Solitary Defilement - Part 1

[Malkavian Grin]

[setfield][B]GENERAL ADVENTURING MOVE (GAM)[/B] Assess the DR of the action (6 - simple, 12 - normal, 18 - almost impossible). Roll DR vs chosen stat with 2d20: [B]Strong Hit:[/B] Things go to plan! A great success! [B]Weak Hit:[/B] You succeed, but with a complication! [B]Fail:[/B] Things couldn’t have gone worse. Uh oh. [B]CAMPING, RESTING, CATCHING BREATH[/B] [U]Catch a breath=DR9 Presence with 2d20 Camp=DR12 Presence with 2d20[/U] [B]Strong Hit:[/B] Gain d4/d6 HP depending on whether catching a breath or sleeping. If sleeping, re-roll your Omens, restore Powers, and use 1 ration. [B]Weak Hit:[/B] Gain d2/d4 HP. If sleeping, restore 1 Omen and 1 Power, and use 1 ration. Introduce a reason for a restless night or interruption. [B]Fail:[/B] No sleep for you. Something terrible is about to happen. The next attempt at resting after resolving whatever encounter ensues will be a 50/50 chance of either a Strong or Weak Hit. [B]WEATHER d12[/B] 1. Lifeless grey 2. Hammering rain 3. Piercing wind 4. Deafening storm 5. Black as night 6. Dead quiet 7. Cloudburst 8. Soup-thick mist 9. Crackling frost 10. Irritating drizzle 11. Roaring thunder 12. Gravelike cold [B]MICRO-CRAWLS[/B] 1. 1d4 Waypoints (areas/rooms) 2. [B]Dungeon Descriptor[/B] Oracles (excluding the Room Exits table) for each Waypoint 3. Use Room Type and Adjective to focus on theme 4. Common and Rare Encounters (Stock Creatures and Yes or No? Oracles) [B]Common encounters (d6):[/B] 1 – Mongrel 2 – Pale One* 3 – Earthbound* 4 – Pale One* 5 – Scvm 6 – Useful Item Oracle [B]Rare encounters (d6):[/B] 1 – Wickhead 2 – Nesting Death 3 – Undead Doll 4 – Berserker 5 – Wyvern 6 – Tenebrous Relic [B]ROOM ADJECTIVE (d20)[/B] 1 - Dark/Black 2 - Neglected 3 - Acrid 4 - Rotten/Unclean 5 - Oppressive 6 – Infernal/Unholy 7 - Deathly 8 - Deceptive 9 - Bleak/Blasted 10 - Sickly/Infested 11 - Deserted 12 - Ruined/Ancient 13 - Extravagant 14 - Crowded/Busy 15 – Carven/Excavated 16 - Rustic/Simple 17 - Misty/Foggy/Smoky 18 - Ugly/Defaced 19 - Deep/Flooded 20 - Unnatural/Uncanny [B]ROOM TYPE (d12)[/B] 1 - Crypt/Grave/Abattoir 2 - Stream/Pool/Chasm 3 - Prison/Cell/Stable/Zoo 4 - Store/Kitchen/Nest 5 - Cavern/Passage 6 - Stairwell/Ladder/Pit 7 - Chamber/Clearing 8 - Lair/Dwelling/Home 9 - Shrine/Temple 10 - Workshop/Library/Forge 11 - Doorway/Entrance 12 - Catacomb/Hall [B]ROOM CONTENTS (d12)[/B] 1 - Bizarre creature (e.g. The Monster Approaches/Feretory: i-ii) 2 - Remains of something (a structure, object, a once-living thing?) 3 - Unexpected event (- a trap? - an ambush? - imminent danger gets closer?) 4 - A gathering/ritual/event/group 5 - Something blocks your path 6-7 - Common encounter 8 - Rare encounter 9 - Human (?) NPC 10 - Unstable or hazardous environment 11 - An object (Use Searching: Strong Hit result & Yes or No? to determine whether trapped, guarded etc.) 12 - Looks empty…? SOUNDS QUALITY (d12) 1 - Discordant 2 - Sepulchral 3 - Rough 4 - Sudden 5 - Echoing 6 - Unnerving 7 - Muted 8 - Loud 9 - Irregular 10 - Swelling 11 - Rhythmic 12 - Receding SOUNDS TYPE (d20) 1 - Whisper 2 - Laughter 3 - Footsteps 4 - Music 5 - Creak 6 - Wind 7 - Chatter 8 - Singing 9 - Hiss/Buzz 10 - Moan 11 - Rumble 12 - Wail 13 - Scream 14 - Howl 15 - Bellowing 16 - Growl 17 - Drip 18 - Sigh 19 - Flutter 20 - Rattle[/setfield]

GENERAL ADVENTURING MOVE (GAM)
Assess the DR of the action
(6 - simple, 12 - normal, 18 - almost impossible).
Roll DR vs chosen stat with 2d20:

Strong Hit: Things go to plan! A great success!
Weak Hit: You succeed, but with a complication!
Fail: Things couldn’t have gone worse. Uh oh.

CAMPING, RESTING, CATCHING BREATH
Catch a breath=DR9 Presence with 2d20
Camp=DR12 Presence with 2d20

Strong Hit: Gain d4/d6 HP depending on whether catching a breath or sleeping. If sleeping, re-roll your Omens, restore Powers, and use 1 ration.
Weak Hit: Gain d2/d4 HP. If sleeping, restore 1 Omen and 1 Power, and use 1 ration. Introduce a reason for a restless night or interruption.
Fail: No sleep for you. Something terrible is about to happen. The next attempt at resting after resolving whatever encounter ensues will be a 50/50 chance of either a Strong or Weak Hit.

WEATHER d12
1. Lifeless grey
2. Hammering rain
3. Piercing wind
4. Deafening storm
5. Black as night
6. Dead quiet
7. Cloudburst
8. Soup-thick mist
9. Crackling frost
10. Irritating drizzle
11. Roaring thunder
12. Gravelike cold

MICRO-CRAWLS
1. 1d4 Waypoints (areas/rooms)
2. Dungeon Descriptor Oracles (excluding the Room Exits table) for each Waypoint
3. Use Room Type and Adjective to focus on theme
4. Common and Rare Encounters (Stock Creatures and Yes or No? Oracles)

Common encounters (d6):
1 – Mongrel
2 – Pale One*
3 – Earthbound*
4 – Pale One*
5 – Scvm
6 – Useful Item Oracle

Rare encounters (d6):
1 – Wickhead
2 – Nesting Death
3 – Undead Doll
4 – Berserker
5 – Wyvern
6 – Tenebrous Relic


ROOM ADJECTIVE (d20)
1 - Dark/Black
2 - Neglected
3 - Acrid
4 - Rotten/Unclean
5 - Oppressive
6 – Infernal/Unholy
7 - Deathly
8 - Deceptive
9 - Bleak/Blasted
10 - Sickly/Infested
11 - Deserted
12 - Ruined/Ancient
13 - Extravagant
14 - Crowded/Busy
15 – Carven/Excavated
16 - Rustic/Simple
17 - Misty/Foggy/Smoky
18 - Ugly/Defaced
19 - Deep/Flooded
20 - Unnatural/Uncanny

ROOM TYPE (d12)
1 - Crypt/Grave/Abattoir
2 - Stream/Pool/Chasm
3 - Prison/Cell/Stable/Zoo
4 - Store/Kitchen/Nest
5 - Cavern/Passage
6 - Stairwell/Ladder/Pit
7 - Chamber/Clearing
8 - Lair/Dwelling/Home
9 - Shrine/Temple
10 - Workshop/Library/Forge
11 - Doorway/Entrance
12 - Catacomb/Hall

ROOM CONTENTS (d12)
1 - Bizarre creature (e.g. The Monster Approaches/Feretory: i-ii)
2 - Remains of something (a structure, object, a once-living thing?)
3 - Unexpected event (- a trap? - an ambush? - imminent danger gets closer?)
4 - A gathering/ritual/event/group
5 - Something blocks your path
6-7 - Common encounter
8 - Rare encounter
9 - Human (?) NPC
10 - Unstable or hazardous environment
11 - An object (Use Searching: Strong Hit result & Yes or No? to determine whether trapped, guarded etc.)
12 - Looks empty…?

SOUNDS QUALITY (d12)
1 - Discordant
2 - Sepulchral
3 - Rough
4 - Sudden
5 - Echoing
6 - Unnerving
7 - Muted
8 - Loud
9 - Irregular
10 - Swelling
11 - Rhythmic
12 - Receding

SOUNDS TYPE (d20)
1 - Whisper
2 - Laughter
3 - Footsteps
4 - Music
5 - Creak
6 - Wind
7 - Chatter
8 - Singing
9 - Hiss/Buzz
10 - Moan
11 - Rumble
12 - Wail
13 - Scream
14 - Howl
15 - Bellowing
16 - Growl
17 - Drip
18 - Sigh
19 - Flutter
20 - Rattle

 

[Malkavian Grin]

"Sir" Olgor - Dead God's Prophet Serves Ääel, Queen of Blood [I]She whispers in my ear... secrets... knowledge... the SIGHT... Lead me to my destination, that I can unlock your glory again![/I] You are literate and can use scrolls but must pass a DR12 Presence test or immediately attempt to destroy false gods’ words. If you start with a scroll, assume you passed the test. Wasteful and lazy Starved; gaunt and pale. Won't use a blade without testing it on your own flesh first; arms knitted in scars. A puzzle cube has been calibrated incorrectly (or has it?), awakening a slumbering abomination. [CENTER][setfield][table=2,2] [r=1,1][SIZE="4"][B]MAIN PROFILE[/B][/SIZE] [r=1,2]"Sir" Olgor - Dead God's Prophet Presence 0 Strength +1 Agility +1 Toughness -1 Gotten Better: 2 HP 8 Omens 3 d3 Powers 3 [r=2,1][SIZE="4"][B]FOLLOWERS[/B][/SIZE] [r=2,2]Hector - Dead God's Prophet Presence +3 Strength 2 Agility 1 Toughness 0 HP 12 Omens 3 d3 Powers 8 Gotten Better: 2 Leather -d2 Femur d4[/table][/setfield] [setfield][table=2,2] [r=1,1][center][size=4][B]MAIN PROFILE[/B][/size][/center][hr][/hr] [r=1,2][center][size=4][B]GIFTS[/B][/size][/center][hr][/hr] [U]PAIN FORETOLD[/U] Deal unarmed damage equal to unspent Omens. [U][I]HER BLOOD[/I][/U] Focus destruction potential through your bloodstains. Pain Foretold deals double damage and rolls DR10 Attacks. [U]INCOHERENT SOPHISTIC BABBLE[/U] Concentrate to babble a disconcerting litany whose listeners must pass a DR10 Presence test or lose their next action. [U]IN DEATH I LIVE[/U] When you die, make a DR14 Presence test. If you pass, your god refuses your passage into the afterlife and you recover with 1HP. Otherwise, your body is consumed in holy flames. [center][size=4][B]POWERS[/B][/size][/center][hr][/hr] [u]NINE VIOLET SIGNS UNKNOT THE STORM[/u] Produce d2 lightning bolts dealing d6 damage each. [U]METZHUOTL BLIND YOUR EYE[/U] A creature becomes invisible for d6 rounds or until it is damaged, attacking/defending with DR6. [r=2,1][center][size=4][B]FOLLOWERS[/B][/size][/center][hr][/hr] [r=2,2][center][size=4][B]GIFTS[/B][/size][/center][hr][/hr] [U]PAIN FORETOLD[/U] Deal unarmed damage equal to unspent Omens. [U]BLOOD TELLS[/U] A flagellant, you regularly beat yourself to awaken your lost god. If you inflict d3 damage to yourself prior to combat, gain +2 to rolls equal to the lost HP. [U]MY BODY, A VESSEL[/U] Your god may be dead but what is death to a god? Once a day you may allow you god’s ghost to enter your flesh and reveal a truth—one yes/no question to the GM which must be answered truthfully. The god departs leaving you weakened and frail. [center][size=4][B]POWERS[/B][/size][/center][hr][/hr] [U]ENOCHIAN SYNTAX[/U] One creature blindly obeys a single command. [U]BLOODIED PALMS OPEN THE SOUTHERN GATE[/U] Spend 1 HP. Summon a fireball that deals d8 damage to d2 targets.[/table][/setfield][/center] [B]Current Gear[/B] PUNCH 2 wicker armor tier 1 (-d2) --hat is in the shape of a cornucopia, with the tip going backwards and up. [B]Current Loot[/B] 269s Backpack strange meat; 25% human, 7 days rations (carried in hat) beast stomach waterskin, 0 days water magnesium strip Large iron hook Medicine Box [B]Bigger Wagon, pulled by old but reliable horse[/B] wheelbarrow, wreaking of corpses heavy chain 15 feet bucket (recently cleaned), with suspicious stains Dried food x20 Medicine Box (heal 1d6, stops bleeding/infection, Presence +4 uses) x6 Rope 30' x2 [B]Hector[/B] silver crucifix Medicine Box Lockpicks [spoiler=Creation Rolls] [roll=starting silver]2d6*10z[/roll] [roll=starting food]1d4z[/roll] [roll=food]1d6z[/roll] [roll=starting gear]3m1d12z[/roll] [roll=possible name]1d12z[/roll] [roll=possible name 1]2m1d12z[/roll] Olgor... hmmm [roll=terrible traits]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=broken body]1d20z[/roll] [roll=bad habit]1d20z[/roll] [roll=troubling tale]1d20z[/roll] class rolls [roll=silver]1d6*5z[/roll] [roll=omens]1d3z[/roll] I'll probably just take max as a solo PC [roll=in the name of god]3m12d0z[/roll] [roll=agility]3d6z[/roll] [roll=presence]3d6+2z[/roll] [roll=strength]3d6z[/roll] [roll=toughness]3d6-2z[/roll] [roll=weapon]1d4z[/roll] [roll=armor]1d2z[/roll] [roll=armor type]1d4z[/roll] [roll=IN THE GODDAM NAME OF GOD, DAMMIT]3m1d12z[/roll] [roll=gifts]2m1d8z[/roll] [roll=HP]1d4z[/roll] [/spoiler]

"Sir" Olgor - Dead God's Prophet
Serves Ääel, Queen of Blood

She whispers in my ear... secrets... knowledge... the SIGHT... Lead me to my destination, that I can unlock your glory again!

You are literate and can use scrolls but must pass a DR12 Presence test or immediately attempt to destroy false gods’ words. If you start with a scroll, assume you passed the test.

Wasteful and lazy
Starved; gaunt and pale.
Won't use a blade without testing it on your own flesh first; arms knitted in scars.

A puzzle cube has been calibrated incorrectly (or has it?), awakening a slumbering abomination.
 

MAIN PROFILE	FOLLOWERS
"Sir" Olgor - Dead God's Prophet Presence 0 Strength +1 Agility +1 Toughness -1 Gotten Better: 2 HP 8 Omens 3 d3 Powers 3	Hector - Dead God's Prophet Presence +3 Strength 2 Agility 1 Toughness 0 HP 12 Omens 3 d3 Powers 8 Gotten Better: 2 Leather -d2 Femur d4

MAIN PROFILE

FOLLOWERS

GIFTS PAIN FORETOLD Deal unarmed damage equal to unspent Omens. HER BLOOD Focus destruction potential through your bloodstains. Pain Foretold deals double damage and rolls DR10 Attacks. INCOHERENT SOPHISTIC BABBLE Concentrate to babble a disconcerting litany whose listeners must pass a DR10 Presence test or lose their next action. IN DEATH I LIVE When you die, make a DR14 Presence test. If you pass, your god refuses your passage into the afterlife and you recover with 1HP. Otherwise, your body is consumed in holy flames.   POWERS NINE VIOLET SIGNS UNKNOT THE STORM Produce d2 lightning bolts dealing d6 damage each. METZHUOTL BLIND YOUR EYE A creature becomes invisible for d6 rounds or until it is damaged, attacking/defending with DR6.

GIFTS PAIN FORETOLD Deal unarmed damage equal to unspent Omens. BLOOD TELLS A flagellant, you regularly beat yourself to awaken your lost god. If you inflict d3 damage to yourself prior to combat, gain +2 to rolls equal to the lost HP. MY BODY, A VESSEL Your god may be dead but what is death to a god? Once a day you may allow you god’s ghost to enter your flesh and reveal a truth—one yes/no question to the GM which must be answered truthfully. The god departs leaving you weakened and frail.   POWERS ENOCHIAN SYNTAX One creature blindly obeys a single command. BLOODIED PALMS OPEN THE SOUTHERN GATE Spend 1 HP. Summon a fireball that deals d8 damage to d2 targets.

