Erebus
Arcane
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2008
- Messages
- 4,871
Well, if the introduction of Arcanum has taught us anything, it's that you can call someone "the boy" no matter how old he actually is. :D
-
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Well, if the introduction of Arcanum has taught us anything, it's that you can call someone "the boy" no matter how old he actually is. :D
ironyuri
Guest
Thanks, bro. But I must give credit to grotsnik for proposing the character. I'm just doing the best I can with the concept, while trying to keep him from becoming one-dimensional.
I could have written several more options into this choice, but the character's background is that of a somewhat ruthless coward, so I figured there should be no scope for him suddenly becoming an altruistic or chivalrous hero.
I'm going to try to shape the choices we have around the character, which will in turn, further shape the character, rather than simply going with a blank slate that can be both a hero and a villain, diplomat and thug, scientist and drunkard all at the same time.
ironyuri
Guest
I'll be starting my kickstarter campaign shortly and romances will be a stretch goal. I'll message you my paypal details later.
Kashmir Slippers
Magister
B
Computer Gamer Refugee
Learned
- Joined
- Mar 9, 2012
- Messages
- 382
ironyuri
Guest
Thanks, bro.
As of this moment the votes are fairly unanimous: A: 0; B: 10; C: 2.
Edit: Added Tigranes and Abraham to the tally.
Unless there is a drastic spate of flip-flops, it looks like we'll be putting our pistol to the test.
Now, I wonder if Kleinmann remembered to read the operation manual before we got on the train...
I'll leave the vote open a while longer, as it's too late at night for me to start working on the next update, but it'll be up Saturday afternoon at the latest.
dumdum
Arcane
C
C
ironyuri
Guest
Alright, I do believe B wins 10 votes to C 3 votes. The update should be up some time later today (Saturday), as we continue our most leisurely and civilised train journey across the Morbihan plains.
ironyuri
Guest
Prologue, Part IV.
As the seconds tick away, each moment feels like an eternity, agonisingly drawn out as you calculate your odds of success. You rapidly rule out making a break for the door, realising your chance of escaping without alerting your would-be assassin is a slim one at best. The orc grunts as he picks up another of your bags and up-ends it, allowing its contents to spill onto the opposite bench. You decide to sieze the opportunity.
Sweating profusely, you level your pistol at the orc, trying to remember its exact mechanism which seemed to come so naturally and easily on the firing range. Hands trembling, you cock back the hammer with an audible metallic “click”, you flick the safety catch off, close your eyes and squeeze the trigger. The darkness of the cabin is interrupted by the muzzle flash of the pistol, the recoil jars your arm but you hold steady. There is a resounding crack, followed by a shriek of pain. You fire again, and again, and again--A drum cadence of an indefinable rhythm punctuated by terrible howls of pain. The orc crumples to the floor, blood quickly pooling around its body.
Gruff shouts fill the corridor, and you hear the tramp of heavy feet coming towards the cabin. “Sounded like one o’ ours! Search these ‘ere cabins boys! If’n there’s any hard cases shootin’ our boys we’ll string ‘em up proper!”
Your striped pyjama shirt is now soaked through with cold sweat. Paralysed with fear, you find yourself thoroughly unable to move from under the bunk bed, unable to flee. Another orc, slightly smaller than the last and with greyish-brown skin rushes into the cabin, “Boss, it’s Shank! Been shot up!”
You can’t swallow for the lump in your throat. How (and more importantly, why) in the hells did you get yourself into this, you wonder. No time to think about that now, you aim for this orc’s right knee and this time you keep your eyes open. The bullet shatters his knee and sends him crashing to the ground, on top of his once-upon-a-time companion. You fire two more rounds into him, to be certain. That makes seven bullets... or was it six?
Staying in the cabin will do you no good now, as the next orc to come through the doors should be more than able to put two and two (if not one and one together) and realise that his fellows were shot by an occupant in situ. Coming to your wits you drag yourself out from under the seat, and clamber over the legs of the second deceased orc. You dash out of the cabin and down the corridor, hoping to distance yourself from your handiwork... unfortunately your luck seems to have run out.
