Better late than never, eh? I present to you turn 7! *Fireworks n' shit*
Turn 7: Fear Itself
Try to coat my sword with spider venom, then attempt to find the trail again, once everyone finishes recovering.
(2)
I pray in thanks for our survival, relatively unharmed.
(4)
Fight off the poison, be alert for anymore ambushes, etc
(2)
Give my men a hearty "well done," gather our friends together, and help them continue into the forest.
(5)
Attempt to fashion a bad luck charm from one of the giant spider's fangs. It obviously fouled the luck of any who attempted to stand against it.
Also continue towards objective.
(5)
"Well done, men," Sergeant Frelock says heartily, "Those buggers didn't know what hit them."
The celebration of their victory thusly having been handled he tries to make the group move onward, toward their goal. But the group has little interest in actual useful actions at the moment it seems, they all scatter in the small clearing to do their own thing.
Young Dermonster is rubbing his sword against the fangs of one of the dead spiders, seemingly trying to coat the weapon in poison. But it doesn't really work, the sword just gets a bit of grime on it. After his failure to poison his blade he starts walking around the perimeter of the clearing, seeming a bit confused about something.
Ironicus Owl has taken one of the fangs from the largest spider, and is muttering curses under his breath while doing something with it. A few minutes later he is apparently done with whatever he was doing, pocketing a strange charm fashioned from the fang and returning to the group. Muttering something about everyone else being slow and useless.
Loud disgusting noises come from behind a nearby tree, where the ace pilot Warhammer is throwing up quite forcefully. After having emptied the contents of his stomach all over the local flora he returns to the group, still looking a a bit sick. Everyone does their best to keep a bit of distance from him, not wanting to get in the way of the veritable volcano that is his vomit.
Brother Torir had been silent for quite a while, eyes closed and hands clasped in front of his chest. It was quite obvious that he was praying and no one saw a reason to disturb the priest before they were ready to move out.
"I seem to have lost the path during the fight," Dermonster said to them as he approached after circling the clearing.
"By all the hells, you are useless aren't you?" Owl growled, "You had one job, and you fail at that. Really..." a glare from the Sergeant made him stop talking. "Fine, I won't comment on the boy's inability to do his job anymore. But the path is over there," he pointed off to the left, though there was no clear indication that anything was there.
"Yeah right, how do you know?" Dermonster muttered.
"Because I wasn't born in a barn, like someone else here."
"Enough!" The sergeant barked, "Move out, now!" His tone suggested that anyone who protested would regret it, so the two belligerents dropped the argument for the moment.
The group moved out, Frelock and Owl taking point as they headed deeper into the forest. Torir had silently fallen into line as they began moving, finding the constant bickering within the group to be quite tiresome. But at least they had found the path again, and barring any more spider attacks they should reach the woodcutter's camp within the hour.
But as soon as they got out of sight of the forest clearing they all got the feeling that they were being watched again. Shadows seemed to move in the edge of their vision, but when they turned to look there was nothing there. Everyone could feel it, but no one dared break the silence to speak it, there was evil about, an evil that could almost be smelled on the wind.
Frelock was the first to see it, the logging camp. The trees around it had all been cut down, so there was a large clearing around it, at least two hundred yards on all sides. In the middle of this man-made clearing lay the camp itself, a small collection of wooden cabins where the loggers lived and worked. A few torches burned in the small camp, their light doing little to illuminate the dark night.
Everyone was quite glad to be out of the trees, but the sergeant knew too much to allow them to let their guard down now. When one felt safe is when one was most vulnerable, and the feeling of evil and dread that had gripped them in the forest did not seem like ordinary paranoia.
They linger there for the moment, waiting in silence for someone to make a decision about what to do next.
Environment: It is dark and chilly. There is a foul wind blowing in from the south.
Locations:A large forest to the south of Dullhaven. Many trees there are darker in color than those found elsewhere, which is what gave it its name. There are rumors that dangerous creatures roam the forest at night.
A small collection of wooden cabins. There is little of note about the camp.
Type: Small Airship
Owner: John 'Warhammer' Jones
Defense: Light armor: +1 against piercing, slashing and blunt damage; Extra maneuvering fins: +1 to dodge
Armaments: 2 simple cannons: +1 piercing damage.
Damage: None
Location: Dullhaven Air Harbor
Race: Human
Numbers: 6
State: Ready. Holy Shield Spell: +1 to resist black magic.
Location: With Sergeant Frelock
Equipment:Musket, sabre, Army Uniform
EnemyNone
Player Statuses:Name: Unus Dermonster
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Health: Excellent
State: Standing. Holy Shield Spell: +1 to resist black magic.
Location: Blackwood Forest, Logger's Camp
Equipment: Magical Sword (right hand); Clothes
Common clothes
Magical Sword: effects unknown, seems to interact with the mark on your arm.
Magic Mark on arm: effects unknown, sometimes lights up when you're angry.
Basic Swordsmanship: can handle a blade. +1 to hit with swords.
Name: Sergeant Frelock
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Health: Excellent
State: Standing. Holy Shield Spell: +1 to resist black magic.
Location: Blackwood Forest, Logger's Camp
Equipment: Flintlock Pistol (left hand); Sabre (right hand); Army Uniform
Army Uniform
Flintlock Pistol: +1 piercing damage.
Sabre
Leadership: can inspire allies to give +1 to attack, damage and dodge for one turn.
Adept Swordsman: +1 to hit and damage with swords.
Gentlemanly: Has to roll an extra time to take dishonest action.
Name: John 'Warhammer' Jones
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Health: Excellent.
State: Standing. Holy Shield Spell: +1 to resist black magic.
Location: Blackwood Forest, Logger's Camp
Equipment: Cutlass (right hand); Leather Coat
Cutlass
Leather Coat
Spyglass
Airship "Raven" (Owned)
Ace Pilot: +1 to maneuvering airships, +1 to hit with airship-mounted weapons.
Basic Swordsmanship: Can handle a blade. +1 to hit with swords
Charismatic: makes interactions with others more likely to succeed.
Name: Brother Torir
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Health: Excellent
State: Standing. Holy Shield Spell: +1 to resist black magic.
Location: Blackwood Forest, Logger's Camp
Equipment:Magical Staff (right hand); White Robes
Magical Staff
White Robes
Pouch of herbs
Copper amulet: shaped like a dove
White mage: can use white magic.
Adept healer: +1 to healing light and moderate wounds.
Herbalist: can create potions and salves from various ingredients.
Name: Ironicus Owl
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Health: Bruised.
State: Standing. Holy Shield Spell: +1 to resist black magic.
Location: Blackwood Forest, Logger's Camp
Equipment:Magical Scythe (right hand); Black armor
Black armor: +1 against piercing and slashing damage.
Magical Scythe: +1 slashing damage. Feeds on the souls of the slain to heal and empower wielder.
Bad luck charm: The holder suffers from extra bad luck.
Reaper: +1 to hit with scythes.
Author
Topic: Roll to Trope: Turn 7 (Read 9411 times)