Current Gear
PUNCH 2
wicker armor tier 1 (-d2)
--hat is in the shape of a cornucopia, with the tip going backwards and up.

Current Loot
269s
Backpack
strange meat; 25% human, 7 days rations (carried in hat)
beast stomach waterskin, 0 days water
magnesium strip
Large iron hook
Medicine Box

Bigger Wagon, pulled by old but reliable horse
wheelbarrow, wreaking of corpses
heavy chain 15 feet
bucket (recently cleaned), with suspicious stains
Dried food x20
Medicine Box (heal 1d6, stops bleeding/infection, Presence +4 uses) x6
Rope 30' x2

Hector
silver crucifix
Medicine Box
Lockpicks
 

Creation Rolls

[roll=starting silver]2d6*10z[/roll]
[roll=starting food]1d4z[/roll]
[roll=food]1d6z[/roll]
[roll=starting gear]3m1d12z[/roll]
[roll=possible name]1d12z[/roll]
[roll=possible name 1]2m1d12z[/roll] Olgor... hmmm
[roll=terrible traits]2m1d20z[/roll]
[roll=broken body]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=bad habit]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=troubling tale]1d20z[/roll]

class rolls
[roll=silver]1d6*5z[/roll]
[roll=omens]1d3z[/roll] I'll probably just take max as a solo PC
[roll=in the name of god]3m12d0z[/roll]
[roll=agility]3d6z[/roll]
[roll=presence]3d6+2z[/roll]
[roll=strength]3d6z[/roll]
[roll=toughness]3d6-2z[/roll]
[roll=weapon]1d4z[/roll]
[roll=armor]1d2z[/roll]
[roll=armor type]1d4z[/roll]

[roll=IN THE GODDAM NAME OF GOD, DAMMIT]3m1d12z[/roll]
[roll=gifts]2m1d8z[/roll]
[roll=HP]1d4z[/roll]

 

[Malkavian Grin]

[CENTER][B]BEGIN AN ADVENTURE[/B][/CENTER][hr][/hr] Let's test out the solo rules with an Annoying Adventure. That's 2 milestones. We'll call it an introduction that sets up the character for a bigger thing. The goal here should be to travel from a hovel to a nearby village to get as many followers as possible. [I]My dead god has whispered into my ear our next task. It has been ages since she last gave us an objective. It must be carried out immediately![/I] Let's start in Wästland. The Queen whispers of Lake Onda. Thats [roll=some days]1d2+2z[/roll] away from here. [B]Day 1, dawn[/B][hr][/hr] The Dying Lands, Wästland, Olgor's Hovel [roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End [roll=Weather]1d12z[/roll] Olgor looked about his surroundings as dawn broke over the horizon. He'd been awoken suddenly by drops of water on his face. His ramshackle shack was leaking from a light, constant rain outside. Every so often he'd hear a crack of thunder far off in the distance. Too far to be worried about. He pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed his hands into his face. Her voice snuck its way into his head, even before he was fully awake. "help me" it yearned and reminded him. "glory returned" she said. He'd heard it all before. For months now that's all he'd heard. [B]"Glory this, glory that, yet we never do anything about it!"[/B] Olgor said, digging his fingers into his scalp. He sighed and slumped back down onto the bed. "listen" she whispered. "I'm tired." "LISTEN.TO.ME.NOW.WORM." Olgor practically jumped out of his skin, ramming into the side of his hut with such force that it broke a hole in it. There he lied half-in, half-outside his home as the voice spoke. It was louder now that ever. "YOU WILL GO TO ONDA. YOU WILL RECRUIT OTHERS IN MY NAME. THE TIME HAS COME. MY RETURN IS AT HAND." It was time. Lazy bastard that Olgor was, he couldn't refuse her orders. Pushing himself off the ground, the prophet collected his few things in a wheelbarrow that reeked of recent corpses that were not fresh. Some of it ended up smeared into the wood; Olgor was too lazy to scrub it clean. What's the worst that could happen? He pulled on his wicker armor including strange upward/backward pointy hat. He put his staff in the wheelbarrow in a way he could easily grab it. [B]"I should buy a knife. And a belt."[/B] Olgor decided to set out on his journey. [U]Resupply or Travel?[/U] Olgor looked in his dirty wheelbarrow and say he still had a day's worth of pickled turnips; his favorite. Getting food was future Olgor's problem. [U]Travel[/U]. [roll=Road, Events]1d8z 1d20z[/roll] Olgor pushes his wheelbarrow away from his hovel due... hmm, this way. It was definitely this way. Eventually he came to an almost forgotten dirt track, marked with sparse vegetation here and there. For a wasteland, there was a decent amount of life here; all twisted and mostly vicious in some way, but it was here none the less, as if the earth refused to die. Pushing the cart along the path, Olgor had to squint and look down for most of the time. The drizzle was irritatingly thin and constant, as if water filled every square inch of space there was. Everywhere he turned was wet and going directly into his eyes. It was pissing him off. Eventually he came upon a fork in the road with a sign that was obviously missing pieces and had been defaced. Olgor nervously glanced around, noticing the copse of mangrove trees in between the forks. He eyed the fingerly trees, as he called them, suspiciously. "Punks or cultists or something else. Can't wait here, gotta move. Pick a direction and go!" he pepped himself up. [roll=Event]1d8z[/roll] [roll=Change in weather]1d12z[/roll] Olgor was enjoying a few of his turnips when the weather began to take a turn for the worse, as the wind picked up and turned the drizzle into slightly painful pellets. The sky had brightened a bit, as if saturated in color in a mixture of gray and yellow. Great crackles of thunder and deafening thunder that shook the ground told Olgor he need shelter, minutes ago! [roll=Make camp?]2m1d20z[/roll] Yes, but [roll=hurt yourself, armor]2m1d2z[/roll] jumping in the hole. Olgor knew he had to get somewhere that wasn't above ground. Literally anywhere. He turned his wheelbarrow toward a wooded craggy area; surely there was a cave! Another crack of lightning followed almost instantly by the thunder. Olgor couldn't hear anything but a ringing. It was surreal as if he could be struck at any moment. His heart pounded as the rain blasted his soaked form. The boughs of the trees all swayed hard in the wind as Olgor approached, wiping the water from his eyes. [B]"Yes! There!"[/B] he shouted. "find it," she whispered. He pushed the cart toward what he thought was a cave entrance; really it was more of a cave-in. Olgor and his cart went upside down and dropped several feet, the prophet scraping and plowing into the rocks below. Chest heaving, and disoriented from the fall, Olgor laid in a pile on the floor for a moment or three. The thunder outside was still intense, but just slightly muted from the cave walls. He could wait out the storm here. He looked around the room and eventually pushed himself up. There were dripping sounds within the cave; it seemed nature was leaky too. Olgor collected his few goods and flipped his cart back over and stowed his gear. He took off his armor and ate the rest of his pickled turnips with a nice long drink of water. -1 day rations -1 day water

BEGIN AN ADVENTURE

---

Let's test out the solo rules with an Annoying Adventure. That's 2 milestones. We'll call it an introduction that sets up the character for a bigger thing.

The goal here should be to travel from a hovel to a nearby village to get as many followers as possible.

My dead god has whispered into my ear our next task. It has been ages since she last gave us an objective. It must be carried out immediately!

Let's start in Wästland. The Queen whispers of Lake Onda. Thats [roll=some days]1d2+2z[/roll] away from here.

Day 1, dawn

---

The Dying Lands, Wästland, Olgor's Hovel

[roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End

[roll=Weather]1d12z[/roll]

Olgor looked about his surroundings as dawn broke over the horizon. He'd been awoken suddenly by drops of water on his face. His ramshackle shack was leaking from a light, constant rain outside. Every so often he'd hear a crack of thunder far off in the distance. Too far to be worried about.

He pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed his hands into his face. Her voice snuck its way into his head, even before he was fully awake. "help me" it yearned and reminded him. "glory returned" she said. He'd heard it all before. For months now that's all he'd heard.

"Glory this, glory that, yet we never do anything about it!" Olgor said, digging his fingers into his scalp. He sighed and slumped back down onto the bed.

"listen" she whispered.

"I'm tired."

"LISTEN.TO.ME.NOW.WORM."

Olgor practically jumped out of his skin, ramming into the side of his hut with such force that it broke a hole in it. There he lied half-in, half-outside his home as the voice spoke. It was louder now that ever.

"YOU WILL GO TO ONDA. YOU WILL RECRUIT OTHERS IN MY NAME. THE TIME HAS COME. MY RETURN IS AT HAND."

It was time. Lazy bastard that Olgor was, he couldn't refuse her orders. Pushing himself off the ground, the prophet collected his few things in a wheelbarrow that reeked of recent corpses that were not fresh. Some of it ended up smeared into the wood; Olgor was too lazy to scrub it clean. What's the worst that could happen? He pulled on his wicker armor including strange upward/backward pointy hat. He put his staff in the wheelbarrow in a way he could easily grab it. "I should buy a knife. And a belt."

Olgor decided to set out on his journey. Resupply or Travel?

Olgor looked in his dirty wheelbarrow and say he still had a day's worth of pickled turnips; his favorite. Getting food was future Olgor's problem. Travel .

[roll=Road, Events]1d8z 1d20z[/roll]

Olgor pushes his wheelbarrow away from his hovel due... hmm, this way. It was definitely this way. Eventually he came to an almost forgotten dirt track, marked with sparse vegetation here and there. For a wasteland, there was a decent amount of life here; all twisted and mostly vicious in some way, but it was here none the less, as if the earth refused to die.

Pushing the cart along the path, Olgor had to squint and look down for most of the time. The drizzle was irritatingly thin and constant, as if water filled every square inch of space there was. Everywhere he turned was wet and going directly into his eyes. It was pissing him off.

Eventually he came upon a fork in the road with a sign that was obviously missing pieces and had been defaced. Olgor nervously glanced around, noticing the copse of mangrove trees in between the forks. He eyed the fingerly trees, as he called them, suspiciously. "Punks or cultists or something else. Can't wait here, gotta move. Pick a direction and go!" he pepped himself up.

[roll=Event]1d8z[/roll] [roll=Change in weather]1d12z[/roll]

Olgor was enjoying a few of his turnips when the weather began to take a turn for the worse, as the wind picked up and turned the drizzle into slightly painful pellets. The sky had brightened a bit, as if saturated in color in a mixture of gray and yellow. Great crackles of thunder and deafening thunder that shook the ground told Olgor he need shelter, minutes ago!

[roll=Make camp?]2m1d20z[/roll] Yes, but [roll=hurt yourself, armor]2m1d2z[/roll] jumping in the hole.

Olgor knew he had to get somewhere that wasn't above ground. Literally anywhere. He turned his wheelbarrow toward a wooded craggy area; surely there was a cave! Another crack of lightning followed almost instantly by the thunder. Olgor couldn't hear anything but a ringing. It was surreal as if he could be struck at any moment. His heart pounded as the rain blasted his soaked form.

The boughs of the trees all swayed hard in the wind as Olgor approached, wiping the water from his eyes. "Yes! There!" he shouted. "find it," she whispered. He pushed the cart toward what he thought was a cave entrance; really it was more of a cave-in. Olgor and his cart went upside down and dropped several feet, the prophet scraping and plowing into the rocks below.

Chest heaving, and disoriented from the fall, Olgor laid in a pile on the floor for a moment or three. The thunder outside was still intense, but just slightly muted from the cave walls. He could wait out the storm here. He looked around the room and eventually pushed himself up. There were dripping sounds within the cave; it seemed nature was leaky too.

Olgor collected his few goods and flipped his cart back over and stowed his gear. He took off his armor and ate the rest of his pickled turnips with a nice long drink of water.

-1 day rations
-1 day water

 

[Malkavian Grin]

[B]Day 2, dawn[/B][hr][/hr] The Dying Lands, Wästland, some dark cave [roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End [roll=Weather]1d12z[/roll] The storm seemed to have passed by the time Olgor woke up, now just a far away rumbling. However, the thunder had increased in frequency. He pitied whoever might be caught in that. Now, Olgor was sure he could climb back out of the hole, but he wasn't so sure about his wheelbarrow. He didn't want to leave it behind, mostly because he didn't have pockets. How else would he carry his chain and magnesium strip?! Unthinkable! Then he had an idea; he'd pull the cart up with the chain! Olgor wrapped the chain around the wheel a bunch of times and then did the same for his ankle. Then the prophet threw his staff, bag of money, and magnesium strip up out of the hole and [roll=scuttled up the wall]2m1d20[/roll]. Olgor loved when a plan came together. From here, he'd untie the chain and pull the cart up to him. [roll=Strumph!]2m1d20z[/roll] Olgor surged with might and hoisted the wheelbarrow back up onto solid ground with him. He felt rather proud of that, stupid as it was. "i saw it" she said, and he smiled, genuinely, for a moment. Stuffing his goods back into the cart, he trudged toward the path and started clomping along when he realized he was out of food. [B]"Dammit, I'm future Olgor."[/B] With a huge sigh he resigned himself to searching for food instead of traveling. [roll=forage]1d6z[/roll] [roll=village]1d6z[/roll] Unfortunately, Olgor sucked at finding food. He was either too slow, or not agile, or just dumb. Maybe he was having an off day. Maybe he was daydreaming. Wandering through a grove of dying pines, Olgor could spot buildings. Sounds of people moving and working and talking. It sounded... harmless... Was this his destinat-- "NOOOOOooooo...." she screamed. Still, it was worth checking out; maybe he could buy food! Olgor pushed his cart toward the village with a little more gusty in his step. [B]"Uh... hail... uh... H-hail! Ho there, hello?"[/B] Olgor stuttered his way toward the villagers who all immediately stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Olgor noticed all the stares and slowed down a bit; those were not harmless eyes. [B]"So, hey, I'm going to L--[/B]"DON'TSAYITDON'TSAYIT"[B]--LLLLLook for someone that wants to sell me some food... because I am on a journey."[/B] He nodded along as if it would make it more palatable. [roll=reaction]2d6z[/roll] almost friendly One of the men finally walked toward Olgor, a stern look on his face. He wore rugged clothing that was covered in saw dust. He extended his hand for a shake. Olgor wasn't trying to start anything, and if this man wanted a shake, he'd get one. The man squeezed extremely tightly, though; almost painful. Was he testing Olgor? With a dismissive grunting sigh, the man let go of Olgor and swung a thick arm around his shoulders, walking him to the village. "Now don't you worry, we'll set you up right. Got plenty of food. You have to buy it, though," he said, without an ounce of humor. "Oh of course! I would nev--" "Good. Now, we got both fresh and preserved, in case you're hungry now... 're later..." Olgor nodded along. Rounding the corner into the main thoroughfare of the village, Olgor saw a rack of dried jerky, plentiful and thick. That stuff would feed him for days! "Woah, that jerky looks mighty fine. I've got silver... how much for... that one?" The man nodded. "You got a good eye. JOSIIIAAHH!" he shouted into your ear, obviously calling the merchant, but making your ear ring as well. Isn't only when he's not looking you directly in the eyes that you realize how close he's standing to you, and how his one one is still around you. You can smell his rancid, stale breath, like he drank something and its still on his tongue. "Here he is, he'll set you up," the man said before wandering away. Josiah was a portly man, easily fifty to a eighty pounds overweight. He wore a robe, but you could tell just by his thick jowels and lack of neck. "Wull, you are shet on the big one, ehhhh?" he said, chuckling as if he made a joke. Olgor raised his eyebrow and nodded. "Ah yesh, vedy good vedy good. Thish pahticulah piece of delightsh ish five shilver." Olgor blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to keep his shit together. This man desperately needed a throat punch. "amusing" she offered. Olgor shook his head, knowing food came first. He'd rather not starve. Handing over five silver, he laid the meat in his wheelbarrow, decidedly away from the smear. And since he was here, he'd buy up three more smaller pieces for another five silver. Now, he'd be set for his journey for sure! Hmm, but water... Asking around, apparently they didn't have any excess water. A shame. Olgor quickly made his way back out of the village and toward the direction he hoped would get him back on track. He could feel their stares upon him as he left and wondered why they had such intense stares. Like they were disappointed after sizing him up. [roll=Presence to get back on track?]2m1d20z[/roll] Following the whispers of his dead god, Olgor easily made it back to his original spot, having only wasted a little time all said. [roll=road,event]1d8z 1d20z[/roll] Olgor came upon a rare paved road that had large swaths of unbroken slabs. He felt pretty good about that as he pushed his cart along. He got maybe ten minutes of travel in before the wind picked up. It was slow at first, but Olgor didn't want to lose all of his stuff, so he darted over to a rocky outcropping and turned his cart over and sat on top of it. The wind winded around and kicked up the dust and made vision impossible. The sky became dark and the air painful. Olgor's wicker armor helped break the barrage, but he ended up camping there for the night, making no progress.

