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Author Topic: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 17: I Guess This Counts As Taking Casualties  (Read 28944 times)

Dustan Hache

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 8 And Nothing Has Happened Yet
« Reply #120 on: July 14, 2016, 11:24:07 pm »

"I heard rumors that the guards needed some soap- I mean training, and I am a decent fighter. If you'd be willing to pay me, I could probably teach a couple of things. I can provide proof of my skill, too."
Stop thinking about soap, focus on something like beer or fighting. Try to convince the guard to either fight me to prove my skill, or to let me train their recruits. either/or.
« Last Edit: July 14, 2016, 11:25:54 pm by Dustan Hache »
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I figure at some point, you're just gonna run outta fucks to give and just off yourself whenever you get hurt at all. It's not like there's any downsides to it. Hangover? Suicide will fix that. Stubbed your toe? Suicide. Headache? Suicide. Papercut? Suicide.

inaluct

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 8 And Nothing Has Happened Yet
« Reply #121 on: July 18, 2016, 03:54:56 pm »

"I heard rumors that the guards needed some soap- I mean training, and I am a decent fighter. If you'd be willing to pay me, I could probably teach a couple of things. I can provide proof of my skill, too."
Stop thinking about soap, focus on something like beer or fighting. Try to convince the guard to either fight me to prove my skill, or to let me train their recruits. either/or.
[5] The guards actually perk up at the challenge. They look at one another and grin.

"Finally, some excitement. Wait right here." The one with the pole saw ducks inside the tent. You hear a brief conversation, a shuffling of papers, a quiet clatter, and then the guard returns carrying two wooden staves and without his saw. Three other men file out of the tent behind him. Two of them have felt insignia sewn onto their cloth armor that you recognize as the insignia of a lieutenant and a sergeant. You nimbly catch the stave that the guard tosses your way, and a small crowd begins to circle as he takes a defensive fighting stance.

"Let's see what you're made of!"
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AbstractTraitorHero

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Kick the guy in the face who grabbed me take most of the posters and leave try to look impressive enough several might want to join.
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((I just facepalmed so hard I have a concussion))
Rip Abigail South Death by Drop pod my avatar is now morbid.

inaluct

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Kick the guy in the face who grabbed me take most of the posters and leave try to look impressive enough several might want to join.
[5+1] vs [4] You grab the extremely ugly man by his shoulders and push him to the ground before rearing back and driving the toe of your boot into his face. He skids along the floor several feet from the impact, and lies there wiggling limply, eyes unfocused as thick dark blood begins to gush from his nose. The nearby part of the tavern goes quiet, most eyes turned to look at you.

[+1 EXP!]

[2] You look around briefly before beginning to tear posters off of the corkboard, attempting to harness violence of action to look impressive as you ball the crumpled posters into a messy armful. A wave of confused mumbling comes from the tavern, and then you hear the scooting of a few chairs. Moments later, a strong hand grasps your shoulder and you are aware that several men in the cloth armor of Ronke's city guard are standing behind you.

"It's a crime to deface a wanted poster in this city. I think you've had enough to drink tonight, lass. Drop the posters and let's get you out of here." A few of the guards put their hands on your arms and begin to gently motion to guide you towards the back.
« Last Edit: July 18, 2016, 08:07:36 pm by inaluct »
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AbstractTraitorHero

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 8.2: Poor Impulse Control
« Reply #124 on: July 18, 2016, 09:25:00 pm »

"Let the hell go of Me i have enough things to deal with primarily assassin's and I'm not gonna let some guards waste my time right after I just got done with a will reading so get the hell off me and I'll let go of the papers."
Tell them to let me the hell go right now.
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((I just facepalmed so hard I have a concussion))
Rip Abigail South Death by Drop pod my avatar is now morbid.

Dustan Hache

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 8.2: Poor Impulse Control
« Reply #125 on: July 18, 2016, 10:43:26 pm »

Wield the stave like it was a two-handed sword, using broad swings to keep my opponent at bay. If I get a opportunity, give em a good jab in the legs or the chest with the end of it. Keep on the move to avoid any counterattacks.
Logged
I figure at some point, you're just gonna run outta fucks to give and just off yourself whenever you get hurt at all. It's not like there's any downsides to it. Hangover? Suicide will fix that. Stubbed your toe? Suicide. Headache? Suicide. Papercut? Suicide.

inaluct

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 8.2: Poor Impulse Control
« Reply #126 on: July 19, 2016, 02:55:30 pm »

Wield the stave like it was a two-handed sword, using broad swings to keep my opponent at bay. If I get a opportunity, give em a good jab in the legs or the chest with the end of it. Keep on the move to avoid any counterattacks.