A monstrous half-ogre, dressed in rustic finery rounds on you as you reach the final cabin in the carriage, blocking your passage between the first class and dining carriages. “So youse is the little bully what’s been croakin’ me boys, eh? The bum brusher started jawin’ about how we’d find an officer in ‘ere and I ‘ad plans fer nubbin’ yer! C’mere and ‘ave a chat with me poker, eh?”
The half-ogre pulls out a knife, about as long as you are tall, and advances on you. Gripped with fear you fall backwards, you fire at the brute once, then twice, then... bastard’s luck the chamber’s empty. The shots, which hit him in the gut and shoulder, seem to have no effect on the advancing half-ogre. You cry out as he raises the knife for the kill, when you hear the sound of shattering glass followed by a thunderous bang.
The half-ogre’s forehead explodes outwards, spattering you and the corridor in gore. He tumbles forward, and unable to scramble away, lands atop you knocking you unconscious.
*****
When you come to your senses it is daylight. You are lying in another cabin, in the first class carriage, your blood stained trousers and pyjama shirt missing, leaving you in your under garments alone. Dazed, you blearily look about you to find the Professor seated opposite on the hard bench. He looks perfectly delighted. “Ah-ha! Marvellous! Wonderful! Lieutenant-Colonel how excellent it is to have you awake at last, and how fortunate that you did not succumb to those brutes!”
You notice the Professor has some bruising around the face, and holds his left wrist uncomfortably. He launches into the tale of the night before, “Let me tell you, sir, that was certainly a close call! Were it not for Lieutenant Maug’s quick-thinking, none of us might have gotten out of that! You see, Lieutenant Colonel, Maug managed to slip off the train before he was found by the buggers, they found the rest of us in the dining car, and, I say, they did give us a good once over. They roughed up poor Langfield until he gave you up, I’m afraid. He’s in a most dreadful state. Once they heard shots from the first class carriage, the ringleader and one of his fellows rushed out to investigate. Maug swooped in, took the ones they left behind quietly, you see! As luck would have it, he got to the carriage door with his rifle just in time, spotted the half-ogre chap leering over you and fired a round into him!” The Professor beams at you, adding, “Of course, your astounding bravery in bringing down two of the ruffians, and personally challenging their leader is to be applauded as well!”
Your face reddens with anger as you listen to the Professor’s explanation of the night’s events, ‘He probably set it up, himself, Professor! I don’t trust that sly boots for a second. Ambushed by orcs, and the only one to escape is one of them himself! It’s an outrage, Brockenlid! He’ll bring the expedition to ruin with his schemes!’
The Professor watches you intently, and maintains the same easy-going composure as he responds, “The driver tells me they’ll have the tracks repaired in another hour or so, and then we’ll be on our way again. Best we put this entire unfortunate affair behind us. I’ve brought you a flask of brandy; it’s sitting on the table there, Lieutenant Colonel. Get some well-deserved rest and we’ll be in Ashbury before you know it.”
He departs the carriage, leaving you stewing in a mixture of relief and rage. It wasn’t bad enough they brought a puffed up, impertinent shag-bag not fit to wear the bloody uniform, now I’m to suppose I owe him my damned life as well? It won’t bloody-well do!
You take a swig of brandy and lay back, you’re too battered and bruised to rise, so there’s
nothing else for it at the moment. Sleep comes with difficulty—you spur it on by gulping down the remains of the brandy.
*****
More than a full day later than intended, the locomotive chugs its way into Ashbury, and you disembark with the rest of the expedition. According to Brockenlid, the vessel chartered for the sea voyage still waits in port, but some supplies and equipment have been damaged and must be replaced before you are to venture onwards. He says it will take no more than a sum of hours, and that you must be ready to sail this evening at 9 o’ the clock. You pay for a room at the Ashbury hostelry, and although your legs ache, you make your way to the Ashbury Royal Telegraph & Post Office (the name now an anachronism). Your uncle’s reply has come:
DEAREST NEPHEW STOP TRACED THEFT OF BOOK TO A TULLAN CONVEYANCER IN CALADONIAN EMPLOY STOP UNABLE TO RECOVER BOOK STOP HAVE RECEIVED INTELLIGENCE INDICATING DEPARTURE OF CALADONIAN VESSEL CARRYING SCIENTIFIC TEAM DESTINATION UNKNOWN STOP HAVE SENT ON PARCEL TO ASHBURY STOP BEST OF LUCK DEAR BOY STOP
FAMILIAL REGARDS
GOTTFRIED J. I. KLEINMANN SR
You collect the parcel from the cashier and return to your room at the hotel. Opening it you find inside a tall, peaked helmet, covered in a khaki fabric, and emblazoned with the Kleinmann family crest in gold.