Day 2, dawn

---

The Dying Lands, Wästland, some dark cave

[roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End

[roll=Weather]1d12z[/roll]

The storm seemed to have passed by the time Olgor woke up, now just a far away rumbling. However, the thunder had increased in frequency. He pitied whoever might be caught in that.

Now, Olgor was sure he could climb back out of the hole, but he wasn't so sure about his wheelbarrow. He didn't want to leave it behind, mostly because he didn't have pockets. How else would he carry his chain and magnesium strip?! Unthinkable! Then he had an idea; he'd pull the cart up with the chain!

Olgor wrapped the chain around the wheel a bunch of times and then did the same for his ankle. Then the prophet threw his staff, bag of money, and magnesium strip up out of the hole and [roll=scuttled up the wall]2m1d20[/roll]. Olgor loved when a plan came together. From here, he'd untie the chain and pull the cart up to him.

[roll=Strumph!]2m1d20z[/roll]

Olgor surged with might and hoisted the wheelbarrow back up onto solid ground with him. He felt rather proud of that, stupid as it was. "i saw it" she said, and he smiled, genuinely, for a moment. Stuffing his goods back into the cart, he trudged toward the path and started clomping along when he realized he was out of food.

"Dammit, I'm future Olgor."

With a huge sigh he resigned himself to searching for food instead of traveling. [roll=forage]1d6z[/roll] [roll=village]1d6z[/roll]

Unfortunately, Olgor sucked at finding food. He was either too slow, or not agile, or just dumb. Maybe he was having an off day. Maybe he was daydreaming. Wandering through a grove of dying pines, Olgor could spot buildings. Sounds of people moving and working and talking. It sounded... harmless... Was this his destinat-- "NOOOOOooooo...." she screamed.

Still, it was worth checking out; maybe he could buy food! Olgor pushed his cart toward the village with a little more gusty in his step. "Uh... hail... uh... H-hail! Ho there, hello?" Olgor stuttered his way toward the villagers who all immediately stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Olgor noticed all the stares and slowed down a bit; those were not harmless eyes.

"So, hey, I'm going to L-- "DON'TSAYITDON'TSAYIT" --LLLLLook for someone that wants to sell me some food... because I am on a journey." He nodded along as if it would make it more palatable.

[roll=reaction]2d6z[/roll] almost friendly

One of the men finally walked toward Olgor, a stern look on his face. He wore rugged clothing that was covered in saw dust. He extended his hand for a shake. Olgor wasn't trying to start anything, and if this man wanted a shake, he'd get one. The man squeezed extremely tightly, though; almost painful. Was he testing Olgor?

With a dismissive grunting sigh, the man let go of Olgor and swung a thick arm around his shoulders, walking him to the village. "Now don't you worry, we'll set you up right. Got plenty of food. You have to buy it, though," he said, without an ounce of humor.

"Oh of course! I would nev--" "Good. Now, we got both fresh and preserved, in case you're hungry now... 're later..." Olgor nodded along.

Rounding the corner into the main thoroughfare of the village, Olgor saw a rack of dried jerky, plentiful and thick. That stuff would feed him for days! "Woah, that jerky looks mighty fine. I've got silver... how much for... that one?"

The man nodded. "You got a good eye. JOSIIIAAHH!" he shouted into your ear, obviously calling the merchant, but making your ear ring as well. Isn't only when he's not looking you directly in the eyes that you realize how close he's standing to you, and how his one one is still around you. You can smell his rancid, stale breath, like he drank something and its still on his tongue.

"Here he is, he'll set you up," the man said before wandering away.

Josiah was a portly man, easily fifty to a eighty pounds overweight. He wore a robe, but you could tell just by his thick jowels and lack of neck. "Wull, you are shet on the big one, ehhhh?" he said, chuckling as if he made a joke. Olgor raised his eyebrow and nodded. "Ah yesh, vedy good vedy good. Thish pahticulah piece of delightsh ish five shilver."

Olgor blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to keep his shit together. This man desperately needed a throat punch. "amusing" she offered. Olgor shook his head, knowing food came first. He'd rather not starve. Handing over five silver, he laid the meat in his wheelbarrow, decidedly away from the smear. And since he was here, he'd buy up three more smaller pieces for another five silver. Now, he'd be set for his journey for sure! Hmm, but water...

Asking around, apparently they didn't have any excess water. A shame. Olgor quickly made his way back out of the village and toward the direction he hoped would get him back on track. He could feel their stares upon him as he left and wondered why they had such intense stares. Like they were disappointed after sizing him up.

[roll=Presence to get back on track?]2m1d20z[/roll]

Following the whispers of his dead god, Olgor easily made it back to his original spot, having only wasted a little time all said.

[roll=road,event]1d8z 1d20z[/roll]

Olgor came upon a rare paved road that had large swaths of unbroken slabs. He felt pretty good about that as he pushed his cart along. He got maybe ten minutes of travel in before the wind picked up. It was slow at first, but Olgor didn't want to lose all of his stuff, so he darted over to a rocky outcropping and turned his cart over and sat on top of it. The wind winded around and kicked up the dust and made vision impossible. The sky became dark and the air painful. Olgor's wicker armor helped break the barrage, but he ended up camping there for the night, making no progress.

 

[Malkavian Grin]

[B]Day 3, dawn[/B][hr][/hr] The Dying Lands, Wästland, rocky outcropping, 3 days away [roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End [roll=Weather]1d12z[/roll] OOC: After some reflection, I decided it wasn't fair to just find a village and get exactly what I was looking for. They only reason a village of cannibals didn't attack and eat Olgor was his broken body roll; he looks untasty and they obviously have food. But what meat did Olgor buy? Is it human meat? What does that mean? Each time this meat is eaten, roll 1d4. On a 1 its Human meat. Roll GAM Presence DR 10 to not develop a taste for it. Fail could mean being a cannibal now... Olgor had plenty of food now, but he needed a way out of the elements. He was losing far too much time to wild weather, but at the same time, would an underground passage lead all the way to the lake? He might have to find out. The wind was piercingly loud. Olgor stuffed all the meat into his wicker helmet to muffle the sound. It was enough that he could at least move without losing all his gear. Draping his chain across his loot, the mad prophet trudged forward. [roll=road,event]1d8z 1d20z[/roll] [roll=king soldiers?]1d4z[/roll] [roll=guards]1d8z[/roll] [roll=reaction]2d6[/roll] As if the wind wasn't bad enough, Olgor came upon a large group of men, all armed and armored. Actually, they were headed toward Olgor's direction and he'd pushed a cart directly into one of them due to the wind and dust. The man cried out in frustration. "What the ****'s wrong with you?!" he screamed over the wind. "I... hey, I didn't see you! I didn't mean--" Olgor pleaded. "Why are you yelling for?" another man said as he pushed his way through the wind. Olgor suddenly realized he was completely outmatched here. He even feared one on one. He'd have to placate them, or die here, too soon. "flee" she said. Holding his hands out in a non-aggressive way, Olgor grabbed his money pouch and dumped out five silver. He offered them to the man, holding his purse out of view. [roll=Presence DR 12]2d20+1z[/roll] yes, but reroll [roll=reaction]2d6z[/roll] he really wants to kill me now. FUN! Since it was still a yes, and a 20 at that, let's say it becomes a 1v1 instead of 12v1. C'mon now, have a heart! The guard knocked Olgor's hand to the side. "**** off you ****in' weirdo! You look like an idiot and you're corpse will look even stupider!" Olgor's silver hit the ground, scattered. Olgor grabbed his staff as the man kicked over his wheelbarrow, drawing a human femur from his belt. He waved his companions off as they hooped and hollered over the wind. [roll=Initiative]1d6z[/roll] [roll=agility]2m1d20z[/roll] // HP 8 Morale 8 Leather -d2 Knife/Femur d4 Olgor made the first move, seizing up his staff in both hands to strike down mightily. Unfortunately the wind caught his arms and he stumbled back, out of the way of a femur! [roll=attack DR 12, defence DR 12]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=deal, armor, take, armor]1d4z 1d2z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll] Olgor found his footing again and squinted in the dust. "first blood. reward." she promised. A glint came to the mad prophet's eyes. "FOR MY QUEEN!" he called out, swinging the staff wildly. The wood caught the guard in the face, forcing him to spit blood out. He became quit angry, lunging but Olgor's staffwork was too much and he was easily deflected. [roll=attack DR 12, defence DR 12]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=deal, armor, take, armor]1d4z 1d2z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll] Guard has 6/8 HP The prophet felt a surge of energy and strength as if he could fight for days on end. He spun the staff around the opposite direction and tried to swoop in from the side. The guard couldn't get out of the way, but Olgor was no warrior and they both took a blow. That was when Olgor realized how fragile he was. [roll=attack DR 12, defence DR 12]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=deal, armor, take, armor]1d4z 1d2z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll] Guard has 5/8 HP // Olgor has 1/3 HP It was time for a new tactic. He invoked the power of Incoherent Sophostic Babble to drivel forth about the litany of the Blood Queen. How it was now more relevant than ever before, with their own blood spilled. He tried to drive his points forward while the man stared at him, unable to attack; whether out of pity or confusion is anyone's guess. Olgor tried to get him to join the cause, saying that he'd prove she was coming back all too soon. [roll=Presence DR 14]2m1d20z[/roll] Use omen to reroll. [roll=Presence DR 14]2m1d20z[/roll] Another, because you can't take 'em with you if you're dead. [roll=Presence DR 14]2m1d20z[/roll] Somehow, some way, Olgor's words rang true within the man's mind. Hector nodded with knowing, putting his weapon away. His companions were confused beyond belief but couldn't be bothered to care much. They cursed at him and walked into the howling wind. "Where are we going, sir?" Olgor shivered despite the heat. Damn that felt good. "What is your name?" he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hector. And you, sir?" There it was again. "Sir is fine, Hector. Come, we must find shelter until this blasted wind dies! And heal our wounds!" [roll=make camp DR 12]2m1d20z[/roll] Hector and Olgor looked around, but could see little through the dust. Still, they pressed onward. Olgor found out quickly why spitting in high wind is a bad idea, but he had to get the dirt out of his mouth. "ahead. turn right," she whispered. Olgor instinctively turned and found another cave entrance. This one much smaller than the last, and also not a hole to fall into. Inside, away from the howling wind, the two found the remains of a campsite. A fire pit with some ashy wood within, and an old, ratty tent that smelled foul. The back end of the cave had a dark tunnel, but for now they'd leave it be. [roll=sleeping]1d4z[/roll]. [roll=Hector sleeping]1d4z[/roll] [roll=creature]1d6z[/roll] Olgor and Hector soon found out why there was a partially used campsite here, when partway through the night, their sleep was interrupted. Flapping inside the cave came a gold-crested filth crow. The two rolled over and to their feet as it cawed and spread its wings in a threatening manner. [roll=Survival / Brainy Brain! DR 10]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=Initiative]1d6z[/roll] Olgor gave pause, knowing what the creature was. He'd seen it in the trash and filth like a vulture in a corpse, and filth was in its name. He didn't really want it coming close to him at all. Hector wasn't so lucky, as the bird dove at him with it's beak. [roll=defend Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=SHRUG IT OFF Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll] The crow snapped and tried to bite through Hector's soft leather armor, leaving only a filthy hole behind. Unfortunately for him, it was simply too quick and in this close proximity, bit at him again. [roll=defend Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=SHRUG IT OFF Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll] [roll=attack Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=attack Olgor!, damage]1d20z 1d4z[/roll] A lot of flailing occurs, and the ends up still unharmed. This fighting thing was tough, Olgor thought. But it was fight or die, and Olgor was on a mission from God. [roll=defend Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=SHRUG IT OFF Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll] [roll=attack Hector!, damage]1d20z 1d4z[/roll] [roll=attack Olgor!, damage]1d20z 1d4z[/roll] The crow tried desperately to peck at Hector, again the merc was just too fast and dodged side to side. But it affected his aim, and Olgor was just terrible to begin with. So much so, that when he swiped again, he thought he'd hit it downward, but he missed and shattered the staff in his hands. What terrible luck. [roll=defend Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=SHRUG IT OFF Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll] [roll=attack Hector!]1d20z[/roll] [roll=attack Olgor!, damage]1d20z[/roll] [roll=Hec's dmg]1d4z[/roll] After much thrashing, Hector finally landed a most solid blow to the crow's body, breaking its spine in one fell swoop. It's neck snapped with the force, falling limply to the side as the follow-through carried it slamming into the dirt. The golden ring from around its neck fell off and rolled toward Olgor. He promptly stayed out of its way, but ripped a piece of his pants off to grab the ring and wrap it up. "What in the name of SHE was that? I almost lost an eye back there!" Hector said worriedly. "Gold-crested," he held up the ring, "filth crow." "Filth crow? Why filth crow?" "It's clearly a crow, what else would you call it?" "No--not that! Filth! What, does it roll around in shit all day?" "No, just some of the day. Sometimes its a corpse. Sometimes its garbage. You might want to uh... see a priest or something. Onda isn't far now, but let's hurry." "Ha... haha... that's just my luck. This second coming better be--" Hector paused as Olgor spun around with a vicious look. "Uh, ne-nevermind Sir." Olgor wouldn't know it, but his eyes had shown with the light of his Blood Queen for just a moment. [roll=Is food Human?]2m1d4z[/roll] Olgor is feeling rather good about his recent haul of meat and shares some with Hector. Use 2 food.

Day 3, dawn

---

The Dying Lands, Wästland, rocky outcropping, 3 days away

[roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End

[roll=Weather]1d12z[/roll]

OOC: After some reflection, I decided it wasn't fair to just find a village and get exactly what I was looking for. They only reason a village of cannibals didn't attack and eat Olgor was his broken body roll; he looks untasty and they obviously have food. But what meat did Olgor buy? Is it human meat? What does that mean?

Each time this meat is eaten, roll 1d4. On a 1 its Human meat. Roll GAM Presence DR 10 to not develop a taste for it. Fail could mean being a cannibal now...

Olgor had plenty of food now, but he needed a way out of the elements. He was losing far too much time to wild weather, but at the same time, would an underground passage lead all the way to the lake? He might have to find out. The wind was piercingly loud. Olgor stuffed all the meat into his wicker helmet to muffle the sound. It was enough that he could at least move without losing all his gear. Draping his chain across his loot, the mad prophet trudged forward.

[roll=road,event]1d8z 1d20z[/roll] [roll=king soldiers?]1d4z[/roll] [roll=guards]1d8z[/roll] [roll=reaction]2d6[/roll]

As if the wind wasn't bad enough, Olgor came upon a large group of men, all armed and armored. Actually, they were headed toward Olgor's direction and he'd pushed a cart directly into one of them due to the wind and dust. The man cried out in frustration. "What the ****'s wrong with you?!" he screamed over the wind.

"I... hey, I didn't see you! I didn't mean--" Olgor pleaded.

"Why are you yelling for?" another man said as he pushed his way through the wind. Olgor suddenly realized he was completely outmatched here. He even feared one on one. He'd have to placate them, or die here, too soon. "flee" she said. Holding his hands out in a non-aggressive way, Olgor grabbed his money pouch and dumped out five silver. He offered them to the man, holding his purse out of view.

[roll=Presence DR 12]2d20+1z[/roll] yes, but reroll [roll=reaction]2d6z[/roll] he really wants to kill me now. FUN! Since it was still a yes, and a 20 at that, let's say it becomes a 1v1 instead of 12v1. C'mon now, have a heart!

The guard knocked Olgor's hand to the side. "**** off you ****in' weirdo! You look like an idiot and you're corpse will look even stupider!" Olgor's silver hit the ground, scattered. Olgor grabbed his staff as the man kicked over his wheelbarrow, drawing a human femur from his belt. He waved his companions off as they hooped and hollered over the wind.

