/builders/ - Hero and Nation Builders!

>>50104

1. The preparation for the Great Raising begins, but first comes the ingredients for such a massive ritual. Whereas one can raise a paltry 50 undead with a few incantations and raw black magic, raising as many corpses such as found here (you and your companions guess around 5000 at least, that number being only roman dead) the list is long, but it just so happens that for each of the 6 key ingredients (things that you liches don't keep handy) there are 6 of you to retrieve them. After drawing "straws" or more accurately, gnome ulna, you get the most obscure and potentially dangerous ingredient; A live Black Gor, possessing 6 Horns most fierce. The Elder Gods are a strange bunch, but above most others things they are eclectic and obsessed with the deviant and the strange, perhaps a strange kinship they share with these worldly things? It matters not, you all depart, dividing your minions amongst yourselves to aid you in your tasks.

- Allies: 5 [Minor Liches]

- Followers: 35 Halfing Zombies

+ Followers: 7 Halfing Zombies

>Other:

+ The Great Raising: 1/25

0/6 Special Ingredients

2. While the journey continues underfoot into the depths of the great forests, you are left with much time to contemplate the nature of your powers, to experiment and delve into the dark arts that you have become quite adept at. At the surface, the Eldritch blast is a simple enough spell, with a very observable effect. But to the more learned necromancer there is nuance and subtlety, and by refining the (admittingly crude) verbiage of your inital incantation, you begin to refine the spell, increasing both its potency and reducing its taxing effect upon your power reserves.

> Greater Eldritch Blast 13/20

3. But such deep thoughts distract you from other works, and when the time comes for you to begin piecing together the somewhat complex merger of two unrelated spells, you can only get one to two words out before you start habitually reciting the words for Eldritch Blast. Eventually, after several attempts you manage to get past the first 4 words of this new combination spell, only to unwittingly follow the 6th word with the rest of the incantation of eldritch blast, causing a massive ball of necrotic, explosive rock to form infront of you, exploding moments later and hurling you into a tree trunk.

>Lesser Undead Rot Mine 1/10

>Health: 9/10

>>50105

1. With the lack of any real medical supplies progress is slow, but by tearing apart your already meager clothing and gear, you are able to fashion several bandages and wraps to aid your mobility, at the cost of your armor's viability as anything other then a pile of metal, as the leather and cloth once used to bind it together are now binding you together. You keep the scales in the same pouch you carry the rest of your meager belongings with, that way you can at least have the armor rebuilt when you eventually return to the fort. The lack of the rippling scales will also help you move more quietly.

- [Lorica plumata] - 15 to attacks against you

>Health: 5/10

2. Your body is still sticky with blood and mud and sweat, so a few quiet turns in the softer soil coats you very heavily in what you assume is brown dirt. As you have been quiet as a doormouse when doing this, your hunter has not managed to track your current position as far as you can tell, and the dirt and detritus will no doubt mask any other sent you emit, so heavily and thoroughly you are coated in the stuff. Granted you will probably need to scrubbed down with charcoal and dipped in the river a few times to get the color and odor off of you, but for now that is a non-issue.

> Mud-Caked: You are covered in dirt and mud, reducing the likelihood of you being detected by Cave Predators (Raises Detection DC to >65)

3. You hear the beast skulk about, it moves almost silently now, but everyone once in and while you hear the tell-tale sound of scale scraping over some outjutting of rock. You sit quietly, so quietly that you barely breath. All you feel is the slow, rhythmic beat of the Earth's Heart, and soon even the ponderous, deep breathes of the Shard Dragon resonate in your ears. Suddenly they grow distant, and after a whole hour of remaining in the same spot, you feel confident enough to move onward towards what you presume is salvation. Crawling for what feels like hours, following the flow of the river, you eventually pass into a cavern with more light then the utter blackness you were growing accustomed too. The shift is so noticable that as you were under the effects of the mushrooms at the time, you are almost blinded from the light. Once your eyes adjust (and the mushrooms wear off) you discover that unfortunately the light is not from a hole to the surface, but rather glowing blue orbs far above on the cavern roof, with smaller blue orbs hovering near them, some so far down to even be able to be grasped by someone on the cavern floor.

