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The enlarging spell wearing off, Jorgo feels weaker, but still galvanized by the mutagen. “Aah! Thank you, father!” says to Kirridell when the priest emanates healing energy. “Seems ta me searching this place here can be a good idea, but I get your fear of other intruders of the rather… thin variety.” Jorgo nods towards the skeletal remains. “I wanna see if there’s anything outside ready to do nasty business.” The half-orc gets out of the door he just came in and starts circling the lodge clockwise, looking for signs of perils.
Jorgo listens to the guy he just rescued “Could’ve told me before, you smartguy!” he swaps weapon, grabbing poor, unlucky Votun’s Morningstar to attack the skeleton.
I feel ok going back to Medium this round. You already gave me an extra Large round for the table stunt, that's enoungh.
Feeling his enlarging effect coming to an end, Jorgo, still under the effect of the cocktail of potions, is now completely lost in his altered frame of mind. Gone is subtlety, and finesse was never there. What is in fact there, is furniture. Jorgo grabs the nearest piece of furniture he can and hurls it at the skeleton that just appeared.
“Fellas, you better follow Lady Sigrun an’ the good father or I’m gonna come down there! Move, fellas, move!” growls Jorgo down the hole in the floor. While his two companions perform the rescue he keeps a lookout and from time to time crashes his axe on a piece of furniture or screams a random monster sentence, just to avoid any bandit getting their courage back – he’s enjoying himself immensely.
“What’s that?” screams Jorgo pointing at the ground “Y’all better be talking now, or you’ll be keeping company to some spices in my belly tonight!” Jorgo exhibits his scariest, toothiest grin “What’s that noise? Whatcha keeping down there?”
Barely waiting for answer, Jorgo lifts his axe and crashes it down onto the floor - or a trapdoor, if there's one visible.
(before subtracting hardness)
Jorgo, still alchemically enlarged, lets go with one hand the ginormous battleaxe he is holding.
I am waiting for Kirridel. Anyway, Jorgo will try to Intimidate into submissions the remaining bandits - not demoralize them, but making them actually stop fighting.
Fine. The least I can do for Jorgo is to let him finish his first hulking out :D
I actually vote to drop the campaign. GM style was fine in the beginning, then maybe you stretched yourself too thin but frequency and size of the posts dropped significantly, and a game can't really be fun with one update a week. We lost Votun, we probably lost Colbert... I am enjoying Jorgo, but waiting for recruitment will further slow the pace. I don't think that's a wise decision. Sorry, but my vote is to stop here. Thanks for getting us so far Pending.
In his alchemically altered state, Jorgo is enjoying the sensation of power What would have said the Green Ogre, that character father was fond of... what was his ah yes JORGO SMASH! he shows his teeth in an evil smile. He looks in the eyes the biggest and toughest-looking of the bandits, the one that wasn't so shaken at his big entrance. "Look at them juicy limbs on you. Imma eat you first!" that said he hacks at the bandit with his axe.
Jorgo cracks his neck and grabs not, one, not two, but three vials from his belt. He gives his companions time to move near the windows and their favorite entry points. Then, hidden behind the well, drink his two of his three cocktails. He immediately feels his appearance shift a bit and his muscles grow thicker, while his mind gets numb and less refined: where there was cunning, now there’s mostly fury. The beefed up alchemist gets close to the door, drinks his third extract. Just when he feels his size magically increasing, he slams it open with a kick and announces himself with an inhuman scream and a fire bomb.
rolls:
Jorgo looks at his companions, then at his formula books, than at his companions again. "You know... all this talk of winter monsters and whatnots kinda gave me an idea." he opens up his formula book, where a crude charcoal sketch illustrates the formula.
He closes his books "Needs a bit of preapration of course, but can turn in handy if you folks need to escape with that Lady or sneak in somewhere else with the attention is on me. But you gotta tell me first if you want to do that... because I only have enough catalysts for two extracts, and making those two means I don't get my daily drink of ass-saving from big nasty wounds..."
The next morning, with the very first lights of the dawn, Jorgo wakes up. He mixes his mutagen and his bombs, then warms up instant coffee (one of the many tricks up in his alchemical's sleeve) for everyone.
Jorgo looks at Kirridel a bit offended “I ain’t killin’s them in cold blood, father, come on! I’m handy with a cleaver, that does not make me a butcher!” he pushes Kirridel on the shoulder, half playfully half annoyed “Sure wish we could bring them to prison, but that ain’t happening either.” he adds, making sure the three prisoners can’t hear him. “Judging from the smoke, that place is not far away. We can leave these idiots here tied up in their tents, go do our business at the fort. When we come back, we bring them to the guards or we set them their own way with a healthy scare. Either way, I’m fine.” “So, should we rest for the night an’ try to take the place at dawn? Do we trust this guy?”