[roll=Initiative]1d6z[/roll] [roll=agility]2m1d20z[/roll] // HP 8 Morale 8 Leather -d2 Knife/Femur d4

Olgor made the first move, seizing up his staff in both hands to strike down mightily. Unfortunately the wind caught his arms and he stumbled back, out of the way of a femur!
[roll=attack DR 12, defence DR 12]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=deal, armor, take, armor]1d4z 1d2z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll]

Olgor found his footing again and squinted in the dust. "first blood. reward." she promised. A glint came to the mad prophet's eyes. "FOR MY QUEEN!" he called out, swinging the staff wildly. The wood caught the guard in the face, forcing him to spit blood out. He became quit angry, lunging but Olgor's staffwork was too much and he was easily deflected.
[roll=attack DR 12, defence DR 12]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=deal, armor, take, armor]1d4z 1d2z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll] Guard has 6/8 HP

The prophet felt a surge of energy and strength as if he could fight for days on end. He spun the staff around the opposite direction and tried to swoop in from the side. The guard couldn't get out of the way, but Olgor was no warrior and they both took a blow. That was when Olgor realized how fragile he was.
[roll=attack DR 12, defence DR 12]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=deal, armor, take, armor]1d4z 1d2z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll] Guard has 5/8 HP // Olgor has 1/3 HP

It was time for a new tactic. He invoked the power of Incoherent Sophostic Babble to drivel forth about the litany of the Blood Queen. How it was now more relevant than ever before, with their own blood spilled. He tried to drive his points forward while the man stared at him, unable to attack; whether out of pity or confusion is anyone's guess. Olgor tried to get him to join the cause, saying that he'd prove she was coming back all too soon.

[roll=Presence DR 14]2m1d20z[/roll] Use omen to reroll. [roll=Presence DR 14]2m1d20z[/roll] Another, because you can't take 'em with you if you're dead. [roll=Presence DR 14]2m1d20z[/roll]

Somehow, some way, Olgor's words rang true within the man's mind. Hector nodded with knowing, putting his weapon away. His companions were confused beyond belief but couldn't be bothered to care much. They cursed at him and walked into the howling wind. "Where are we going, sir?" Olgor shivered despite the heat. Damn that felt good. "What is your name?" he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hector. And you, sir?" There it was again. "Sir is fine, Hector. Come, we must find shelter until this blasted wind dies! And heal our wounds!"

[roll=make camp DR 12]2m1d20z[/roll]

Hector and Olgor looked around, but could see little through the dust. Still, they pressed onward. Olgor found out quickly why spitting in high wind is a bad idea, but he had to get the dirt out of his mouth. "ahead. turn right," she whispered. Olgor instinctively turned and found another cave entrance. This one much smaller than the last, and also not a hole to fall into.

Inside, away from the howling wind, the two found the remains of a campsite. A fire pit with some ashy wood within, and an old, ratty tent that smelled foul. The back end of the cave had a dark tunnel, but for now they'd leave it be.

[roll=sleeping]1d4z[/roll].
[roll=Hector sleeping]1d4z[/roll]
[roll=creature]1d6z[/roll]

Olgor and Hector soon found out why there was a partially used campsite here, when partway through the night, their sleep was interrupted. Flapping inside the cave came a gold-crested filth crow. The two rolled over and to their feet as it cawed and spread its wings in a threatening manner.

[roll=Survival / Brainy Brain! DR 10]2m1d20z[/roll]
[roll=Initiative]1d6z[/roll]

Olgor gave pause, knowing what the creature was. He'd seen it in the trash and filth like a vulture in a corpse, and filth was in its name. He didn't really want it coming close to him at all. Hector wasn't so lucky, as the bird dove at him with it's beak.

[roll=defend Hector!]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=SHRUG IT OFF Hector!]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll]

The crow snapped and tried to bite through Hector's soft leather armor, leaving only a filthy hole behind. Unfortunately for him, it was simply too quick and in this close proximity, bit at him again.

[roll=defend Hector!]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=SHRUG IT OFF Hector!]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll]
[roll=attack Hector!]1d20z[/roll]

[roll=attack Olgor!, damage]1d20z 1d4z[/roll]

A lot of flailing occurs, and the ends up still unharmed. This fighting thing was tough, Olgor thought. But it was fight or die, and Olgor was on a mission from God.

[roll=defend Hector!]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=SHRUG IT OFF Hector!]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll]
[roll=attack Hector!, damage]1d20z 1d4z[/roll]

[roll=attack Olgor!, damage]1d20z 1d4z[/roll]

The crow tried desperately to peck at Hector, again the merc was just too fast and dodged side to side. But it affected his aim, and Olgor was just terrible to begin with. So much so, that when he swiped again, he thought he'd hit it downward, but he missed and shattered the staff in his hands. What terrible luck.

[roll=defend Hector!]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=SHRUG IT OFF Hector!]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll]
[roll=attack Hector!]1d20z[/roll]

[roll=attack Olgor!, damage]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=Hec's dmg]1d4z[/roll]

After much thrashing, Hector finally landed a most solid blow to the crow's body, breaking its spine in one fell swoop. It's neck snapped with the force, falling limply to the side as the follow-through carried it slamming into the dirt. The golden ring from around its neck fell off and rolled toward Olgor. He promptly stayed out of its way, but ripped a piece of his pants off to grab the ring and wrap it up.

"What in the name of SHE was that? I almost lost an eye back there!" Hector said worriedly.

"Gold-crested," he held up the ring, "filth crow."

"Filth crow? Why filth crow?"

"It's clearly a crow, what else would you call it?"

"No--not that! Filth! What, does it roll around in shit all day?"

"No, just some of the day. Sometimes its a corpse. Sometimes its garbage. You might want to uh... see a priest or something. Onda isn't far now, but let's hurry."

"Ha... haha... that's just my luck. This second coming better be--" Hector paused as Olgor spun around with a vicious look. "Uh, ne-nevermind Sir." Olgor wouldn't know it, but his eyes had shown with the light of his Blood Queen for just a moment.

[roll=Is food Human?]2m1d4z[/roll]

Olgor is feeling rather good about his recent haul of meat and shares some with Hector.

Use 2 food.

 

[Malkavian Grin]

[B]Day 4, dawn[/B][hr][/hr] The Dying Lands, Wästland, crag cave, 2 days away [roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End [roll=Weather]1d12z[/roll] - Gravelike cold OOC: I would like to try a micro-crawl. Since it would be too easy for this cave tunnel to just go straight to town, we'll do this crawl, travel, and then another crawl representing the exit once we were supposed to hit the town. [roll=Waypoints, now, later]2m1d4z[/roll] [roll=Name, status and reason, current occupants]2m1d12z 1d6z 1d4z 2m1d12z[/roll] [roll=first room, type, adjective]1d4z 1d6z 1d12z 1d20z[/roll] [roll=religious iconography]3m1d12z[/roll] - Sorority of the Black Relic [roll=sounds]1d12z[/roll] - swelling [B]Doom Pit[/B] Still active - A meaty mass of slime, larvae and spider legs High ceilings, swelling whispers in the upper dark Foggy pit After a groggy and short night's sleep, Olgor and Hector awoke to the sounds of whispers in both of their ears at the same time. Their eyes met for a moment in panic, each realizing they'd both heard it. "What was that?" Hector asked, rather obviously. "Something to mean us harm, I assume," Olgor responded. He went for his staff, but forgot it had shattered against the crow. Hector's wounds are infected. [strike][roll=Days without a complication]1d6z[/roll][/strike] - Can't heal from sleep, takes d6 damage a day, when you would heal. House ruling: after you take this damage, roll DR12 Toughness to fight the infection off. Each time you take this damage, the DR is -2, until cured or dead. If you receive healing from an item or Power, the infection is fought off automatically. Olgor steeled himself and urged the two forward with a nod. Hector lead the way toward the back of the cave where a round tunnel had formed, though the entrance was covered in stalagmites and stalactites that formed columns. [roll=GAM Strength with help if necessary DR 12]2m1d20+1z[/roll] The stones were not well formed and thin in the middle, allowing the two to snap them apart. Enough at least to allow the wheelbarrow through. Hector gave Olgor a knowing nod, and in that moment, the mad priest's heart warmed ever so slightly. He wasn't sure how much of that was from his Goddess' Power... or whether it was how he treats everyone he's close to? Hector found a torch lying in a pile with some other useless trash, wrapping some of the cloth around the head for fuel. "Come here and help me mute this sound," he whispered, intending to light the torch. Olgor slowly moved the items out of the cart and tipped it over, pulling Hector close. It would have almost been a sweet moment, if not for the disgusting rotting smell of flesh coming from the wood, inches away from their faces. With the torch lit and the items replaced, the two made their way slowly through the tunnel. It rounded a couple of corners but eventually spilled into another area. As they got closer, the whispers began to swell. Olgor tried to use two pieces of meat against his ears to mute the sound. The room was an oval sort of shape, opening wider as they stepped inside. Hector pulled his femur from his rope belt and bounced it in his palm until the weight felt right. The ceiling was higher than torchlight could pierce, and the whispers seemed to come from high up. In the back of the room sat a large, round pit with fog roiling up and out of it onto the floor. It felt warm, but dissipated not far from the hole. The bottom of the cavern couldn't be seen, and it was quite hard to tell where the floor was on the edges of the room. Before they'd have a chance to figure a way around, they'd have to deal with the thing crawling up and out of the pit... [roll=THE MONSTER APPROACHES, WITH, IT'S]3m1d12z[/roll] [roll=motivation, trait]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=damage, morale]1d6z 1d8z[/roll] [roll=health]1d6z[/roll] d4 armor. DR 10 to hit due to size and slowness. A massive blob of yellow slime pulled its way out of the pit, its tendril rolling forward as the rest slowly fought gravity. Misshapen, rotting legs accompanied the glob's tendrils, being used like grotesque anchors and pivot points. Most eerily, however, was that it only made the sound of whispers louder, and made none itself. As more of its mass got over the hump, Olgor and Hector both looked at each other knowing this could be the end for them. "hunt forever. you must fight. for me," she whispered. Olgor was filled with resolve. He spoke the litany of Ääel, Queen of Blood, attempting to boost up Hector's ability, perhaps even whipping him in to a frenzy! [roll=Presence DR 6]2m1d20s6z[/roll] +2 on Hector's rolls Hector surged with fanatic energy, his soul eager to give way to faith. He lunged forward and attempted to bash the meaty slime into submission! Olgor turned his hands to fists and dashed after his companion, swinging them mightily. [roll=hector attack, defence dr 10]2m1d20+2s10z[/roll] [roll=olgor attack, defence dr 10]2m1d20s10z[/roll] [roll=slime dmg, hector armor, olgor armor]2m1d6z 2m1d4z[/roll] Hector missed his swing and dove out of the way of a psuedopod coming for him. Olgor was not so lucky, taking a solid gut punch, his wicker armor only able to absorb so much of it. His body flailed backward and into the rock wall. [roll=Olgor is broken!]1d4z[/roll] His body begins hemorrhaging blood, and will die in [roll=hours]1d2z[/roll] unless treated. The creature turned all of its attention to Hector, who became utterly enraged by the sight of his new companion, his spiritual leader, felled! Hector gains +2 to rolls. "FOUL CREATURE, THE BLOOD QUEEN SHALL SEE YOUR BILE SPILLED TO THE FLOOR AND INTO THAT DOOM PIT FROM WHENCE YOU CAME! DIIIIEEE!!!" [roll=Hector attack, defense]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll] [roll=slime dmg, hector armor]1d6z 1d4z[/roll] +4 so no damage [roll=hector dmg, slime armor]1d4+4z 1d4z[/roll] A deep red aura began to surround Hector as his femur bashed into the meaty sludge, spraying the walls with it as it lost viscosity. The bones of other creatures inside of it held back some of the damage, but it was heavily damaged. A tendril whipped into Hector's body and bruised his ribs. "IN THE NAME OF THE QUEEEEENNN!!" he screamed. [roll=Hector attack, defense]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll] [roll=slime dmg, hector armor]1d6z 1d4+4z[/roll] [roll=hector dmg, slime armor]1d4+4z 1d4z[/roll] At this point he was just flailing around, avoiding attacks by the implanted faith of a dead god. He could not lose. This thing would not claim him! [roll=Hector attack, defense]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll] [roll=slime dmg, hector armor]1d6z 1d4+4z[/roll] [roll=hector dmg, slime armor]1d4+4z 1d4z[/roll] [roll=Agility or damage]1d20+4s12z 1d12z 1d4+4z[/roll] Finally landing a series of blows upon the beast, bashing away goo onto the floor and the hole, Hector was victorious. His chest heaved as the adrenaline flowed through him. "run now" she whispered. Looking down he saw the slime swelling up, could smell the sulfur burning. Hector leapt backward and rolled along the floor partway into the tunnel as the sludge exploded. The fog slowly died away with the creature's death, as Hector held Olgor in his arms. There were no bandages, no medicines, no treatments to give. He held Olgor's wounds until he hadn't the strength, while the mad prophet spoke his litany, forging a new priest. Hector dedicated every word to memory. Especially when Olgor said this must be what friendship is... before passing away from blood loss. Hector held Olgor and cried to himself for a moment. The leader didn't need to die... [roll=Save me, my Queen]1d20s14z[/roll] Olgor died that day. That much is certain, for Hector wept over his body and searched the room after finding no breath. But Olgor did not move on to an afterlife. It was only fitting that he had died from bleeding out... for that was how the Blood Queen was summoned. There in the pool, Olgor's soul passed into her realm. A copper and white marble castle gleaming in a red light from a bloody moon overhead. The sky black like the night and without stars. The ground seemed not to exist, but shimmered in the light like a puddle, and sounded the same. Inside the castle, impossibly tall ceilings, delicate architecture, pools of blood in bowls at every turn. A courtyard with statues of red armored knights wielding copper weapons, surrounded by troughs of running blood. Along every wall blood ran down grooves and down into the floor forming overly-large symbols. At the end of the hall, a woman with white porcelain skin and raven black hair sat in a gown of copper and green. Her eyes were bloody orbs, constantly weeping tears of blood. Her expression sadness. Olgor prostrated himself before her, but she only said... "not yet." Ääel bled into her hand and flicked it all over Olgor. He could feel his connection to his goddess grow as he surged with power. Suddenly the gravity of a thousand worlds was upon him and he sped back to his corpse. Life flushed Olgor's cheeks and he awoke, coughing up her blood and not his own. It stained his skin everywhere it touched, permanently, and looked fresh and wet at all times. A new knowledge was burned into his soul, as part of the Queen's magic joined him. [roll=Unclean Power]1d10z[/roll] A bolt of lightning from seemingly nowhere struck Olgor's body, shocking him to life with a scream. Hector also screamed and not expecting the sudden noise. Olgor sat up and looked around. Hector was so stunned he fell over and backed away. "S-s-s-sir?" he asked. "Hector! I have seen her! I have spoken to her! The Queen bestowed me with power. Hector nodded as she whispered to him and he stood up, then helped Olgor up. "She has imbued me as well," he said. "I hear her words, Olgor!" He said excitedly, grasping Olgor's shoulders. The mad prophet lit up as well, and the two shared a moment together knowing they could feel their Goddess. [B]Getting Better[/B] So, I've decided that if you manage to keep yourself from dying, you should get something. I opted for a power, since Olgor can't defend himself worth a damn. I've also decided that the event was epic enough that Hector will be considered a Dead God's Prophet as well as Get Better. [roll=Olgor Health, HP gain]6d10z 1d6z[/roll] [roll=Loot]1d6z[/roll] [roll=Abilities]4m1d6z[/roll] [roll=silver]3d10z[/roll] [spoiler=Hector][roll=starting silver]2d6*10z[/roll] [roll=starting food]1d4z[/roll] [roll=food]1d6z[/roll] [roll=starting gear]3m1d12z[/roll] [roll=terrible traits]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=broken body]1d20z[/roll] [roll=bad habit]1d20z[/roll] [roll=troubling tale]1d20z[/roll] class rolls [roll=silver]1d6*5z[/roll] [roll=agility]3d6z[/roll] [roll=presence]3d6+2z[/roll] [roll=strength]3d6z[/roll] [roll=toughness]3d6-2z[/roll] [roll=gifts]2m1d8z[/roll] [roll=sacred scroll]1d10z[/roll] [roll=gifts]1d8z[/roll] [roll=gifts]3m1d8z[/roll] [/spoiler] [roll=Hector Health vs 8, HP gain]6d10z 1d6z[/roll] [roll=Loot]1d6z[/roll] [roll=Abilities]4m1d6z[/roll]

Day 4, dawn

---

The Dying Lands, Wästland, crag cave, 2 days away

[roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End

[roll=Weather]1d12z[/roll] - Gravelike cold

OOC: I would like to try a micro-crawl. Since it would be too easy for this cave tunnel to just go straight to town, we'll do this crawl, travel, and then another crawl representing the exit once we were supposed to hit the town.

