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Hermit Omega Vice Captain
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 Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 11:04 am
The Saga of Peril
Also known as
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Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 11:45 am
Table of EPIC contents
The Tale
The Rules
Naked Elves
Reserved!
BEGINNNNNNNNNNNN
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Hermit Omega Vice Captain
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Hermit Omega Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 11:45 am
The EPIC Tale Welcome Ladies and Germs one and all to the most astronomically epic saga, so chock full of amazing adventures and horrific encounters that it will reduce your gallbladder to gelatin that you will not be able to resist eating! With unbelievably imaginable magic and lecherous perverted people with massive amounts of insecurity and desires for intergalactic or even simple self domination. With stolen princeses and gateways to hell itself opening every second the world needs its HEROES! Answer the call!
Throw that hoe down farmer, grab a sword and find yourself a real woman! In this world, there are already enough peasants toiling in the mud and feces, cast aside such meager callings and become an ADVENTURER! Rush on down to the Grand Lobby! Where prime people find the best match based on class compatibility and pay no attention to your shitty connection speed! Then send you out on your everyday epic world saving and or mundane quest that will undoubtedly leave all of existence depending on you! Earn amazing awards like the outstanding cheese grater +2 or the boots of substandard swiftness!
Don’t forget to check for traps kids!
The World we have before you is the beautiful and scenic land of RAINBOWNIA! A seemingly infinite flat plain of existence that is chock full of badassery! From the gigantic capital city of all the land, Capital City! To the sweeping death filled deserts known as Paradise! Most assuredly there will be countless funfilled or deadly adventures to await us all. Hop to it adventurers! The whole universe may or may not be relying on you!
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Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 11:48 am
The Rules That are EPIC!!!
Stats
Str= This Stat determines how well you can hit, and how much damage you can do with melee weapons. Each point in Strength gives +1 to attack and damage rolls.
Dex= This Stat determines how well you can dodge and how well you are able to hit with ranged weapons. Each point in Dexterity raises your Armor by +1 (though the bonus gets lowered with heavy armor) and attack rolls with ranged by +1
Con= This Stat determines how hardy and healthy you are. Each point in Constitution raises your hit points by +1 per level at the first point, +2 at the second per level and so on. It also raises your ability to fight poison and the like by +1
Wis= This Stat determines how much of a punch your magic has and how much mana you have. Each point in Wisdom raises your Mana by +1 per level for the first point, +2 for the second so on, and magic ability by +1
Int= This Stat determines how well you know skills and how well you can hit with magic. Each point in Intelligence will raise your magic attack by +1 raises skill points as will be explained later.
Cha= This Stat determines your conversational skills, how attractive you are, and how well a bard’s skills work. Each point in Charisma will raise your speech by +1, your sexiness by +1 and a bard’s special attack and effectiveness by +1.
Skills
Stealth= This Skill determines how well you can utilize stealth and how well you can detect stealth. Each point in Stealth raises your ability to move silently, hide, listen and spot by +1.
Agility= This Skill determines how well you can move. Each point in agility raises your ability to balance, jump, swim, and climb by +1.
Advanced Weapon Skill= This Skill determines how well you can use a specific kind of weapon (sword, axe, spear, ect.) Each point gives you +1 to damage and attack when using the specific weapon.
Advanced Spell Casting= +This Skill determines how well you can use a specific spell. Each point gives +1 to spell chance and spell effect.
Persuasion= This Skill raises your ability to convince people you are right. Each point in persuasion gives +1 to all speech skills.
Tinkering= This Skill determines how well you can use and identify items. Each point in tinkering gives you +1 to using items (ancient devices, grappling hooks, ect.) and to identifying items (determining if you guess this is a +2 Sword of Flaming Hellfire or a -6 Cursed Blade of Suicide).
Survival= This Skill determines how well you can survive in the wildness. Each point in survival raises your ability to build a camp, hunt, find water, track, and not get lost by +1.
Okay, to begin we are all at lvl zero. We start out all zeros
Everything will be base on 20 sided dice.
So a typical combat scenario would look like this. There is a monster. You decide what you want to do, and figure out what dice you need to roll to determine what all you want to do, then you roll the dice in the Saga Dice Forum, Then, based on if you succeed or not you go and do your roleplaying post based on your successes or failures. Please do not delete posts and re-roll for success rolls, this gets rid of the fun that is chance of failure.
Now, say you are a warrior, you have +15 armor because you are wearing chain mail. You have one point in strength and one point in weapon focus for longsword so your hit chance for your sword are +2.
Your enemy is a small child with armor +6. So you decide you want to do a cartwheel and spin around and slash at the kids throat. So you go to the dice rolling forum, roll a 20 sided to see if you succeed in the cartwheel, it’s difficulty is 15 because you are wearing chain mail. You roll a seventeen, so you successfully cartwheel while giggling like the maniac you are. Then you roll a d20 for the attack. And an d8(longsword damage) to see how much damage you do do if you hit. You roll a result of 5 for the attack. Which normally wouldn’t hit, but because you have +2 from your Strength Stat and Weapon skill, it becomes seven. So you do hit. And for your damage you roll a result of 8, plus two from your stat and skill, this becomes ten. Your enemy only has 2 hit points since you are mercilessly slaughtering a small defenseless child so you successfully kill him, and may be as badass as you want in execution. Like you gracefully cartwheel and kick the child in the face then spin in a circle and swing your blade through it’s throat and it’s head goes flying and a fountain of blade gushes from It’s headless neck. You sadistic b*****d.