- 2 [Blue Cave Mushrooms]

1. The Dwarves greet their fellow Dawi with open arms and much rejoicing, but only give the briefest gruff to the acolyte who follows, and while they treat the beast you came in on with the utmost respect (the dwarves considering the Griffons, creatures of such power and regal bearing, more akin to people then animals) they do not even seem to acknowledge your existence. You scoff at the indignation and indulge in entertaining such coarse and unfitting treatment for now, as the ride had left you barely energized enough to fight a goblin, let alone a throng of ornery, stocky sons of the mountain. The dwarven diplomat of the Hold talks to Ugar, who upon explain your all's purpose there and the duration of your visit, shakes the dwarf's hand the directs you all to your rooms. Ugar has his own accommodations, but it would appear that you and the Acolyte are sharing a room for now. Regardless of that, the bunkroom is still a lavish room sporting 4 engraved walls, bronze trappings and furniture, and stone slabs (dwarven "beds") with some of the softest goat-fur blankets you've ever touched. You find a bowl filled with dwarven healing herbs and several tonics, and some cloth nearby for bandages. It seems you are left to tend to yourself, which you do after a bath in a rather small bronze tub. Water is nice and hot though, one perk of living so close to the earth.

>Health: 7/10

>As an added note, Dwarves are not folk impressed by fancy clothes and trophies (of humans at least) your charm buffs will find no purchase here.

2. Describing the Dwarf as best as you can remember to Ugar, he asks the Diplomat, who directs you to the Runesmith known as Svjar Stelhulm, who indeed does recognize your general features.

"Aye, I helped a wee nancy lad like yerself about 100 years back, looked like ya, spoke all womenly like like yerself as well!"

Throwing the greeting aside, you present your armor that you wish to have engraved, and furthermore, enchanted. Adding on to this you ask for Armor for your Griffon as well. The Dwarf rubs his chin through his massive red beard, before returning to his task at hand, cold forging a iron-alloy breastplate. Just when you are about to storm out the dwarf answers your request.

"Aye, I'll do this fer ya, but it'll cost ya. I want that fancy cloak ya be wearin, and I need something else as well. A Drake's Heart. It dunnae need ta be a large one, but just a few decades old."

3. Leaving the Smiths both constipated and aroused consternated and seeking to get soused, you head into the nearest Dwarven tavern, which despite your complete ignorance of the language of the Folk of Durin, is easy to find from all the shouting and the giant Iron Kegs dominating the surrounding buildings, frost magics keeping them just cool enough to get the perfect frost when poured. You order 1 flask of their finest mead, slamming down some gold coin on the stone countertop. Not showing how badly such a move hurt your wrist, you slam back the mead in one over-exaggerated gulp, ignoring the burning from the stone drink and the sheer volume of it. Some dwarves mumble, and not content in that you order several more jugs of mead. Downing them all in rapid succession, you almost vomit, but manage to choke it down. The dwarves all cheer, and the drinking continues, the room spins and eventually all fades to black. When you come too it is in a dark room, the only light being the soft orange glow of a fire, shining through a small metal grill which is your only contact to the outside world in the new dingy little cell you find yourself in. Also you are naked. A voice calls out from the darkness;

"Mornin' Umgi, thought you was dead for a good minute I did. Naow tell ol' Urist here what ya did to end up in this ere cell, and I might not pummel ya fer shits and giggles."

1/2. Quickly grabbing your Gladius you join in the defense of the camp, holding the Standard high as a rallying point for the defenders to gather around. Soon a ring of Roman Steel is centered around you, fighting bravely against the green tide. Near you is a familiar face, a man by the name of Quintus, a solider of the line. You see him beset by goblins, though struggling greatly. A arrow nearly takes the man's head off, but a gleaming amulet on his chest seems to make the arrow bounce off. You plant the Standard firmly in the ground, and using the long reach of your khopesh, lop off the heads of several goblins clammering over the shields of your brothers in arms. The flow of battle ebbs back and forth, indecisive, until finally the goblins are broken and retreat off into the woods, scattering to the winds.