[roll=Waypoints, now, later]2m1d4z[/roll]
[roll=Name, status and reason, current occupants]2m1d12z 1d6z 1d4z 2m1d12z[/roll]
[roll=first room, type, adjective]1d4z 1d6z 1d12z 1d20z[/roll]
[roll=religious iconography]3m1d12z[/roll] - Sorority of the Black Relic
[roll=sounds]1d12z[/roll] - swelling

Doom Pit
Still active - A meaty mass of slime, larvae and spider legs
High ceilings, swelling whispers in the upper dark
Foggy pit

After a groggy and short night's sleep, Olgor and Hector awoke to the sounds of whispers in both of their ears at the same time. Their eyes met for a moment in panic, each realizing they'd both heard it. "What was that?" Hector asked, rather obviously. "Something to mean us harm, I assume," Olgor responded. He went for his staff, but forgot it had shattered against the crow.

Hector's wounds are infected. [roll=Days without a complication]1d6z[/roll] - Can't heal from sleep, takes d6 damage a day, when you would heal. House ruling: after you take this damage, roll DR12 Toughness to fight the infection off. Each time you take this damage, the DR is -2, until cured or dead. If you receive healing from an item or Power, the infection is fought off automatically.

Olgor steeled himself and urged the two forward with a nod. Hector lead the way toward the back of the cave where a round tunnel had formed, though the entrance was covered in stalagmites and stalactites that formed columns.

[roll=GAM Strength with help if necessary DR 12]2m1d20+1z[/roll]

The stones were not well formed and thin in the middle, allowing the two to snap them apart. Enough at least to allow the wheelbarrow through. Hector gave Olgor a knowing nod, and in that moment, the mad priest's heart warmed ever so slightly. He wasn't sure how much of that was from his Goddess' Power... or whether it was how he treats everyone he's close to?

Hector found a torch lying in a pile with some other useless trash, wrapping some of the cloth around the head for fuel. "Come here and help me mute this sound," he whispered, intending to light the torch. Olgor slowly moved the items out of the cart and tipped it over, pulling Hector close. It would have almost been a sweet moment, if not for the disgusting rotting smell of flesh coming from the wood, inches away from their faces.

With the torch lit and the items replaced, the two made their way slowly through the tunnel. It rounded a couple of corners but eventually spilled into another area. As they got closer, the whispers began to swell. Olgor tried to use two pieces of meat against his ears to mute the sound.

The room was an oval sort of shape, opening wider as they stepped inside. Hector pulled his femur from his rope belt and bounced it in his palm until the weight felt right. The ceiling was higher than torchlight could pierce, and the whispers seemed to come from high up. In the back of the room sat a large, round pit with fog roiling up and out of it onto the floor. It felt warm, but dissipated not far from the hole. The bottom of the cavern couldn't be seen, and it was quite hard to tell where the floor was on the edges of the room.

Before they'd have a chance to figure a way around, they'd have to deal with the thing crawling up and out of the pit...

[roll=THE MONSTER APPROACHES, WITH, IT'S]3m1d12z[/roll] [roll=motivation, trait]2m1d20z[/roll] [roll=damage, morale]1d6z 1d8z[/roll] [roll=health]1d6z[/roll] d4 armor. DR 10 to hit due to size and slowness.

A massive blob of yellow slime pulled its way out of the pit, its tendril rolling forward as the rest slowly fought gravity. Misshapen, rotting legs accompanied the glob's tendrils, being used like grotesque anchors and pivot points. Most eerily, however, was that it only made the sound of whispers louder, and made none itself.

As more of its mass got over the hump, Olgor and Hector both looked at each other knowing this could be the end for them. "hunt forever. you must fight. for me," she whispered. Olgor was filled with resolve. He spoke the litany of Ääel, Queen of Blood, attempting to boost up Hector's ability, perhaps even whipping him in to a frenzy!

[roll=Presence DR 6]2m1d20s6z[/roll] +2 on Hector's rolls

Hector surged with fanatic energy, his soul eager to give way to faith. He lunged forward and attempted to bash the meaty slime into submission! Olgor turned his hands to fists and dashed after his companion, swinging them mightily.

[roll=hector attack, defence dr 10]2m1d20+2s10z[/roll]
[roll=olgor attack, defence dr 10]2m1d20s10z[/roll]
[roll=slime dmg, hector armor, olgor armor]2m1d6z 2m1d4z[/roll]

Hector missed his swing and dove out of the way of a psuedopod coming for him. Olgor was not so lucky, taking a solid gut punch, his wicker armor only able to absorb so much of it. His body flailed backward and into the rock wall.

[roll=Olgor is broken!]1d4z[/roll] His body begins hemorrhaging blood, and will die in [roll=hours]1d2z[/roll] unless treated.

The creature turned all of its attention to Hector, who became utterly enraged by the sight of his new companion, his spiritual leader, felled! Hector gains +2 to rolls.

"FOUL CREATURE, THE BLOOD QUEEN SHALL SEE YOUR BILE SPILLED TO THE FLOOR AND INTO THAT DOOM PIT FROM WHENCE YOU CAME! DIIIIEEE!!!"

[roll=Hector attack, defense]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll]
[roll=slime dmg, hector armor]1d6z 1d4z[/roll] +4 so no damage
[roll=hector dmg, slime armor]1d4+4z 1d4z[/roll]

A deep red aura began to surround Hector as his femur bashed into the meaty sludge, spraying the walls with it as it lost viscosity. The bones of other creatures inside of it held back some of the damage, but it was heavily damaged. A tendril whipped into Hector's body and bruised his ribs.

"IN THE NAME OF THE QUEEEEENNN!!" he screamed.

[roll=Hector attack, defense]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll]
[roll=slime dmg, hector armor]1d6z 1d4+4z[/roll]
[roll=hector dmg, slime armor]1d4+4z 1d4z[/roll]

At this point he was just flailing around, avoiding attacks by the implanted faith of a dead god. He could not lose. This thing would not claim him!

[roll=Hector attack, defense]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll]
[roll=slime dmg, hector armor]1d6z 1d4+4z[/roll]
[roll=hector dmg, slime armor]1d4+4z 1d4z[/roll]

[roll=Agility or damage]1d20+4s12z 1d12z 1d4+4z[/roll]

Finally landing a series of blows upon the beast, bashing away goo onto the floor and the hole, Hector was victorious. His chest heaved as the adrenaline flowed through him. "run now" she whispered. Looking down he saw the slime swelling up, could smell the sulfur burning. Hector leapt backward and rolled along the floor partway into the tunnel as the sludge exploded.

The fog slowly died away with the creature's death, as Hector held Olgor in his arms. There were no bandages, no medicines, no treatments to give. He held Olgor's wounds until he hadn't the strength, while the mad prophet spoke his litany, forging a new priest. Hector dedicated every word to memory. Especially when Olgor said this must be what friendship is... before passing away from blood loss.

Hector held Olgor and cried to himself for a moment. The leader didn't need to die...

[roll=Save me, my Queen]1d20s14z[/roll]

Olgor died that day. That much is certain, for Hector wept over his body and searched the room after finding no breath. But Olgor did not move on to an afterlife. It was only fitting that he had died from bleeding out... for that was how the Blood Queen was summoned. There in the pool, Olgor's soul passed into her realm.

A copper and white marble castle gleaming in a red light from a bloody moon overhead. The sky black like the night and without stars. The ground seemed not to exist, but shimmered in the light like a puddle, and sounded the same. Inside the castle, impossibly tall ceilings, delicate architecture, pools of blood in bowls at every turn. A courtyard with statues of red armored knights wielding copper weapons, surrounded by troughs of running blood. Along every wall blood ran down grooves and down into the floor forming overly-large symbols.

At the end of the hall, a woman with white porcelain skin and raven black hair sat in a gown of copper and green. Her eyes were bloody orbs, constantly weeping tears of blood. Her expression sadness. Olgor prostrated himself before her, but she only said...

"not yet."

Ääel bled into her hand and flicked it all over Olgor. He could feel his connection to his goddess grow as he surged with power.

Suddenly the gravity of a thousand worlds was upon him and he sped back to his corpse. Life flushed Olgor's cheeks and he awoke, coughing up her blood and not his own. It stained his skin everywhere it touched, permanently, and looked fresh and wet at all times. A new knowledge was burned into his soul, as part of the Queen's magic joined him.

[roll=Unclean Power]1d10z[/roll]

A bolt of lightning from seemingly nowhere struck Olgor's body, shocking him to life with a scream. Hector also screamed and not expecting the sudden noise. Olgor sat up and looked around. Hector was so stunned he fell over and backed away. "S-s-s-sir?" he asked. "Hector! I have seen her! I have spoken to her! The Queen bestowed me with power.

Hector nodded as she whispered to him and he stood up, then helped Olgor up. "She has imbued me as well," he said. "I hear her words, Olgor!" He said excitedly, grasping Olgor's shoulders. The mad prophet lit up as well, and the two shared a moment together knowing they could feel their Goddess.

Getting Better

So, I've decided that if you manage to keep yourself from dying, you should get something. I opted for a power, since Olgor can't defend himself worth a damn. I've also decided that the event was epic enough that Hector will be considered a Dead God's Prophet as well as Get Better.

[roll=Olgor Health, HP gain]6d10z 1d6z[/roll]
[roll=Loot]1d6z[/roll]
[roll=Abilities]4m1d6z[/roll]
[roll=silver]3d10z[/roll]
 

Hector

[roll=starting silver]2d6*10z[/roll]
[roll=starting food]1d4z[/roll]
[roll=food]1d6z[/roll]
[roll=starting gear]3m1d12z[/roll]

[roll=terrible traits]2m1d20z[/roll]
[roll=broken body]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=bad habit]1d20z[/roll]
[roll=troubling tale]1d20z[/roll]

class rolls
[roll=silver]1d6*5z[/roll]
[roll=agility]3d6z[/roll]
[roll=presence]3d6+2z[/roll]
[roll=strength]3d6z[/roll]
[roll=toughness]3d6-2z[/roll]

[roll=gifts]2m1d8z[/roll]
[roll=sacred scroll]1d10z[/roll]
[roll=gifts]1d8z[/roll] [roll=gifts]3m1d8z[/roll]

[roll=Hector Health vs 8, HP gain]6d10z 1d6z[/roll]
[roll=Loot]1d6z[/roll]
[roll=Abilities]4m1d6z[/roll]

 

[Malkavian Grin]

[roll=travel event]1d20z[/roll] - filthy farmers on their way to market... Let's change this to fit the theme. Female cultists off to kidnap a victim to sacrifice. [roll=number of cultists]1d4z[/roll] I also forgot to loot the previous room. I wanted to test those out. [roll=Corpse Plunder]2m1d6z[/roll] [roll=Useful Item]1d6z[/roll] [roll=unclean scroll]1d10z[/roll] [roll=presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll] Mmm a pocketful of broken glass. Hector takes two damage... but we found a scroll. Now, back down in the tunnel... Olgor and Hector readied themselves as voices could be heard in the darkness, headed toward them. [roll=Reaction, possible Initiative]2d6z 1d6z[/roll] [roll=Forgot to roll for Powers, Olgor and Hector]1d4-1z 1d4+4z[/roll] Listening in on their words, the two pick out phrases that don't sit quite right; things mentioning sacrifice, and who else they should abduct. It seemed this cult preyed on a village near Lake Onda. Perhaps the very one Olgor and Hector sought. [U]Black Relic Cultist[/U] [roll=HP, Morale]2m1d6z[/roll] d4 knife d2 armor Getting the jump on the women, Hector elicited his newfound Power, pointing at the woman on the right. His mouth opened as his eyes rolled back into his head. A deep series of tones came from his mouth as he recited the Enochian Syntax, attempting to get her to attack her companion. [roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll] [roll=Cultist attack]1d4z 1d2z[/roll] The two were taken off-guard, as the Power of the Blood Queen rose within one of them. "kill her" she whispered into the woman's mind. Turning as if it were completely normal, the woman stepped close to the other and jammed her knife into her ribs, finding a little resistance on her leathers. "Oh black shits, what are you doing?!" said the other woman, shoving her back. "Not me, them!" she said, pushing the woman away who looked just as confused. "I didn't do it! It wasn't me! A voice said to-- Hey, who're they!" she said, now seeing Olgor and Hector. But Olgor was too fast, having darted toward them the moment Hector unleashed his power. [roll=Olgor attack?]1d20+1s12z[/roll] [roll=armor]1d2z[/roll] Landing a solid fist strike into the wounded woman, Olgor could see the fear of death creep onto her face as she crumpled to the floor. "No! Don't!" she begged, a headful of dirty, tangled hair in front of her face. Hector continued to push his Power, embedding the need to kneel and finish off the other woman. [roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll] [roll=Morale]2d6s9z[/roll] [roll=Cultist attack]1d4z 1d2z[/roll] [roll=attacks on cultist, Olgor, woman]1d20+1z 1d20z[/roll] Olgor turned to face her, could feel the heat rising into his ears. He tried to land another strike on the woman's head, but she was focused on dodging the knife and managed to get to her feet. She didn't want to kill her companion, but knew the knife was deadlier than a fist. The woman ran toward Hector, hoping to kill him before he could enact another Power. [roll=Hector defend]1d20-1z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll] Hector turned the woman's blade away deftly with a side swipe from the femur. He followed up with a swing of his own. [roll=Hector attack]1d20z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll] The bone whipped through the air and went straight into the woman's temple, caving in her head. She was dead instantly, dropping her knife and collapsing to the ground. Olgor, feeling left out of the Queen's favor, decided to enact a Power, pulling on the electricity... [roll=Olgor Presence DR 12, fail HP loss]1d20-1s12z 1d2z[/roll] Spending an Omen to reroll [roll=Olgor Presence DR 12]1d20-1s12z[/roll] [roll=Olgor defend DR12]1d20+1s12z[/roll] [roll=cultist damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll] Unfortunately, he was too eager, and tried to release it too soon. His body coursed with electricity for a moment, and was then stabbed by a crazed cultist. Hector ran up to the woman, hoping to fell her in the same way, but her leathers turned the blow into a glancing strike. Olgor was too busy reeling from his wound to land a hit. Olgor barely dodged another knife stab, wincing in anticipation. He was not ready to meet his Goddess again. Not yet. Cultist down to 4 HP. Olgor again whiffs his attack, while Hector finds purchase with the femur. Again the woman's armor soaked much of the blow. The woman tried desperately to drive the blade into Olgor, managing only to break some of the wicker. Cultist down to 3 HP. Olgor was useless in a fight, practically prostrating himself before this cultist... She instead turned her attention to Hector who as at least landing hits, but not with enough force to do anything. She stabbed into Hector, piercing his armor smoothly. That was it. Hector called upon his power again, to make the woman drop her weapon and stand deathly still. [roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll] Spending an Omen to reroll [roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll] another! [roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll] Hector felt the threads of fate pulling against him as he forced his Power to exist yet again. The woman's body seized up and she dropped her knife. Panic set into her face but she couldn't even scream. Olgor snarled and punched her dead in the nose, breaking it. Hector followed up with another bash straight into the temple, caving in her head. The two men breathed heavily there in the dim light. The torch light was waning as the fuel started to run out on it, leaving the two in flickering shadows that danced upon the walls. "Well... that was... exciting..." Olgor said sarcastically. "What's wrong, Sir? Not in shape anymore?" Hector said with a laugh, falling onto his ass. Olgor sat down as well and they laughed there in the tunnel. "We have to find a place to rest. This place has nearly killed us twice now," Hector said. "Speak for yourself. I DID die," Olgor said back to him. "What was that like?" Hector pried. "Surreal..." Olgor said. "Let's find a defensible spot and I'll tell you." Olgor regaled Hector with his visit to the other side in great detail as the two found a niche cave to set up camp in. The two stayed up for far too long discussing the realm and its implications. So much so that they only ended up with a short nap instead of a full rest. Weak hit camping. Restore 1 HP, 1 Omen, 1 Power.

[roll=travel event]1d20z[/roll] - filthy farmers on their way to market... Let's change this to fit the theme. Female cultists off to kidnap a victim to sacrifice. [roll=number of cultists]1d4z[/roll]

I also forgot to loot the previous room. I wanted to test those out.

