>>2284435

You hail from....

>The Shattered Peaks. The snowcapped mountains and dizzying heights of this inhospitable area breed hard men, driven to desperation by the Lords of the Moon.

>The desert of Phassos. The endless miles of the desert are home to ancient ruins, ancient tribes and ancient evil. The sultans golden road cuts through the center of this harsh expanse.

>The wastes of Khartara. This frozen wasteland extends to the farthest reaches of human knowledge. The bone chilling cold has turned the hearts of its inhabitants black and hard from necessity.

>The Jungle of Qu'atol. The remnants of an ancient civilization are still inhabited by the survivors of that great cataclysm. Perhaps the old empire will rise again?

>Other (write in place pls)

>>2284435
So, we're just resuming Hammer Time and not restarting, right?

>>2284482
>The Shattered Peaks. The snowcapped mountains and dizzying heights of this inhospitable area breed hard men, driven to desperation by the Lords of the Moon.

>>2284483
I mean if that's what you guys want to do.

>>2284482

>The Shattered Peaks. The snowcapped mountains and dizzying heights of this inhospitable area breed hard men, driven to desperation by the Lords of the Moon.

>>2284435
I wouldn't be against playing the barbarian quest ever if that's around again.
>>2284524
I'd love to keep going.

>Shattered Peaks it is.

The impossible heights of the Shattered Peaks boggles the mind. The air, so thin and cold that few in memory have ascended to the star touching heights and spoken with the gods. Stretching like frostbitten fingers toward the sky, above even the clouds. The great chasms between these peaks are home to numerous clans and tribes, villages that approach the size of small towns, eking out their existenve through hunting, foraging, farming what they can and of course, raiding.

The slim towers of the Lords of the Moon stretch upwards along the mountainsides. The silvery stones of the haughty castles jut from the earth like daggers from a corpse. Long have the Moon lords hunted your people, their armored knights cutting down women and children for their "heresy". No more.

You lay, flat on your belly, overlooking a narrow stone path, carved from the mountain. Below you, a small party of Moon Knights walks along their patrol, teardrop shaped shields and fine steel spears held easily. From their swagger you can tell they've had a eventful day, probably fresh from burning a family or raping a innocent girl.

The other members of your ambush lay flat on the stone, bows and spears in easy reach. Each of these men are capable warriors, but they look to you because of your....

>Massive size and strength. You stand like a giant from legend, head and shoulders above most men. Your strength is the stuff of legends. (Arch Magnus reborn)

>Your Ferocity in battle. When the red haze claims you, you fight like a star touched demon. Your flesh is striped by uncountable scars and runes of conquest.

>Your return from death. You were horribly maimed and walked hand im hand with the spirits. You returned stronger than ever.

>Your spell-tainted hide. Magical runes and tattoos mark every inch of your skin, opening channels for ancient energy to empower your body.

>>2284579
>Massive size and strength. You stand like a giant from legend, head and shoulders above most men. Your strength is the stuff of legends. (Arch Magnus reborn)

>>2284579

>Your return from death. You were horribly maimed and walked hand im hand with the spirits. You returned stronger than ever.

>>2284579
>>Your return from death. You were horribly maimed and walked hand im hand with the spirits. You returned stronger than ever.

>>2284579
>>Massive size and strength. You stand like a giant from legend, head and shoulders above most men. Your strength is the stuff of legends. (Arch Magnus reborn)

>Your return from death

The left side of your face tingles, the bone deep scars angling across your skull. The swiping blow from a solver armored Moon Lord's broadsword had carved into your skull, the massive slash ending across your chest. For four days and nights you had walked with the spirits, standing on the threshold of death. After the shamans returned you to the living, you had been... Different. Pain did not touch you, the cold did not harm you, blades seemed to recoil from your skin. You struck with the spirits of the dead guiding your blows, dealing death wherever you walked.

>Death Touched. +10 to attack, damage and +10 to Defense. You are far more lethal and durable than most men.

One of your men, shuffles closer to you, creeping silently as the Moon Knights walk below. His lips part, whispering your name...

>Whats your name yo

>>2284653
Gosh darn it op, you're doing it again! I'm willing to change to Massive to get the thread rolling though.

>>2284653
Bit of advice, Warlord.
When you start to write the post, make a quick post letting everyone know the vote's closed. Prevents heartache for all involved caused by people voting after you've started to write.

>>2284656
Fuck me sideways.
>>2284660
Yah that's a good idea m8. My bad

>>2284662
Personally as a Massive voter, I'm fine with being a revenant.

>>2284671
Same, I'll just do whatever it takes to get started. Maybe op can give us both :P Or half and half.

>>2284653
Leird

>Fuckit. Im combining the two to please everybody and have some fun. You are Massive AND Death Touched.

>Your bonuses.
>+10 to Feats of Strength
>Ability to wield Great Weapons AND a shield or dual wield for xtra edge.
>+10 to damage (Spirit Warrior)
>+10 to combat rolls.
>+10 Defense (-10 damage received. Ghost Hide)

Just for funsies.

>>2284690
Nice and Simple Ulf.

>>2284690
Just make the death touched the result of a severe ambush at the end of last thread.

I want to keep playing the bonecrusher ARCH MAGNUS.

>>2284690
>Ability to wield Great Weapons AND a shield or dual wield for xtra edge.
>or dual wield for xtra edge
You guys think' what I'm thinkin'?
DOUBLE HAMMER TIME!

>Ulf

>Leird.

Any other votes on names?

>>2284711
The original.

Arch MAGNUS

Arch Magnus - The Destroyer of Doors!

>>2284689
1 for Leird
>>2284696
1 for Ulf
>>2284714
>>2284717
2 for Arch Magnus. The bane of Doors, the breaker of castle Vollsung.

>>2284726
Damn it, I have to go Arch Magnus.

No-h moralfagging guys, I hope we don't turn into the mercenary with a heart of gold trying to waifu every woman in our path with love and loyalty - I get enough of that shit on shitty quest forums.

>>2284759
>>2284759
Rip and tear until it is done.

We are Arch Magnus, bandit warlord who rules with a death touched iron fist. Those who oppose us are brutally broken, the only 'honor' we have is a sense of respect for those loyal to us, and nothing else.

I'd love to see it play out. More like a force of nature antihero than anything else, but It'd be fun to play.

>>2284759
Nah fuck that noise.
Any woman wants to get the hammer has to be badass enough to stand by our side and keep up with us in battle.
A Valeria or Red Sonja, not some sweet, innocent little waifu.

"Magnus"
He whispers, his thick beard already speckled with frost
"The Moon sun are almost place. We are ready!"
He smiles excitedly, showing chipped yellow teeth. Like most of the Crag Wolves, he is dressed in a mixture of boiled leathers and furs, the simple armor the best these men can procure without raiding the Moon Lords. You dont remember much of how you came to be here. A great battle, a shattered gate, a hammer, broken and twisted as if from great heat. You remember the shackles that bound you as you toiled in a Moon Lords mine, a Crag Wolf raid giving you freedom and a blade in your hand. That was three years before your maiming and it's been two since that.
You turn your ruined gaze upon the younger man, your ghastly visage stealing the joy from his eyes
"When I give the signal, not before Tobros. Remember the plan"

The younger warrior nods, hurriedly looking away from your ruined face and resumes his position, gripping a short, curved bow and a bundle of slim arrows. All around you, the men are adjusting their grips on axes and spears, daggers and bows.

Your hands tighten on the the well worn grip of your....

>choose one (or two, or one with a shield)

>A Warhammer, your weapon of choice, heavy and solid with a vicious spike for piercing armor.

>Battle axe. A sharp, half moon shaped crescent of razored iron. More than enough to cleave a man in half.

>Greatsword. Nearly four feet of double edged scavenged steel, the silver inlay long since removed.

>Battle Spear. More than a spear, more than a sword. The bastard child of both.

>Other

>>2284814
>>Battle Spear. More than a spear, more than a sword. The bastard child of both.

>>2284814
>>Battle Spear. More than a spear, more than a sword. The bastard child of both.

>>2284814
>A Warhammer, your weapon of choice, heavy and solid with a vicious spike for piercing armor.

>A Warhammer, your weapon of choice, heavy and solid with a vicious spike for piercing armor.

MAGNUS SMASH

>>2284821
>>2284826
Fukhueg speer
>>2284830
>>2284834
Hammer Time.