The staff isn't an improvised weapon and it isn't a sword, but it's definitely similar to both, so your skills apply. Opponent in red.

[1+1] You swing your staff broadly, attempting to force your opponent to give you space. It appears to work well at first, with the guard retaining his cautious stance and not making any aggressive movements... until you swing a little too broadly, leaving yourself momentarily exposed. You're only vulnerable for a split second, but it's enough. [3] vs [5] The guard rushes in and aims a short swing at your head, but you duck under it smoothly and aim a quick jab [6+1] vs [1] at his legs. Your strike goes low and the end of the staff slams hard into the guard's ankle. You sweep his other leg out from under him and he topples to the ground with a yelp as the assembling crowd around you collectively gasps and then begins to cheer.

[+5 EXP!]

"Very impressive!" The lieutenant says as he lightly applauds. The two remaining guardsmen without rank insignia help the one you just defeated to his feet and support him as he limps away to the tent. The sergeant and lieutenant pause at the entrance of the tent.

"I think I can say with confidence that we can use your skills as a trainer. Please come inside." The lieutenant gestures towards the interior of the tent.

"Let the hell go of Me i have enough things to deal with primarily assassin's and I'm not gonna let some guards waste my time right after I just got done with a will reading so get the hell off me and I'll let go of the papers."
Tell them to let me the hell go right now.
[5] The guards sort of look at you, then at each other, then back at you, then at each other. They seem kind of confused. One of them shrugs, and the others unhand you. The nearest one grabs the balled up wanted poster off the top of your bundle of crumpled paper, smooths it out, and tacks it back on the board.

"You're free to go. Don't cause any more trouble."
« Last Edit: July 19, 2016, 03:05:40 pm by inaluct »
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Yoink

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 8.9: Almost But Not Quite Turn 9
« Reply #127 on: July 19, 2016, 10:42:38 pm »

Gawk at the oversized weasels for a while, then remember what I was supposed to be doing and approach the owner/shopkeeper of the stall with the armour to make preliminary enquiries about purchasing a bulk amount of cheap helms and breastplates.

Also, give some thought to where I might be able to hire a trustworthy bodyguard in the city.
Perhaps an old comrade-in-crime who moved to the big smoke or something, preferably not one with a big mouth.


Spoiler: OOC (click to show/hide)
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Booze is Life for Yoink

To deprive him of Drink is to steal divinity from God.
you need to reconsider your life
If there's any cause worth dying for, it's memes.

inaluct

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 8.9: Almost But Not Quite Turn 9
« Reply #128 on: July 20, 2016, 06:14:20 pm »

Gawk at the oversized weasels for a while, then remember what I was supposed to be doing and approach the owner/shopkeeper of the stall with the armour to make preliminary enquiries about purchasing a bulk amount of cheap helms and breastplates.

Also, give some thought to where I might be able to hire a trustworthy bodyguard in the city.
Perhaps an old comrade-in-crime who moved to the big smoke or something, preferably not one with a big mouth.


Spoiler: OOC (click to show/hide)

You stare at the large mustelids, watching as they twist in mesmeric ecstasy in their cages, dooking and chirping. Such animals are favorite pets of the wealthy in this region, and wild specimens can be captured and bred. Unusual ones can command a staggering price. There are even reports of some weasels manifesting strange, unexplained powers. As you watch, one catches your eye; a large angora with a flowing mane of satiny golden fur. It stands with poise, posed like a proud lion on four incredibly stubby legs, ivory fangs protruding from its mouth and gleaming white in the searing desert sun. Its fur seems to flow as if blown by a mountain breeze, but the day is still. Something ineffable speaks to you, calls out to you from the beady dark eyes of the shining angora.

You tear yourself away and approach the armor vendor, inquiring about his helmets and breastplates.

"Some of the finest you'll find anywhere at this price!" The burly turbaned man grabs a breastplate off the stack and a helmet off the rack and sets them before you, encouraging you to examine and touch them. "The very same type used by the city guard, when the situation calls for metal armor. The visors are all detachable, of course, and so are the pauldrons."