You also find a metal flask labelled “Dr. Scott’s Miraculous Energizing Tonic” which contains an effervescent blue liquid. Reading the fine print on the label, it would seem that the tonic will “provide you with unparalleled physical stature!”, “Restore flagging strength and stamina in seconds!” and, “Turn a hapless wimp into a circus strongman!” You’d heard stories from your father that Uncle Gottfried had been an amateur boxer in his youth at the Academy... perhaps he’s let you in on his secret.
There is little else of note in the parcel, a few tinctures and home remedies. You drain one of the small bottles of cure-all, in the hopes it will do something about the pounding headache you’ve been nursing since the unfortunate affair with the half-ogre.
*****
The Professor arrives to collect you just after your evening meal, at half past seven. They’ve replaced the required equipment, and what cannot be replaced immediately will be sent later, he tells you. Soon the sea voyage to the island, which has been dubbed by Brockenlid, ‘the mysterious island’, is underway.
You’ve not sailed many times in your life and the waves smashing against the hull of the ship turn your stomach about. The cure-all you imbibed some hours ago seems to be all that is preventing you from retching. The Professor estimates the voyage will take two days at most, in fair weather, three in the worst. You have not yet decided whether or not to enlighten the Professor as to the team being sent from Caladon, in fact, you’re not even sure he needs to know at all. Perhaps it is time to get acquainted with the other members of the expedition party, An’ar, the botanist, of whom you know little; Professor Brockenlid, whose remarkable patience and blind trust in Maug disgusts you; Langfield, the technician; or 2nd Lieutenant Simeon Maug, the pickaroon half-orc who claims to be a soldier.
You chose to fire on the orc in your cabin. As luck would have it you brought the ruffian down, but in doing so alerted his fellows. Thanks alone to your small size, and the element of surprise, you brought down another of his ilk, only to come face to face with the half-ogre who led them. It fell to 2nd Lieutenant Maug and his high calibre rifle to bring the big bastard down, unfortunately, right on top of you.
Due to your injuries, you suffer a short-term loss of one point in each: strength, constitution, and dexterity. The Professor and other members of the team have mistaken your cowardly ambush for heroism, and react more favourably to you, Maug remains indifferent.
You have earned a fate point.
Arriving at Ashbury, you have received a reply from your Uncle, and the promised parcel. He has sent you a remarkable, family heirloom pith helmet. A miracle strength tonic, and some home remedies. He has further informed you of a rival expedition being sent from Caladon.
During the voyage, you will be able to acquaint yourself more closely with TWO members of the expedition, DO YOU CHOOSE:
A)Professor Johannes Brockenlid, expedition leader.
B)Associate Professor Ranulph An’ar, half-elven botanist & biologist.
C)Mr. Wilbert Langfield, Esq., mechanical & electrical engineer, expeditionary technician.
D)2nd Lieutenant Mr. Simeon Maug, half-orc, for whom you feel a particular distaste.
You may divulge the details of the rival expedition to those with whom you speak, presumably to shake their morale or ingratiate yourself with them. If you choose to divulge the details to anyone other than the Professor and he learns of it second-hand, he may distrust you.
1. Tell them, and relish it.
2.Keep it under your hat for now.
Alternatively, you might try to sew the suspiscion that Maug may have had something to do with the bandits who boarded your train, he is a half-orc after all. Attempting to make Maug suspiscious of himself will of course get you nowhere fast.
3. Viscious rumours? The honest truth, sir!
4. Slander a fellow officer? Never!
Apologies if the voting format is unclear, for basic guidelines:
You can choose two from A through D, however 1/2 and 3/4 are mutually exclusive. If you wish to divulge the rival expedition, then you can't spread the rumour about Maug and vice versa. So choose two from the first option and then either one, or neither from the second options.