Any other votes?

>>2284814
>A Warhammer, your weapon of choice, heavy and solid with a vicious spike for piercing armor.
>Battle Spear. More than a spear, more than a sword. The bastard child of both.

Also, this now dark souls warlord quest

>>2284834
>>2284857
Fuckit. I said you can duel wield and I DAMN WELL MEANT IT.

>Warhammer in one hand
>Battle Spear in the other. (A battle spear in this context is basically a sword with a wide blade with a three foot hilt.)

Magnus good at stabby smash smash.

You tighten your grip on the rawhide wrapped haft of your Warhammer, bronze pegs driven through the wood to hold the strips in place. On your back, in a sheath of leather and wood is your Battle Spear, a unique weapon, the bastard love child of a spear and a sword, you had wrested it from a dead Moon Knight and turned it against his former companions. You roll your neck, popping the vertebrate with small crackles as you rise to your feet, the small procession finally in position below you.

Drawing your spear from your back you heft your weapons in each hand, roaring out your challenge to the world
"Crag Wolves! Take their lives!"
All around you, tribesmen rise to their feet and launch into the ambush, arrows already hissing through the air and burying themselves in tender throats and bellies. Caught unaware, the Moon Knights flail like sheep, caught between a sheer drop and a small horde of angry warriors.

>Barrel into that knot of Moon Knights, fling them over the side.

>That Mounted officer looks important. Shoulder check that horse (feat of strength)

>Advance slowly, pick them off one by one.

>Face their Officer in 1v1

>>2284893
>That Mounted officer looks important. Shoulder check that horse (feat of strength)

>>2284893
>>That Mounted officer looks important. Shoulder check that horse (feat of strength)

>>2284893
>Face their Officer in 1v1
Fite me 1v1 rust I'll wrek you

>>2284893
>>That Mounted officer looks important. Shoulder check that horse (feat of strength)

>That Mounted officer looks important. Shoulder check that horse (feat of strength)

MAGNUS SMASH HORSIE!

>Shoulder check.

You drop off the ledge, landing heavily in the stony soil of the mountainside, pebbles flying like sand. All around you your men are carving into the patrol, men falling with spears in their chests or arrows in their throats. A brave young Moon Knight lunges at you with a gleaming shortsword, his eyes wide in terror. He collapses backward as a egg shaped stone craters his skull, splattering the rocks with blood and brain.

Ahead of you, the mounted officer attempts to rally his men, waving his sword and shouting bravely. Breaking into a lumbering charge you roar in rage and duck your head, bringing the point of your shoulder up

>Roll me 1d100+10 for your battering ram.

Rolled 95 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2284949
he can't rally his men if he's not seen.

>>2284953
Christ on a cracker m8

>>2284956
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZIR1nd60To

Rolled 49 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2284949
>>2284953
Lmao get rekted shitlord

>95+10. The Tackle to end all tackles.

You slam into the unfortunate horse with enough force to shatter the spines of several lesser men. The beast squeals in pain and fear as it is thrown backwards, the officer yelling in shock and terror as he realizes he and his mount are now airborne.

His face takes a very white hue as he and his horse sail over the edge of the cliff face, the bottom so far below that mist obscures the ground. He'll have a lot to think about on the way down. You snort in amusement and spit over the edge, hearing the mans screams grow faint and far. Turning to face the ambush you twirl your weapons casually, looking for a new opponent.

>Wade into the battle, hit somebody.

>Find the biggest/best fighter they have left.

>Smash their puny attempt at a shield wall.

>>2284982
>>Smash their puny attempt at a shield wal

File: token_1 (1).png (77 KB, 256x256)

77 KB PNG

>>2284982
>>Find the biggest/best fighter they have left.

>Smash their puny attempt at a shield wall.

MAGNUS KILL

>Smash their pathetic shield wall.

All around you, the Moon Knights are being cut down, superior weapons and armor no safeguard against sheer numbers and hate. Already bodies litter the stone of the mountain road, blood trickling over the cliff face in thin streams. You bat away a spear thrust, raising your hammer to crush its wielders skull. Before the blow lands the man collapses, a barbed javelin jutting from his back. You shrug and step on him, ribs audibly popping as your weight crushes him nearly flat. The majority of the survivors have collapsed into a shield wall, pressing against a outcropping of stone, shields raised and spears jabbing from within the perceived safety of their formation. Several Crag Wolves lay still, their bodies pierced and growing cold.

>Smash through the shield wall

>Swing baby swing.

>Throw a boulder

>Other

>Swing baby swing.

>>2285057
>Swing batter batter batter swing

>>2285057
>Swing baby swing.
Please don't die again op

>Ok ive got my union allocated 4 hours of sleep. Lets get this hurt train rolling again.
>Swing batter swing

>Roll me 3d100+10 for the epic asswhipping.

Rolled 86 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2285489

>>2285489
I think all the other posters went to sleep, go back to sleep and give an estimation of when you'll be back so we can be prepared and know when to wait for you

>>2285533
Im up for the day amigo. I was running last night because I had to be awake all night. Ill hit the hay at a more reasonable time tonight.

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>2285489

d e s t r o y

>>2285550
Jesus titty fucking Christ.

Magnus is Fucking BRUTAL

>>2285552
Mfw it's the first roll I made in either version of Warlord Quest and I fucking rip & tear.

Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>2285489
SMASHHH

BL00D 4 TH3 BLOOD G0D

>>2284435

Magnus reborn as Magnus the Mangler, Mauler of Malfeasant Moon Swallows.

>86+10=96.
Hit on first Moonfag
>99+10=109.
Crit! +10 extra damage to 2nd Moonfag.
>37+10=47
Barely missed 3rd Moonfag.

Gimme 2 seperate D100+10. 2nd one gets an additional 10.

>>2285696
Holy alliteration Batman!

>>2285697

Swing baby swing.

Rolled 55 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2285697
Too strong

Rolled 1 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2285703

Lets try that again.

>>2285707
OOF

>>2285707
Let's not

>>2285707
This particular soldier has armor of adamantium apparently

>>2285722
Good now we have a set.

>>2285707
Anon chu fewl! You have angered the dice gods!
You must offer them a sacrifice to appease them!

Hand over your goodboy points.

>Moon Knight #1- 100hp
>55+10=65 damage!
>100-65=35 hp remaining!

>Moon Knight #2: 100hp
>Critfail! 0 damage dealt.

>Moon Knight #3. Missed attack

>Writing.

These cowardly Moon Knights cannot be allowed to survive this raid. Their weapons and armor will strengthen the Crag Wolves and their deaths will weaken the Moon Lords. You heft your hammer and charge forward, each step thundering like the footfall of a giant. One of the Moon Knights jabs his spear at you in an attempt to stave you off. Your battle spear swoops around and hacks through his spear shaft like a twig.

The spearhead and nearly two feet of wooden shaft go pinwheeling away as the Moon worshipper finally notices the size of the hammer in your other hand. The angled steel head slams into his shield with enough force to shatter the wooden back and the arm beneath it. The cry of pain is drowned out as you lash out with a heavy kick, catching the unfortunate man in the belly, blood and bile spewing from his lips as he collapses. Now a wolf is among the sheep.

You sweep your blade around in an arc, knocking away a thin shortsword, its wielder hoping to skewer your belly. The snarling warrior yells on frustration as your blow comes around. A lucky angle to his shield as he ducks his head under it, the razor steel of your battle spear skating along the metal harmlessly. You growl in irritation, turning to crush the bug but the charge of the Crag Wolves through the gap you have created pushes him away from you.

A moon Knight raises his silver shield and weather's the frenzied axe blows of a fellow Crag wolf. Deciding to help your ally you bring your hammer down in a meteoric arc that should have cratered the mans skull into his chest. A hasty sidestep brings the man safely out of your reach and the blow slams into the stony ground, crushing a deep dig it into the earth.

"Fucking hell I'm off my game"
You mutter to yourself, wading back into the fight.

>Search out any skilled warriors.

>Assist your fellows where they need it

>Fucking kill everything.

>>2285791
>>Fucking kill everything.

>>2285791
>>Fucking kill everything.

>>Fucking kill everything.

>>2285791
>>Fucking kill everything.

I mean was there any other real option?

>Sorry about the ghosting, real life intervened and ravaged my tender anoos.
>Rip and Tear until it is done.