Then you get experience points. Which will be determined on how hardcore this battle was. This one was easy, so you only get 2 experience. But in a real battle where you take damage and it takes a while, or there are multiple enemies it could take more.
The first level is only 10 Experience points(xp). Every level beyond is 100xp. But you will earn less and less xp from weak creatures.
When we level up, we get one point to put in stats, each point gives +1 to rolls in that category. and depending on how much intelligence you get, you will get one skill point, with one point in intelligence, you will get an extra every fifth, with 2 you get an extra every fourth, so on, until you are getting 2 every level.
Stats directly effect skills. Example, if you want to go run up the side of the wall, and climb through a window, the difficulty would be 18 say since it is a mildly high window. if you have one in agility, then that gives you plus one, so you only have to roll a seventeen. But then you also have plus one in dex, so now you only have to roll sixteen. Get it?
Different races have different modifiers. Halflings are smaller, faster, and weaker. So their stats change accordingly.
If you fail a check, you don't get to try again. Yes, if you are all just standing there, and someone fails to pick the lock to the only door in the dungeon, then that method of entry no longer works. someone else could try breaking it down, or burning it down. But opening the lock doesn't work.
Different classes start with different hit points.
Barbarian 12
Fighter/paladin 10
Monk/Cleric/Druid 8
Bard/Rouge 6
Sorcerer/Wizard 4
Each time you level up, you will roll the Dice that corresponds with your starting hit points to determine how many you gained per level. Example, a barbarian just leveled up, so he will roll a d12, and he gets a 7, so instead of having 12 hp he now has 19.
If you die, and don't have a healer, then your character gets sent back to the grand lobby. Or the other characters can sacrifice equally amongst them to reach the maximum hit-points for the character and bring them back to life. though a healer would just be wiser.
Armor raise your Armor stat, which starts out at 10. The heavier armor, the more bonus, but less dexterity bonus and less chance of spells working.
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Hermit Omega Vice Captain
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Hermit Omega Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 11:50 am
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Posted: Sun Sep 11, 2011 11:52 am
EPIC RESERVES
Current Epic lvl is over 9000 +1
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Hermit Omega Vice Captain
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Hermit Omega Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Sep 12, 2011 7:32 pm
Name: Wimdar Bumkig
Lvl: 0
Class: Wizard
Current hp. example: 4/4
Current Mana. 8/11
Equipment: Flowing Robe, Staff 1d6 -2[str]
Gold: 0
“YOU COCKSUCKER! THIS IS MY HOUSE!”
Furious with puffed out cheeks red as a spanked baby’s bottom Wimdar Bumkig screamed in shrill tones at the naked imp doing cartwheels across his dinner table. How the b*****d got in the gnome had no idea, but he knew damn well how he was going to take care of the little demon. Back when he was in the Order of the Mildly Confused the first test was to create a spell for self defense. He watched as all the other men made flaming swords appear out of thin air. Other’s ******** up and ended up spilling their own intestines onto the cobblestone floor. Other’s still spawned illusions of beautiful naked women, who just so happened to turn bizarrely turn orcish if stared at too long, totally dishing out a severe case of blue balls. Wimdar decided when it came to self defense, he being of such small stature (but not lacking in other places as he was known to say) he had better not ******** around. He was not known for his physical strength, so instead he decided to be direct. This is how Wimdar’s Nutpuncher, a spell most effective, came into being.
“Your in for it now you ugly little beast!” Cried Wimdar!
The Imp stopped it’s gymnastics momentarily with a look of distaste. In a shrieking little voice the imp replied “Me? Ugly? At least that is an inherent trait of my race. You look like you were born out the wrong exit hole buddy!”
The imp stuck his tongue out at the gnome in utter defiance. That was the moment Wimdar finished his incantation. There was a sudden sucking sound them something akin to someone slapping raw beef. Screams of agony arose from the Imp’s tiny fanged mouth and his hand’s shot to his crotch. Howling in sheer agony at the blow to his tiny red manood. Wimdar wasted no time and leaped forward grabbing the devil by the throat. It was time to call in his second spell. This spell was the second thing he had to do at the Order of the Mildly Confused. To create something that could easily be used around the house. Some of the other initiates made spells to clean. Others made spells that would slam the door in unwanted guest’s faces from across the room. And the sly made spells that made invited guests of the opposite sex to accidentally loose their clothing. There were mistakes as she who is now known as Joan the Fleshless found out. Wimdar decided he wanted something to warm his bathwater, his tea, or even a sweet gnomish massage. He failed miserably and instead made a horrendous weapon known as Hot Hands. That was the second misfortune Joan had that day. Luckily the O.M.C were a mildly confused sort and applauded such horrible acts of cruelty and rewarded Wimdar with chocolate covered pixies. Which generally are frowned upon in most social circles.