[roll=Corpse Plunder]2m1d6z[/roll]
[roll=Useful Item]1d6z[/roll]
[roll=unclean scroll]1d10z[/roll]
[roll=presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll]

Mmm a pocketful of broken glass. Hector takes two damage... but we found a scroll.

Now, back down in the tunnel...

Olgor and Hector readied themselves as voices could be heard in the darkness, headed toward them.

[roll=Reaction, possible Initiative]2d6z 1d6z[/roll] [roll=Forgot to roll for Powers, Olgor and Hector]1d4-1z 1d4+4z[/roll]

Listening in on their words, the two pick out phrases that don't sit quite right; things mentioning sacrifice, and who else they should abduct. It seemed this cult preyed on a village near Lake Onda. Perhaps the very one Olgor and Hector sought.

Black Relic Cultist [roll=HP, Morale]2m1d6z[/roll] d4 knife d2 armor

Getting the jump on the women, Hector elicited his newfound Power, pointing at the woman on the right. His mouth opened as his eyes rolled back into his head. A deep series of tones came from his mouth as he recited the Enochian Syntax, attempting to get her to attack her companion.

[roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll]
[roll=Cultist attack]1d4z 1d2z[/roll]

The two were taken off-guard, as the Power of the Blood Queen rose within one of them. "kill her" she whispered into the woman's mind. Turning as if it were completely normal, the woman stepped close to the other and jammed her knife into her ribs, finding a little resistance on her leathers.

"Oh black shits, what are you doing?!" said the other woman, shoving her back. "Not me, them!" she said, pushing the woman away who looked just as confused. "I didn't do it! It wasn't me! A voice said to-- Hey, who're they!" she said, now seeing Olgor and Hector. But Olgor was too fast, having darted toward them the moment Hector unleashed his power.

[roll=Olgor attack?]1d20+1s12z[/roll]
[roll=armor]1d2z[/roll]

Landing a solid fist strike into the wounded woman, Olgor could see the fear of death creep onto her face as she crumpled to the floor. "No! Don't!" she begged, a headful of dirty, tangled hair in front of her face.

Hector continued to push his Power, embedding the need to kneel and finish off the other woman.

[roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll]
[roll=Morale]2d6s9z[/roll]
[roll=Cultist attack]1d4z 1d2z[/roll]
[roll=attacks on cultist, Olgor, woman]1d20+1z 1d20z[/roll]

Olgor turned to face her, could feel the heat rising into his ears. He tried to land another strike on the woman's head, but she was focused on dodging the knife and managed to get to her feet. She didn't want to kill her companion, but knew the knife was deadlier than a fist.

The woman ran toward Hector, hoping to kill him before he could enact another Power.

[roll=Hector defend]1d20-1z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll]

Hector turned the woman's blade away deftly with a side swipe from the femur. He followed up with a swing of his own.

[roll=Hector attack]1d20z 1d4z 1d2z[/roll]

The bone whipped through the air and went straight into the woman's temple, caving in her head. She was dead instantly, dropping her knife and collapsing to the ground. Olgor, feeling left out of the Queen's favor, decided to enact a Power, pulling on the electricity...

[roll=Olgor Presence DR 12, fail HP loss]1d20-1s12z 1d2z[/roll] Spending an Omen to reroll
[roll=Olgor Presence DR 12]1d20-1s12z[/roll]
[roll=Olgor defend DR12]1d20+1s12z[/roll]
[roll=cultist damage, armor]1d4z 1d2z[/roll]

Unfortunately, he was too eager, and tried to release it too soon. His body coursed with electricity for a moment, and was then stabbed by a crazed cultist.

Hector ran up to the woman, hoping to fell her in the same way, but her leathers turned the blow into a glancing strike. Olgor was too busy reeling from his wound to land a hit. Olgor barely dodged another knife stab, wincing in anticipation. He was not ready to meet his Goddess again. Not yet.

Cultist down to 4 HP.

Olgor again whiffs his attack, while Hector finds purchase with the femur. Again the woman's armor soaked much of the blow. The woman tried desperately to drive the blade into Olgor, managing only to break some of the wicker.

Cultist down to 3 HP.

Olgor was useless in a fight, practically prostrating himself before this cultist... She instead turned her attention to Hector who as at least landing hits, but not with enough force to do anything. She stabbed into Hector, piercing his armor smoothly.

That was it. Hector called upon his power again, to make the woman drop her weapon and stand deathly still.

[roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll] Spending an Omen to reroll
[roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll] another!
[roll=Presence DR 12]1d20+4s12z[/roll]

Hector felt the threads of fate pulling against him as he forced his Power to exist yet again. The woman's body seized up and she dropped her knife. Panic set into her face but she couldn't even scream. Olgor snarled and punched her dead in the nose, breaking it. Hector followed up with another bash straight into the temple, caving in her head.

The two men breathed heavily there in the dim light. The torch light was waning as the fuel started to run out on it, leaving the two in flickering shadows that danced upon the walls. "Well... that was... exciting..." Olgor said sarcastically. "What's wrong, Sir? Not in shape anymore?" Hector said with a laugh, falling onto his ass. Olgor sat down as well and they laughed there in the tunnel.

"We have to find a place to rest. This place has nearly killed us twice now," Hector said. "Speak for yourself. I DID die," Olgor said back to him. "What was that like?" Hector pried. "Surreal..." Olgor said. "Let's find a defensible spot and I'll tell you."

Olgor regaled Hector with his visit to the other side in great detail as the two found a niche cave to set up camp in. The two stayed up for far too long discussing the realm and its implications. So much so that they only ended up with a short nap instead of a full rest.

Weak hit camping. Restore 1 HP, 1 Omen, 1 Power.

 

[Malkavian Grin]

[B]Day 5, dawn[/B][hr][/hr] The Dying Lands, Wästland, Doom Pit, 1 day away [roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End [U]Camp Effects[/U][hr][/hr] Weak hit camping. ⚫ Eat Hector's hard loaf x2, ⚫ Restore 1 HP, 1 Omen, 1 Power. ⚫ Hector takes 1 damage from infection (below) Olgor 4/6 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power Hector 5/9 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power [roll=Hector's infected wound d6, does it fight it off DR12]1d6z 1d20s12z[/roll] Hector takes 1 damage instead of healing. He doesn't fight the infection but the DR drops to 10. ⚫ [U]META MOVE[/U][hr][/hr] The team is just one day away from the destination of Lake Onda, the first Milestone of the Journey. As decided above, a 4 Waypoint Micro-Crawl awaits them. Getting through it completes the day and essentially half the adventure. Let's forge ahead! [B]Temple of Dark Worship - Micro-Crawl[/B] [I]Inactive[/I], because it was no longer needed Has religious iconography - [I][B][U]Sorority of the Black Relic[/U][/B][/I] Occupied by dissident courtiers dedicated to the occult [U]Waypoints - 4[/U] [roll=Name, status and reason, current occupants]2m1d12z 1d6z 1d4z 2m1d12z[/roll] [roll=first room, type, adjective]1d4z 1d6z 1d12z 1d20z[/roll] [roll=sounds]1d12z[/roll] - swelling [U]Room 1 - Acrid Library[/U] Hector and Olgor woke up unceremoniously early to the sound of voices singing. Women were chanting in a lower tone while weaving in strange higher-pitched jumping whines. It was an odd noise for both Olgor and Hector. Collecting themselves and goods, the two pressed into the caves further toward it. Around a corner a view of a kind of building could be seen. The very stones were seemingly grown into position, creating a tooth-like effect as thin columns lined the front. A hole allowed entry at the base. Six women in black robes and veils sat before the entrance in a circle. Beneath them was drawn an arcane diagram. They each held a series of candles or candelabras. Olgor looked to Hector, rage in his eyes at the scene. [B]"Blasphemers, I'll bet."[/B] He curled his lip in rage, presupposing the purpose of their words. Hector nodded slightly but replied in an unsure tone, [B]"Who isn't, these days? Plus neither of us can take another beating right now."[/B] Blinking his eyes a few times, Olgor's face seemed to compress, lips going thin and wide into a mock smile, eyes wide but begging. [B]"That doesn't mean they don't need punished in [I]her name[/I], Hector." [/B] The ruddy-skinned man winced slightly, his features melting into guilt. [B]"No, no, you're right, but what about u-?"[/B] He stopped mid-syllable as phlegm dislodged in his throat. He fought back a cough, refusing to inhale despite his body wracking for breath. Olgor cringed a bit. [B]"I've--I'm...It's nothing, don't worry about it,"[/B] Hector said, obviously trying to shirk the issue of being sick. He needed to be strong for two men, as Hector didn't like to admit it, but Olgor was nearly a liability in combat. He felt responsible, by nature of the Dead Goddess that bonded them--that he now heard in his head--to be the warrior that he never wanted to be. Hector was press-ganged himself but was naturally built well which gave him an advantage. Before [I]Her word[/I], he'd have just killed Olgor. Hector was different and he wasn't up to discussing it yet. Olgor seemed judgemental, and not just from a dead Goddess' voice in his head. Olgor softened a little and, realizing Hector was very well dead already, just nodded and said, sarcastically, [B]"Fine. My wrath be stayed...for now."[/B] Olgor assumed them to be with whatever group the previous two women were. Maybe those two were its fighters, and these six represented little threat? He doubted it. Hector was more selfish than that. He was also still struggling with [I]Her voice[/I]. ⚫ [U]META MOVE[/U][hr][/hr] Try to get past the dissidents and to the entrance. We should roll Reaction. [roll=Reaction]1d5z[/roll] Kill, Anger, Indifferent, Almost Friendly, Helpful Try to roll Presence to smooth things over. [roll=Hector Presence DR12+4]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll] Strong Hit. Double success to improve Attitude from Anger to Almost Friendly. ⚫ [U]FICTION[/U][hr][/hr] Hector and Olgor made their way through the cavern as it opened up. The wall at the end looked a kind of melting, toothed fortress of columns with an entryway polished into the stone at the bottom. Before it sat six women chanting, ignoring the two as they kept a wide berth. Being careful as they were, they brought the wheelbarrow near the base of the library. [B]"STOP!"[/B] a voice cracked out, stopping the chanting. Olgor looked at Hector expectantly as he cracked his blessed knuckles, now caked in [I]Her blood[/I]. ⚫ [U]RETRO MOVE[/U][hr][/hr] Seems thematic that Olgor spat [I]Her blood[/I] onto himself that never goes away. That should give him a bonus in combat, making his limbs seek out blood more efficiently. Let's call it a DR10 Attack and doubles the damage from Pain Foretold. ⚫ [U]FICTION[/U][hr][/hr] Hector turned around and lowered his hands, moving noticeably slower. [B]"Woah, hold there! We're not here for a fight."[/B] he said. [B]"You should not be here,"[/B] the voice continued as one of the women stood up. She held a candelabra of four candles. Her voice was of defensive warning. [B]"That's not going to stop us, though,"[/B] Olgor said matter-of-factly. The woman looked at the slime parts still clinging to Hector's clothing. [B]"You've killed it?"[/B] she asked, with a tone that was more of genuine curiosity than anything else. [B]"Killed [I]it[/I]?... You have to mean that evil ball of meat that nearly killed [I]us[/I]. Yes, we killed it, so what now?"[/B] Her face warmed and her tone lightened. [B]"Now, you may pass, and die, as you see fit. We'll look the other way since you left the way behind you open. You'll find the other way out blocked. Ladies, this site is dead to us. Reclamation is done."[/B] With that they all got up and slowly walked out of the caves. [B]"Damn, Hector, nice job there. I'd have just punched her in the face,"[/B] Olgor offered. Hector stared down at the ritual site left behind. [B]"It's good you've got me. I don't know how you survived so far with your attitude. Conscription does wonders for tightening it up. I'm just more tolerable, mate."[/B] He stomped into it and searched it for leftovers. ⚫ [U]META MOVE[/U][hr][/hr] Search the site for goods. 4 on Useful Goods: Unclean Scroll. Roll of 1: Palms Open the Southern Gate. Hector check for destroying false works. [roll=Hector Presence DR12]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll] Weak Hit. He doesn't destroy it, but the Goddess won't let him just use it normally. It comes with a price of: Activation requires spending 1 HP. ⚫ [U]FICTION[/U][hr][/hr] Hector picked up a grimoire of the Black Relic left behind that held magic within it, eager to be released. The scripture lined up in his eyes easily, and he could sense its ability immediately. But deep down the quiet voice in him screamed. [B]"Her voice! She will live again!"[/B] he cried aloud, dropping to his knees. Olgor ran over to see what was happening. Absorbing the power, Hector slowly stood back up. Olgor replied [B]"What's that? Can't be from my Queen. This temple just isn't her style."[/B] He stopped himself. [B]"Huh, that just came out of me. Didn't strike me until just now. I may have to burn this place to the ground,"[/B] Olgor offered. With a deep breath, Hector gripped the book in his left hand. [B]"Power. Knowledge,"[/B] he said. [B]"That's what I found. Magic of fire, but it is rote with heretical lore. I felt it, though, Her acceptance. She says it comes with a price of blood. Likely to urge me to stay the course."[/B] [B]"I should burn that too then, but if she accepts it as such, who am I so say no,"[/B] Olgor replied, reluctantly accepting. Collecting themselves they walked inside. ⚫ [U]META MOVE[/U][hr][/hr] Move to next room. [U]Waypoint - 2/4[/U] [roll=Name, status and reason, current occupants]2m1d12z 1d6z 1d4z 2m1d12z[/roll] [roll=exits, type, adjective]1d4z 1d6z 1d12z 1d20z[/roll] [roll=sounds]1d12z[/roll] - swelling

Day 5, dawn

---

The Dying Lands, Wästland, Doom Pit, 1 day away

[roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End

Camp Effects

---

Weak hit camping.
⚫ Eat Hector's hard loaf x2,
⚫ Restore 1 HP, 1 Omen, 1 Power.
⚫ Hector takes 1 damage from infection (below)

Olgor 4/6 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power
Hector 5/9 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power

[roll=Hector's infected wound d6, does it fight it off DR12]1d6z 1d20s12z[/roll] Hector takes 1 damage instead of healing. He doesn't fight the infection but the DR drops to 10.

⚫ META MOVE

---

The team is just one day away from the destination of Lake Onda, the first Milestone of the Journey. As decided above, a 4 Waypoint Micro-Crawl awaits them. Getting through it completes the day and essentially half the adventure. Let's forge ahead!

Temple of Dark Worship - Micro-Crawl
Inactive , because it was no longer needed
Has religious iconography - Sorority of the Black Relic
Occupied by dissident courtiers dedicated to the occult

Waypoints - 4
[roll=Name, status and reason, current occupants]2m1d12z 1d6z 1d4z 2m1d12z[/roll]
[roll=first room, type, adjective]1d4z 1d6z 1d12z 1d20z[/roll]
[roll=sounds]1d12z[/roll] - swelling

Room 1 - Acrid Library

Hector and Olgor woke up unceremoniously early to the sound of voices singing. Women were chanting in a lower tone while weaving in strange higher-pitched jumping whines. It was an odd noise for both Olgor and Hector. Collecting themselves and goods, the two pressed into the caves further toward it.

Around a corner a view of a kind of building could be seen. The very stones were seemingly grown into position, creating a tooth-like effect as thin columns lined the front. A hole allowed entry at the base. Six women in black robes and veils sat before the entrance in a circle. Beneath them was drawn an arcane diagram. They each held a series of candles or candelabras.

Olgor looked to Hector, rage in his eyes at the scene. "Blasphemers, I'll bet." He curled his lip in rage, presupposing the purpose of their words. Hector nodded slightly but replied in an unsure tone, "Who isn't, these days? Plus neither of us can take another beating right now."

Blinking his eyes a few times, Olgor's face seemed to compress, lips going thin and wide into a mock smile, eyes wide but begging. "That doesn't mean they don't need punished in her name , Hector."

The ruddy-skinned man winced slightly, his features melting into guilt. "No, no, you're right, but what about u-?" He stopped mid-syllable as phlegm dislodged in his throat. He fought back a cough, refusing to inhale despite his body wracking for breath. Olgor cringed a bit.