>You are up against 4 Moon Knights, a random one of which will be an elite Soldier.
>Roll me 4 rolls of 1d100+10

Rolled 21, 42, 85, 69 + 10 = 227 (4d100 + 10)

>>2286654
ez

Rolled 89 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2286654
Magnus smash!

Rolled 44 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2286654
WE KILL

>Just 1 more 1d100+10 pls!!!

Rolled 62 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2286745
ill give another

>85+10=95. Hit on Moon Scum #1

>89+10=99. Hit on Moon fag #2

>44+10=54. Moon fanatic #3 got smacked. Sergeant Rolph reveals himself!

>62+10=72. Moon worshipper #4 is hit!


>Ok boyos. I need another 4 rolls of 1d100+10 for your damage!

Rolled 72 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2286776
This is going to hurt

>>2286785
Wanna roll 3 more? Seems nobody else is gonna roll

Rolled 49 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2286776

Rolled 97, 75, 84 + 10 = 266 (3d100 + 10)

>>2286838
Sure

>Moon Knight #1 100hp
>72+10=82 damage!
>100-82=18hp. Critical Injury.

>Moon Knight #2 35hp.
>49+10=59
>35-59=-24hp. GRUESOME DEATH.

>Sergeant Rolf 100hp. Blessed Silver Great Shield -15 damage.
>97+10-15=92 damage
>100-92= 8hp. mortal wound.

>Moon Knight #4. 100hp.
>75+10=85
>100-85=15hp. Critical injury.

>Writing.

You lash out at every enemy around you, venting your rage upon all those unfortunate enough to be nearby. The spirits guide your blade in a lazy swipe that meets a shining longsword head on, the heavy blade carving deep into the thinner sword. The momentum of the blow sends the Moon scum stumbling, your counter blow with your hammer crumbling the armor of his back, his legs flopping limp and bonelessly as his spine audibly shatters. You step over his limp and moaning form, setting your malignant gaze on a familiar face.

The Moon Knight you wounded before stands shakily before you, a long gleaming dagger held in his unbroken arm. He swallows nervously, face tight with pain as he holds his shattered arm to his chest. You don't even bother dodging the clumsy lunge, simply knocking it aside with your hammer shaft and bringing your battle spear around in a blurring arc. Metal shrieks as his gleaming silver breastplate is carved open, his body split open from shoulder to hip, gore and entrails spilling from the savage wound.

You push aside the ruined corpse and backstep as a broad, gleaming blade whistles by your head. Swinging your blade up you block a whistling strike that would have opened your throat, catching a glimpse of your assailant. Silver inlaid plate armor, decorated with sigils of the Moon Lords, a thick, carefully braided brown beard, black eyes peering out from the eye slits of a ornate helm. In his left hand, a gleaming broadsword, the edge smeared with blood. In his right, a tower shield that most men would struggle to lift, its face ornamented by the armored visage of some Saint.

"Dance with me barbarian!"
He snarls, twirling his blade, stepping carefully over the bodies of friend and foe. You refuse to answer, listening instead to the voices of the spirits.

>"wait... He tires.... Strike when he readies his arm.... Strike.... Strike.... STRIKE"

Sergeant Rolf adjusts his grip, bringing his broadsword around in a arc that would end its journey buried in your skull. If your battle spear wasn't in its way he may have been successful. The blades ring as they meet, his dark eyes widening in shock as your hammer comes around across your body, slamming into his chest with a grisly crunch. His shining armor dents and deforms, blood appearing on his lips as he gasps in agony. Your follow up comes as his arm falters, your battle spear punching through his belly, nearly a foot of scarlet blade emerging from his back. His eyes, wide in shock, lock on yours as he slides backwards off your blade, attempting to hold his lifeblood in with his hands.

>Cont

"Uncle! No!"
Shouts one of the Moon Knights, rushing to aid the stricken Sergeant, planting himself between you and your prey.
"By the Saints and the goddess herself you will leave him be!"
Shouts the stupidly brave young warrior, barely more than a boy. It takes all your will not to laugh in his face, boys die the same as men, they just think they dont.

Most men believe that large men are slow and gigantic men slowest of all. That may be true for them, but not for you. You are upon the boy like a avalanche, the spike of your hammer punching through his shield, ripping it away and sending it flying. A vicious blow with your battle spear cleaved his sword in half, the metal ringing like a bell as it spins away. His face is still locked in a mix of a shout of rage and a cry of shock as the haft of your hammer catches him across the face, sending teeth and blood flying. He staggers, helm flying off as he dazedly turns, blood pouring from his ruined mouth, just in time to catch the butt of your hammer to the forehead. He collapses backward, limp as a boned fish, blood gurgling in his throat as he attempts to force his wayward limbs to obey.

All around you, the Crag Wolves are finishing their foes, retrieving blades, javelins and arrows. The dead are searched and piled away, your own placed on litters and made ready to drag home.

>Leave the wounded Moon Knights. Let them tell the tale of your savagery

>Slay the wounded, leave the bodies as warnings (write in suggestions)

>leave none alive, take everything of value.

>Other

>>2286973
>other
Kill the elite, I want that shield.

>>2286973
>leave none alive, take everything of value.

>>2286973
>>leave none alive, take everything of value.

>>2286973
Loot everything make sure to get that shield I have an idea for that

>Leave none alive, take everything of value.

"Crag Wolves!"
You roar, standing tall, planting your feet on the bodies before you
"Slay the wounded Moon scum! Take what they have!"

Your men cheer at the opportunity to take treasure, immediately setting about they cut the throats of the wounded, sawing rings from fingers, stripping weapons and salvageable armor.

You stand over the stricken Sergeant, a stream of crimson trickling from his lips as he coughs, his lungs slowly filling with blood. He attempts to speak, some brave last words but only a wet gurgle emerges before he coughs weakly. You drag the tip of the battle spear across his throat, sending a weak pulse of blood across the stone before he goes limp. His heroic nephew whimpers pitifully, attempting to ward off your blade with his hands but the slightest pressure from you pushes the broad tip of your spear through his throat. His body twitches before going limp, blood marring the brilliant surface of his armor.

>Take the Blessed Great Shield. Not worth much to your people but you can heft it easily.

>Take their weapons and armor. Valuable to your people but useless to you unless they are reworked.

>Take their jewelry/silver from their bodies. Not worth much to the Crag Wolves but could be used for barter.

>Take all (finish raiding early)

>>2287059
>>Take the Blessed Great Shield. Not worth much to your people but you can heft it easily.

>>2287059
>>Take the Blessed Great Shield. Not worth much to your people but you can heft it easily.

>>2287059
>>Take the Blessed Great Shield. Not worth much to your people but you can heft it easily.

>>2287059
>Take the Blessed Great Shield. Not worth much to your people but you can heft it easily.

>>2287059
>>Take all (finish raiding early)

>Take the Blessed Greatshield. While it is equipped you gain an additional +15 defense which will come into play after this bit.

You slide your hand into the leather wrapped, iron and wood grip of the Sergeants great shield. The leather forearm strap took a bit of loosening to fit but you managed to make it work. Leaving the armor and jewelry you return to your men, already growing used to the weight of the silver engraved shield, marred as it is by moon worshipping graffiti. Tone is approaches excitedly, a row of bloody ears strung on a rawhide string around his neck.
"Magnus! You fight like a giant from legend! Crushing those moon scum like the vermin they are!"
The other warriors laugh, clapping you and each other on the shoulders as they celebrate their successful ambush. However the day (and night) are yours for the taking...

>Raid a village, steal some crops, food, women. Easy spoils

>Raid a outpost. Knock the claws of the moon lords a bit further down.

>ambush another patrol. A mystery box. You might get a peasant levy or a mounted patrol.

>>2287194
>>ambush another patrol. A mystery box. You might get a peasant levy or a mounted patrol.

>>2287194
>>ambush another patrol. A mystery box. You might get a peasant levy or a mounted patrol.
Go for broke.

>>2287194
>Raid a outpost. Knock the claws of the moon lords a bit further down.

>>2287194
Alright in CoD zombies you can build a shield and put it on your back, can we do that to protect from any cheap shots to our back

>>2287194
> mystery box
Always mystery box

>>2287194
>>ambush another patrol. A mystery box. You might get a peasant levy or a mounted patrol.

>>2287194
>ambush another patrol. A mystery box. You might get a peasant levy or a mounted patrol.