Wimdar said the incantation and the imp’s blood boiled from within his body. His eyes melted out of his skull and his flesh blackened and cracked. Wimdar cackled a maniacal victory laugh and threw the corpse out the window, where there was a grunt and a grumble. Wimdar made his way over to the window and saw a man outside garbed in the fine regalia of the O.M.C. Long flowing robes, this one in particular in open in the back for he was a part of the Wing of the Severely Delusional, who believed that the gateway to the soul was through their backside, and refused to ever deny it access to the fresh air. The man glared at the smoldering imp that had hit him and fallen to the ground. Then looked at the gnome. He pulled an envelope from his sleeve and passed it through the window. It bore the official seal of the Order. The man squealed like a pig and then did his customary greeting of turning his backside and spanking it thrice.
“Wimdar Bumkig, this is your final compensation from the Order of the Mildly Confused. Your lack of complete confusion, or your complete falling into such deep confusion that it can no longer been seen has, as you already know, been accepted as complete failure to continue being a part of this order. This is the last time we will send anything to you whatsoever, you will never hear from us again. We do not like you, and you smell funny. We demand you give us your flowing robes and sub sequentially commit suicide.”
Wimdar shook his head furiously. “Well the suicide maybe! But I bought these robes myself! ******** you and the whore you rode in on!”
The man dove in halfway through the window and grabbed Wimdar by the robes then yanked the beautiful flowing cloth off of him and tore it out through the window, leaving the gnome screaming in protest and naked. The man spanked himself again the ran off down the road braying like a donkey. Wimdar cursed his bad luck. Then opened the envelope, scratching his thick white beard. The letter inside was for a total compensation of negative five thousand gold. All the debts and damage Wimdar had caused while at the order. Which in their eyes was considered a pitiful amount, and was just another spit in the face that he was hardly confused enough. Though now, standing naked before his open window, he had no idea what to do with himself. An old hag screamed at him to put some clothes on or to come home with her as he was. So he made his way to the dresser where he kept his twenty other pairs of long flowing robes. He put on his beautiful purple ones then went back into the living room. Then he decided to use the third and final spell he knew. Ancient and arcane knowledge he found while scouring the catacombs beneath the Order. Where there was still remnants of the mysterious and nearly forgotten predecessors of the O.M.C. known as the Anarchist Murderer Man-Gods of the Plane of We ******** Your Mother, or something along those lines. A simple spell where a question was answered by completely unknown but probably trustworthy sources. The gnome focused his arcane and occult energies and asked a question often considered far to dangerous to ask of gods and demons, as it was considered too unimportant.
“What should I do today?” Inquired the gnome.
There was an intake of breath, and a slow whisper hissed into his brain “Go to the Grand Lobby. Become an Adventurer.”
This struck the gnome as a little odd, no matter how probably trustworthy the sources were. He never saw himself as the gung-ho adventure type. “Are you sure?” asked the gnome.
“Totally Bro. Then you can get all the gnome bitches.” Hissed the voice.
That was all the convincing Wimdar needed. He grabbed the Dice of Chaos that he had also found in the catacombs and put them into one of his many pockets. Then set off.
The quest to grand lobby was an epic tale involving massive amounts of pipeweed and gnomish midgets, which are just as funny to gnomes as human midgets are to humans. But that is a tale for another time. Instead we will hop to it. Wimdar came to the grand lobby. A gigantic complex of buildings that seemed to dwarf even some of the larger cities of Rainbownia. The lines were as long as the eye could see, but according to the leprechaun run queue board the average wait time was only thirty-seven seconds.
Five hours later Wimdar reached the official registration desk where a severely obese elf with n****e piercing and a bad haircut named Shurly the Young Buck ran through the required information.
“Name?”
“Wimdar Bumkig”
“How do you kill enemies?”
“Magic”
“Where did you acquire said magic?”
“The Order of the Mildly Confused.”
The elf snorted and raised an eyebrow, peering of over the desk at the short gnome. Then shrugged. “So you’re a wizard?”
“I guess so.”
“Well then I would say you are about level zero.” He looked Wimdar up and down again then shook his head. “We do not currently have any matches that fit your… specifications. Would you like to start a new party so we can match people compatible with you?”
Wimdar had absolutely no idea what the fat creature before him was talking about so he simply nodded. The elf smiled a smile with several missing teeth and stamped down on some odd contraption. And handed him a piece of paper that came from it. “This is your character sheet. It is made from illusionary paper so you cannot loose it, and it cannot be destroyed. Go on down to the match room 47 and await your new comrades. Matched perfectly to be as well balanced team as possible at this time. Good luck… Adventurer.”
There was a wee sense of pride that washed over the gnome when he was called Adventurer. It meant quests were ahead of him. And at the probably reliable sources had told him, gnomish bitches. He puffed his chest up with pride until he heard the morbidly obese elf laugh a high pitched squeal at him as he walked away. Speaking in a dialect that Wimdar didn’t understand, it used words like “NOOB” among other things and Wimdar decided it was ultimately the language of douchebaggery. Wimdar was about to say something in response when the chair broke under the elf and a chair leg stabbed into the fat of his a**. Blood gushed out onto the floor as the blubbery creature wailed. Wimdar shrugged and hurried on to find match room 47.
