusing more on the practical rather than prayer. Id personally image a cosmopolitan society of dwarves wouldnt be much different than humans when regarding slayers. They would probably see them as a bit odd and mysterious, probably at once looking down on them for not living life and giving it up for their calling, but admiring and respecting, even fearing them for the same reason. The respect would probably weigh more heavily with dwarves and their honor focused society. Heck, with dwarves such an organization might even be well loved by the general population, seen a knights performing honor bound duty. When you mention the mutation, the first thing that struck we was the possibility of it being some sort of thing he was born with, something that society knows marks him as a slayer. His parents would then dutifully have handed him over to the slayers. Its kinda like the Thunder Twins thing from DnD, where an entire generation of dwarves had an incredibly high rate of twin births, with those twins being supremely in tune with one another. It happened because of one of their gods (Probably Moradin, cant remember). Sorry if this is getting rather intrusive on your creative process, im just throwing ideas at you.
A Slayer type character would have no problem fitting into the world, since its loosely based on Warhammer, a world rife with things you would want Slayers around to handle. The Warhammer setting even has a Slayer type in the form of the Witch Hunter. Skaven in particular are just askin' for a good slayin' with the kinda stuff they like to do.
Im certainly interested, im currently a bit low on active games. Gonna have to get back to you in a bit about the actual rules.
"Gotta be real careful about pursuit though." Hjalmar said with a sour expression. "Damn rats and their infernal contraptions could easily be the end of us all if we let them ambush us." He walked up to the others, waving a finger at noone in particular. "Flame belchin' guns, heck, I even heard talk of some sort of rifle that shoots faster than an archer." "Crazy rats, maybe we get lucky and they blow themselves up." He finished, once more holstering his rifle and readying himself with cutlass in had at the front. "Whenever yer ready lads."
Reloading his rifle, Hjalmar spared a glance at what everyone else was doing, rolling his eyes at Dhice. "Stop that lad, there will be plenty time for a mental breakdown later." As he walked up to the door, he made a point of passing Dhice, slapping the youths head lightly. "Get it together or get out. Youre either a help or a liability, so choose one." He said, before addressing Morley. "I can probably get it open with powder if it proves too difficult." He offered, raising an eyebrow and producing a smile as the rattling sound of the lock springing open reached him. "Or not."
"Soddin' rotten luck." Hjalmar grumbled, looking up from the dislodged bit of rubble at Rikards feet. Rounding the corner with the others, he pulled Agatha from his back with practiced ease, sighting down its length and aiming it at the staircase. "Seems we get to appreciate your song sooner than expected lass!" He shouted with a tinge of manic glee in his voice. As the first reinforcement came into view Agatha released a boisterous roar.
You should see about getting a picture for your character.
"Well, if theres one thing wrong with Dwarven masonry, its that we arent good about puttin' up signs." Hjalmar replied to Morley, scratching his beard thoughtfully with one hand. "Everyone in the clan just knows where everythin' is, and we dont exactly expect outsiders to wander around by themselves." He smiled, though there was a grimness to his facial expression. "Doesnt make it easy for invaders either." He waved his arm in an arch, pointing at each tunnel in turn. "Which of these leads to the larger areas and any housing that may have been carved, will depend entirely on what was hauled out of the earth in each one." He shrugged. "Im afraid simply bein' a dwarf does not make me much more qualified than the lot of you in determinin' where to go." As Archepex signaled, Hjalmar patted Agatha, before slinging the rifle on his back and drawing his cutlass "Dont worry lass, you will have your chance to sing."
"Could be to salvage components for their infernal contraptions." Hjalmar remarked as he joined the others, having remained on overwatch for a few more moments, until it became rather redundant as the entire group had now left cover and were standing around in the open. "I dont think the bastards enjoy the classics too well. Probably tone deaf the lot of em." Hefting his gun and looking around, he then added. "Best be gettin' inside, we aint exactly hidden standin' around like this."
"Me and Agatha will be on overwatch then." Hjalmar said, shifting his position slightly to get a better view of the entrance proper. "Ill try not to shoot unless I have to." He added, sighting down the length of his gun.
Sitting silently in a bush, Hjalmar tracked the movement of one of the skaven riding the cart. He dearly wished to pull the trigger right then and there, to perforate the rodents skull. But good sense won out as it usually did. "I got the one with red hood lad." He whispered to Archepex. "In case they spot us that is. You got the other one then?" He added, realizing that the ranger might be justified in thinking Hjalmar meant to shoot then and there.
"A decent, tasty meal, were we eatin' it back in one of Rhonds taverns." Hjalmar remarked, having just finished his bowl by drinking the stew from it like a cup. "Under the circumstances though, this be approachin' fine dinin'. My thanks ladies." Getting up, he did a few morning stretches as he was wont to do, having had no time before now as he had risen from his slumber only when the bowl had been showed into his hands. His assorted equipment and patches of chainmail and plate which were strewn about his patchwork armor, jingled vigorously, punctuated by the occasional loud crack of vertebrae. "Ready as ever lass, though as usual ill be removin' brains rather than heads." He replied to Bathilda rolling his arms in their sockets a few times, before hefting his rifle with a nod.
