You are Sascha, formerly of the Goathorn Tribe, and now a slave of the mighty Stonetusks. When your masters swept from the wilderness to raid your village, you joined the defense, and of course with their great strength and ferocity they swept your meagre last stand aside. You, along with those others of your tribe who survived, were taken south, beyond the mountains to the endless wasteland beyond.
At first you were scared, but with time you learned the joy of serving your masters. Some part of you though, some part always wondered whether your masters were angry at you, whether you were being punished for the insolence of drawing the masters' blood in your fervor to retain your unhappy freedom.
You were kept apart from most of the slaves, only allowed to join them occasionally, made to spend much of your time cut off from the joy of serving the masters in a quiet side cell with a half-dozen others. The slavemistress Za'ria would come to you on occasion, to question you, to watch you, sometimes she even brought you weapons to spar against each other. She said it was necessary, that the masters would prefer you retained your teeth, that it would make them like you more. So you fought, you fought harder than all the others and hoped to be forgiven for your ignorant insult.
While you knew that the slavemistress would not lie, there was still some small doubt in your mind that the masters would ever have a purpose for you. You had never expected the great chieftain of the masters to visit you personally, to bless you with a mission, among other rewards.
Your hand lingers on your belly for a moment, lost in thought. The howling mountains rise before you, your former home. It feels far away from the comforting warmth of the masters' presence, and the familiarity of the mountains has turned cold and sharp. You are to walk into the camp of the arrogant dragon who dares to stand in the way of the great chieftain, to steal his secrets and perhaps even turn some of his followers against him. You think you would like that, to teach his miserable warriors to be as happy as you are.
“Sascha, we will be into his territory soon,” one of the others calls, shaking you from your thoughts, a human male, not of your tribe. Frail and weak-blooded compared to the masters, but one chosen like you to take part in this mission, taught loyalty by the slavemistress herself. You have nine beneath you, ten when you started, one falling victim to a pit spider bite on the march north, it was not a good death, and you saw in her eyes her shame at failing the masters. You do not want to share that feeling.
You nod, letting your fingertips linger at the stout vial of baked clay at your waist, a shudder of anticipation running through you. A parting gift from the slavemistress, to help you when the yearnings become too hard to bear. You have work to do.
First, you will need to make contact with the dragon's forces. You believe there are still a few villages that the masters didn't take before their move south, the tribes living their subservient to Slaagyr, perhaps you could speak with them. Alternatively, you could scout the area, try to find one of the hunting parties or patrols to make contact with. Finally, you could simply head straight for the dragon's camp, approach his warriors directly.
>Find a village to make contact
>Track down a patrol
>Head straight for Slaagyr's camp
>Character Bios: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1R9snecj2CMMLcA_gFlvUnqPKKrFJDhMUGmWYcCc0qjk/edit?usp=sharing
>Character Sheets: https://docs.google.com/document/d/16HQFIGCToR2Vv5N2jg_Za9oWs1OMByzQ5ReJSiZFdME/edit?pli=1
>Setting Info: http://pastebin.com/aRt0MR72
Congratulations everyone, we made it. Thread 69, which ironically will most likely have no smut in it whatsoever!
Their mission is to spy information about the situation, and if possible and seems advantageous, sow the seeds of rebellion in the people so that we may attack Slaggyr when he's weak and his lands aren't united.
This is cute.
I think we should prioritize the intel gathering. Sowing dissent is risky, and if we lose the slaves we lose the intel.
A rebellion would be nice, but if none of the slaves make it home it's a much less consequential victory over Slaagyr, as we gain no functional knowledge of his operation.
>Track down a patrol
Given the somewhat marital bent of our infiltrators, we might get conscripted, get some info and then desert at the first opportunity, unless we're placed with people of questionable enough loyalty to jsut defect.
Kind of agree, but to be fair as long as they sow dissent before dying, there might still be dissent for us to take advantage of when we show up.
So if we really think these people are in all likelyhood going to die miserably, we might as well let them die for something they don't need to bring all the way back to us.
We should do it in hushed tones, make or join underground gatherings of people unsatisfied with Slaggyr, and try to make them more and more receptive to a hostile uprising.
We then leave, saying we will seek help from our friends in Elven lands, then come back, set up a rebellion on the same day that Ur and the orcs strike from within Slaggyr's inner sanctum, from the underground river. Slaggyr will have needed to spread his forces to deal with the rebellions, which will mean he's weaker at his heart.
Do we know whether or not Slaagyr's followers are affected by that spell which was on a piece of the clan for a while? Where he can see through their eyes?
Because if so sowing dissent is out of the question. Slaagyr would know the second we started whispering to the others.
Rebellion it is, then.
If we can clear the path to Slaagyr thoroughly enough that Ur and his combat-worthy harem-ettes can make it to the dragon without wasting any of their strength, we just might be able to take him.
We need to mindbreak Aurora ASAP, I want to see the look on Slaagyr's face as she walks towards him, knife in hand, with a curious look in her eye...
I very much doubt that Slaagyr has the sheer mental prowess needed to see through dozens or hundreds of eyes at any given moment and sort through all the information he gains that way.