When he finally found it he wandered in. There were basically just five chairs around a table. Nothing at all epic feeling about it and Wimdar was mildly disappointed. He wandered over to the table and pulled out a chair, one facing the door so he could watch whoever would come in. He leaped up into the chair and relaxed. Figuring this was going to take a while.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2011 9:11 am
Name: Zekir Osai
Lvl: 0
Class: Ranger
Current hp: 5/5
Current Mana: 0/0
Equipment: Longbow - 1d8 +1[Dex], 20 Arrows
Gold: 0
Zekir stared at the badger, the terrible creature blocking his path to the Capital City. The beast was a large one for it's kind, but a beast all the same. He should kill it, but he was afraid of what it would do to him if he reached for his bow. Afraid that it would use it's unnatural speed to rip his hand off. That was something that couldn't happen. He was a Ranger! He needed both his hands to fire his bow. If he couldn't use his bow then he was almost useless. He would still be able to navigate for people, maybe a bit poorly, but still! His bow was his only good skill! He must escape from the beast from the deepest pits of Rainbownia, or else he must accept defeat and death to this dastardly badger.
Of course, the badger was of a different mind-set. What the badger saw was an elf-friend. Someone who would share food with him, maybe take it upon itself for the badger to be it's Ranger Companion. The badger would only attack the elf-friend if it attacked first, and the badger would still try and run before then. So, the badger, mustering up it's courage, took a step forward!
"EEEK! GO BACK TO THE PITS OF DARKNESS FROM WHENCE YOU CAME, BEAST-BADGER!" Zekir yelled with a high-pitched, girly voice as he jumped over the beast-badger and ran as fast as he could away from the monstrosity. For now, Zekir was free of the beast-badgers terrible claws. For now, Zekir would continue running for the Capital City.
It wasn't long before the fast moving elf ran through the gates of the capital city, and as he smelled the city air he allowed himself to slow down and take in his surroundings. The Capital City was illustrious compared to the towns he had passed through, the large buildings and the fantastic surroundings were a grand sight indeed. He noticed, for who wouldn't, the few people in robes with their back-ends exposed. He wondered if this was some new sort of fashion statement. He wasn't used to fashions, in fact, all he had on at the moment was simple clothing. Brown jerkins, no shoes, and a white tunic. None of it offered any protection from anything but the wind itself.
As he walked through the city a question popped through his mind. Now that he was here, what would he do for money? He dare not hunt for about a week, after the run in with the beast-badger he feared that it would bring it's family pack with it to ensure a battle with Zekir happened. He couldn't escape it if that happened. He needed to find some other form of job he could do!
"Excuse me, kind sir? Is there any jobs can use a Ranger?" Zekir asked a man who walked by him.
"Well, my dear Ranger friend, I am sad to say that the only job openings you may find would be with the Grand Lobby as being an adventurer; however, that is a dangerous job for," at this moment the man paused to look at Zekir up and down, "someone of your position."
"Well, I will thank you for the warning, but I believe I must try, or else I'll have no way of making coin," Zekir said to the man, and with a customary wave of goodbye, and turned away from him before he could see if the man would wave as well, although he swore he heard a smack as he walked away.
It took Zekir quite a while to find his way, and along the way he had bumped into quite a few other elves, some female and wearing very little clothing and always asking to go home with him for some gold, as well as other items of particular notice, such as the escape from the Giant Rat, but as such we cannot be bothered to tell the whole tale at this date. In the end, though, he found his way to the large line that enters the Grand Lobby. It took him only thirty-seven seconds to make it inside to a desk with a rather obese-elf with a sour expression, and standing, which was different from the other people behind desks who were sitting.
"Name?" the obese-elf asked sourly.
"Zekir Osai, sir"
"How do you kill enemies?"
"With a bow, of course!"
"Where did you acquire said bow?"
"My father fashioned it for me while he was still and adventurer, he also trained me!"
The elf looked at him skeptically shook his head. "Ranger, then?"
"Yessir"
"Well, if you'd direct yourself to room 47, we'll fit you up with a group 'worthy' of your talents, there's already a wizard there," the obese-elf, or Obi as Zekir decided he'd refer to him as (although his real name was unknown to Zekir), said with an almost sinister smirk. Zekir nodded and smiled happily as he walked away towards where Obi said to go. As he walked away he swore he heard Obi lose his balance behind the desk and fall, but he paid no attention. He was to happy about becoming an adventurer to even have such an unpleasant thought!
He walked quietly, but gladly, to the room that was mentioned and opened the door. His eyes scanning the room. It didn't look entirely to heroic or adventure-ly, but he understood some adventures took time to get into. He did see, however, a gnome sitting in a chair facing the door.