"I've--I'm...It's nothing, don't worry about it," Hector said, obviously trying to shirk the issue of being sick. He needed to be strong for two men, as Hector didn't like to admit it, but Olgor was nearly a liability in combat. He felt responsible, by nature of the Dead Goddess that bonded them--that he now heard in his head--to be the warrior that he never wanted to be. Hector was press-ganged himself but was naturally built well which gave him an advantage. Before Her word , he'd have just killed Olgor.

Hector was different and he wasn't up to discussing it yet. Olgor seemed judgemental, and not just from a dead Goddess' voice in his head.

Olgor softened a little and, realizing Hector was very well dead already, just nodded and said, sarcastically, "Fine. My wrath be stayed...for now."

Olgor assumed them to be with whatever group the previous two women were. Maybe those two were its fighters, and these six represented little threat? He doubted it. Hector was more selfish than that. He was also still struggling with Her voice .

⚫ META MOVE

---

Try to get past the dissidents and to the entrance. We should roll Reaction.

[roll=Reaction]1d5z[/roll]
Kill, Anger, Indifferent, Almost Friendly, Helpful

Try to roll Presence to smooth things over.

[roll=Hector Presence DR12+4]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll]

Strong Hit. Double success to improve Attitude from Anger to Almost Friendly.

⚫ FICTION

---

Hector and Olgor made their way through the cavern as it opened up. The wall at the end looked a kind of melting, toothed fortress of columns with an entryway polished into the stone at the bottom. Before it sat six women chanting, ignoring the two as they kept a wide berth.

Being careful as they were, they brought the wheelbarrow near the base of the library. "STOP!" a voice cracked out, stopping the chanting. Olgor looked at Hector expectantly as he cracked his blessed knuckles, now caked in Her blood .

⚫ RETRO MOVE

---

Seems thematic that Olgor spat Her blood onto himself that never goes away. That should give him a bonus in combat, making his limbs seek out blood more efficiently. Let's call it a DR10 Attack and doubles the damage from Pain Foretold.

⚫ FICTION

---

Hector turned around and lowered his hands, moving noticeably slower. "Woah, hold there! We're not here for a fight." he said. "You should not be here," the voice continued as one of the women stood up. She held a candelabra of four candles. Her voice was of defensive warning. "That's not going to stop us, though," Olgor said matter-of-factly.

The woman looked at the slime parts still clinging to Hector's clothing. "You've killed it?" she asked, with a tone that was more of genuine curiosity than anything else. "Killed it ?... You have to mean that evil ball of meat that nearly killed us . Yes, we killed it, so what now?"

Her face warmed and her tone lightened. "Now, you may pass, and die, as you see fit. We'll look the other way since you left the way behind you open. You'll find the other way out blocked. Ladies, this site is dead to us. Reclamation is done." With that they all got up and slowly walked out of the caves.

"Damn, Hector, nice job there. I'd have just punched her in the face," Olgor offered. Hector stared down at the ritual site left behind. "It's good you've got me. I don't know how you survived so far with your attitude. Conscription does wonders for tightening it up. I'm just more tolerable, mate." He stomped into it and searched it for leftovers.

⚫ META MOVE

---

Search the site for goods.

4 on Useful Goods: Unclean Scroll. Roll of 1: Palms Open the Southern Gate.
Hector check for destroying false works.
[roll=Hector Presence DR12]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll]

Weak Hit. He doesn't destroy it, but the Goddess won't let him just use it normally. It comes with a price of: Activation requires spending 1 HP.

⚫ FICTION

---

Hector picked up a grimoire of the Black Relic left behind that held magic within it, eager to be released. The scripture lined up in his eyes easily, and he could sense its ability immediately. But deep down the quiet voice in him screamed. "Her voice! She will live again!" he cried aloud, dropping to his knees. Olgor ran over to see what was happening.

Absorbing the power, Hector slowly stood back up.

Olgor replied "What's that? Can't be from my Queen. This temple just isn't her style." He stopped himself. "Huh, that just came out of me. Didn't strike me until just now. I may have to burn this place to the ground," Olgor offered.

With a deep breath, Hector gripped the book in his left hand. "Power. Knowledge," he said. "That's what I found. Magic of fire, but it is rote with heretical lore. I felt it, though, Her acceptance. She says it comes with a price of blood. Likely to urge me to stay the course."

"I should burn that too then, but if she accepts it as such, who am I so say no," Olgor replied, reluctantly accepting.

Collecting themselves they walked inside.

⚫ META MOVE

---

Move to next room.

Waypoint - 2/4
[roll=Name, status and reason, current occupants]2m1d12z 1d6z 1d4z 2m1d12z[/roll]
[roll=exits, type, adjective]1d4z 1d6z 1d12z 1d20z[/roll]
[roll=sounds]1d12z[/roll] - swelling

 

[Malkavian Grin]

[U]Room 2 - extravagant nest[/U] Exit - 1 Occupants - Object, Useful Object Oracle, d4+1 armor: Tier 1, armored cult robes ⚫ [U]FICTION[/U][hr][/hr] The floor went up at a sharp angle, making anything by climbing it impossible. At the top was a round room with a single spout that could be climbed through. Pushing the wheelbarrow through it was annoying and it bashed Olgor's hand more than once. Inside the room was a block raised up that could be for bedding, a table in the center, and some small cupboards for supplies. Growing from the ceiling were phosphorescent pods that lit the area in a pale green. at the back was a rectangular line in the stonework that went to the floor, indicating a door. Hector became nervous and jittery once in the tight room. He dropped the torch he'd totally been carrying this whole time. He then stepped on it as he winced from claustrophobia, ruining the light. He dropped to his knees and gripped his head. [B]"I need to get outside soon,"[/B] was all he offered. [B]"Sure bud, sure,"[/B] Olgor offered, patting him on the shoulder. Hector got another coughing fit while Olgor collected the shining pods for torches. In the wall he could see set of armor, but it was blasphemous and the prophet wasn't having it. He tossed the pods into the wheelbarrow and walked to the robes. Then he realized his wicker armor was all beat up and worthless, like he was. He put it on reluctantly. Gain 1 Tier 1 armor. [B]"Looking good,"[/B] Hector said. [B]"Oh, shut it,"[/B] Olgor snarked back. They laughed and walked to the strange line in the wall. He went to touch it and when his fingers got close, the wall sank back and then into the ceiling. A small passageway connected it to another area.

Room 2 - extravagant nest

Exit - 1
Occupants - Object, Useful Object Oracle, d4+1 armor: Tier 1, armored cult robes

⚫ FICTION

---

The floor went up at a sharp angle, making anything by climbing it impossible. At the top was a round room with a single spout that could be climbed through. Pushing the wheelbarrow through it was annoying and it bashed Olgor's hand more than once.

Inside the room was a block raised up that could be for bedding, a table in the center, and some small cupboards for supplies. Growing from the ceiling were phosphorescent pods that lit the area in a pale green. at the back was a rectangular line in the stonework that went to the floor, indicating a door.

Hector became nervous and jittery once in the tight room. He dropped the torch he'd totally been carrying this whole time. He then stepped on it as he winced from claustrophobia, ruining the light. He dropped to his knees and gripped his head. "I need to get outside soon," was all he offered.

"Sure bud, sure," Olgor offered, patting him on the shoulder. Hector got another coughing fit while Olgor collected the shining pods for torches. In the wall he could see set of armor, but it was blasphemous and the prophet wasn't having it. He tossed the pods into the wheelbarrow and walked to the robes. Then he realized his wicker armor was all beat up and worthless, like he was. He put it on reluctantly.

Gain 1 Tier 1 armor.

"Looking good," Hector said. "Oh, shut it," Olgor snarked back. They laughed and walked to the strange line in the wall. He went to touch it and when his fingers got close, the wall sank back and then into the ceiling. A small passageway connected it to another area.

 

[Malkavian Grin]

Room 3 - Defaced Pool 1 exit Something blocks the path Unnerving scream [roll=Room Adjective, Type, Contents]1d20z 2m1d12z[/roll] [roll=Sounds, Quality, Type]1d12z 1d20z[/roll] Olgor 4/6 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power Hector 5/9 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power ⚫ [U]META MOVE[/U][hr][/hr] The rocks need moved out of the way, whether by brute force or a bit of cleverness with levers. Olgor will use a Strength roll to move them. [roll=Olgor Strength overcome DR12]2m1d20+1s12z[/roll] Oof. Olgor smashes his hand for 1 damage. Olgor now at 3 HP. Let's have Hector try a clever use of a lever. He'll cook something up with the chain around the rocks going around a nearby stalagmite trunk. Half Presence bonus instead of Strength seems fair to represent wits. [roll=Hector being clever DR12]2m1d20+2s12z[/roll] Oh, okay Hector. Sure. Almost two crits. Sure. So that goes off nicely. The weird chain weave/knot pulls on enough of the rocks that they tumble mostly out of the way along the path. It will be a hands and knees crawl. ⚫ [U]FICTION[/U][hr][/hr] The next area opened into a natural warm spring. Part of the ceiling had collapsed and damaged it's beauty and usage, as it only formed a small pool now. More glowing pods grew along the edges of stones near the trickles of water. Olgor needlessly pulled up two more pods and tossed them in with the other four. Seeing no other way through, Olgor said, "This obviously fell here. Let's move it." He wrapped his arms around a watermelon-sized rock and slipped, smashing his hand beneath it until it wobbled off. "FECK!" he shouted, waving his hand around. "My turn," said Hector. "Watch and learn," he added, grabbing the chain. He wrapped it around one of the bigger rocks, then around a bit of stone from the floor. He pressed his foot against the stone and pulled with all his might. The tiny boulders rattled out of the way, leaving a small gap the two could enter. On hands and knees and pushing a smelly wheelbarrow, Hector and Olgor pressed forward.

Room 3 - Defaced Pool
1 exit
Something blocks the path
Unnerving scream

[roll=Room Adjective, Type, Contents]1d20z 2m1d12z[/roll]
[roll=Sounds, Quality, Type]1d12z 1d20z[/roll]

Olgor 4/6 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power
Hector 5/9 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power

⚫ META MOVE

---

The rocks need moved out of the way, whether by brute force or a bit of cleverness with levers. Olgor will use a Strength roll to move them.

[roll=Olgor Strength overcome DR12]2m1d20+1s12z[/roll] Oof. Olgor smashes his hand for 1 damage.

Olgor now at 3 HP.

Let's have Hector try a clever use of a lever. He'll cook something up with the chain around the rocks going around a nearby stalagmite trunk. Half Presence bonus instead of Strength seems fair to represent wits.

[roll=Hector being clever DR12]2m1d20+2s12z[/roll]

Oh, okay Hector. Sure. Almost two crits. Sure. So that goes off nicely. The weird chain weave/knot pulls on enough of the rocks that they tumble mostly out of the way along the path. It will be a hands and knees crawl.

⚫ FICTION

---

The next area opened into a natural warm spring. Part of the ceiling had collapsed and damaged it's beauty and usage, as it only formed a small pool now. More glowing pods grew along the edges of stones near the trickles of water. Olgor needlessly pulled up two more pods and tossed them in with the other four.

Seeing no other way through, Olgor said, "This obviously fell here. Let's move it." He wrapped his arms around a watermelon-sized rock and slipped, smashing his hand beneath it until it wobbled off. "FECK!" he shouted, waving his hand around. "My turn," said Hector. "Watch and learn," he added, grabbing the chain. He wrapped it around one of the bigger rocks, then around a bit of stone from the floor. He pressed his foot against the stone and pulled with all his might.

The tiny boulders rattled out of the way, leaving a small gap the two could enter. On hands and knees and pushing a smelly wheelbarrow, Hector and Olgor pressed forward.

 

[Malkavian Grin]

Room 4 - Neglected Catacomb 1 exit (out of Micro-Crawl) Guarded by SCVM Muted whisper Religious iconography of: Sodality of Unnameable Decay [roll=Room Adjective, Type, Contents]1d20z 2m1d12z[/roll] [roll=Sounds, Quality, Type]1d12z 1d20z[/roll] Olgor 3/6 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power Hector 5/9 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power ⚫ [U]META MOVE[/U][hr][/hr] It's just one enemy and we have to get through here. Diplomacy has worked well in the past, but this needs to be a fight, and the lore doesn't make scvm sound talkative. In fact it says he tries a sneak attack. [U]Surprise Round[/U] [roll=Hector Presence vs snek atek DR14]1d20+4s14z[/roll] No sneaky. Regular turns now. [U]Round 1 [/U] [roll=Hector defend, armor]1d20-1s12z 1d2z[/roll] [roll=Hector Power check]1d20+4s12z[/roll] Failure to cast Enochian Syntax. Hector loses [roll=HP]1d2z[/roll] and becomes dizzy for an hour. Hector down to 3 HP. [roll=Olgor attack for 6 dmg]1d20+1s10z[/roll] SCVM down to 1 HP. [roll=SCVM Morale check]2d6s8z[/roll] Doesn't flee. [U]Round 2[/U] [roll=Hector defend with dizzy, armor]1d20-1s10z 1d2z[/roll] [roll=Hector attack with dizzy, femur dmg]1d20-1s14z 1d4z[/roll] [roll=poison knife dmg]1d4z[/roll] Hector down to 2 HP. Hector is already Infected. Does it get worse from another source of bacteria? Probably. [B]GM'S NOTE[/B] If Infected and rolling against Infection, failure means the DR to overcome it goes up by +2. [roll=Hector reinfected?]1d20s10z[/roll] He fights it off, so that's good. Let's see if Olgor finishes it off. Though I'd like to take this guy in for the bounty. I forgot we have Hector's horse. I'm going to retcon it as following along. I need at least a little something going right for me. On that horse (which is why we haven't been riding it) are the bodies of the two dead cultist women. [roll=Olgor attack for non-lethal KO]1d20+1s10z[/roll] And he misses. Huh. [U]Round 3[/U] [roll=Hector defend with dizzy, armor]1d20-1s10z 1d2z[/roll] [roll=Hector attack with dizzy, non-lethal KO]1d20-1s14z[/roll] [roll=poison knife dmg]1d4z[/roll] Armor blocks that luckily. [roll=Olgor attack for non-lethal KO]1d20+1s10z[/roll] And success! SCVM is knocked out and immediately taken captive with the chain bound around him. He'll have to be carried in the wheelbarrow. Let's say this room has something to loot, as the last in the crawl. What do we find? [roll=Trinkets]1d100z[/roll] ⚫ [U]FICTION[/U][hr][/hr] Hector and Olgor entered the last area within the Temple of Dark Worship. It seemed as though no exit was here. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with sealed graves. Each had some unknowable text scratched onto them. Candles decorated the wide room, especially at the far end where an altar was. A muted whisper ran through the air harshly like someone hurriedly praying for something. Or perhaps demanding it. As the party entered the room, wheelbarrow and horse in tow, the whisper stopped abruptly. Olgor raised an eyebrow at Hector, whom just shrugged back and released the femur from his belt. The ruddy skinned man turned and narrowly avoided a cunning attack from the darkness behind him! [B]"By the End Times!"[/B] Hector shouted as the blade missed his ribs by inches. He widened his eyes and attempted to enact his commanding Power, Enochian Syntax, but a shot of adrenaline within his system caused his heart to beat out of tempo and disturbed his concentration. Hector found himself overcome with vertigo. Olgor was quick on the uptake, leaping toward the attacker with a punch guided by [I]Her Blood[/I]. His hand moved where it needed to be of it's own volition, hitting the SCVM in the kidney. The other man screamed in pain but refused to run. Hector tried again to defend himself, but the blade found purchase in his arm. The cut wasn't deep, but the grime upon the metal attempted to force its way into the man. Luckily his body would fight it off as his antibodies were already working hard. He clumsily swung his bone club to no avail. Olgor pulled a punch too much in trying to keep the SCVM alive and whiffed completely. A third time Hector dodged a stab, though he stepped into it. The angel changed, though, letting his armor turn the blade away. Another clumsy swing failed to connect as Hector tried to get his bearings futilely. Olgor did not let up on his attacks, bringing an unexpected left hook across the SCVM's face, knocking him cold to the floor. The two caught their breath a moment before chaining the man up and then to the wheelbarrow's handles. There was plenty to use to be able to do a shoddy job that still worked. [B]"Well, that could have gone worse. Probably our best one yet, if I'm honest,"[/B] Olgor said, clearly proud of himself. [B]"Yeah, well, speak for yourself. I just stood here and got stabbed,"[/B] Hector retorted with some snark. [B]"Oh, fine, it wasn't exactly elegant, but whatever. We're alive."[/B] While Olgor looked over the altar, Hector scanned the room and tried not to fall over. In his search, he managed to find a metal bucket in rather good condition. Unfortunately it was partially full with urine, as it was now obviously a latrine bucket. Hector sighed heavily. [B]"I found a metal bucket. That's handy, but you aren't going to like what's in it,"[/B] Hector said as he lifted it up by the handle. [B]"Oh?"[/B] Olgor said off-handedly as he was preoccupied with the stone altar with old bloodstains. A pair of rotting antlers and feathers adorned the top of it. Scratched into its front were the words, [I]Sodality of the Unnameable Decay[/I]. His fingers began to trace the edges as rage grew within him. [B]"Yeah, piss and shit,"[/B] Hector said, immediately splashing the contents into a corner. [B]"We'll have to clean it, but it'll be good to have I think."[/B] Olgor cringed heavily and looked over his shoulder. [B]"Stop playing with that and help me here. I feel a breeze. I think there's a way out somewhere."[/B] After some searching, Olgor realized the altar could be moved out of the way. Behind it a forgotten pathway dug its way through the earth and eventually outside to freedom. The black night sky met the travelers as a tiny sliver of moonlight made its way through the dark clouds. Immediately the two made camp. ⚫ [U]META MOVE[/U][hr][/hr] [roll=Camping GAM]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll]

Room 4 - Neglected Catacomb
1 exit (out of Micro-Crawl)
Guarded by SCVM
Muted whisper
Religious iconography of: Sodality of Unnameable Decay

[roll=Room Adjective, Type, Contents]1d20z 2m1d12z[/roll]
[roll=Sounds, Quality, Type]1d12z 1d20z[/roll]

Olgor 3/6 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power
Hector 5/9 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power

⚫ META MOVE

---

It's just one enemy and we have to get through here. Diplomacy has worked well in the past, but this needs to be a fight, and the lore doesn't make scvm sound talkative. In fact it says he tries a sneak attack.