3. The battle won, and no men killed on your side, you decide to head to the Optio's tent to check on the man, seeing if the crafty goblins had gutted the lead man before starting their assault. Much to your relief, the man is not in his tent, but rather out ordering the men to clean up the mess from the battle and start packing up camp. You still had 25 miles of ground to cover before you began the return journey to camp, and it was already midmorning. The optio does tell you to check on a slave he had in his tent, a younger female. You go to check the man's tent, a large canvas work with several decorations befitting the man's rank adorning it. The flaps to its entrance seemingly undisturbed, but there is a rustling in the tent. Gingerly you pull back one of the flaps, to reveal the scene of a goblin attempting to force himself on the young women inside. You draw your sword and lunge at the beast, but behind you another goblin lurks. You manage to slay the beast besetting the girl, but not before the goblin to your rear buries a knife deep into your ribs. Screaming in pain you throw the beast off of you, but before you can the goblin jumps from your back and barrels off into the woods, hooting and hollering all the while.

>Health: 7/10

>>50112

1. Your wife starts to explain to you the nature of the stones. They are essentially the dark magic of the Elder God's materialized, they are voids that drain the life from everything they touch, unless utilized as a weapon, wherein it takes instead the life of those the weapon takes. Given long enough without bloodshed however, the stone will start to once again take the life of the user. She then goes on to explicate the stone and its properties, but you cannot understand anything past the 2nd word of her new speech, as her own becomes slurred and slowed, and the room seems to have taken on a mysterious hue. It is only when the expression of her faces changes from one of dull emptiness to one of concern and horror do you truly understand what is occurring, but by then you are already halfway to the floor…

You awake some time later, your wife over you and her hands on the side of your face. There is a wetness to her cheeks, and when you raise your hands to your own face your fingers come away with the vibrant red color of blood coating them. Your wife explains to you some time later what is occurring. The sword is killing you, it must be sated soon, else the life it takes be your own. furthermore it is bound to your soul, and magic far beyond her own will be required to break said bond and not render you a soulless husk.

>Health: 7/10

- + [Eiur's Torment With Deathstone Pommel] - + 15 to CCQ rolls, + 20 to unarmored foes, applies bleeding on rolls higher than 60. Kills with weapon grant a +25 to the next combat phase, unique enemies only, damage taken is doubled.

+ [Soul-bound Eiur's Torment With Deathstone Pommel] - + 15 to CCQ rolls, + 20 to unarmored foes, applies bleeding on rolls higher than 60. Kills with weapon grant a +25 to the next combat phase, unique enemies only, damage taken is doubled. You must kill at least 1 beast every 3 turns or lose 2 points of health.

2. Recovering somewhat from the whole "eventual death" ordeal, you strike out once more with your little expiditon, noting now that the Drow seem to be watching you more closely, perhaps for a sigh of weakness, or perhaps out of concern from what respect you've built amongst them, you cannot tell. What you can tell, however, is that the cave seems to be more active. Various creatures skitter overhead, and the distinct sound of running water fills your ears.

"We are close, Son of Edain" one of the Drow Scouts reports, and a sort while later you are upon the entrance to the smaller cache marked on the map. The Doors are black, standing in stark contrast to the grey stone around them, and upon their surface various words in the elvish tongue are carved. At least you think they're words. Before you can ask what it says, you wife steps forward and utters a few lines under her breath. The figures on the door glow a bright purple, before the doors part and reveal the contents of the storehouse to you.

