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I enjoyed it for sure. Best of luck everybody.
More. More death. More destruction. _____________________________________
Woah, new posts! I wasn't getting updates, sorry everybody!
Here and excited!
I wish you the best Arctorus.
There is nothing left anymore. Just the fire and death around him as the one-eyed dwarf continues his rampage. _________________________________________
Whump! Mordger swings once again, trying to clear the burning bones from about him.
"Raaaaawwrrghghhhh!!!" Lost to the rage, all eloquence of speech has left the dwarf. The next enemy is the only thing he sees.
Morgder roars as the fire continues to burn at him, filling the room with the smell of burning dwarf beard. "You unholy bastards will die to my axe!" He roars, yelling in vain at the mindless undead as he swings.
No stranger to loss, Morgder feels sympathetic as he gazes around the room. But before he can fully comprehend or appreciate it there's suddenly a fiery undead threat! He roars as the fire burns at him, then steps north and tries to crush one of the vile undeads!
GM:
Morgder grunts and shrugs, his one eye sweeping the room. "If they can't control it and it's in enemy territory, I'd just burn it down. Suppose you can't always do that though."
Morgder walks into the room and shakes his head with a grunt. "Can't believe they've left this place such a bloody mess. It's a Damned ugly spot in the middle of town." He says, kicking one of the beds. He starts walking along the walls, getting in front of the altar as he looks around.
What do you guys think for lv 3 weapon? Dwarven long hammer? Dwarven dorn dergor? Dwarven long axe?
"Raaaaahhh! You little bastard!" Morgder cries out. He tries to butcher the disease infested vermin.
Titan Mauler archetype errata update.
Thank the gods, we can actually use big 2h weapons now.
Morgder growls at the creatures. Finally they bloody show themselves. With a roar he moves forward and drops his axe on the creature!
I will be AFK got a day or two, please DMPC as needed.
Morgder grunts and nods to Tharok. "I'm bloody sick of this whole building. Let's get this done." He moves forward and boots a stout boot to the door.
I just had surgery. Nothing life threatening, but I'm going to be in a lot of pain and on a lot of drugs the next week. Please DMPC as necessary.
Enlarge Morgder for the 3d8 weapon damage. Hehehe.
Ha! Updating now.
Morgder moves back into the room and tries to find where the rat disappeared to.
"Grafelda, get on up here!" Mordger goes to help lift her out of the hole.
Morgder winces at all the bites but ignores most of them. "Bloody bugs, come on Arctorus!" He follows the big man forward to find the source and helps pummel it.
Morgder grunts at Skrioth and continues moving forward.
Morgder grunts and jerks his head. Once everybody is ready, he kicks the door open.
"Would it not be more appropriate to determine just who the deceased is, and return his goods to the family?"
Morgder shrugs. "We could try. Looks fairly rotted away though."
"By the iron beard!" Mordger makes sure Actorus didn't break anything, mumbling something about recklessness. His attention turns to the armor. "That's a good piece there. I could make use o' that, unless somebody else wants it."
Morgder grunts as he remains on the lookout. Don't want to get ambushed by any baby spiders or anything while the magic users are checking stuff out.
Morgder just grunts in surprise and pain at the sudden vermin onslaught. "By the rusted codpiece, what in the nine hells!?" He sluggishly chops down his massive axe.
Morgder takes front and center, axe held over his shoulder as he starts pushing into the ruined building. His one good eye scans the ruins.
Morgder gives the man a look halfway between scowling and sympathy. "Come on you big lug. Let's get you some cold water and bread. Maybe some sleep." Probably won't get anything useful out of him for a bit.
Mordger grunts when he's mentioned, and stays mostly silent, but at the end he gives a nod. "That boy was alive with a fire under his arse to get some good done. We're worse off without him, and the gods are better for having him."
Morgder wrinkles his nose at the smell, but doesn't judge the man. Things have been rough recently. He raises his one good eyebrow at Tharok, suggesting he goes first. Mordger is still an outsider and not much of a talker to boot.
Morgder grunts in agreement with Tharok's suggestion. "Sounds good ta me." He stands and finishes his drink, wiping his beard and following Tharok out.
I'm actually pretty surprised at all the subterfuge given the premise of the campaign, but it's certainly not unwelcome. It's just that being a martial type with only 2 skill points means I'm not a lot of help :P
Sounds good to me as well!
I'm also starting to forget key IC details. I do have to admit that this can be a problem. Whenever there's a big post I have to go back to check that I'm remembering things correctly.
Everything about this game is spectacular (quality of posts, attention to detail, maps, etc.) except for the pace. It is slow and I would like to see it move faster, but I knew what I signed up for. I would prefer to move faster but I would rather have it move slower and not stress the GM out if he only has so much time in his day.
Morgder's one good eye follows Arctorus as he leaves. Size aside, that lad's troubled. He looks back at Grafelda, grumbling a short response. "Politics." He shakes his head. "Ain't gettin' nothin' done complaining about, ought to just get it done."
Morgder looks wide awake, like he had been up and about for hours. He sits at the end of the bar and sips on his drink, eying the others quietly. Well I suppose nobody died in the night, that's good.
Morgder gives grunts of approval at the militia members sweeping the streets. Good ta know things are being taken seriously. When he goes to get some sleep he smells the lilac and cloves, then smiles for the first time that day. He sleeps like a rock, gaining his strength back from his loss of control today. Morgder spends the frigid early hours out in the wilderness, doing some early fishing. He finds a pond and uses the haft of his axe to crack open the sheet of ice on it and sets to his task. It's a calming act, something simple and necessary for life that helps clear his mind of the day. Once he gets a half-dozen fish out on dry land he reaches for his flint, and half an hour later he's picking his teeth with his dagger. With breakfast done and the sun peaking over the horizon, he makes his way back to the Longhouse to meet up with the others.
"Yeah, it'd be a pretty good cover up, wouldn't it? And just because something's treason doesn't mean it ain't right. Rising up against an evil tyrant counts as treason, but it's still a good thing to do. Law ain't always right."
Mordger grunts at the notion of sticking together. More than half o' us are outsiders and the rest could very well be traitors. Damned but I wish I was better at readin' people. "Ought to let the chief know what's goin' on. She's got a right ta know, an' maybe she can help. And if she's the one behind it we're probably screwed anyways." He finishes with pessimism. His one good eye scans through the ragtag group. "I'll be sleepin' outside again. Don't care ta pay ta sleep somewhere I'm less comfortable, and we don't really know it's not one of us anyways. I'll stick to trusting myself fer now." He finishes coldly. Helena would give me a scolding for that. By the gods I miss her, I really should visit her before all this business gets one of us killed.
Mordger turns, the death howl catching his ear. His eye is a murderous orb of veins as he marches towards the tall ones. Only I level here, only equal all in death! His axe rattles on the cold ground as he begins dragging up the blood covered blade. But as the nearest tall figure turns he suddenly feels the fury shrink. No...just one more...always one more... But it's too late. He closes his one good eye... The fire in his limps have been replaced by lead. A dull throb echoes through his body, from his sore shoulders to the base of his neck, and now the new unpleasant searing in his lost eye. He grunts and falls to one knee, one hand using his oversized axe like a crutch and the other held over his blood-spattered face. Damnit...I can't let that happen, not yet anyways. Not before they know what it means. He looks around and follows the blood spatters. Right, wolves. Poor creatures, just hungry. Still, they shouldn't have got in. After he breathes for a moment Morgder stands and starts following the tracks back.
An idea is almost on the tip of Mordger's mind, but a painful throb through his neck distracts him. He gasps and leans against the cart. Damnit. It's getting worse.
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