If you choose only two from the first option, then you'll just become acquainted with them, without any intriguing. In which case, as with doing nothing before departure from Tarant, I'll work in something else interesting.
As indicated, if you do not choose the Professor, but choose to divulge the rival expedition, there will likely be negative consequences for his relationsip toward you.
As the seconds tick away, each moment feels like an eternity, agonisingly drawn out as you calculate your odds of success. You rapidly rule out making a break for the door, realising your chance of escaping without alerting your would-be assassin is a slim one at best. The orc grunts as he picks up another of your bags and up-ends it, allowing its contents to spill onto the opposite bench. You decide to sieze the opportunity.
Sweating profusely, you level your pistol at the orc, trying to remember its exact mechanism which seemed to come so naturally and easily on the firing range. Hands trembling, you cock back the hammer with an audible metallic “click”, you flick the safety catch off, close your eyes and squeeze the trigger. The darkness of the cabin is interrupted by the muzzle flash of the pistol, the recoil jars your arm but you hold steady. There is a resounding crack, followed by a shriek of pain. You fire again, and again, and again--A drum cadence of an indefinable rhythm punctuated by terrible howls of pain. The orc crumples to the floor, blood quickly pooling around its body.
Gruff shouts fill the corridor, and you hear the tramp of heavy feet coming towards the cabin. “Sounded like one o’ ours! Search these ‘ere cabins boys! If’n there’s any hard cases shootin’ our boys we’ll string ‘em up proper!”
Your striped pyjama shirt is now soaked through with cold sweat. Paralysed with fear, you find yourself thoroughly unable to move from under the bunk bed, unable to flee. Another orc, slightly smaller than the last and with greyish-brown skin rushes into the cabin, “Boss, it’s Shank! Been shot up!”
You can’t swallow for the lump in your throat. How (and more importantly, why) in the hells did you get yourself into this, you wonder. No time to think about that now, you aim for this orc’s right knee and this time you keep your eyes open. The bullet shatters his knee and sends him crashing to the ground, on top of his once-upon-a-time companion. You fire two more rounds into him, to be certain. That makes seven bullets... or was it six?
Staying in the cabin will do you no good now, as the next orc to come through the doors should be more than able to put two and two (if not one and one together) and realise that his fellows were shot by an occupant in situ. Coming to your wits you drag yourself out from under the seat, and clamber over the legs of the second deceased orc. You dash out of the cabin and down the corridor, hoping to distance yourself from your handiwork... unfortunately your luck seems to have run out.
A monstrous half-ogre, dressed in rustic finery rounds on you as you reach the final cabin in the carriage, blocking your passage between the first class and dining carriages. “So youse is the little bully what’s been croakin’ me boys, eh? The bum brusher started jawin’ about how we’d find an officer in ‘ere and I ‘ad plans fer nubbin’ yer! C’mere and ‘ave a chat with me poker, eh?”
The half-ogre pulls out a knife, about as long as you are tall, and advances on you. Gripped with fear you fall backwards, you fire at the brute once, then twice, then... bastard’s luck the chamber’s empty. The shots, which hit him in the gut and shoulder, seem to have no effect on the advancing half-ogre. You cry out as he raises the knife for the kill, when you hear the sound of shattering glass followed by a thunderous bang.
The half-ogre’s forehead explodes outwards, spattering you and the corridor in gore. He tumbles forward, and unable to scramble away, lands atop you knocking you unconscious.
*****
When you come to your senses it is daylight. You are lying in another cabin, in the first class carriage, your blood stained trousers and pyjama shirt missing, leaving you in your under garments alone. Dazed, you blearily look about you to find the Professor seated opposite on the hard bench. He looks perfectly delighted. “Ah-ha! Marvellous! Wonderful! Lieutenant-Colonel how excellent it is to have you awake at last, and how fortunate that you did not succumb to those brutes!”