>Dark Elf Storehouse Contents:

5 Suits of Galvorn Armor

10 Cold-Iron Swords

15 Repeating Crossbows

A mysterious Tome

A purple Egg

3. Gathering the supplies and stowing them upon the Drowish Pack animals (some form of blind lizard, or at least they don't have any eyes you can see) You continue one to the track towards the stockpile, despite the protests of several Drow. Your wife, though not questioning your judgement, is uneasy. You follow the river, leaving it at several points to bypass natural formations, but eventually returning to it through the various caverns it runs through. Eventually you leave it at the last leg, journeying further into the bowels of the earth. Soon the sound of flowing water leaves you far behind, and you enter a vast cavern, illuminated somewhat by glowing blue orbs high above. Smaller orbs run from them, seemingly suspended in mid-air, some of these orbs close enough to the ground that you can grab them. As you enter this cave, the Drow become tense, and terse. When you ask your wife what seems to be the issue, she tells you that you are in a very dangerous part of the Underdark, the preying grounds of a Angulócë, a Dragon. The Stockpile is just ahead, but you must pass through this chamber first. Your own 6th sense is screaming at you as well. Something is amiss.

>>50162

1. You rummage around the refuse and occasional good item, trying your best to be quiet and generally succeeding at it. You eventually eye something that looks valuable, but in your effort to get to it you disturb something soft, fleshy. Surprise quickly turns to horror when the unknown object reveals itself to be a man, though its hard to tell under all the blood. He looks at you and starts to scream, no doubt from the pain from the numerous lacerations. The noises draw the attention of the ogre, which stumbles over to the pile and slams it with his massive club, crushing the man and almost you, but you do manage to escape, along with a sack you grabbed filled with something metal.

+ [Sack]

2. As the Troll smashes the pile continuously, you sneak out the other side, giving subtlety no thought as any noise you possible could make is overshadowed by the large swings of the tree-trunk wielding ogre. Running from the pile and entering the woods you continue on for several minutes before darting behind a tree. You stop and check to ensure that you are not being followed, and as it turns out, you are not.

3. Returning to the site of the ritual, you remember that the orcs had chased you away from the very same site that you now sought to ambush and render into a mass grave. As such the camp is deserted, everything taken down or smashed, and the refuse, blood and ash are the only signs that orcs were there. And the gnome corpses.

>>50163

1. You descend deep into the depths of the Dwarfhold, perhaps far further then any human has delved before. You move downwards, leaving behind the bustling arcades and causeways of the upper Dwarfhold, and soon the air becomes moist. You pass far from the opening of the vast cavern the hold is primarily based in, and soon the air become more stale as less of the fresh air from above passes through. The chill leaves as well, slowly replaced with a warmth not uncommon from being near a fireplace, then it becomes sweltering. You eventually see why, as the torches and laterns that light the paths and causeways soon cease to occur, only to be replaced by the orange glow of flowing magma. It is here that you see the vast workshops of the Dwarves, and din of hammerblow and the hiss of quenching metal fills the air. Orders are barked inbetween the tings of pounded metal, and stocky little men carrying boulders of raw material gruffly ask you to "Get the hell out of the way". You descend deeper, past the workshops, down a lonely staircase into the darkest depths of the Hold (barring the mines themselves). Eventually you reach a small house carved into the rock, above its door a sigil is etched into the rock. It is a Eye. All craftsdwarfship is of the highest quality. The Eye menaces with spikes of bronze. The eye menaces with spikes of Gypsum. The eye is staring at a horse. The Horse is Screaming. You step into the home, being told that this was the Dwelling of ol' Gruni One-Eye. The place is a mess, tatters of scrolls everywhere, but also the most obscure trinkets and baubles; a stuffed carp here, a elephant skull there. A giant sponge in a massive tank, filled with various fish. This Gruni is an eclectic fellow for sure, even more emphasized when you hear a voice, unmistakably dwarven, uttering some words, followed by the floor beneath you vanishing. You just manage to catch the lip of the hole that just formed beneath you, a bubbling pool of magma awaiting you a few hundred feet below. The Same voice calls out to you "Wat do ya want Umgi! Answer quick before I drop ya into a ocean a molten slag!"

Pleading your case as you clawed desperately at the lip of the hole, the Dwarf first seemed disinterested, then intrigued, and ultimately, bored. He hoisted you up from the hole with one hand, closing it with another phrase, before tossing you a strange metal device, no bigger then an apple. "That there is a augur, whenever ya delve beneath the earth, it'll point ya to the nearest opening to above. Best I can do, take it or leave it Umgi."