>Ambush another patrol.

Mystery box! Ive got my suuuuper secret list here. No peeking. Ill need 1 roll of 1d20. Taking the first one, this will determine who exactly you run into

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>2287908
Come on best fighter around

>>2287908

>Sorry for the absence! Got very busy very fast and just recently got home.
>2.

"Tobros"
You call out, searching your battle spear on your back, hefting your new shield as well as your hammer, blood smeared along the head.

"What do you need Magnus?"
Tobros replies, hurrying to your side and walking with you, his shorter legs making him walk twice as fast.

"Get the men ready to move. There are other moon worshippers walking the peaks this day. The hunting is still good"
You rumble, already casting about, looking for movement on the trails below your lofty perch. Tobros moves to rally the men together, the gathered loot stashed in a hidden crevice.

>Head higher up the mountain, the patrols there will be tired and half frozen.

>Head down into the crags, there are plenty of places to ambush from there.

>Stay in the mists, the thick clouds will hide your movements

>>2288918
Mist if it can hide Magnus

>>2288918
>>Stay in the mists, the thick clouds will hide your movements

>>2288918
>>Stay in the mists, the thick clouds will hide your movements

>>2288918
>Stay in the mists

>The mists

Electing to remain in the clouded portion of the mountains, below the freezing peaks but above the tree line seems prudent to you. Silently you stalk along the trail, your men following behind you, slipping through the ever present mist like ghosts.

Occasional rises in the path bring you above the mists, revealing mountain peaks, stretches of the green valleys below and even the silvery grey stone of particularly high Towers of the Moon Lords. The white flames in their highest reaches are where they commune with their Sliver Goddess.

Your men mutter among themselves as the sun begins dipping towards the horizon, the shadows beginning to lengthen and the already cool air growing chill. You are about to call off the hunt when you hear the unmistakable sound of armored boots on stone. Holding up a fist for your men to halt and be silent you strain your ears, eyes attempting attempting to cut through the mist.

The footsteps approach, from the sound of it, a single man in armor. Heavy armor. Wait, a second pair of footsteps, lighter, walking quickly...

>Remain on the trail. Meet them head on.

>Order your men to get off the trail. Meet them alone.

>Call out to them.

>>2289215
>>Remain on the trail. Meet them head on.

>>2289217

>>2289215
>>Order your men to get off the trail. Meet them alone.
Your not crossing this bridge Robin Hood.

>>2289231
Supporting

>>2289217

With a ferocious charge and bellowed fury, we shall see them torn asunder, wrath of the Goddess and Death's embrace be damned.

>>2289215
> Order your men to get off the trail. Meet them alone.
Probably just a knight and his squire.

>>2289217
>>2289227
>>2289260
Remain in force.

>>2289261
>>2289231
>>2289258
This is Mah trail.

>>2289308
Come on anons we can't let this opportunity to be Little John pass us up. And if things get bad we signal our men to ambush these two.

>>2289215
>>Order your men to get off the trail. Meet them alone.

>Writing

You know what we should do. Fuck with these two for a bit by acting like we are Little John and then when they least suspect it, bam knock their heads off.

>Fee fi fuck you.

You plant your shield in the stony soil and glance sidelong at Torbos.
"Get the men off the trail. Don't interfere unless I call"
You growl shortly, flexing your fist

Torbos looms confused for a moment
"But Magnus-"

Your glare could carve the mountainside
"Do as I say"
Your voice never rises above a low snarl, rumbling like thunder.

Torbos pales, nodding hurriedly, ushering the Crag Wolf warriors into hiding along the trail. You turn to face the approaching footsteps and draw your hammer, resting the head on the ground, your hand on the butt of the shaft. A figure resolves itself from the mist, a dark outline, each step thudding heavily as the smaller figure beside or struggles to keep up
"-aster Aldrick said this was a bad idea sir! Are you really sure we should be up here still? Shouldn't we make camp? Im getting cold sir shouldn't we build a fire? Sir? Sir?"
A high, petulant voice reaches you as the other figure stops suddenly, head cocking as they make out your figure in the mist.
"Shut your fucking hole boy. We're not alone"
Comes a gravelly snarl, muffled by a black full helm, inlaid with silver filligree in the shape of flames. Armor of blackened steel, marred by scratches and knicks, a Greatsword in a back scabbard. The symbol of an eclipsed moon engraved upon the breastplate and the shield on his arm.

A BlackMoon Paladin. One of the more zealous and vicious of the martial orders of the Moon Lords. The boy cowering behind him could only be his initiate squire.
"The fuck you want?"
He calls, raising his hand in a rude gesture.
"Fuckin rock sniffing barbarian. I don't have anything worth dying for so either piss off, get the fuck outta my way or come'ere so I can gut you"

>Respond (what say)

>Hammer time (initiate duel)

>Signal your men to surround the mouthy Saladin.

>Other

>>2289456
>You want to pass you gotta pay the toll.

>>2289463

File: tmp_22601-70629333-352-k1(...).jpg (22 KB, 352x550)

22 KB JPG

>>2289456
Forgot pic

>>2289463

> In blood

>>2289473
That's the surprise anon

>>2289456
>Hammer time (initiate duel)

>Pay the toll... In blood.

You raise your voice, staring down the Black armored paladin.
"You cannot pass without paying the toll, servant of the moon"
You call out, your hand resting easily on your hammer.

The Paladin snorts, shaking his head in amusement before taking several steps forward, looking you over through the inscrutable black slit of his helms visor.
"Your toll? A fuckin toll? D'you have any idea who the fuck you're dealing with?"
He laughs darkly, shaking his head as his squire smiles nervously, peeking put from behind the bold warrior. He chuckles, coughing slightly as he nods
"I like that. You've got balls. No sense, but the balls of a fuckin giant. Alright mountain man, whats your toll?"

You smile grimly, your ruined face twisting into a mass of scar tissue and thick, tangled hair, hefting your hammer over your shoulder and raising your shield.
"Your life, Dark Moon. Your silver goddess will claim you"
You state calmly, as if discussing the weather.

The Paladin stands in stunned silence before bursting into shocked laughter, coughing heavily in the chill air. Finally he straightens and nods, chuckling still
"Ahh... Even less sense than I fuckin thought. You wanna die today? Ill oblige you. Been a boring fuckin day anyway. I, Knight-Brother Reinhart Sonum of the Dark Moon accept your challenge"
Drawing his Greatsword, a magnificent blade of blackened steel inlaid with filaments of silver, edge gleaming like a razor, he takes a defensive stance. Pushing his squire back he takes a step forward, looking back at the boy
"Watch and you might learn something for once"

>Fight aggressively (Keep hammer and shield)

>Fight Defensively (Switch to Battle Spear and shield)

>Fight like Magnus. (Switch to Dual wielding)

>>2289563
>>Fight aggressively (Keep hammer and shield)
Blunt is better against armor and hopefully the shield can help against he greatsword.

>>2289563
>>Fight aggressively (Keep hammer and shield)

>>2289563
>Fight aggressively (Keep hammer and shield)

>>2289563

> Fight Aggressively (Keep hammer and shield)

Rolled 53, 44, 9 = 106 (3d100)

>Fight aggressively.
>Give me 3d100+10
>Beat my rolls pls.

Rolled 96 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289590
Easy peasy lemon squessy

Rolled 29 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289590
>haughtty laughter

Rolled 80 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289590

106>53. Crit=+10 additional damage.
39<44. Successful block from Reinhart.
90>9. Successful hit.

Roll me 2d100. First one gets +20.
Reinharts armor value is 35 so the damage you inflict will he reduced by 35.

Rolled 57 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>2289607

Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>2289607

>57+20=77
>77-35=42

>89-35=54

>54+42=96. Jesus fuck Magnus you scary.

You smile to yourself and nod before lunging forward, bringing your hammer around in a vicious arc. Reinhart ducks, moving deceptively fast for a man in heavy plate, the blade of his broadsword sweeping around to sever the tendons in your knee. You backstep, the swing shaving a few strands from your leggings as you swipe your shield at him, the heavy slab of metal massing more than your hammer. He grunts in effort, pushing against the blow with his shoulder. You seize the opportunity, swinging the reverse side of your hammer around, burying several inches of steel through the armor of his thigh. His hiss of agony and enraged slash drive you back, the blade missing by hairsbreadths.