"Hello there comrade! My name's Zekir Osai, a Ranger! Pleased to meet you," the elf said to the wizard merrily as he himself took a seat.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2011 12:19 pm
Name: Badmoon Sickjam - Sick
Lvl: 0
Class: Bard
Current hp: 8/8
Current Mana: 0/0
Equipment: Battle Lute ~ 1d10 + Str(2), Lucky Underwear
Gold: 0
"YOU SMELL LIKE a**! YOUR PARENTS ARE DEAD! EVERYTHING YOU KNOW IS A LIE! YOUR GODS ARE FAKE FOR GODS SAKE! GIVE UP, LAY DOWN AND DIE!"
Sick finished the last few notes of his song and looked at the audience with glee as only around a quarter of them were booing him. The rest were either leaving, were visibly ill, or were currently engaged with climbing the nearest building in hope of flinging themselves off in an attempt to depart from this world of such depravity that it could possibly spawn such an awful castrophany of musicianship. Feeling this concert was a supreme success, he removed his hat and took a bow. As he left the stage he decided he would have to remember to play at more orphanages.
With this behind him, however, he was presented with the challenge of finding a new venue to play. So far his experience outside of Orc society had been a difficult one, as few other peoples were appreciative of the unique Orcish stylings of Badmoon Sickjam. In fact, he hadn't found even one person who was appreciative of the unique Orcish stylings of Badmoon Sickjam. Except for that one guy.... Sick stopped his performance several times to ask the man to put his pants back on, but to no avail.
Sick walked along the road with no real destination in mind, just the joy of feeling the ground moving under his feet and the shrill cries of tiny people who were screaming, pointing, and running away. He may have stepped on one, but he was far too busy to feeling the ground move beneath him to bother wondering whether he was leaving a trail of trampled corpses in his wake.
Along the road he came upon the scene of a small creature, an imp, vigorously doing something that I'm sure I need not mention to such a worldly reader as yourself. Upon spotting Sick perambulating (it's a word, look it up) toward him he immediately stopped, gave out a shriek, pointed, and then.... well, lets just skip over that part. Needless to say, at least his last experience upon this mortal coil was a pleasant one. Sick ran upon him and cleaved him in twain with but a single blow.
"I CALL THAT... THE SECESSION OF YOUR HEAD FROM THE TYRANICAL DICTATORSHIP OF YOUR BODY AND SUBSEQUENT FORMATION OF A DEMOCRATIC GOVERNANCE! IN E MINOR!"
Sick stood triumphantly over his kill, surrounded by various fluids. Prior to this point he hadn't actually slain a creature out in the open world, but he had heard of such things and knew that creatures sometimes carried valuable items that could somehow be inside of them despite the impossibility of a common rat ingesting something like, say, a treasure chest. After tearing open the stinking carcass of the imp, however, he found nothing except tiny internal imp organs, which were kind of cute in the way most tiny things are kind of cute. He also soon realized that he was without that immense feeling of accomplishment that those more wizened than himself often said came from killing indiscriminately. Those that spoke of it called this "ecksp". He was not familiar with this "ecksp", but his feeling of entitlement alone drove him to immediately stand and march right up to the nearest NPC, pick him up by the shirt and say, "I KILLED AN IMP! WHY DOES THE DEPRESSIVE CLOUD OF SUCK HANG OVER ME STILL!"
After overcoming the need to void his bowels, which incidentally required him to first void his bowels, the NPC stuttered and replied, "Only Adventurers gain experience from slaying monsters."
"WHAT!? THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE! I QUITE OBVIOUSLY SLEW THAT TINY BEAST MYSELF! I REMEMBER IT WELL, I WAS HERE WHEN IT HAPPENED! THERE IS MORE OF ITS BLOOD ON ME THAN INSIDE OF IT! THIS IS OBSERVABLE EVIDENCE THAT I HAVE CARRIED OUT AN ACTION WITH WHICH I WOULD NOW HAVE HAD AN EXPERIENCE!"
"You can go to the Grand Lobby to become an Adventurer."
"OH! WHY THAT SOUNDS LIKE THE PERFECT IDEA!" Sick placed the man on the ground and said, "THANK YOU, SIR!"
"Only Adventurers gain experience from slaying monsters."
"YES, I BELIEVE YOU MAY HAVE MENTIONED THAT! THANK YOU!"
"You can go to the Grand Lobby to become an Adventurer."
"I'M GOING TO LEAVE NOW! PLEASE DO NOT FOLLOW ME!"
Sick's excursion to the Grand Lobby was fraught with nothing. He made good time and came upon no distractions (not even Orc tits, which was disappointing as he would have liked to come upon some Orc tits). He arrived at the Grand Lobby mid-morning and saw the large line and the queue board stating the average wait time was only thirty-seven seconds. He waited thirty-seven seconds, then walked to the front of the line, punted the halfing there out of the way, and noted that the elf running the line was quite rotund.
"NICE HEARTY ELVES ARE THE BEST!"
"Umm.... thank you?"
"WITH GRAVY!"
"Right.... um, name?"
"BADMOON SICKJAM! BUT EVERYONE SAYS I'M SICK!"
"I'm sure they do. And how do you kill enemies?"
At this Sick pulled his weapon out to show it off. "WITH THIS!"