+ [Augur] - Points to the nearest opening to Ground level when underground

As you pocket the device and turn to walk out, the Dwarf speaks up again "Dunnae think I work free o' charge. You'll be paying for that contraption, and what I want from ye is a set of Wrym scales, no less then 30! Fail to pay me an I'll break all the bones in yer limbs, then use ya like a Scarecrow fer me Giant Mole Farm!"

>Quest: Obtain some Wrym scales for Gruni One-Eye

2. Departing from the Dwarf's Workshop, you return to Caelum and your's shared rooming, and while the man departs for a knight on the town, you elect to work on your crafts. The Magazine for the crossbow. It progresses somewhat, but not as much as you would hope, perhaps you are distracted by the unfamiliar surroundings, or perhaps it is the dwarf you see out of the corner of your eyes. The Dwarf menaces with spikes of iron. The Dwarf is screaming.

+ Ballista Magazine 10/20

3. A similar story comes from the crossbow, as your work progress slowly, and you swear you can hear a vaguely dwarven voice in the back of your head, laughing.

+ Hand-cranked Crossbow 9/15

>>50164

1/2/3. You sneak as well as a man of your statue is able to, which is to say not very well. You tumble through the undergrowth, unaware of exactly how loud you are being. Twigs snap underfoot, branches are torn off of trees when they resist your ingress, and small animals scitter and scatter out of sight as a lumbering brute tears its way through their undergrowth. You drag your large, sharp club behind you, it forming a pit about half a foot deep, occasionally bouncing off of rocks in the soil. Luckily for you the Orcs are even louder, and fail to notice you sneaking up on their ceremony. All of this effort in concealing yourself is wasted however by your opening move in attacking them in the most overt and distracting way possible. Crashing through the small brush separating you from the dancing beasts, you heave your massive bladed club forward and cleave one of the orcs on the edge of the ceremony clean in two, while simultaneously crushing the skull of the one infront of him into its own chest cavity. The Orcs all turn and scream, pulling weapons or charging you with their bare firsts. Now that you've revealed yourself this battle will be much harder, but that's what you wanted now, wasn't it?

>>50173

1. Rousing with the other men at the sound of the Goblin attack, you quickly draw your sword and rush out of your tent, sleeping in your mail. A goblin quickly appears before you, sword rushing towards your throat, but a ray of sunshine hits your amulet just right, glinting brightly and blinding the creature. As it shields its eyes, one of your comrades steps forwards and cuts it down, almost bisecting it with his gladius. You step over the small and still-twitching body and rush to join the forming battle line with your brothers…

2. A familiar sight catches your eye as you rush to join the other men attempting to ward off the goblin lines; a Standard, the Triumphant Aquila standing in Defiance among the crude arrows and roughly-shaped pebbles being shoot and hurled by Goblins from the woods. Its bearer stands among a circle of Romans, and you quickly join their ranks. The Goblins close from all sides, pushing against your formation, but locked Scutu and hurled Pilum and rock along with the rapid cutting and stabbing of multiple gladii keep them at bay. Like a rock in a tumultuous harbor the formation weathers the green tide, the bodies of the horrendous beast breaking upon the Red Bastion of Latin Might. Eventually a massive wave of goblins charge out from the woods, at least 75 of the creatures, and after a prolonged melee they are finally broken and retreat. You stand Victorious, and unmarred.

3. With the melee finished, you try to find time to train your strength. However the Optio takes this as you slacking off and trying to avoid camp duties, and despite your explanation refuses to budge. The man's face suddenly changes, and his lips curl upward into a wry smile. "Well then Quintus, if you are so eager to grow in mass and strength, then how about you, and you alone, carry these corpses off into the woods and dispose of them. You'll need a trench as well, at least 5 feet deep and 30 feet wide and long, so get to work, the sun sets in less then 7 hours!"