You notice the Professor has some bruising around the face, and holds his left wrist uncomfortably. He launches into the tale of the night before, “Let me tell you, sir, that was certainly a close call! Were it not for Lieutenant Maug’s quick-thinking, none of us might have gotten out of that! You see, Lieutenant Colonel, Maug managed to slip off the train before he was found by the buggers, they found the rest of us in the dining car, and, I say, they did give us a good once over. They roughed up poor Langfield until he gave you up, I’m afraid. He’s in a most dreadful state. Once they heard shots from the first class carriage, the ringleader and one of his fellows rushed out to investigate. Maug swooped in, took the ones they left behind quietly, you see! As luck would have it, he got to the carriage door with his rifle just in time, spotted the half-ogre chap leering over you and fired a round into him!” The Professor beams at you, adding, “Of course, your astounding bravery in bringing down two of the ruffians, and personally challenging their leader is to be applauded as well!”
Your face reddens with anger as you listen to the Professor’s explanation of the night’s events, ‘He probably set it up, himself, Professor! I don’t trust that sly boots for a second. Ambushed by orcs, and the only one to escape is one of them himself! It’s an outrage, Brockenlid! He’ll bring the expedition to ruin with his schemes!’
The Professor watches you intently, and maintains the same easy-going composure as he responds, “The driver tells me they’ll have the tracks repaired in another hour or so, and then we’ll be on our way again. Best we put this entire unfortunate affair behind us. I’ve brought you a flask of brandy; it’s sitting on the table there, Lieutenant Colonel. Get some well-deserved rest and we’ll be in Ashbury before you know it.”
He departs the carriage, leaving you stewing in a mixture of relief and rage. It wasn’t bad enough they brought a puffed up, impertinent shag-bag not fit to wear the bloody uniform, now I’m to suppose I owe him my damned life as well? It won’t bloody-well do!
You take a swig of brandy and lay back, you’re too battered and bruised to rise, so there’s
nothing else for it at the moment. Sleep comes with difficulty—you spur it on by gulping down the remains of the brandy.
*****
More than a full day later than intended, the locomotive chugs its way into Ashbury, and you disembark with the rest of the expedition. According to Brockenlid, the vessel chartered for the sea voyage still waits in port, but some supplies and equipment have been damaged and must be replaced before you are to venture onwards. He says it will take no more than a sum of hours, and that you must be ready to sail this evening at 9 o’ the clock. You pay for a room at the Ashbury hostelry, and although your legs ache, you make your way to the Ashbury Royal Telegraph & Post Office (the name now an anachronism). Your uncle’s reply has come:
TARANT TELEGRAPH COMPANY
RECEIVED: ASHBURY TELEGRAPH VENDÉMIAIRE 23 1883DEAREST NEPHEW STOP TRACED THEFT OF BOOK TO A TULLAN CONVEYANCER IN CALADONIAN EMPLOY STOP UNABLE TO RECOVER BOOK STOP HAVE RECEIVED INTELLIGENCE INDICATING DEPARTURE OF CALADONIAN VESSEL CARRYING SCIENTIFIC TEAM DESTINATION UNKNOWN STOP HAVE SENT ON PARCEL TO ASHBURY STOP BEST OF LUCK DEAR BOY STOP
FAMILIAL REGARDS
GOTTFRIED J. I. KLEINMANN SR
You collect the parcel from the cashier and return to your room at the hotel. Opening it you find inside a tall, peaked helmet, covered in a khaki fabric, and emblazoned with the Kleinmann family crest in gold.
You also find a metal flask labelled “Dr. Scott’s Miraculous Energizing Tonic” which contains an effervescent blue liquid. Reading the fine print on the label, it would seem that the tonic will “provide you with unparalleled physical stature!”, “Restore flagging strength and stamina in seconds!” and, “Turn a hapless wimp into a circus strongman!” You’d heard stories from your father that Uncle Gottfried had been an amateur boxer in his youth at the Academy... perhaps he’s let you in on his secret.
There is little else of note in the parcel, a few tinctures and home remedies. You drain one of the small bottles of cure-all, in the hopes it will do something about the pounding headache you’ve been nursing since the unfortunate affair with the half-ogre.
*****
The Professor arrives to collect you just after your evening meal, at half past seven. They’ve replaced the required equipment, and what cannot be replaced immediately will be sent later, he tells you. Soon the sea voyage to the island, which has been dubbed by Brockenlid, ‘the mysterious island’, is underway.