"Where did you acquire said.... um, this?"
"I KEEP IT ON MY BACK!"
"Originally."
"WELL, WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW A SECRET!?
The elf stared back unamused and replied, "No."
Sick leaned in and whispered, "I MADE IT MYSELF!"
"Right.... Barbarian then."
"WHAT!? NO! THAT IS DISCRIMINATORY, SIR, AND I TAKE OFFENSE! I AM A BARD!"
"Really.... Lets hear a song then." Sick was pleased and prepared himself to begin, took in a breath, and was promptly stopped by the elf who cried, "No! Nevermind. Please do not play. In fact, never play. I know just where to put you." The elf fiddled with his weird machine, then handed Sick a piece of paper.
"Room 47. Good luck, Adventurer."
"WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"
"Good luck.... Adventurer?"
"OH! I THOUGHT YOU SAID MY MOTHER WAS AN AVOCADO!"
"I did."
"WHAT!?"
"What?"
"....WHAT!?"
"Have a nice day."
"YOU TOO!"
Sick began to turn and make his way to the match room, but on impulse he turned back and punched the elf in the face. Feeling now that all was right with the world, he counted off the rooms, lost count, had to start over, and after some time finally made it to room 47. He entered giddily and saw two of his new party members there waiting.
"LADYHANDS FOREST ROMPER! BITE-SIZED MAGIC FLINGER! WE'RE GOING TO HAVE... AN ADVENTURE!"
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2011 6:00 pm
Name: Merihim Soth
Lvl: 0
Class: Cleric
Current hp. 7/8
Current Mana. 9/10
Equipment: The Serpent's Kiss (Longsword) - 1d8
Gold: 0
"It is time, my child, to fulfill your purpose; you must set me free and in return for your service... my promise of bountiful power."
The words echoed in Merihim's mind. It was an event wholly natural to the young man, almost as if the sound of one's own thoughts. The God Nithis Soth was Merihim's creator and his word was absolute. Reward was favorable, however, his mission was as fundamental as his own existence; this was something Merihim would just have to do.
"Where shall I go father?"
Merihim replied within his thoughts. The answer came to him as an abstract thought and Merihim simply knew where he must go. After days of tireless travel, the man found himself in a grand city. As he walked the cobbled streets, he turned on a road that presented him with a blockade. One in the form of an Imp... once feared as a daemonic creature, but one entirely insignificant to his master and mission.
It seemed reluctant to move, though, admittedly, Merihim had not asked or even gestured for the creature to do so. Therefore, the man saw it fit to dispatch the creature. Reaching into his robes, Merihim produced a glorious blade; a longsword with the emblem of a serpent's tongue trailing down the hilt to caress a skull.
Drawing the blade high, Merihim brought it down upon his opponent as a terrible vibration both sound and kinetic wrought out. It was the sound of steel against stone and the man played the miss off as a warning shot.
The Imp did not take well to that however, lashing forth with his claws and mauling Merihim's face for 1 damage.
Blood stinging his eyes, an anger burned up from Merihim's core as he took another swing at the beast. He felt something tug at his back, it was the momentum of the sword as nothing had been in its path. The man entered a whirlwind like spin, the likes of which reassured him that no one had seen his horrific failure.
The Imp blinked, watching Ranon spin around like an idiot. With excellent agility, the creature leap atop the man's head and began ripping out his hair, causing an addition 1 damage.
Abruptly canceling the spin, almost as if having planned this much all along, or so he had hoped it would appear, Merihim thrust the sword upwards at the beast. The attack landed as Merihim, of course, knew it would. The result was one shish kabobed Imp. Flinging the sword to his side triumphantly, the carcass flew off the blade, knocking the only passerby unconscious.
With almost an overconfident flare, Merihim brought his hand up into the sky, after sheathing his sword, and black light decided upon him as he called out to the fallen Imp.
"All your effort will have been for nothing!"
The heal spell went off on Merihim, however, its effects seemed rather impotent as he received only 1 health point in return. Muttering under his breath, the man ran over to the passerby and redrew his sword, in order to make sure no one would know of this. A plop was followed by a few squishes as the head pleasingly rolled down the street. A bemused voice entered Merihim's mind.
"Well at least you have no issue thwarting the unconscious... you need practice boy."
Anger swelled within Merihim. Of course his God had seen him! Without further delay, he put his weapon away and rushed to the registration office. He was greeted by an elf, to whom he paid no attention and answered briefly and quickly. Merihim simply wanted to brood alone until the next step of his mission.
“Name?”
“Merihim Soth”
“How do you kill enemies?”
“By healing innocent bystanders so that they may sacrifice their own lives and...”
A ethereal flick pinged the back of Merihim's head as he quickly corrected his answer. He cleared his throat.
"Erhm... Longsword."
The Elf merely blinked at him and continued.
“Where did you acquire said weapon and magic?”
“My father.”
The elf shrugged, there was little mystery as to what Merihim was, but moreso as to whom he worshiped.
"So you are a Cleric, that much is obvious... and the name of your God?..."
Merihim took a brief moment and answered so confidently that he could not be doubted.
“The God Sofa King Ba Das.”