"Mean fucker arent you"
He growls, limping on his wounded leg, crimson trickling down his armor. His squire watches in terrified fascination as he breathes deeply, steeling himself against pain as he adjusts his grip on his black blade.
"Come on then"

You oblige the fearless warrior, opening up with a brutal overhead blow that meets only the earth, his counter thrust slamming into your shield like a hammer blow. His own shield comes around like a axe, the metal rim whipping by as you jerk your head back, wheeling to put all your mass into a diagonal hammer blow that meets an upraised shield that cracks visibly under the impact. Reinhart takes a step back, shaking his numbed arm and shaking his head, limping around you on the narrow trail, you turning to face him.
"I've been fighting since I was that rats age there. Killed men of all kinds. Never been hit THAT hard before."
He sounds impressed.
"Too bad youre a rock licking sheep fucker. We couldve used a recruit like you. Too bad"
He shrugs.

You nod, tightening your hold on your hammer.
"Too bad"

The black blade glitters evilly as it is thrust toward your face, on a collision course with your eye. Slamming the blade aside with your shield you swing your hammer in a low arc, hoping to catch the Paladins ankles. Despite his injury he isnt there however, having turned his lunge into a leap off of a nearby large stone, his blade whistling towards your throat. Bringing your shield up and over your chest you grunt as the Paladin lands heavily atop it, his momentum carrying him over you to land clumsily, blood streaming from his injured leg as he struggles to rise.

You spin towards him as he manages to regain his balance, rising from a kneeling position. The reverse side of your hammer slams into his breastplate, the cruel spike adorning the back driving deep into his chest. He looks down curiously, shaking fingers touching the offending hammer before you rip it few, blood spurting freely as he braces himself on his sword, coughing wetly as his lungs fill with blood. He drops his shield, his fingers fumbling for a small pouch on his belt

>Cont

>>2289650


His squire calls out, genuine fear in his voice
"Sir Reinhart! No! Don't do it! Please!"

Reinhart spits blood, the crimson liquid trickling from under his helm as he pulls the pouch free finally, opening it with weak fingers. You can hear him, mumbling to himself
"Oh Silver lady... Goddess of... Of the moon... Forgive m-my weakness... Grant me your favour... S-so I may smite thy enemies I-in thy name..."
He retrieves from the pouch a small crystal phial, a glittering silver dust within it. His blood slick hand closes around the phial with a small crunch before he presses his sparkling fingers against the mortal wound in his chest.


"Grant me strength..."
He whispers before dazzling, cold light blazes from his chest and the eye slit of his helm, his armor and limbs shimmering as they deform, his limbs lengthening and armor warping, twisting to allow the unnatural growth within. The Dark Paladin stands, now standing nearly level with you, his eyes a gleaming silver behind his helm, the silver inlay of his armor shimmering like flame, frost appearing in patches along it and his blade.
"The Silver flame will consume you"
He rasps, his voice overlaid by another, speaking on tandem with him. A cold voice, cruel and hateful to all.

>Round two with Moon Corrupted Paladin Reinhart.
>200Hp
>20 armor.
>Touch of the Moon. +15 damage.

>Arch Magnus.
>150HP
>45 Armor (20 From leather Armor, +10 from Death Touched and +15 from blessed great shield)
>Spirit Blade- +10 damage.

>Fight Aggressively

>Fight Defensively

>Fight as Magnus.

>Call for help.

>>2289651
>Fight as Magnus.

>>2289651
>Fight as Magnus.

>>2289651
>>Fight Defensively
Let's make this a painfully long battle to insult this pathetic god.

>>2289651
>>Fight as Magnus.
Dps race here we go

>Fight as Magnus. Dual wielding in duels gives you an extra attack dice at the cost of any defense a shield would have given you. Your defense is now 30.

You drop your shield, the slab of silver plated steel slamming into the ground as you draw your battle spear, the blade glimmering in the light. Reinhart approaches, holding his Greatsword in a low, one handed grip, the other having warped into a silver taloned claw.
"The light of the Dark Moon will purge you Heretic"
He booms hollowly, the twin voices almost drowning out the horrified sobs of his squire. He lifts his blade slowly, almost lazily.

>Defend

>Attack

>>2289670
>Attack
Hopefully we can break his Poise before he lands his hit.

>>2289670
>Attack

>>2289675
>StaggerFag detected.

I see you are also a man of culture

>>2289670
>>Attack
remove arms.

Rolled 48, 11, 29 = 88 (3d100)

>Attack attack!
>He is attacking and you are attacking also. He will be rolling 3d100 and you will be rolling me 4d100+10. Your first 3 will need to beat my 3. If you beat his, he takes damage. If he beats yours, you get hit. Easy peasy. Your last one just has to be above 50 to hit.

>4d100+10 pls

Rolled 10 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289685
ez

Rolled 44 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289685
RIP AND TEAR!

Rolled 82 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289685
This guy is a chump

Rolled 53 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289685
glory steal

Rolled 21 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>48>20. Reinhart hits.
>54>11. Magnus Hits.
>92>29. Magnus Hits.
>63. Magnus Hits.

Can I have 3d100+10 for damage?
>Rolling to see how hard he smacks your ass.

Rolled 78 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289700

Rolled 67 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289700

Rolled 39 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2289700

Rolled 50 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

MAGNUS SMASH

Reinhart damage-
21+15=36
36-30=6
150-6=144.

Magnus damage-
88-20=68
58-20=38
77-20=57
68+38+57=163
200-163=37hp.

Jesus Christ Magnus you scary.

>Writing.

The Moon Corrupted sword swings toward you in a lethal arc, the ease of the blow masking the force behind it. You duck, allowing the blade to whip over your hesd only to be forced into a roll as the sharp,frost coated talons come swiping at your face. As you roll you lash our with your battle spear, the thick blade carving into the side of Reinharts calf, sliding through flesh easily. You wrench it free and grimace as the blood on its edge freezes into thick crystals, dotted with beads of quicksilver. Reinhart doesn't even react, turning relentlessly to follow you, the wound remaining bloodless.

"Your strength will not save you Heretic"
His voice echoes in your skull, scraping your skull like the talons of a beast as his body shifts again, bone cracking as it is forced to grow in monstrous directions. His arm flicks out lazily, almost too fast to see. Cold blooms acorss your side, so painfully cold your bones ache. The corrupted blade passed through your leathers without even the slightest resistance, parting the flesh like tallow before a razor. A shallow, white rimmed gash adorns your belly now, blood leaking slowly from the frozen flesh. You snarl, bringing your hammer around to bait the corrupted Paladin into a lunge. He viciously thrusts forward and you sidestep, rolling into his gaurd and thrusting your battle spear up into his belly, under the breastplate. Reinhart staggers from the impact, his armored helm turning to face you as you wrench the blade free, frozen blood sticking to it. Freezing mist billows from within his helm, eyes glowing like miniature full moons as he wildly slashes, snarling with cold fury as you evade or block his blows.

Adjusting your grip on your battle spear you swing it in an upwards arc, knocking aside his savage thrust and bringing your body around, your hammer and spear falling within inches if each other. The armor of the Dark Paladins back crumples, gouging deep into the frozen flesh, bones shattering audibly. Reinhart falls to one knee, his sword buried in the stony soil as he struggles to rise.
Using the sword as a crutch he pushes himself to his feet, his body reaching the limits of what it can endure even in his "blessed" form. Taking his sword in a shaky grip he faces you, liquid silver dripping from the underside of his helm.
"Your defiance offends the great goddess."

>Attack.

>Defend.

>>2289729
>>Attack.
End him rightly.

>>2289729
>Attack.

>Attack.

>gonna have to recover my OP batteries. Well hopefully be back around noonish depending on how busy my day is tomorrow. Any questions/criticism or comments are welcome guys!

Rolled 63, 77, 77 = 217 (3d100)

>whew okay im back. A little late but im not the flash.
>Attack.
>Roll me 4d100+10. First 3 must again beat my rolls. 4th is basically a freebie if you neat 50.

Rolled 7 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2290647
not even worried.

Rolled 66 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2290647
slightly worried.

Wait, why is your ID different?

Rolled 8 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2290647
Man this guy is really trying hard now

>>2290658
Had to reset my data connection. It gets screwy sometimes

Rolled 88 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2290647
We need to survive 3 hits and go over 50 with this...