Jorgo holds the bandit by the earlobe, squeezing hard with his strength enhanced by the mutagen.
"Answer the good father, man... and you get to feel warm once again - in a Taldan prison, that is, but still warm and with both ears."
word of advice to Kirridell and others: Jorgo's concept is that he's from a family of barbarians but he cannot rage, so he turns to the mutagen as a "synthetic rage".
Jorgo is NOT happy. He looks at the empty vial of mutagen in his hand, and squeezes his eyes, trying to concentrate as all the blood flows from his brain to his engorged muscles. “Great, old man. Just great.” he says polemically to Votun “Not only I didn’t get a chance to warm myself up with a brawl, but I wasted some fine alchemical work.” he throws the empty vial in the snow. “I’m all worked up for nothing! GRAAH!” he hacks with his axe, as hard as he can, at a pine truck nearby. “Uff.” he puffs after a few blows “I guess, to console myself, I can always proceed to the interrogation!” he cracks his knuckles “This fellers are kidnappers and bandits, they deserve a knee in the ribcage, don’t they?” He makes sure the other two are safely tied, then gets the toughest-looking one up. He slaps him very hard in the face “Wake up, jackass! The punch fairy came visit your dreams!”
Jorgo mutters a bit under his breath. Sending Colberg to spy before attacking, and catching the bandits by surprise with magic is a sound enough plan: but after the afternoon spent walking in the snow he wouldn't have minded a little brawl to heat his blood. "I guess we could wait for the twilight, but I'm not too keen on freezing my butt keeping an eye on them" "Fine, fine. I'll bash them in the head, but just slightly" says Jorgo to Kirridell. The half-orc, axe in one hand and a glass vial in the other, approaches cautiously the bandit camp.
Rolling stats and dotting.
that is a 6 point buy. Great.
Jorgo grabs the rope "Give me here, ol' man! If it holds me up it can hold any of you!" says the half orc, conjuring up the courage to face the ice. "While we are at it, Votun, would you mind hitting the ice a couple of times with your magical freezing ray you're so fond of? Maybe it'll help holding everything together..." He waits for Votun to do his thing, then he makes for the crossing.
“Good catch, Old man… seemed solid to me at a first glance!” comments Jorgo “We really don’t want to fall in there. With the chilling water locking up your muscles and breath, you’ll be easy lunch for the fish or whatever – I think I see something moving under the ice. Jorgo looks around “It’s not that far… I guess we can fasten a rope to a tree on the other side, just to be sure. I don’t know, do you happen to have a small telekinetic spell ready, Votun? Or maybe the bird can lift the noose up on a sturdy branch?” Jorgo looks at his companions “If any of you is good with a bow, we can try that route too, I guess…
“I frightened it allright… but I’m not so sure ‘t was him I was talkin’ to just a second ago.”
“Gods dammit! I’m sure I got fooled somehow. This lump of meat ain’t the one who was talkin’ to us… I bet there was someone playing ventriloquist or puppeteer or whatever, hidden in the bushes somewhere. And now it looks like it left us with th’ puppet and no answers!" "Lady Sigrun, Colberg, can you take a look for weird prints around here? Maybe we get lucky… would be about time today.” he scratches one of the many mosquito bites on his neck. “So Old man, do we still have a lead, or did our very small friend cooperation stop here?”
There are couple of things that Jorgo is sensitive about. Mainly the sharpness of his axe, the sharpness of his wit, and the belief that with enough saltpeter you can solve anything. Comments about his good looks though leave him indifferent. He pats the long wooden handle of his axe “Sticks” he picks up a rock from the ground “and stones, my furry friend, sticks and stones.” he lets the rock fall and moves the hand away from the axe. “and fire, of course” he adds, since the creatures of this winter seem not to like it.
Jorgo tilts his head, trying to figure out the talking animal «No business of yours, that’s true. Men punish those of their kin who behave badly. That’s a thing for us.»
Jorgo looks at Votun while the old man interrogates the tiny fey.
The half-orc cracks his neck «Good, so now it’s finally raiders. No corpses, no bugs, just guys to hit in the head. With an axe. I like that.» Jorgo keeps listening «Of course there’s a troll. It never goes smoothly. Well, here’s to hoping we have enough fire!» Jorgo puts Feyswatter and his axe in their backstraps and takes his place in the rearguard, waiting or the march to proceed.
Ok, GM, fellow players. Quite to my surprise, I’ve been recently accepted into a volunteer project that will last from June 18th to July 6th. I doubt there will be much internet access where I’m going, and even then, I probably won’t have much time to post.