Its quite and effort, and you almost want to join the stinking corpses when you are finished. You arms ache and burn, along with everything else, but you can already tell you're getting stronger.

>Strength 9/10

>>50179

1/2. In a morning in which the sun is shining high in the sky, the birds are singing, and the morning dew glows in the radiance of the light, by far the most noticeable thing to all around the wall is the loud groans and shouts of pain of your green troops, who by now have been up for at least 5 hours training. Reminding the men they aren't even half-way done you take them for another run around the top of the wall, relay runs with sacks of bricks. All of this way done in preparations for repairs that would no doubt need to be done in future battles. Following this you had the men scale the wall by hand, with 2 of their brothers suspended from there backs with ropes. Several other brutal exercises followed, and at the end of the afternoon you reward the men with a meal; Chicken and oats and water, fuel for them to improve and grow.

>Recruit Training 3/15

3. The meal is over mere minutes after it began, and soon you are marshalling the men towards the wall to continue repairs. The men, languid and despairing from the mornings torture exercises, are slow to work at first, but a few beatings and beratings later are working very quickly and accurately. The work is slow, and the craftsmen you have cajoled into aiding you are far from the level of obedience that your own men are, but progress is made, and the gate is nearing function once again.

Gate Mechanism Repair: 13/20,

>>50187

1/2/3. It is a long march to the Swamp, nearly a full day away from the fort, yet with your stern commands and roguish good looks, you inspire the men and the accompanying laborers to march at almost triple time, reaching the swamp in record time, as the sun was only just starting to kiss the horizon. Ordering the men to find some dry land and to start working, they set out at once. A work camp quickly forms, the men pitching tents in the various dry patches around, and small parties start to form to harvest the peat needed for more pitch. The men begin by opening the earth with their entrenching tools, throwing aside the muck and slop in a makeshift rampart around the most vulnerable parts of the camp, before striking pay dirt in the next layer. A few of the men in your group are Hiberians, and as such have extensive experience in this task. They quickly come to head up the workforce gathering the peat, cutting and forming it into bricks and loading them up on to the carts you brought with you, of which there are 2 drawn by a single large draft horse. Soon however the sun is setting, and the men turn from gathering peat to reinforcing the camp, after all, if you are ambushed out here there is no hope of help arriving, and not getting caught with your tunic down would be ideal. All in all you have gathered roughly a 1/8 of the peat needed, and will need a few more days work at least.

> Peat Gathering: 1/8

Meanwhile, back at the Watchtower, your men you had left behind under the watchful command of you Optio Icterus get to work beginning the reconstruction of the watchtower with the help of laborers dispatched from the fort. The First task would be the construction of both scaffolding to work around the ruins of the structure, and a large crane with which to move stone about it. Several large trees are felled from the forest and trimmed down to size, and the frame of the crane is set up, with wheels allowing it move around being attached as well. However soon the sun is setting here as well, and the men turn to establishing their position, pulling back as best as they can into the relatively safe stone structure as the sun sets.

> Watchtower Repair 4/25

>>50188

1/2. Tossing the necklace aside, you feel some measure of vitality leaving you, but casting your shriveling member behind you instead focus on the task at hand, and that task is forming a closer bond in both companionship with your twenty good men. Your score and yourself rid a ways to the field behind the frontal wall, flat and open, perfect for cavalry drilling. You begin the exercises by having the men form a line, and testing their competency in the most basic cavalry formations, before moving on to the more intricate and specialized formations of the Equio. This drilling continues long into the day, and come sunset you break off and order the men to make camp in the foothills of the mountains. Then several of you journey into its passes, returning with 3 fat goats. Quite the feast is had, and after packing up your items and discarding the last few scraps and bones of your meal, you and the men return to the fort for the night, content and closer then when you left that morning.

+ Companionship I: With a closer bond with these men, you operate better as a group. + 10 to actions involving your friends, does not stack with Training.

3. You end the day by returning to the fort, and after stabling your horses, taking your new friends and helping the effort to repair the gate. Most of the day crew have long since left, but you aid the few men working long into the night with their tasks, and further speed along the repair of the gate itself.