Rolled 28, 46, 15 + 15 = 104 (3d100 + 15)

63>17. Reinhart hits.
77>76. Reinhart hits.
77>18. Reinhart hits.
98>50. Magnus Hits.

>Rolling for Reinharts damage. He must exceed 30 to damage you.
>Give me 1d100+10

Rolled 76 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2290685
>mad laughter

Reinhart damage dealt.
>28+15=43.
>43-30=13

>46+15=61.
>61-30=31

>15+15=30
>30-30=0. No damage.

>31+13=44.
>144-44=100hp

Magnus damage dealt.
>76+10=86
>86-37=-49. Gruesome death.

Pick one.
>Hammer Time

>Blade of the Mountains

>>2290714
>>Blade of the Mountains

>>2290714
>>Hammer Time

>>2290714

> Hammer time

> Hammer time

"The Light of the Silver Goddess will cleanse your profane soul"
Intones Reinhart, his hateful goddess speaking through him. Even as grievously, fatally wounded as he is, his strength far exceeds any normal man, his body constantly being flooded by the burning cold light of his cruel deity. The transformed Paladin stalks forward, swinging the black Greatsword like a reed. You block, duck, backstep and dodge like a much more agile man but the impossible stamina of the Black Paladin is hard to resist. You snarl in pain as a white edged gash opens in your forearm, blood freezing in the air. A vicious lunge nearly skewers you, the tip of the blade burying in your side, scraping along your ribs like a razored icicle. The cold seeps into your blood, the marrow in your bones, your very soul. You stagger, hammer raised to block a vicious overhead blow only to grunt in pain as a clawed gauntlet slashes across your chest, four streaming gashes soaking your armor in blood.
"Who are you to challenge my might? Faithless barbarian. Who are you to stand against the glory of The Silver Lady?"
Reinhart stands tall, blade tipped and edged by frozen blood, armor warped and coated with frost. His clawed arm twitches, the bone shattering and reforming, spikes of silver tinged bone punching through the armor. He steps forward, frost spreading across the ground with doorstep. You breathe heavily, blood sheeting down your chest, your ribs and arm tingling with numbness. You stand, your battle spear sweeping upward to knock Reinharts thrust aside. Punching out with the hilt you sent the black helm, knocking the Paladin backwards.
"I am Magnus!"
You roar, bringing your hammer around to slam into the Moon servants hip, frostbitten flesh crumbling.
"Breaker of Castle Vollsung!"
Your battle spear sweeps around, the broad tip carving through the plate armor of Reinharts chest.
"Slayer of the Lion Knight!"
The spike of your hammer hooks into Reinharts elbow, your vicious jerk literally disarming him. The blackened Greatsword clattering to the ground.
"And Slayer of you!"
Your hammer comes back up, slamming down into the center of the blackened chestpiece, crushing the armor and driving shards of bone and steel into the blackened heart within. Reinhart staggers, falling to his knees, silver tainted blood pouring from under his helm.
"Impossible...."
He falls still, tendrils of frost and frozen blood spreading along his armor. The frozen metal and flesh begins falling apart, crumbling like ashes in the wind until nothing remains but a patch of frozen earth and a Black steel Greatsword.

>Cont

>>2291019
Your men emerge from the trail where they had watched the fight, awestruck into silence. Tobros and Falhim approach you cautiously, one kicking the dismembered arm away
"Magnus... Did... Did you... That was a Black Paladin?! And you killed him? It?"
Torbos asks incredulously, looking at you with near reverence. Falhim picks the Black Greatsword up cautiously, hissing as it freezes his fingertips.
"What should we do with the boy?"
He asks, nodding towards where the cowering boy hides behind a rock.

>Leave him. He'll never find his way back and the mountain will claim him.

>Kill the boy. Hes one of them.

>Bring him with us. Hes not too old to begin training as a warrior.

>>2291024
>>Bring him with us. Hes not too old to begin training as a warrior.
I'd send him on his way, but he's fucked without us.

>>2291024
>Bring him with us. Hes not too old to begin training as a warrior.

>>2291024
>>Kill the boy. Hes one of them.
Not worth wasting our time on along with him being a coward.

>>2291087
This

>>2291113

This, ankle-biting bastard will stab us in the back as soon as he works up the nerve. Can't take that risk, he's not worth our time, and he's one of them.

>>2291024
Bring him back. He'll be a good apprentice.

>>2291264
I doubt it, he's shown absolutely no promise. Hell he's hiding now like a coward. A man would have faced death and at least try to die on his feet.

You look over the weeping whelp, the boy likely only having seen ten summers. He is small yes but there is the framework for a large man in his build. He may not be fearsome now but the boy could grow to be a capable warrior. His thin leather chest piece and tiny curved dagger the only gear he holds. The tunic and thick woolen trousers dyed a light grey, clashing brilliantly with the shock of jet black hair and bright green eyes, swimming as they are in terrified tears. You notice a darkening patch of fabric down the leg of his pants, curling your lip on disgust.

"Get him out of his puddle and bring him along. Barbas is always eager for new boys to break."
You growl, one of your men snatching the cowering boy by the scruff of his neck, stripping his tiny dagger and sticking it through his belt. He struggles, kicking and pushing with all his puny might.

"No! Lemme go! Let me GO! HELP!!! SOMEONE!!! HEEE-Ah!"
His piglike squeals for aid are cut off as Calvin strides forward, backhanding the squire, splitting his lip open. The young boy cradles his bleeding mouth as Falhim and another warrior search him for valuables, tying his hands and stretching a rawhide cord to his captors belt.

You look up at the darkening sky, the sliver of a crescent moon already hanging over the mountains and sigh. Its going to get cold. Fast.

>Hurry back to the Crag.

>Make a camp, theres caves nearby.

>Make camp right here. Nobody will be on the trail at night.

>>2291540
idk why Falhim came out as Calvin. Wtf phone.

>>2291540
>>Make a camp, theres caves nearby.

>>2291540
> Hurry back to the Crag

>>2291540
>Hurry back to the Crag.

>Hurry back to the Crag.

>Hurry back to the Crag.

You turn to your men, slamming the butt if your hammer into the stone to gather their attention.
"Crag Wolves! We have hunted well this day! The Knights of the Moon and The BlackMoon Paladins all lost brothers! We have fine steel weapons, armor and trinkets to bring back to the Crag. Grab your packs and sledges and let's get home before we all freeze to death!"

Your men cheer, slapping each other on the back as they retrieve bundles of loot from the crevices they had been stashed within. You use your massive strength to your advantage, shouldering a pack that weighs more than a full grown man without even a single grunt of effort. The weeping squire is thrown over Falhim's shoulder, his stubby legs not suited for the brutal pace you set as you and your men jog along narrow, winding trails, Cliffside switchback and through a crevice barely wide enough for you to fit through. The path winds around the mountainside, leading up, down, sometimes doubling back on itself but always leading home.

Cresting a small rise in the path you look upon a mountain peak that has been split asunder like a piece of firewood, one of the namesakes of the Shattered Peaks. From its highest point to the depths of its root, the Crag was split in half, each side connected by thin rope bridges and platforms of wood and hide. In the numerous numeroid caves and crevices of the Crag, your adoptive tribe lives. Forges and grindstone sit within carefully carved hollows, storerooms and sleeping quarters sit safely within the cool safety of the mountain.

You inhale deeply as your men stream around you, already calling out to a carefully hidden sentry, a iron bound horn always in the mans hand. He waves without taking his eyes from the surrounding peaks, always looking for any activity.

You stride into the Crag confidently, small children laughing as they run around your feet, squealing with delight as you pick up two in one hand, swinging them about like they were weightless. A gap toothed little girl pouts as she hangs from your wrist
"Higher Magnus! Higher!"
You grin like a mad demon and fling the child skyward, her squeal of delight arcing up and back down over several seconds. You stick out your arms and catch her, blond mop of hair now thoroughly windswept.

Waving away the energetic tots you stand in the center of the Crag Wolves stronghold, clansmen and fellow warriors congratulating each other on successful raids or consoling those who were repelled.

>Go speak with the Old Wolf. Let him know how your ambush went.

>Go speak with Barbas. Bring along the squire.

>Go meet with Duergir. Get your wounds healed. The old shaman likes you.

>Go get some food and drink, your sure Torbos is hyping you up.

>Fuck this. Youre tired and theres blood in your boots. Go wash up and take the night off.