"Okay, you'll be in Room 47... but let me make sure I get that down, never heard of that one... Sofa King Ba Da-wait a minute!"
The elf began to write down the God's name and then realized what was going on. As he looked up to protest, Merihim was gone.
He arrived amongst the others and merely looked them over before running off into a corner to brood.
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SS Chibi Vegeta Incarnate
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Hermit Omega Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2011 8:45 pm
Name: Wimdar Bumkig
Lvl: 0
Class: Wizard
Current hp. example: 2/4
Current Mana. 5/11 (random unfocused uses -3)
Equipment: Flowing Robe, Staff 1d6 -2[str]
Gold: 0
Wimdar had been sitting for quite some time. Enough time in fact that he had gotten to the point where he was confusing himself deeply with the meditative practice of his former order, Paradoxus ********. He began considering what would the offspring of an abberation and a stump look like and the possible outcomes boggled his gnomish mind. After a long consideration, he decided that a tentacle rape wood monster with ten mouths and acorns would indubitably be the result. He was thus compelled to remove his clothing to become quite naked. That was when the elf entered. He introduced himself as a ranger, but after all he had just been through with the fatty at the front desk he was quickly hardened himself for any potential douchebaggery.
“Greetings!” he cried, deciding to overplay his awesomeness and and leapt up to the table, harnessing great energy he rose his hands to the ceiling and tiny lightning bolts shot out of his fingertips. He lowered his voice to as deep as a gnome could and roared. “I AM WIMDAR BUMKIG! WIZARD!” Then cackled manically. That was when the door opened again to admit a very loud and boisterous Orc. The gnome had no idea what he was talking about but decided to continue his act of awesome proportions. He then managed to leap backwards off the table in a backflip, revealing that he was not wearing anything beneath his beautiful flowing robes, and landed on the ground. Then unleashing yet another flurry of lightning bolts only this time with snowflakes shooting out as well. He roared. “ WELCOME ORC! TO AWESOMEVILLE! POPULATION? THIS GUY!” He pointed to himself with a mighty gnomish smirk. Then prepared to sit down again as he was out of breath and not quite used to the physical side of things. That was when the horrifying looking human with a wicked blade and totally emo corner brooding skills came in. So, in a final ditch effort to impress Wimdar decided to try the most epic act of awesomeness yet. He focused intently on all the arcane forces within him and with a bellow took a step forward, tripping over his flowing robes he smashed his face onto the corner of the table and knocked out a tooth and dealing a blow that knocked him half to death at 2 damage. He screamed a high pitched scream. Then another. Then curled up into the fetal position screaming again. His eyes bulging out of his head and blood gushing out of the empty tooth socket. He began dragging himself over to the privy at the back of the room. Shrieking the whole time. He pulled himself up with the doorknob leaving a trail of blood, then looked back at his companions. In an attempt to save face he coughed a few times, tears streaming down his face. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office. Then closed himself into the shitter and sat onto the chamber pot weeping pitifully to the horribly burning pain in his gnomish face.
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Posted: Tue Sep 13, 2011 10:02 pm
Name: Merihim Soth
Lvl: 0
Class: Cleric
Current hp. 4/8
Current Mana. 8/10
Equipment: The Serpent's Kiss (Longsword) - 1d8
Gold: 0
Despite the Wizard's efforts, it was only the scent of blood that arose Merihim's attention. Duty was all that could pull him out of corner and duty called very loudly. Dropping his blade, Merihim began towards the door, first slowly, then at a full charge. A guttural battle cry began in his chest, echoing out gradually louder and louder until it was a full scream just before the door.
"I NEED LIVES FOR THE MASTERRRR!!!"
His plan had been to expertly strike the door at it's hinges and force upwards and off its bearings with his starting momentum. That plan fell short however... very short... well not entirely short... he did get the door open. It broke open as a result of his head slamming into it as he tripped upon his own feet. The door was at least open however, and for the low low price of 3 HP.
Merihim lay there for a few moments, unable to look up at the Gnome who was likely more shocked them himself. Face still in the floor, the human weakly lifted up one hand, as if grasping at the sky. A faint light emerged from his palm and quickly faded, leaving the hand to fall on the ground with a thud as he failed to cast heal. A mumble escaped the man before he fell into temporary unconsciousness.
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SS Chibi Vegeta Incarnate
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2011 5:05 am
Name: Zekir Osai
Lvl: 0
Class: Ranger
Current hp: 2/5
Current Mana: 0/0
Equipment: Longbow - 1d8 +1[Dex], 20 Arrows
Gold: 0
Zekir smiled even greater when the gnomish wizard, Wimdar introduced himself. Obviously this gnome was a great adventurer already, and was simply helping himself, a new adventurer, out on this said adventure. He watched as he did a backflip to greet the orc, which for a moment Zekir thought the Orc was a new giant bear-friend, but did avert his eyes when he saw that he wore nothing underneath. Obviously some sort of gnomish tradition. Be flashy and wear nothing underneath their robes.