You’ve not sailed many times in your life and the waves smashing against the hull of the ship turn your stomach about. The cure-all you imbibed some hours ago seems to be all that is preventing you from retching. The Professor estimates the voyage will take two days at most, in fair weather, three in the worst. You have not yet decided whether or not to enlighten the Professor as to the team being sent from Caladon, in fact, you’re not even sure he needs to know at all. Perhaps it is time to get acquainted with the other members of the expedition party, An’ar, the botanist, of whom you know little; Professor Brockenlid, whose remarkable patience and blind trust in Maug disgusts you; Langfield, the technician; or 2nd Lieutenant Simeon Maug, the pickaroon half-orc who claims to be a soldier.
You chose to fire on the orc in your cabin. As luck would have it you brought the ruffian down, but in doing so alerted his fellows. Thanks alone to your small size, and the element of surprise, you brought down another of his ilk, only to come face to face with the half-ogre who led them. It fell to 2nd Lieutenant Maug and his high calibre rifle to bring the big bastard down, unfortunately, right on top of you.
Due to your injuries, you suffer a short-term loss of one point in each: strength, constitution, and dexterity. The Professor and other members of the team have mistaken your cowardly ambush for heroism, and react more favourably to you, Maug remains indifferent.
You have earned a fate point.
Arriving at Ashbury, you have received a reply from your Uncle, and the promised parcel. He has sent you a remarkable, family heirloom pith helmet. A miracle strength tonic, and some home remedies. He has further informed you of a rival expedition being sent from Caladon.
During the voyage, you will be able to acquaint yourself more closely with TWO members of the expedition, DO YOU CHOOSE:
A)Professor Johannes Brockenlid, expedition leader.
B)Associate Professor Ranulph An’ar, half-elven botanist & biologist.
C)Mr. Wilbert Langfield, Esq., mechanical & electrical engineer, expeditionary technician.
D)2nd Lieutenant Mr. Simeon Maug, half-orc, for whom you feel a particular distaste.
You may divulge the details of the rival expedition to those with whom you speak, presumably to shake their morale or ingratiate yourself with them. If you choose to divulge the details to anyone other than the Professor and he learns of it second-hand, he may distrust you.
1. Tell them, and relish it.
2.Keep it under your hat for now.
Alternatively, you might try to sew the suspiscion that Maug may have had something to do with the bandits who boarded your train, he is a half-orc after all. Attempting to make Maug suspiscious of himself will of course get you nowhere fast.
3. Viscious rumours? The honest truth, sir!
4. Slander a fellow officer? Never!
Apologies if the voting format is unclear, for basic guidelines:
You can choose two from A through D, however 1/2 and 3/4 are mutually exclusive. If you wish to divulge the rival expedition, then you can't spread the rumour about Maug and vice versa. So choose two from the first option and then either one, or neither from the second options.
If you choose only two from the first option, then you'll just become acquainted with them, without any intriguing. In which case, as with doing nothing before departure from Tarant, I'll work in something else interesting.
As indicated, if you do not choose the Professor, but choose to divulge the rival expedition, there will likely be negative consequences for his relationsip toward you.
AC
1
Talking to the head of the expedition and divulging the information gathered would help our rep in the group further. And buddying up with the resident techie seems a good choice since we're doing the pistol-slinging thing..
1
Talking to the head of the expedition and divulging the information gathered would help our rep in the group further. And buddying up with the resident techie seems a good choice since we're doing the pistol-slinging thing..
AD
2
It may be out of character to try and befriend the half-ogre, but that assault on the train couldn't have coincidence - I'm guessing the opposing mage party is making use of hired half-ogres as muscle - and it's possible we'll be meeting more of them along the way, and it'll be helpful if the only half-ogre on the team can vouch for us; besides, when we do decide to sabotage the entire operation it'll be helpful to be able to blindside the most physically able member of the expedition.
Keeping the information our own could prove useful in our efforts to gain glory. As the only one with the information we can attempt to steer events in our favor, whereas once everyone knows about it it's...democracy
.