>>2291854
>>Go speak with Barbas. Bring along the squire.

>>2291854
>>Go speak with the Old Wolf. Let him know how your ambush went.

>>2291854
>>Go speak with Barbas. Bring along the squire.

>>2292073
>22.22.22
Nice Tie breaker triple time dubs anon

>Go speak with Barbas.

You grab the squirming squire by his tunic, holding him under your arm like a wayward lamb aa you make your way to the walled in fighting pit that is the domain of Narnia, the Warmaster of the Crag Wolves. For nearly fifty years the Bear has trained the killers of your new tribe, putting spears in hands and teaching boys to put those spears into bellies.

The doors to the fighting pit is always open, the floor packed earth, stained a rusty red by years of blood and sweat. A pair of drunken youths wrestle in the dirt, elbows and knees flying without restraint or precision, the hulking figure of Vargas sitting on a sun bleached stump he carved into his seat of authority in the pits. The pitted and notched battle axe by his side has claimed dozens of lives, fought back monsters and men alike. And its wielder is well and truly drunk. In his massive, scarred hands he holds a horn of some foul smelling ale, swigging back the murky liquid with greed as he gnaws a launch of goat.
"Magnuth!"
He spits around a mouthful of ale soaked goatflesh, wiping grease from his chin with the back of one ham sized paw aa he swallows
"How are you my boy!?"
He roars happily, standing unevenly and grasping your arm in greeting, you hold out the wiggling boy and he grins, showing a mouthful of broken teeth
"Ah Magnus, y'know the way to a warmasters heart. Presents. I could hug ya you ugly fuck. I haven't had any boys volunteer for training lately!"
He cackles, inspecting the Squire, poking and prodding, looking into the boys eyes and grasping his jaw, looking at his teeth like a bartered donkey.
"Young. Nine, ten summers at most. Healthy, got all his teeth. None too bright and craven, reeks of piss. Some lil lordling most like."
He stands back, crossing his arms and looking over the boy critically.

You shrug, placing the boy on his feet, cutting the bonds and stepping back, watching the squire carefully to ensure he doesnt bolt. The spoiled child learned from his busted lip however and remains still and silent, refusing to meet either of your gazes. You gesture towards the boy, raising an eyebrow
"Will you take the boy? Ive no use for him"
You state calmly, not wanting the boy as a thrall.

Barbas sighs, rubbing his forehead with resignation.
"Aye ill take him. Ill break that rebellious streak hes got and hopefully put some fire in his belly. If he doesn't improve.... My dogs have to eat"
He leers at the Squire, grinning as the boy flinches away trembling. Looking to you he shrugs and waves over one of his older initiates to take the squire away. Following him to his seat you crouch on your heels as he sits on his whitewood throne.

>Ask Barbas about the armorers. You would like some better armor.

>Ask Barbas about the fighting Pits, you want some practice.

>Ask Barbas about getting your weapons improved or getting new ones.

>Ask Barbas about the state of the tribes military

>Other

>>2292134
>>Ask Barbas about the armorers. You would like some better armor.
We killed plenty of knights. They better have some shit we can use.

>>2292134
>>Ask Barbas about the state of the tribes military.

>Ask Barbas about the armorers. You would like some better armor.

>>2292134
>Ask Barbas about the state of the tribes military

>>2292134
>Ask Barbas about the armorers. You would like some better armor.

>>2292134
>>Ask Barbas about the armorers. You would like some better armor.

>>2292134
>>Ask Barbas about the armorers. You would like some better armor.

We need some sick full plate with beast hides and clan symbols painted on it. I want us to look like a wild beast in armor.

>Ask about the armorers.

You gesture to the slashes in your leather armor. The layer it's of boiled hide doing barely anything to block the blows of that BlackMoon Paladin.
"I was hoping you could put in a word with the forge rats. Get me some better armor? Id rather not get chopped to pieces like before"
You rumble, grinning at the bearlike old warrior. Barbas chuckles, shaking his head before clapping you on the back and nodding

"Aye boy, I can tell at the soot stained cunts and get you some decent armor for once. Dont need your head getting carved into again.... Don't need you getting any uglier."

You both laugh, his booming guffaw echoing in the pits. Pulling out a small scrap of parchment, he pulls a charcoal stick from a pocket, squinting down at the task before him.

"Alright boyo what do ye need? I know you brought back a pile of gear and that bloody huge shield there."

>Your current loot count (tribal currency) is 6. 10 if you count the great shield. Upgrades or new gear require barter or favors.

>Id like a good solid chest piece. Increase armor by 15. 5L

>Id like a pair of heavy gauntlets, to help block attacks. Increase armor by 5, gain another defend dice. 3L

>Id like a solid helm, something simple but scary. Increase armor by 10. 4L

>That Paladins clawed Gauntlet gave me an idea. Gain another attack dice. 4L

>other

>>2292904
>>Id like a pair of heavy gauntlets, to help block attacks. Increase armor by 5, gain another defend dice. 3L

>>2292904
>Id like a pair of heavy gauntlets, to help block attacks. Increase armor by 5, gain another defend dice. 3L
This way we can "nice knife" our enemies' blades.

>Traded 3L
>3L remaining

"Id like a pair of gauntlets, heavy, plate for the forearms and the back of the palm. Heavy knuckle guards, you know what I mean"
You describe your desire to Barbas as the old warrior takes down notes, his tongue clenched between his jagged teeth, nodding and chuckling. After you finish he nods and puts the roll of parchment on his pocket, grinning like a rabid dog.

"Youre a warrior after me own heart Magnus. Get up close, trap their blades and crush'em to pieces. In me youth I used A pair of spiked guantlets, come see me when im sober and ill show you a thing or two"

He laughs and waves you away, resting his feet on a small barrel of ale near his throne.
"Ill drop your request by the forges tomorrow. Won't take em long"

>Go Speak with the Old Wolf

>Go get your wounds healed by Duergir.

>Go get well and truly drunk.

>Go get some Fucking sleep.

>>2292960
>>Go get your wounds healed by Duergir.
After that off to the tavern

>>2292987

>>2292960
>Go get your wounds healed by Duergir.

>>2292960
>Go get your wounds healed by Duergir.

Maybe ask about moon corruption that the paladin triggered on himself before?

>>2293031
Probably something to do with his stupid Goddess. Really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, we won pretty handily.

You would love to sit and chat with with Barbas but your wounds are aching and youd like to not die of some festering corruption thank you very much. Wishing the drunken Warmaster farewell you walk out into the stronghold, leaving the bloodsoaked soil of the pits behind you.

The bonfire calls temptingly to you, the smell of alcohol and roasting meat, the sounds of singing and laughing but you have a shaman to meet. Ducking into a dark tunnel carved into the cliff face of the Crag you are forced to stoop, eager to keep your head from the jagged stone roof of the tunnel.

Ahead of you, dim, flickering light becomes visible, the scent of herbs and strange smoke filling your nostrils. Suddenly the tunnel opens into a wide, circular hollow, lit by flickering candles and glowing fungus growing from the walls. The stooped Shaman sits next to a stone bench, pounding some mix of fungus and herbs with a mortar, occasionally sprinkling some dried powder into the mixture.

Duergir is ancient beyond years, his flesh flesh so lined with age that it resembles the carved face of the Crag. Black and blue glyphs dance across his skin, spells and runes of wisdom and power. His gnarled, whitewood staff sits nearby, its surface carved with thousands of minute symbols.


"Magnus... How are you?"
He raspy, not even turning to look at you, tasting the concoction before him. He adds a sprig of some oily black root, crushing it into the paste before him.
"You bleed"
He says simply, speaking before you even open your mouth, gesturing for the pile of skins piled against the cave wall
"Sit"

You shake your head, smiling softly before doing as youre bid, taking a seat in the comfortable pile of skins. Duergirs gnarles hand shoots out, grasping a squirming rabbit from a cage, the creatures feet bound together. Slitting its throat with a sharpened crystal he pours its lifeblood into the bowl before him, mixing it thoroughly with the paste before standing, holding it in one hand and bracing his weight on his staff. His name of tangled white hair falls nearly to his knees, his black eyes glittering from behind the veil of hair. He extends his stick thin arm, offering you the bowl of pungent slime.
"Drink Boy. It will help"

>Drink

>What is this? It smells like... Yuck

>>2293109
>Drink
Magnus fears nothing

>>2293109
>>Drink

>>2293109
>Drink
Magnus drink

>>2293109
>Drink

>>2293109
Also so happy you're back OP
About 2-3 people tried to replicate this and failed.