>Gate Mechanism Repair: 17/20 ( >>50179 )

>>50192

1/2/3. Though you were blind, the gods have given you sight, the cave is just as dark as it was before, but you find yourself tripping over no stone, stepping into no crevice, and falling befoul of no monster. You realize that you are heading upwards, guided by something other then your own senses. Soon you are climbing a rock face, careful no to disturb any loose stone or nesting horror. Eventually the light fades, and you return to darkness, but something else is glowing. Your sword, it is red hot, you can feel the warmth on your calve as it sits in your hand, at your side. Did you draw it? You don't remember. What does become apparent from the soft glow of the sword is that you are perched over a hole, from below you can hear voices, those of the Drukhari, the Drow, and that of a stern Roman man. What's more, you can see something in the shifting shadows below; something massive. It moves with the grace of flowing water over the rocks, glinting blue scales reflecting the light coming from the cavern below, the cavern you stand perched above. The beast is coiled, ready to strike. It is easily the width of a carriage, and from its head you see two large, red eyes, staring at the direction the voices are coming from. It is a drop in excess of 90 feet, but you face a choice; Act now and save the lives of others, or delay and find another way to aid them. Or leave them all to die and pursue other wonders in this strange place

Day 23, Week 4

The men of the fort are on mostly outside of it, its great defenders on a variety of expeditions and missions to ensure that the Fort and the Empire stand, even it if is for just one more day. They ply the depths of the Earth, seeking knowledge, plunder, and maybe something more. Still other dwell amongst the wildlands, taking the fight to the enemy head on, slaying him in his camps in the dead of the night, repaying many a debt owed to Roman Colonist along the frontier. And still others seek to restore past sections of the Fort to their former glory, where once gilder towers stood now there is only shattered ruins!

Stranger still is the stories that are running amongst the wildmen of the East, far from prying Roman ears. They tell of a undead lord, raising a great army and making many sacrifices to dark gods. Even the most fierce barbarian now treads carefully in the night, for even dead men can now kill you.

>Supplies:

1 Week of Food

4 Weeks of Water

1/4 Ton of Wood

1/4 Ton of Stone and mortar

Feed for Horses

>Garrison

300 Macedonian Hoplites

477 Legionaries

11 Centurions

13 Acolytes

210 Auxiliaries

90 Equites

172 Camp followers and Laborers

>Fortifications

Towers 1-6 Health: 10/10

Wall Health: 56/60

Gate Repairs: 17/20

6 Onagers

12 Ballista

1 Scorpion

173 Onager Rounds

478 Ballista Bolts

30 Scorpion Bolts

Rear Fortress:

1 Year of Food

Water from Well: Untainted

2 Tons of Wood

1 & 1/2 Tons of Stone and mortar

>Garrison:

1000 Macedonian Hoplites

4400 Legionaries

82 Centurions

45 Acolytes

800 Camp Followers

2250 Auxiliaries

400 Equites

15 Griffin Knights

>Fortifications

Outer wall: 50/50

Inner wall: 50/50

Towers 1-8: 10/10

But what is this? In the dead of the night a voice fills the heads of all the men in the fort, a hearty laugh and visions of a fat man in a red tunic. He speaks softly, his voice sweet and honeyed, like that of a kind grandfather; "Well, haven't you all been quite good boys, I'd say you deserve a gift in the very least." He reaches deep into a large buckskin sack he carries, and pulls out…

>Merry Christmas and sorry for the long wait, here's a present. Roll a 1d100

Rolled 31, 76, 9 = 116 (3d100)

>>51388

Name: Boar

Fluff: A "citizen soldier" of brutish looks and seemingly dull intelligence. However those who spend time around him often complain of his strangely watchful eyes which seem to always be drinking in all information around him. Commended in the past for sounding a horn in the night to warn of an ambush by barbarian forces. Boar continues his watch a loyal soldier even against all odds.