2
It may be out of character to try and befriend the half-ogre, but that assault on the train couldn't have coincidence - I'm guessing the opposing mage party is making use of hired half-ogres as muscle - and it's possible we'll be meeting more of them along the way, and it'll be helpful if the only half-ogre on the team can vouch for us; besides, when we do decide to sabotage the entire operation it'll be helpful to be able to blindside the most physically able member of the expedition.
Keeping the information our own could prove useful in our efforts to gain glory. As the only one with the information we can attempt to steer events in our favor, whereas once everyone knows about it it's...democracy
.ironyuri
Guest
AD
2
It may be out of character to try and befriend the half-ogre, but that assault on the train couldn't have coincidence - I'm guessing the opposing mage party is making use of hired half-ogres as muscle - and it's possible we'll be meeting more of them along the way, and it'll be helpful if the only half-ogre on the team can vouch for us; besides, when we do decide to sabotage the entire operation it'll be helpful to be able to blindside the most physically able member of the expedition.
Keeping the information our own could prove useful in our efforts to gain glory. As the only one with the information we can attempt to steer events in our favor, whereas once everyone knows about it it's...democracy
Maug's a half-orc bro, just to make sure you're on the level. (Presumably his name was put forward by the Lord General and the Professor was dazzled by his military celebrity, although he thought our superior rank was and how we sold ourselves was tip top as well).
As further clarification, the reason I made the two secondary options mutually exclusive is because, while Kleinmann is a good talker, he's not good enough to sell two stories at once without coming under scrutiny himself.
Kalin
Unwanted
BC
3
3
Monty
Arcane
AB
1
1
Gondolin
Arcane
A (and tell the Professor first about the other expedition) and B (is this the guy who makes the healing potions remedies?)
1
1
ironyuri
Guest
Hah. You can guess too easily. Presumably he'd be able to combine plants to make remedies, but we haven't discovered any as yet. Best we can do is rest and heal up, maybe the ship's doctor will have a look at us in the mean time.
Current wounds will take some time to heal (I'm going to try to work with short vs long-term malii and bonii.
BC
2 [= do neither]
2 [= do neither]
ironyuri
Guest
I realise now the vote system is a bit convoluted and I might have simplified part two as:
1. Divulge what you know about the rival expedition.
2. Try to cast suspicion on Maug by making up a rumour about his possible involvement in the train robbery.
3. Do neither.
I was at work and somewhat sleep deprived, so again, I must apologise for the needless complexity.
Edit: I'll try to keep simplicity in mind in the future.
1. Divulge what you know about the rival expedition.
2. Try to cast suspicion on Maug by making up a rumour about his possible involvement in the train robbery.
3. Do neither.
I was at work and somewhat sleep deprived, so again, I must apologise for the needless complexity.
Edit: I'll try to keep simplicity in mind in the future.
Tigranes
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2009
- Messages
- 10,364
CD
2/4 (Nothing)
We need allies. Langford is probably feeling bad about his role in the raid, and seems to be the only one so spineless even we could keep him under our thumb. The half-elf is more likely to stay loyal to the professor. Meanwhile, I wouldn't mind talking to Brockenlid more, but I think we should at least try and strike up conversation with Maug. We don't want to make him into a full-blown hate-your-guts enemy yet.
2/4 (Nothing)
We need allies. Langford is probably feeling bad about his role in the raid, and seems to be the only one so spineless even we could keep him under our thumb. The half-elf is more likely to stay loyal to the professor. Meanwhile, I wouldn't mind talking to Brockenlid more, but I think we should at least try and strike up conversation with Maug. We don't want to make him into a full-blown hate-your-guts enemy yet.
tuluse
Arcane
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2008
- Messages
- 11,400
AC
1
I don't like this ambush and rival expedition. In the interests of self preservation, best to have everyone in the know. Never know when someone might notice something that would save our behind. Also, it seems like Mr Langfield has better breeding than the rest of this rabble, so his company might not be as annoying.
1
I don't like this ambush and rival expedition. In the interests of self preservation, best to have everyone in the know. Never know when someone might notice something that would save our behind. Also, it seems like Mr Langfield has better breeding than the rest of this rabble, so his company might not be as annoying.
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