Odds are what he could do was see through the eyes of a single cursed individual at once and then he just cycled through orcs in our camp whenever he felt he needed an update until he had what he wanted.
Remember that when dealing with an enemy even basic stuff like "How many orcs are roughly in camp right now?" and "Are the orcs currently bragging about how they totally are going to kick Saagyr's ass on the next raid?" fills in a lot of blanks.
But cycling through dozens of villagers for each village on the off chance that one or two of them might be seditious instead of doring incredibly boring shit that you don't give a single fuck about is a lot less useful.
Especially once you realize that even the traitors will be spending the vast majority of their time doing boring shit.
I'm reasonably sure Slaagyr is too prideful to spend his time doing extra shifts as basically a late night security guard.
Pretty sure you can't just hand over the reins to a spell in this setting.
And I'm also sure that noone in the area but Slaagyr himself has the magical knowhow and prowess to cast a surveilance curse like that over dozens of people.
Walking right up to a patrol or to the dragon's main camp would be risky, they are likely to be more on edge, more prone to draw weapons. There was little conflict between the villages in this area, which means that if you come in peace, they are more likely to assume trade than violence.
You run through the names in your mind, committing them to memory. Joachim, Makoor, Arban, Ludger, Snowfox. Names drawn from the masters' own gathering of information. Some of these names you know, Joachim, the necrophage-priest of Mhoiru, many dark rumors of him and his cult drifted the mountains in the years before he came to serve the dragon. How any could stand to serve in battle alongside twisted cannibals you do not know. Ludger and Snowfox you know as well, by reputations of a less dark sort. Two powerful chieftains from the east, both locked in losing war against the ogrish forces of The Butcher. Perhaps they came to serve the dragon out of fear, their forces battered by the savagery of the self-proclaimed ogre king. Makoor and Arban, sorcerers, one ogre, one human, you know nothing of them beyond that. Arban is not a cragfolk name however, the foreigner must have travelled far to grovel before the dragon.
You hunted these mountains for many years, since your youth, and it is easy enough to lead your forces through the jagged crags and rocky valleys of your former home. The nearest village to here would be that of the Mountain Lion Tribe. A weak tribe as you recall, in spite of their savage totem. They would have been easy pickings for your masters.
“Sascha,” one of the others whispers, making a slight nod towards the rocks of the pass you now prepare to travel down.
Skittering shapes amidst the rocks, Gorm, scaly unclean creatures, scavengers that walk like men. It's possible that they won't attack, Gorm are cowardly by nature, though if there are more lurking out of sight, and the creatures are hungry, they may summon up the confidence to strike at your group and try to drag one or two away for food. You could continue down the pass, and be at the village within the hour. Alternatively, you could loop around through less familiar terrain, it would avoid the immediate risk, but it is possible you might not find a way to the village by nightfall, when the more dangerous predators will be on the hunt.
>Risk it, traverse the pass
>Take the longer route around
Path is already clear, through the underground river.
It's better to see Aurora break as we present the severed head of Slaggyr.
>The nearest village to here would be that of the Mountain Lion Tribe. A weak tribe as you recall, in spite of their savage totem. They would have been easy pickings for your masters.
So thoughtful, she's an angel~
>>Take the longer route around
We are useless to the masters dead, they'd rather bring information later than not at all.
You know, the only reason we had such an easy job with the jungle troglodytes is because Ur is a superorc and cowed them into submission. They are actually a somewhat dangerous enemy, I'd put them on the level of those zombie mosquitos we fought because of their numbers.
Watch them tame the Grom.
>few weeks later
>Ur and Za'ria were beginning to worry that the slave infiltrators hadn't been trained enough, they're still not back
>Ur calls his lieutenants to meet, discussing alternative strategies for dealing with the northern dragon threat
>suddenly a scout bursts into the tent
>"chieftain, they've returned"
>Ur and the lieutenants stream out of the tent
>Sascha has a large amount of fresh new scars
>And more humans than they left with, looks like they were able to convince some to defect
>And...the fuck? She tamed and trained a detachment of Grom to serve as combat ambushers?
>Entire camp is stunned
>Ur is stunned
>Orcish gods are all stunned
>Even abyssal horrors on other continents do a double take
>Sascha drops to her knees in order to greet her master, but is overcome with eagerness due to seed withdrawals
>Starts blowing him in front of a still-paralyzed crowd
Best girl route is there, anons. We just need to make it happen.
Nah, those guys are weaker than humans and twice as dumb. they are barely smarter than apes, just throwing themselves at problems with wooden spears. Also about the same size as humans.
>you saw in her eyes her shame at failing the masters
What happens to such loyal and devoted slaves upon death? Do they go on to serve Y'zagya Zoka and possible their masters in life in the afterlife?
That settles it for me.
Let's play this risky. The potential payoff is huge. Even if these slaves die, they ought to be devoted enough to spend eternity with Y'zagya Zoka.
And she's a babe so the consequences of failure aren't that bad either.
I did a bunch of adderall during finals last semester and focused on OWQ instead of classes by accident
I made something dumb I've been sitting on for a while about organizational structure
I'll post it now cause why not
“Stay alert, we pass through,” you command, the others nodding, readying their weapons.