Class: Centurion (Auxiliaries)

Location: Fort

Health: 7/10

Gear: “Drow Centurion” - Badass cave exploring motherfucker

+ 2 [Pila] + 5 to ranged attacks, 1 use unless recovered and repaired

+[Parma Fascinum] - A shield depicting the God of Protection, Fascinus. It’s stronger than steel and weighs a fourth of what it should. - 20 to all attacks against you, grants counter-attacks to attack rolls lower then your attack roll for twice the normal damage.

+ [Soul-bound Eiur's Torment With Deathstone Pommel] - + 15 to CCQ rolls, + 20 to unarmored foes, applies bleeding on rolls higher than 60. Kills with weapon grant a +25 to the next combat phase, unique enemies only, damage taken is doubled. You must kill at least 1 beast every 3 turns or lose 2 points of health.

+ [Ward of Y'golla] - - 15 to all attacks against you. Stacks a additional - 2 for every health point you lose.

Inventory:

+ [Spyglass] - A trinket from the far west, a set of various size glasses that allow you to see far off things with clear vision.

+[Recent map of the Underdark] Spooky tunnels and shit

+[Vitis] + 10 to soldiers rolls near you, provided you use it to beat them

+[Alysandra]- Hot Drow Waifu

Loot:

+5 Suits of Galvorn Armor

+10 Cold-Iron Swords

+15 Repeating Crossbows

+Mysterious Tome

+Purple Egg

Command:

78 Drow Crossbowmen

20 Drow Pit Fighters

55 Untrained Drow

7 Drow Sorceresses

88 Drow Civilians

Bonus: [A Warning] - Almost like a 6th sense, you are somehow keenly aware of danger before it occurs.

—–

1-3. Well if this stone is slowly sucking out my soul I wonder how the guy hauling around that huge chunk is doing. This Dragon is here and I got a sword that needs blood then that’s what I’m going to do. I can feel my 6th sense burning, take a defensive position and trust in my Parma Fascinum to be able to withstand any blow the creature can deal before striking back at it. -41

Rolled 22, 65, 14 = 101 (3d100)

>>51377

>>51379

Name: Agrippa Duronius Aurelian

Fluff: Agrippa should be dead all things considered. He's had several misadventures during his service time, this fort being his most recent. His misfortune started 5 years ago, during a routine border shift, the garrison that he was stationed with was nearly slaughtered to a man by a small army of assorted bandits and barbarians. Fortunately reinforcements arrived in time. His second misadventure occurred 2 years later, during an excursion into the east. A revolt rose up in one of the neighboring provinces, and much of the force was called away, what remained establish a frontline fort, which was beset upon by a rouge mercenary band of Numidians and Egyptians, which eventually dispersed after a period of infighting. Now he has been assigned to yet another fort, perhaps this one may be different? Probably not!

Class: Standard Bearer

Location: Front Fort

Health: 7/10

+Shoulder Stabbed: Its hard to swing a sword or hold a shield up when you have a hole in your shoulder! You can attack or defend, but not both! (in combat you have to dedicate 1 dice to defending or attacking, and if you fail to do one then you will not do it, for example failing to defend will guarantee you taking 1 point of damage in combat).

Gear:

+ [Scutum] - 5 to attack rolls against you

+ [Lorica hamata] - 5 to attacks against you

+ [Legion Standard] – Passive + 10 buff to all players near you

+ [Black Khopesh] - Taken from a deadman in your time in Egypt, it frightens the barbarians of the north with its sickly hook and strange make. + 10 To melee attacks.

Inventory:

+ [Black Khopesh] - Taken from a deadman in your time in Egypt, it frightens the barbarians of the north with its sickly hook and strange make. - 10 To barbarians rolls against you.

Bonus:

+ [A dance with Death] - When you would normally die, you gain a saving throw, a dance with the Death. Should you roll higher then Death, you live, but if you roll below death, you die. The DC to beat death gets higher with each death.

1. Then I suppose there's no point in chasing after them alone. I should consult a Medicus, see if I can't get this wound patched up.

2. Check on the girl as well, she could have lacerations or worse.

3. Rally the men outside the tent.

I quit this game.