An extra violent inhalation caused Hjalmars snore to rumble across the room, as Dhices cries disturbed, but didnt wake him. Shifting his weight on his rifle-bed, he murmured something before falling still again. For a brief moment, his snore was gone, heavy breathing having replaced it. But it didnt take long for the dwarf to once more begin to snore...it never did.
"Well, I thank ya for the hospitality." Hjalmar said, slapping his hands together and rubbing them as he looked around the room. "I aint a stranger to sleepin' on the ground, but the heat is a welcome addition." He added as he joined Bathilda near the fireplace. Leaning Agatha against the wall, he draped his bedroll over the rifle, then sat down leaning upon it. After a mere few moments of rummaging about to get comfortable, he was fast asleep, murmured unintelligible words and the occational snore reaching those near him.
"Well there ya go." Hjalmar said, putting away the book and hefting his own rifle. "We were headin' into the mine to skin those bastards anyway, so atleast for my part, this ones on the house." He regained a bit of his usual bravado, a murderous glint in his eyes accompanying the smile that had slipped onto his lips. "That bein' said, for now, I think we will be needin' your hospitality and the offer of a place to rest. The recent ambush has left most all of us with wounds that need time to mend."
Strolling around the room with a more content expression now, Hjalmar was enjoying finding himself in dwarven accommodations once more. As wide spread as his people were in the world, once you ventured into the countryside, other races tended to be more numerous, dwarves becoming scarcer with every passing mile. He loved the city life, but out here, he realized that his people had maybe lost touch with the rural life. Strolling along the bookshelves, he looked for a title to catch his fancy, stopping when he spied the title "The rise and fall of antiquity." "That sounds promising." He thought as he pulled the book from its resting place. Hjalmar enjoyed reading more than most would expect, though his interests were rather narrow, most of what he read being forgotten by the next page. Battles and tales of treasure and adventure however, those stuck with him. Surely with such a title, this book would be able to offer up something good? At Helgas words he turned and looked up, managing to tear his attention away from a particularly riveting entry describing the wholesale slaughter of King Menkhs entire army some 800 years prior. "Mercenary by trade, yes ma'am." He said with a nod of agreement. He turned towards their hosts, closing the book. "Though truth be told, the longer this campaign has been goin', there more its been about payback and hatred." He looked around at everyone present. "Cant rightly speak for everyone, but dependin' on what you are thinkin' about offerin' us for whatever task you need doin', I doubt we would take more than simple supplies to get the job done." He laughed, a forlorn sound which suddenly showed how weary the dwarf had become from the blood and attrition which had been their constant companions for 6 long months. "Dont feel right gettin' paid for somethin' you were gonna do anyway." He took a deep breath, shaking off his weary slouch and thousand mile stare, clearing his throat. "So, what are ya thinkin'?" Hearing Grigor mirror his sentiment, he nodded approvingly at the warrior.
Digging with your hands is best reserved for the servants.
Having thought better of saying anything at the point of a gun, now that things had calmed down a bit, Hjalmar couldnt help himself. "What times we live in, that one dwarf would think they would ever be robbed by another." He grumbled, loud enough to be heard by most anyone nearby.
So dwarves and humans have equivalent life expectancy?
"Still, if we make it through, we can get a look at whats behind that barricade." Hjalmar mused, stroking his chin and looking more and more towards their original destination. "We're already half way through, cant be that far to the other side."
Having followed the goings on in the basement, perched at the edge of the hole, Hjalmar had made his way to the door with Dhice. As the door had opened and their two companions were reunited with them, he had stepped into the doorway with his musket at the ready, just in case one of the giant bugs was on their heels. "Good job keepin' a level head there you two." He said, offering reassuring shoulder pats. "Better you than me though. Had it been me down there, right about now there would have been a mantis with a perforated skull and a dwarf in pieces." He looked back towards where they had come, then towards the direction they needed to go. "You reckon these buggers will let us keep goin' through, or do we hightail it the way we came?"
Hjalmar quite enjoyed Ricardos company, the old dwarf being a font of good dwarven values, made for a comforting link to the heritage he had nonetheless left behind all those years ago when he chose the road over hearth and kin. He also found it rather amusing that such a dwarf would have such an un-dwarven name. While Hjalmar personally held no real animosity for other races, except for the stereotypes, he knew a good joke when he heard it, racist or not. "You know darn well that the previous ones were lost to good honest rat bashin'. Maybe yer steel just isnt up to the task?" He said jokingly with a laugh, accepting the offered cutlass with a nod of gratitude.
"Sounds like we better get in there." Hjalmar said rather loudly, pulling his newly acquired cutlass. Going room to room really was no battlefield for a musket. Waving for the others to follow along, he started heading inside at a steady yet light toed pace, not stopping to check if anyone was following.
"Aye, sign me up for goin' through." Hjalmar said with a sagely nod. He hefted his rifle onto his shoulder, patting it lovingly. "Just hope we wont have to fight a silent fight at any point, Agatha isnt the type to keep quiet." He flashed a wicked grin. "She speaks her mind loud and clear." He looked around the group. "Which reminds me, anyone happen to find a weapon I could have in case things get up close and personal? I mean, Agathas butt makes for a compellin' argument all its own in a scuffle, but she aint exactly made for quick work." He pantomimed fencing, showing some obvious skill had he had an actual dagger or cutlass.
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