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1 yr ago
Current Ah, I too am preparing to lose a lot of sleep and gain several pounds hunting monsters in the wilds.
3 likes
2 yrs ago
Fear of long words is hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia. Isn't that messed up?
1 like
2 yrs ago
Star Wars Persistent World, that was a thing that was sort of a thing. Kind of.
3 yrs ago
LongSword is objectively the best main. Objectively.
3 yrs ago
The ones from Calle are usually monthly. I tried to start another one a few years back.
1 like

Bio

I be Bango.

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Yup. I don't know if she's American, but if she is it is Independence Day Weekend so I wouldn't be too surprised if she's out and about.
Shel sees what Victor/Argor is up to and is reminded of their situation. No life in the skies, no life in the grass, no life under the rocks, and the grass undergoing some sort of change. A bit of blood, fresh blood, is a good idea but Shel has something better.

Though she has played beautifully Shel trots away from the Mithra, eager to help test the grass. He stops at his bag and retrieves a piece of waxy paper with a bit of leftover meat and as he approaches the changeling and the demon/murderer/stowaway he squeezes the package repeatedly to get the fluids moving.

"That's a good idea," he says to Victor/Argor, "Might need more than blood though."

He unfolds the wax paper and pulls the now mashed and sopping meat, stretching it out to make it seem larger. "Here goes nothing," he says throwing it out a ways into the curious grass.
"Oh yes, oh my yes" Shel said sighing happily.

The cart had stopped, and as much as he enjoyed his time traveling he enjoyed this most of all. A tired party coming to rest after a long day. It pleased every last bit of Halfling in him. A journey, a meal, the communion of tired travelers, and the creation of a home. A life traveling meant every day was built upon those pillars.

The half-elf and the human, Numzom and Tori, had been fairly quiet thus far but now perhaps they might come out of their shells. Shel had always found that sometimes the quiet ones in time had the most to say and it tended to pay dividends to listen when they spoke. All communities grew slowly, but once that growth started it tended to blossom rather quickly.

The Mithra, who was for all intents and purposes their de facto leader, set about creating a lighted perimeter around them then sat down aside one of the posts and began to play a flute. A beautiful tune really, though not particularly to Shel's liking. It was melancholic, sad, longing. Beautiful.

Shel threw the strap of his bag over his shoulder, then as Esalia played he dragged the firewood away from the wagon wheel and toward the center of camp to build a small fire. First a circle of stones, then the biggest pieces forming a square within that circle, then smaller and smaller pieces built up atop, finally from his bag an assortment of dried leaves, twigs, and thatch for kindling.

Striking flint against stone and blowing gently the kindling is quickly aflame and the fire begins to spread to the larger pieces below. As the fire comes to life Shel quickly produces from his bag three metal rods, each with a small hook about two thirds of the way up, and assembles them to form a tripod over the growing flame. He aligns the pot so that each rod will slide into the three small rings along the pots perimeter. Time to cook.

Immersed in his work and pleasantly accompanied by the song he pulls vegetables, meat, and spices from his bag, artfully arranging them before pouring water from his deer-skin bota into the pot. The meat will soon be edible though it will be some time before the stew is ready, and ideally it would cook for many hours more, but it will nourish their bodies just the same.

Venturing away from the pot, but keeping a keen eye on it, he toddles over to the Mithra.

Not wishing to intrude he sits a respectful distance away and listens to her play. He tends to prefer happier jaunty tunes, something a Halfling can dance to, but her playing is exquisite. As much as he loves the life he has now it makes him think back longingly on life among his kind. His Ma and Fa. There are no words to this song, but it speaks quite clearly of loss.

Leaning back until he can lay flat on his back Shel looks up at the stars as the Mithra plays on.
Perhaps you could RP an Ogre Mercenary contingent closer to the Badlands.

Border Princes and Remas of Tilea would be good places for a mercenary company.
Shel Applewood

Time was passing and the grass beneath their feet was changing, but into what?

The group's conflict had not quite come to blows, though it had been close, and it seemed time to move on. Ayana had made a good call, to Shel's reckoning at least. As Esalia headed out toward the hill Ayana had pointed out Shel trotted away from Rintor, Numzom, and Victor/Argor.

"I suppose it's got to be tough to be of two minds," he stopped and called to them, "but unless one of those minds knows what it is that is happening out here, we should probably all of us get going."

Coming up on the horse he reaches up to it, causing it to tilt it's head down, and he gives it a thorough spirited scratching.

"No life out here, no bees on the flowers, no bugs beneath the rocks, doesn't seem like a good thing does it? Don't think we want to be out here when whatever is happening finishes happening. Let's get going, the sooner we get off this weird grass is the sooner we can set up camp, which is the sooner I can get a proper stew going."

The horse neighs and shifts from foot to foot, Shel reaches up to administer further scratches but it doesn't seem to be interested in his scratches any more. He climbs up onto the carriage and looks nervously from the party to the hill Esalia is headed toward.

"Please, can we just get going? I don't like this and neither does our horse."
If no one objects I'm going to have the Skaven basically massing for war down by Tilea/Estalia.

Skavenblight, Fester Spike, Foul Peak, and Putrid Stump (All Reddish Brown on the Map). As the RP starts I'll have them taking over Tobaro (Yellow on the Map right next to Estalia) by force, it will give me something to do and help me sort of establish Skaven.



Tobaro will then be sort of my above ground wasteland place when the majority of the Skaven forces retreat back underground. Again, if no one objects, I'll do a bit of RPing as the doomed Tobaran military as they're wiped out.
I'm going to post in the next couple hours, just Shel encouraging people to get going and hopping onto the back of the carriage. Hoping to advance this to the camp setting relatively quickly so we can maybe find out whats up with the grass and have a nice little chat around the fire while eating dinner.
Glad this thing is still breathing.

Does anyone have a claim on Border Princes/Tilea?

I'm thinking of going with the idea suggested that Skaven are starting to come out of their tunnels. Thinking of doing something about the fall of either a good portion of The Border Princes (as independent small nations they rapidly fell to a vast feral Legion) or the Remas Republic of Tilea. Either way the area would basically be considered cursed now, like Mousillon is in standard canon, but with some extra Lovecrafty bits.
Perhaps we can move this out to a rocky outcropping and set up a campsite pretty quick. Start setting up a temporary home, start figuring out what's going on with the flora and fauna, figure out what to do tomorrow.

When we do get settled a bit Shel will start cooking around a nice little fire pit and say something to anyone around to listen about how worried he is about the lack of wildlife.

Start getting to know each other, good stuff
I'm pretty much the same, time to RP not so much to co-GM
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