That's when the human came in. That's when Wimdar fell and broke his tooth. Obviously something he had not intended to happen, and although he let out a screech as a he flung himself towards the bathroom, or his office, the way he pulled himself together! It was amazing they'd put such an adventurer on a team with a new guy like himself! Then the way the cleric knocked the door open made Zekir truly believe he was on a god-like team! He couldn't let them now that he was a new guy to all this, though! What if they kicked him off!?
So, with this decided he looked at the only conscious person in the room, the orc,and stated, "Sir Orc, I am not a Lady Elf!" With this he turned his back to the table and looked the orc dead in the eye. "I am in fact, a MAN-ELF!"
This he yelled as he went to do a backflip onto the table, but of course, he was a newbie, and even for a dexterous elf backflips onto things were obviously more difficult then just talking about. So instead of actually doing a backflip onto anything he ended up just flipping back so that his head banged off the corner of the table, knocking him unconscious and doing three damage to his health. His last conscious thought, though, was how cool he felt with this group, and how grand their adventure would be.
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Posted: Sun Sep 18, 2011 6:08 pm
Name: Wimdar Bumkig
Lvl: 0
Class: Wizard
Current hp. example: 4/4
Current Mana. 11/11
Equipment: Flowing Robe, Staff 1d6 -2[str]
Gold: 0
Wimdar was just about to relive himself of the content of his bowels when suddenly the strange brooding fellow bust his face on the door and collapsed. The gnome was sure that then the man was about to end his life with the glowing between his fingers. But then collapsed. Then the elf tried to copy Wimdar’s displays of awesomeness and failed miserably. Leaving only Wimdar with his bleeding face and the rather large orc fellow. Wimdar smiled bloodily then stood from the chamber pot. Then waddled over to the fallen manfolk and squatted over his chest. He let out a little chuckle then realized the orc was still there. And opened his mouth to say something, couldn’t think of anything then just waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. He realized that all the excitement had left him mildly constipated. But after a moment the deed was done and Wimdar felt accomplished. He waddled back to the chamber pot room and cleaned up then returned to the table. After a moment of just staring at the orc. He looked to the man he had defecated on, then back to the orc.
“I would make an excuse but I’m going to make the assumption that you have seen that before and ask you to disregard it.”
He wiped the blood still pouring from his face and leaned back in the chair. Suddenly the room was filled with what Wimdar knew was magic. There was a whir and a pop and without warning he felt his body torn from existence.
Blue and blackness rushed by him. And a rather happy sounding voice begin shouting at him.
“WELCOME WIZARD! TO YOUR FIRST ADVENTURE! Prepare yourself for an EPIC quest of collecting the FORESKINS of Trolls! We are currently transporting you to the village of Gordorthorgarataribarinon or in common tongue p***y Zit Sword Strong Town. It is a bustiling community of troll folk. You can tell that they are trolls by their lack of friends. By the fact that they are overweight, their mothers wish they aborted them, and their entire life revolves around being annoying in social functions where they can hide behind screens. They also enjoy wasting peoples time by lying. They are best dealt with by ignoring them. Or lighting them on fire. They are visually fat, ugly, covered in zits, probably socially retarded and awkward. Hence why they have no friends, but they cannot understand why. Collect a total number of ten foreskins and say you wish to return here and it shall be done. Good luck, Die well.”
With that there was a sudden assault of perception that bombarded Wimdar’s mind as he and his companions were suddenly all atop a grassy hill. He realized all of his hit points and mana were back to full and cackled. It was time to unleash pent up midget fury upon the weak and innocent below.
The “town” actually appeared to be a bunch of trapdoors that lead to cave houses under the ground. As trolls feared the light and windows. Not wanting anyone to be able to see that they are reading fat human child tentacle rape s**t porn comics made in illegal factories back in Capital cities. Wimdar stretched out and looked to his companions.
“So gentlemen. It is adventure time. And when it comes to the actual collecting process, all I have to say is…. Not it. And that is all there is to it.”
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Hermit Omega Vice Captain
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SS Chibi Vegeta Incarnate
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Posted: Sun Sep 18, 2011 9:41 pm
Name: Merihim Soth
Lvl: 0
Class: Cleric
Current hp. 8/8
Current Mana. 10/10
Equipment: The Serpent's Kiss (Longsword) - 1d8
Gold: 0
Merihim was arisen by a strange voice; admittedly they were all strange, belonging to these people who he did not know, but one queerer than the rest. Something about foreskins, he gathered as his head ached. To his surprise, he found himself in well health, this did not entirely please him because healing of this fashion would not benefit the master. Perhaps he could please his dark lord, however... he did take pleasure in denying others of their joy.
"It sounds like masturbation is the only thing these pitiful creatures have in their lives... If they will remain alive to suffer their losses... I shall take great pleasure in carrying out the task myself!"
Almost as if to emphasize, Merihim unhitched his sword and thrust it up to the sky for all to see. The sword was menacing before, but with the intent and purpose it now had... it seemed all the more terrifying. Pulling the blade down carefully and sheathing it, he looked across at the party with a fiery visage.
"I can even keep the alive with my healing... provided we need to beat them into submission or... I get a little sloppy with the surgery."
He merely grinned.
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