I apologize for the inconvenience.
«Oh and now what the…» Jorgo barely sees the tiny creature. «Great. Other buggers. Couldn’t the dragon eat them instead of eyeing us?» Jorgo grabs Kirridell for the sleeve of his shirt, dragging the father along with him «C’mon father, let’s get some cover… you’re just about frozen, they even shoot a toothpick at you you’ll shatter. That would be hilarious for a second, yeah, but I’ll miss you in the long run…» pulling the cleric, Jorgo takes cover. «Hey… who there? We don’t want no trouble! We’re just running from the monster!»
«Ah! Don't ask me» Jorgo replies to Colberg «Don't think I recall ever seeing stuff like that... it would give me a chill down my spine, if I wasn't freezing already.»
Jorgo follows the trackers, keeping an eye on the rearguard.
«Nay, if I remember Clancy's stories correctly, that thing might just be a pony-sized snow dragon. Of the rather dangerous sort.» Jorgo adjusts his hold on the axe, just to be sure «In another situation, I'd be glad to rid the woods of a nasty beast like that - but I'm still screwed up by those bugs, and the terrain would be all in his favor.» «I think staying clear of it is the best course of action... just... whoever is in the rearguard, keep an eye out, would'ya? You never know this thing has an appetite and decides to follow us...»
Jorgo shivers as the temperature lowers. Gorum curse me! he thinks Next time Tess offers to pay me with one of her formulas, I'll stay way from combat tricks and pick a nice "warm belly extract" or something like that. Brrr... He then turns towards Votun «What was that? Did that bird see something?» Jorgo squints, trying to look under the snow, in the direction Votun pointed at.
Jorgo stops his axe mid-air. «Oh!» he exclaims as he sees a cable running from the chest to a nearby tree «So I guess this may be a trap… good thing the older folks are wiser and take a moment to make me watch before I hit.» he shrugs and gives a crooked smile at Votun, a bit embarrassed at his own exuberance. «I guess we lack the time or skill to disarm it…» he puts his axe back on his back «So back to following tracks.» I’ll have these bandits pay for taunting me into making a fool of myself, too, then…
«Mmm. Votun's right, we got little time to spare... but me mom always told me not to waste resources. And since no one here strikes me as a master lockbreaker...»
«I agree... let's move. Fast» Jorgo shakes his head, angry and disappointed «They didn't even left us the bodies to bury. Whoever did this, bandit or monster, is just begging to get his neck broken. An old farmer's family, never hurt a soul in their life... Gorum curse them - may they die of tetanus!» he grits his teeth - his everlasting grin reduced to a grimace. Then, almost forgetting «This may come in handy» he holds up the vial «it keeps your skin warm even an ice drake breathes on you. Now, master Colberg, lady Sigrun... let's get these bastards!»
Jorgo holds the vial against the sun, then shakes it a bit and sniffs the fumes, trying to understand its nature.
Seeing that both the dwarf and the warrior woman are covering the surrounding area looking for tracks, Jorgo decides to spend his time in different way.
Jorgo is doing his best to contain the flames, being the most responsible for them. «Aye, let's hope they're still in one piece... otherwise you'll be the only old grump left in the region. We can't have that.» Jorgo makes jokes to lighten the situation, but he's actually worried Those bugs almost took down the father, and me too... I hope there's still some blood left flowing in the Dansby's veins...
«Alright, let's get this over with!» says Jorgo once Kirridell is safely away. He grabs a flask, shakes it, and throws it at the swarm.
«C'mon, let's get you out of here!» shouts Jorgo at Kirridell. He grabs the father by the wrists and moves away from the swarm.
Jorgo is a bit relieved at the sight of the magical healing taking place on father Kirridell – and even more so when the mosquitos fly away from the source of fire next to him. Hoping that the flame will last a bit longer, he bandages his punctures to stop the bleeding.
«Oh this just keeps getting better n’ better!» cries out Jorgo as he sees father Kirridell collapse. «Try to get the fire going! The larger the better! We only have so many flasks of liquid fire, it won’t be enough!» Jorgo makes sparks above the dry grass and wooden fencing he and Sigrun put together, hoping to ignite them. Unable to use his bombs with Kirridell lying at the feet of the buzzing swarm, Jorgo runs at the opponent «Spread out, as far away from each other as possible! If I fall too, retreat and try to get them to follow you!» The half-orc grunts and huffs as he gets ready to lift the body of the priest onto his shoulders. Oh Mighty Lord in Iron please do not make me go like this... an explosion of fire, an axe to the head, a blade to the guts... but don't let me die because of f*°!#n' mosquitos!
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