>Drink

You grimace and try not to smell the putrid mixture as you tip back the bowl of black slime, trying not to gag as the thick, bitter, acidic mixture pours over your tongue like clotted blood. Swallowing with a full body shudder you cough, wiping your lips and streaming eyes as you hand back the bowl to Duergir. He sits and watches you expectantly, his eyes glittering and thin mouth turned up in a small smile. You frown, perturbed by the shamans reaction

"Whats so fun-GAH!"
You gasp as flame blossoms in your chest, tendrils of some writhing inferno cooking through your limbs and scorching up your throat. Your eyes are coal, your throat a chimney, your belly the heart of a furnace. Warmth is forced into your chilled bones, your frostbitten slashes thawing instantly, blood oozing unhappily from the wounds.
"Wha-*cough*- what the FUCK was that?!"
You gasp out as breath returns to you, gasping and choking, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Duergir chuckles dryly, pulling out needles, thread, roll of clean cloth and a paste of some fragrant herbs.
"Warmth. You needed it boy. The blades of the servants of the moon can chill a man to his core. Especially the knights of the Dark Moon."

You strip out of your leather armor and shirt, laying back as the shaman goes to work, not wishing to go through the headache of how the shaman seems to know everything you do. The mixture seems to have dulled your sense of pain as you barely feel it as your wounds are cleaned and packed with a mix of the herb paste and stinging oils.

>Ask Duergir about the BlackMoon Paladins transformation

>Ask Duergir about the spirits that whisper to you.

>Ask Duergir about the status of the Tribe and any visions he may have had.

>Ask Duergir about any ceremomg he could perform to help you (mystical upgrades)

>>2293355
>>Ask Duergir about the BlackMoon Paladins transformation

>>2293355
>mystical upgrades

>>2293355
>>Ask Duergir about the BlackMoon Paladins transformation

>>2293170
Glad to be back Anon!

>>Ask Duergir about the BlackMoon Paladins transformation

>>2293355
>>Ask Duergir about any ceremomg he could perform to help you (mystical upgrades)

>>2293355
>Ask Duergir about any ceremomg he could perform to help you (mystical upgrades)
>Ask Duergir about the spirits that whisper to you.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>2293364
>>2293381
>>2293402
Dark Moon

>>2293506
>>2293371
>>2293423
Mystical shit

>>2293355
>Ask Duergir about the spirits that whisper to you.

"The Paladin, the servant of the Dark Moon.."
You begin, pushing your head up to look at Duergir as he pokes the wound along your ribs, smearing the paste along the slash
"I wounded him. Badly. Drove my hammer spike into his heart but he.."

Duergir cuts you off, looking up at you sharply
"Used a phial of silver dust? Crushed it and touched it to his mortal wound? Became a monster of ice and cold silver?"
He speaks softly, stitching the slash with deft strokes. You nod and he sighs, shaking his head.
"Ashes of the Silver Flame. A 'blessing' from their cruel goddess. A last resort for the more....hmm... Fanatic, followers. A fraction of their goddesses power and her direct attention, using them as a living weapon to destroy her enemies. Youre lucky..."
He places a cool, soft cloth on the slash and bandages it tightly
"I have seen entire warparties slaughtered, villages put to the sword, men, women, children... Babies. All slain. By one of those beasts. The longer they remain, the more dangerous they become..."
Duergir smiles tightly, switching to your wounded chest
"Proud of you, you cleft brained giant. The spirits spoke truly of you"

You allow yourself a small smile at the old shamans praise, the slashes across your chest twinging as they are cleaned.

>Ask Duergir about the spirits that whisper to you.

>Ask Duergir about the status of the Tribe and any visions he may have had.

>Ask Duergir about any ceremony he could perform to help you (mystical upgrades)

>Other

>>2293691
>Ask Duergir about the spirits that whisper to you.

>>2293691
>Ask Duergir about the spirits that whisper to you.

>>2293691
>>Ask Duergir about the status of the Tribe and any visions he may have had.

>>2293793
>>2293802
Calling it here.

>Spirit troubles.

The voices, whispering incessantly, fade only when you sleep or enter Duergirs cave. They tell you things that have happened, will happen, things that may come to pass, things that have never been. They guide your hands in battle and wriggle coolly over your skin to protect you from harm.
"Duergir?"
You ask, the old shamans eyes flicking to yours as his hands continue working deftly.
"Ever since I was wounded... Ive been hearing... Voices. The spirits, they speak to me, tell me things? Why?"

The ancient shaman chuckles, wiping away the blood and excess paste with a rag before taking up his needle and thread
"My child child am not nearly arrogant enough to speak for the spirits. I know not why they speak to you or grant me visions and the gift of healing. When you were maimed.."
His dry, cool fingers trace along the horrific scar crossing your forehead, cheek and chest
"They walked with you in the land of shadows. They kept a piece of you.. And left behind a bit of themselves. They obviously have plans for you. It is a rare thing for the land of the dead to spit a man back after all."

You both chuckle, Duergir returning to the task before him, glancing upward before he does
"To truly ask them what their purpose is for you, would be a grand undertaking. We would both need to walk the land of the dead and speak with the Guardian spirits. I could do it but it will be dangerous for us both and will take great time to prepare"

The candles flicker, strange flowing shadows crawling along the walls, forming hands, faces, blades before dissolving back into shadow. You look away from the shadow and focus on not moving.

>Ask about any ceremonies Duergir could perform to help you.

>ask about the Tribe and the Visions granted to the old shaman.

>Other

>>2293891
>>Ask about any ceremonies Duergir could perform to help you.

>>2293891
>Ask about any ceremonies Duergir could perform to help you.

>>2293891
Dont say anything till hia done.
Thank him ask if theres something you can do for him

>ask about Ceremonies. Ooga booga.

You are tempted to remain silent and rest while Duergir tends to your injuries but the opportunity to speak freely with the elderly shaman doesnt come often.
"Duergir? When you returned me from the Shadow Lands... I came back stronger. Not weaker."

The corners of his mouth twitch in the ghost of a smile, nodding slowly, the mane of white hair rustling softly. A mouse peeks from the sleeve of his robe, sniffing the air before retreating back.
"Yes. I beseeched the spirits to grant you the strength to recover and carry out their will. It seems they responded. Why do you ask?"

You think for a moment before responding, unsure how to word it.
"The ceremonies you performed... Could... You perform others?"

Duergir smiles, nodding sagely
"Aye my boy I could. There are many spirits to call upon, many herbs to brew. I can gift you power but the ceremonies come at a cost"

>Mystical Upgrades.

>Ritual of the Mountain King. Increase strength, additional +10 to feats of strength.

>Commune with the spirits of Battle. Gain additional guidance from the spirits. +10 to Hit Dice.

>Potion of Stone Skin. Your body becomes more durable. Additional +5 to Armor.

>Voice of the Storm. Your blows become empowered by the Storm Dragon. Chance to receive additional damage dice if enemy hp drops below 50%

>let Duergir finish

>>2294180
>>let Duergir finish
>let Duergir finish

>let Duergir finish

>>2294180
>>let Duergir finish

>>2294180
>>let Duergir finish

You decide to remain silent, unwilling to part with more pieces of your soul at the the moment. Duergir smiles as he works, humming a strange tune as he wraps the stitched wounds in layers of soft bandages, binding them tightly with strips of cloth. After forcing another bowl of some foul concoction on you he waves you away, telling you to get some rest and allow the potions to do their work.

You bow your head to the ancient wise man, retreating down the tunnel as he returns to his bench, mumbling to himself. Returning out to the clear, clean air of the Crag you breathe deeply, clearing your lungs of the pungent smoke filling Duergirs lair. The moon is hanging high in the sky, smoke from cookfires driftimg up slowly. The rope bridges sway slightly in the breeze, some occupied by tribe members headed to bed.

The bonfire is a source of drunken cheering and singing, drums and voices echoing off the mountainside. It seems the mood is only improving.

>Go speak with The Old Wolf.

>Go get a drink and some food.

>Go get some rest. Duergirs orders.

>Other

>>2294213
>>Go get some rest. Duergirs orders.

>>2294213
>>Go get a drink and some food.