You look over the armor; it actually appears to be quite sturdy for something sold in a stack, and you begin to negotiate a price. [4] You speak intelligently about what you value in armor and manage to negotiate a discount for a bulk purchase. I can't remember how many silver coins I said a guinea is worth, but let's say 10. You have 100 silver coins, and the shopkeeper is willing to sell you armor at the following rates;
Less than five sets:
Helmet - 5 silver ducats
Breastplate with pauldrons - 9 silver ducats

Five or more sets:
Helmet - 3 silver ducats
Breastplate with pauldrons - 7 silver ducats

Ten or more sets:
Helmet - 2 silver ducats
Breastplate with pauldrons - 5 silver ducats

[6] Seeing all this armor in one place reminds you of your banditry, and your comrades in the desert (and city). You try and think of who might be worth hiring as a bodyguard, but you can't stop thinking about all those people who would be totally unsuitable, like Osuttasue-Uhasab, who was completely unable to restrain himself from victory-screeching and shooting arrows up into the air after every successful robbery in the entire time you knew him. Or Tesen, who meditated instead of slept and had no attachment to worldly goods, and so was a totally ineffective bandit. Or Minos Maxos, who wore a minotaur mask made of a bull's skull and leather and would routinely kidnap a woman, tie a cowbell around her neck, and demand that she make mooing noises for him.

In retrospect, you're glad that you killed that chamberlain (whatever a chamberlain is) and stole his identity. You're not sure you ever want to go back to banditry. The job itself isn't that bad, it's just the people.
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Dustan Hache

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 9
« Reply #129 on: July 20, 2016, 06:50:35 pm »

Follow the guardsman into the tent.
"Lets get some formalities out of the way. I am Drubjarred, and I am currently in some sort of adventuring company under the name 'Turaco's Sellswords.' I came here to help get funding for the company in exchange for training. I would like to keep in mind that I won't be able to do a proper Dwarven training without some beasties for the trainees to fight against, but that can come later if you like my work."
Listen to their offer carefully, and pray they don't try to bribe me in particular with either beer or soap.
« Last Edit: July 22, 2016, 04:09:31 pm by Dustan Hache »
Logged
I figure at some point, you're just gonna run outta fucks to give and just off yourself whenever you get hurt at all. It's not like there's any downsides to it. Hangover? Suicide will fix that. Stubbed your toe? Suicide. Headache? Suicide. Papercut? Suicide.

AbstractTraitorHero

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 9
« Reply #130 on: July 22, 2016, 05:01:18 pm »

Try and write down the stuff the posters say.
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((I just facepalmed so hard I have a concussion))
Rip Abigail South Death by Drop pod my avatar is now morbid.

ATHATH

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 9
« Reply #131 on: July 23, 2016, 06:24:49 pm »

Noah saunters over to Yoink.

"I couldn't help but notice that you are looking for protection. Sure, you could get "mundane" armor and weapons, but they're bulky, unintuitive to use, and can't be worn all of the time. But if you buy chitin plates at the Graft Shack for only 15 silver per limb..."

Noah holds up his right arm, and pulls back his sleeve. Upon closer inspection, Yoink sees that it is covered in chitin plates. Before his very eyes, the plates shift, creating a wrist blade. Noah throws a brick skywards, and effortlessly cuts it in half before it hits the ground. Then, the plates shift into a shield shape, and Noah pulls out an alchemical pistol.

"The shield form is even bulletproof!"

Noah fires the pistol at his shield. The bullet ricochets off of the shield and hits Noah's chest.

"AAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Noah doubles over in pain, then smirks.

"Luckily for me, that won't leave a mark."

Noah lifts up his shirt, showing the rapid closing and healing of the wound. No scar remains. Yoink can also see numerous bumps, bulges, and discolorations on Noah's chest; they are likely augmentations and grafts.

"Troll regeneration glands, 35 silver a pop. Interested?"
« Last Edit: July 23, 2016, 07:28:16 pm by ATHATH »
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Seriously, ATHATH, we need to have an intervention about your death mug problem.
Quote
*slow clap* Well ATHATH congratulations. You managed to give the MC a mental breakdown before we even finished the first arc.
I didn't even read it first, I just saw it was ATHATH and noped it. Now that I read it x3 to noping

inaluct

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 9
« Reply #132 on: July 23, 2016, 10:22:36 pm »

Follow the guardsman into the tent.
"Lets get some formalities out of the way. I am Drubjarred, and I am currently in some sort of adventuring company under the name 'Turaco's Sellswords.' I came here to help get funding for the company in exchange for training. I would like to keep in mind that I won't be able to do a proper Dwarven training without some beasties for the trainees to fight against, but that can come later if you like my work."
Listen to their offer carefully, and pray they don't try to bribe me in particular with either beer or soap.
The lieutenant spends some time scribbling on a long piece of parchment before eventually signing the bottom and then folding it up, dripping a pool of hot scarlet wax onto the opening fold from a candle on his desk, and then pressing a signet ring into it as it cools. He waits a moment before handing it to the sergeant, who hands it to one of the guards, who hands it to you. The lieutenant speaks.