Surprise Round

[roll=Hector Presence vs snek atek DR14]1d20+4s14z[/roll]

No sneaky. Regular turns now.

Round 1

[roll=Hector defend, armor]1d20-1s12z 1d2z[/roll]
[roll=Hector Power check]1d20+4s12z[/roll]

Failure to cast Enochian Syntax. Hector loses [roll=HP]1d2z[/roll] and becomes dizzy for an hour.

Hector down to 3 HP.

[roll=Olgor attack for 6 dmg]1d20+1s10z[/roll]

SCVM down to 1 HP.

[roll=SCVM Morale check]2d6s8z[/roll]

Doesn't flee.

Round 2

[roll=Hector defend with dizzy, armor]1d20-1s10z 1d2z[/roll]
[roll=Hector attack with dizzy, femur dmg]1d20-1s14z 1d4z[/roll]
[roll=poison knife dmg]1d4z[/roll]

Hector down to 2 HP.

Hector is already Infected. Does it get worse from another source of bacteria? Probably.

GM'S NOTE
If Infected and rolling against Infection, failure means the DR to overcome it goes up by +2.

[roll=Hector reinfected?]1d20s10z[/roll]

He fights it off, so that's good.

Let's see if Olgor finishes it off. Though I'd like to take this guy in for the bounty. I forgot we have Hector's horse. I'm going to retcon it as following along. I need at least a little something going right for me. On that horse (which is why we haven't been riding it) are the bodies of the two dead cultist women.

[roll=Olgor attack for non-lethal KO]1d20+1s10z[/roll]

And he misses. Huh.

Round 3

[roll=Hector defend with dizzy, armor]1d20-1s10z 1d2z[/roll]
[roll=Hector attack with dizzy, non-lethal KO]1d20-1s14z[/roll]
[roll=poison knife dmg]1d4z[/roll]

Armor blocks that luckily.

[roll=Olgor attack for non-lethal KO]1d20+1s10z[/roll]

And success! SCVM is knocked out and immediately taken captive with the chain bound around him. He'll have to be carried in the wheelbarrow.

Let's say this room has something to loot, as the last in the crawl. What do we find?

[roll=Trinkets]1d100z[/roll]

⚫ FICTION

---

Hector and Olgor entered the last area within the Temple of Dark Worship. It seemed as though no exit was here. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with sealed graves. Each had some unknowable text scratched onto them. Candles decorated the wide room, especially at the far end where an altar was. A muted whisper ran through the air harshly like someone hurriedly praying for something. Or perhaps demanding it.

As the party entered the room, wheelbarrow and horse in tow, the whisper stopped abruptly. Olgor raised an eyebrow at Hector, whom just shrugged back and released the femur from his belt. The ruddy skinned man turned and narrowly avoided a cunning attack from the darkness behind him!

"By the End Times!" Hector shouted as the blade missed his ribs by inches. He widened his eyes and attempted to enact his commanding Power, Enochian Syntax, but a shot of adrenaline within his system caused his heart to beat out of tempo and disturbed his concentration. Hector found himself overcome with vertigo.

Olgor was quick on the uptake, leaping toward the attacker with a punch guided by Her Blood . His hand moved where it needed to be of it's own volition, hitting the SCVM in the kidney. The other man screamed in pain but refused to run.

Hector tried again to defend himself, but the blade found purchase in his arm. The cut wasn't deep, but the grime upon the metal attempted to force its way into the man. Luckily his body would fight it off as his antibodies were already working hard. He clumsily swung his bone club to no avail.

Olgor pulled a punch too much in trying to keep the SCVM alive and whiffed completely.

A third time Hector dodged a stab, though he stepped into it. The angel changed, though, letting his armor turn the blade away. Another clumsy swing failed to connect as Hector tried to get his bearings futilely.

Olgor did not let up on his attacks, bringing an unexpected left hook across the SCVM's face, knocking him cold to the floor.

The two caught their breath a moment before chaining the man up and then to the wheelbarrow's handles. There was plenty to use to be able to do a shoddy job that still worked. "Well, that could have gone worse. Probably our best one yet, if I'm honest," Olgor said, clearly proud of himself. "Yeah, well, speak for yourself. I just stood here and got stabbed," Hector retorted with some snark. "Oh, fine, it wasn't exactly elegant, but whatever. We're alive."

While Olgor looked over the altar, Hector scanned the room and tried not to fall over. In his search, he managed to find a metal bucket in rather good condition. Unfortunately it was partially full with urine, as it was now obviously a latrine bucket. Hector sighed heavily. "I found a metal bucket. That's handy, but you aren't going to like what's in it," Hector said as he lifted it up by the handle.

"Oh?" Olgor said off-handedly as he was preoccupied with the stone altar with old bloodstains. A pair of rotting antlers and feathers adorned the top of it. Scratched into its front were the words, Sodality of the Unnameable Decay . His fingers began to trace the edges as rage grew within him.

"Yeah, piss and shit," Hector said, immediately splashing the contents into a corner. "We'll have to clean it, but it'll be good to have I think." Olgor cringed heavily and looked over his shoulder. "Stop playing with that and help me here. I feel a breeze. I think there's a way out somewhere."

After some searching, Olgor realized the altar could be moved out of the way. Behind it a forgotten pathway dug its way through the earth and eventually outside to freedom. The black night sky met the travelers as a tiny sliver of moonlight made its way through the dark clouds. Immediately the two made camp.

⚫ META MOVE

---

[roll=Camping GAM]2m1d20+4s12z[/roll]

 

[Malkavian Grin]

[B]Day 6, dawn[/B][hr][/hr] The Dying Lands, Wästland, outside of unknown village by Lake Onda, 0 days away [roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End [U]Camp Effects[/U][hr][/hr] Strong hit camping. ⚫ Drink Olgor's water x2 ⚫ Restore [roll=d6 HP]1d6z[/roll], 0 Omens (full already), 0 Powers (full already) ⚫ Hector barely fights off Infection (below) Olgor 6/6 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power Hector 6/9 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power [roll=Hector's infected wound d6, does he fight it off DR10]1d6z 1d20s10z[/roll] ⚫ [U]MILESTONE REACHED[/U][hr][/hr] The Adventure is now at 1/2 Milestones finished. Time to Get Better (or worse). Olgor [roll=More HP?, amount if yes]6d10s6z 1d6z[/roll] [roll=Found in the debris]1d6z[/roll] [roll=Strength]1d6s2z[/roll] [roll=Agility]1d6s2z[/roll] [roll=Toughness]1d6s2z[/roll] [roll=Presence]1d6s2z[/roll] Hector [roll=More HP?, amount if yes]6d10s9z 1d6z[/roll] [roll=Found in the debris]1d6z[/roll] [roll=Strength]1d6s2z[/roll] [roll=Agility]1d6s2z[/roll] [roll=Toughness]1d6s2z[/roll] [roll=Presence]1d6s5z[/roll] [roll=O, H silver]2m3d10z[/roll] Olgor 8/8 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power Hector 12/12 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power ⚫ [U]FICTION[/U][hr][/hr] As the morning came the clouds thinned more than usual and allowed tiny slivers of light to shine through. They reflected off the huge lake known as Onda that was but an hour's walk away. A small town sat before the lake to one side, with a dock and some ships sailing nearby. Neither Olgor nor Hector had ever seen boats, so there was an electricity in the air for them about new experiences. Packing up and making sure their captive was bound tightly and gagged with his own rags, the party set out. The horse still carried the corpses of the two cultist women from the Sorority. A short trek later found them before the town gate. One guard with a spear stood at the entrance, lazily looking over everything. One archer atop a parapet nearby surveyed the area every now and then. [B]"Hold!"[/B] he said. [B]"You've got dead with you?"[/B] he asked, pointing at the women. [B]"And whatever this guy is."[/B] He cupped his hand and shouted up to the archer, [B]"EYO! Ever seen 'em?"[/B] The other man just shrugged. [B]"Right, come on, we'll take care of this straight away. Can't have you wandering around with bounties. It's bad business,"[/B] the guard said, leading the group toward the jail and bounty office. He knocked once on the door. [B]"EYO! Got bounties here!"[/B] An eye-slit in the door opened to verify, then closed as the door opened inward. A couple of heavily armored man stood here with an older woman in the back behind a desk and linked chain fencing like lazy chainmail. [B]"Bounties to collect?"[/B] she asked matter-of-factly. [B]"Yes, ma'am,"[/B] Hector offered, pulling the women down. [B]"Two cultists from the nearby mountain. Something about a Sorority."[/B] Olgor pulled the gag from the man's mouth. [B]"And one living asshole."[/B] The man screamed but was punched out by one of the doormen. [B]"Yeah, those ladies been a problem for awhile now. 30 silver each. And this guy... Hold his head up."[/B] She paused. [B]"Yeah, that's him. Killed here begging for food last week. 90 silver. Take it or leave, no negotiations."[/B] Taking the 150 coins, the group walked out and looked around. The buildings were a step above hovels and shacks, almost quaint in their squatty designs. There wasn't much in the way of upward expansion. Most roofs extended well beyond the walls to allow rain to easily slide off. Hector didn't like how claustrophobic it all felt, like an ant-hill full of interconnected pathways. He was afraid to get lost there. ⚫ [U]META MOVE[/U][hr][/hr] So, we need to do some shopping and then move on to the next Milestone. That means recruiting a sizeable group of people that are loyal to the cause. They can't be bought with coin, as they must be believers. The Queen demands it. That is the only way she can come back is through genuine devotion. We'll probably need to do some Presence rolls, though demonstrating Powers would be good too. However, if we prove ourselves to them first, they will be more trustworthy. We could do this with some kind of task on the lake. -Shopping -Gain trust through a task: complete a dungeon of some kind -Attempt to recruit ---failure means gaining more trust (above) ---pass means gain 1d4 followers (need 12 total)

Day 6, dawn

---

The Dying Lands, Wästland, outside of unknown village by Lake Onda, 0 days away

[roll=Calendar of Nechrubel]1d20z[/roll] // (d20) a bleak half-year until The End

Camp Effects

---

Strong hit camping.
⚫ Drink Olgor's water x2
⚫ Restore [roll=d6 HP]1d6z[/roll], 0 Omens (full already), 0 Powers (full already)
⚫ Hector barely fights off Infection (below)

Olgor 6/6 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power
Hector 6/9 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power

[roll=Hector's infected wound d6, does he fight it off DR10]1d6z 1d20s10z[/roll]

⚫ MILESTONE REACHED

---

The Adventure is now at 1/2 Milestones finished. Time to Get Better (or worse).

Olgor
[roll=More HP?, amount if yes]6d10s6z 1d6z[/roll]
[roll=Found in the debris]1d6z[/roll]
[roll=Strength]1d6s2z[/roll]
[roll=Agility]1d6s2z[/roll]
[roll=Toughness]1d6s2z[/roll]
[roll=Presence]1d6s2z[/roll]

Hector
[roll=More HP?, amount if yes]6d10s9z 1d6z[/roll]
[roll=Found in the debris]1d6z[/roll]
[roll=Strength]1d6s2z[/roll]
[roll=Agility]1d6s2z[/roll]
[roll=Toughness]1d6s2z[/roll]
[roll=Presence]1d6s5z[/roll]

[roll=O, H silver]2m3d10z[/roll]

Olgor 8/8 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 3/3 Power
Hector 12/12 HP, 3/d3 Omen, 8/8 Power

⚫ FICTION

---

As the morning came the clouds thinned more than usual and allowed tiny slivers of light to shine through. They reflected off the huge lake known as Onda that was but an hour's walk away. A small town sat before the lake to one side, with a dock and some ships sailing nearby. Neither Olgor nor Hector had ever seen boats, so there was an electricity in the air for them about new experiences.

Packing up and making sure their captive was bound tightly and gagged with his own rags, the party set out. The horse still carried the corpses of the two cultist women from the Sorority.

A short trek later found them before the town gate. One guard with a spear stood at the entrance, lazily looking over everything. One archer atop a parapet nearby surveyed the area every now and then. "Hold!" he said. "You've got dead with you?" he asked, pointing at the women. "And whatever this guy is." He cupped his hand and shouted up to the archer, "EYO! Ever seen 'em?" The other man just shrugged.

"Right, come on, we'll take care of this straight away. Can't have you wandering around with bounties. It's bad business," the guard said, leading the group toward the jail and bounty office. He knocked once on the door. "EYO! Got bounties here!" An eye-slit in the door opened to verify, then closed as the door opened inward. A couple of heavily armored man stood here with an older woman in the back behind a desk and linked chain fencing like lazy chainmail.

"Bounties to collect?" she asked matter-of-factly. "Yes, ma'am," Hector offered, pulling the women down. "Two cultists from the nearby mountain. Something about a Sorority." Olgor pulled the gag from the man's mouth. "And one living asshole." The man screamed but was punched out by one of the doormen. "Yeah, those ladies been a problem for awhile now. 30 silver each. And this guy... Hold his head up." She paused. "Yeah, that's him. Killed here begging for food last week. 90 silver. Take it or leave, no negotiations."

Taking the 150 coins, the group walked out and looked around. The buildings were a step above hovels and shacks, almost quaint in their squatty designs. There wasn't much in the way of upward expansion. Most roofs extended well beyond the walls to allow rain to easily slide off. Hector didn't like how claustrophobic it all felt, like an ant-hill full of interconnected pathways. He was afraid to get lost there.

⚫ META MOVE

---

So, we need to do some shopping and then move on to the next Milestone. That means recruiting a sizeable group of people that are loyal to the cause. They can't be bought with coin, as they must be believers. The Queen demands it. That is the only way she can come back is through genuine devotion.

We'll probably need to do some Presence rolls, though demonstrating Powers would be good too. However, if we prove ourselves to them first, they will be more trustworthy. We could do this with some kind of task on the lake.

-Shopping
-Gain trust through a task: complete a dungeon of some kind
-Attempt to recruit
---failure means gaining more trust (above)
---pass means gain 1d4 followers (need 12 total)

 

[Malkavian Grin]

Shopping List Backpack 6s Dried food x20 20s Lockpicks 5s Large iron hook 9s Medicine Box (heal 1d6, stops bleeding/infection, Presence +4 uses) x6 90s Rope 30' x2 8s Bigger wagon 50s Total 191 Remaining 269 Pay [roll]1d6z[/roll]s to have bucket cleaned.

Shopping List

Backpack 6s
Dried food x20 20s
Lockpicks 5s
Large iron hook 9s
Medicine Box (heal 1d6, stops bleeding/infection, Presence +4 uses) x6 90s
Rope 30' x2 8s
Bigger wagon 50s

Total 191
Remaining 269

Pay [roll]1d6z[/roll]s to have bucket cleaned.