"This is an officially stamped and notarized letter from myself, Lieutenant R., to the Chief of the Ronke City Guard. It vouches for your skill as a fighter, your willingness to train our guards, and your professional composure. It also mentions your status as a representative of an adventuring company and includes a brief physical description. You can find the Chief at the Ronke City Guard Headquarters, at the corner of Quixote and Hecatonchires streets. The waxen seal is official, and I suggest that you do not break it. Headquarters will be more than happy to negotiate pay with you and set you up with everything you need. Do you have any questions?"

[1] You didn't catch a single word of that.

Just kidding. You heard the whole thing. I'm not gonna do that to you.

Try and write down the stuff the posters say.
You still have everything except the wanted poster.

[3] You look around awkwardly, massive bundle of crumpled paper in your arms, searching desperately for anything to write with. You find the nib of a pen on the ground. You spread out one of the other posters onto the board and write on the back, copying the wanted poster in the closest facsimile you can.



Nailed it.

Noah saunters over to Yoink.

"I couldn't help but notice that you are looking for protection. Sure, you could get "mundane" armor and weapons, but they're bulky, unintuitive to use, and can't be worn all of the time. But if you buy chitin plates at the Graft Shack for only 15 silver per limb..."

Noah holds up his right arm, and pulls back his sleeve. Upon closer inspection, Yoink sees that it is covered in chitin plates. Before his very eyes, the plates shift, creating a wrist blade. Noah throws a brick skywards, and effortlessly cuts it in half before it hits the ground. Then, the plates shift into a shield shape, and Noah pulls out an alchemical pistol.

"The shield form is even bulletproof!"

Noah fires the pistol at his shield. The bullet ricochets off of the shield and hits Noah's chest.

"AAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Noah doubles over in pain, then smirks.

"Luckily for me, that won't leave a mark."

Noah lifts up his shirt, showing the rapid closing and healing of the wound. No scar remains. Yoink can also see numerous bumps, bulges, and discolorations on Noah's chest; they are likely augmentations and grafts.

"Troll regeneration glands, 35 silver a pop. Interested?"
For Yoink: You see all of this happen as described.
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Dustan Hache

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 9
« Reply #133 on: July 24, 2016, 01:55:49 am »

Follow the guardsman into the tent.
"Lets get some formalities out of the way. I am Drubjarred, and I am currently in some sort of adventuring company under the name 'Turaco's Sellswords.' I came here to help get funding for the company in exchange for training. I would like to keep in mind that I won't be able to do a proper Dwarven training without some beasties for the trainees to fight against, but that can come later if you like my work."
Listen to their offer carefully, and pray they don't try to bribe me in particular with either beer or soap.
The lieutenant spends some time scribbling on a long piece of parchment before eventually signing the bottom and then folding it up, dripping a pool of hot scarlet wax onto the opening fold from a candle on his desk, and then pressing a signet ring into it as it cools. He waits a moment before handing it to the sergeant, who hands it to one of the guards, who hands it to you. The lieutenant speaks.

"This is an officially stamped and notarized letter from myself, Lieutenant R., to the Chief of the Ronke City Guard. It vouches for your skill as a fighter, your willingness to train our guards, and your professional composure. It also mentions your status as a representative of an adventuring company and includes a brief physical description. You can find the Chief at the Ronke City Guard Headquarters, at the corner of Quixote and Hecatonchires streets. The waxen seal is official, and I suggest that you do not break it. Headquarters will be more than happy to negotiate pay with you and set you up with everything you need. Do you have any questions?"

[1] You didn't catch a single word of that.
"Yes. Have you seen any packs of wild dogs or some other moderately sized beasts on the outskirts of the town? I'll need to catch some to do some proper training later."
Regardless of that, Break the seal and read the letter anyway Head to the Guard HQ, and try not to get lost on the way there.
Logged
I figure at some point, you're just gonna run outta fucks to give and just off yourself whenever you get hurt at all. It's not like there's any downsides to it. Hangover? Suicide will fix that. Stubbed your toe? Suicide. Headache? Suicide. Papercut? Suicide.

AbstractTraitorHero

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Re: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 9
« Reply #134 on: July 24, 2016, 06:58:29 pm »

Go back  to the well kinda home base and put all this stuff on a wall try and set  up some kind of planning room.
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((I just facepalmed so hard I have a concussion))
Rip Abigail South Death by Drop pod my avatar is now morbid.
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