Nerves are on edge as you begin the walk through the pass, the occasional click of claws on stone or clatter of loose scree signalling the Gorm presence amidst the rocks, watching and waiting. You hear a throaty cry, echoed by another across the pass a few moments later. It's hard to tell exact numbers, the Gorm dart in and out of sight, and their scaly faces all look alike to you. Must be at least seven or eight, probably double that sneaking around.
“They're closing in behind,” one of the other whispers, and you allow yourself a glance over your shoulder. Sure enough, two of the Gorm now linger close to the route back, ready to aid in cutting off any retreat.
With that, you doubt that they'll let you through peacefully, pickings must be slim on the mountains for the scavengers, perhaps Joachim's cult are eating all the carrion the beasts enjoy.
“Be ready,” you mutter, shifting your grip on your spear.
A clattering signals the attack, as rocks rain down around your group, flung by the Gorm above. The things let out their phlegmy, throaty cries as they heft fist sized rocks to hurl down on you, hoping to soften you up before the assault.
You curse, your group scrambling for cover amidst the larger boulders dotting the pass. Unfortunately, with the high ground the Gorm have on you, the boulders provide only partial cover, one of your group giving a pained cry as a rock strikes him on the side of the head. The Gorm's aim is poor, but you'd wager you'll all be corpses long before they run out of rocks in the mountains.
>Return fire with your bows
>Make for the far side of the pass
• Orcish Whelps [ages 0-6] (train with other Whelps and observe elders)
• Juvenile Orcs [ages 7-14] Scrappers (train with other juveniles and be mentored by Orcs in the military) | Initiates (train with other juveniles and be mentored by Orcs in the Priesthood)
• Soldiery (Warriors without station led by Bosses and Alphas) | Priesthood (Acolytes training to become Priests of a gods, taught by a Priest)
• Packs (commanded by an Alpha, subordinate to a Chief) | Priests (service a deity, subordinate to a Chief, regulated by its High Priest, educate Acolytes)
• Chiefs (Chief of a Clan, commander of a number of packs and a Priest of each God) | High Priests (leaders of the Priests of their god, fill the same role as generic Priests in the Clan of the Overlord)
• High Chiefs (High Chief of a number of Clans, Chief of their own Clan, commander of the Chiefs of those Clans, of a number of Packs, and of a Priests of each god)
• Warlord (Can be either a Chief or a High Chief of greater, but is always the highest authority in the Orcish state, and is always the chief of a Clan, the commander of a number of Packs, of the 5 High Priests, if the Priesthood has been established, and of any subordinate High Chiefs, Chiefs, and conquered territories)
• Warrior | Grunts
- Straw | Short for 'Straw Boss,' a Warrior that is its Bosses second-in-command and fills in if the Boss is commanding a Pack or dies
• Boss | Leader of a Gang
- Sergeant | A Boss that is its Alphas second-in-command and fills in if the Alpha is commanding a Mob or dies
• Alpha | Leader of a Pack, all higher officers are also Alphas with their own Packs
- Straka | An Alpha that is its Strakas second-in-command and fills in if the Straka is commanding a Drove or dies
• Ur'straka | Commander of a Mob
- Whip | An Ur'straka that is its Drivers second-in-command and fills in if the Driver is commanding a Swarm or dies
• Driver | Commander of a Drove
- Underseer | A Driver that is its Overseers second-in-command and fills in if the Overseer is commanding a Host or dies
• Overseer | Commander of a Swarm
- Overseer-General | An Overseer that is its Generals second-in-command and fills in if the General dies
• General | Commander of a Host
- Warchief | A general which is in command of other generals, also manages the Hordes withdrawal if the Warlord dies
• Warlord | Commander of the Horde
Oh shit I've done this before but with Dota.
You take the adderall and prep your study materials. Then while you're waiting for it to kick in you load up a quick game.
Twelve hours later I was 9W-1L for the day but I bombed that final so hard I had to retake the class. Adderall is a finnicky bitch of a study drug.
Funny story epilogue: I tried to up my study game with cocaine the year after. Worked a lot better.
• Gangs (5 warriors and their Boss)
• Packs (5 gangs and their Alpha)
• Mobs (5 packs and their Ur'straka)
• Droves (5 mobs and their Driver)
• Swarms (6 Droves and their Overseer)
• Hosts (3 swarms and their General)
• Hordes (2 or more Hosts and the Warlord)
>>Make for the far side of the pass
There are more of them and they have the high ground, we'd have to return fire from the open.
It's been said their aim is shit, better to try and leave their immediate range and hope travel up above is harder than here. If we can find some wooden bark or something then use it as shield.
Rolled 3 (1d20)
This is my headcanon Sashca. But sluttier.
Orc purity fags on suicide watch.
Honorary orc friends, where we at?
pfshhhh, you know in 15 years (when whelps start hitting maturity) our population is going to skyrocket exponetially.
in 10 years we will have several times more children than adult orcs. Hell in 10 years Ur will have a helluva lot more kids than we currently have. I think one anon calculated out Urs birthing average. And that was still before we had our like 3 or 4 newest additions. Anyone remember it?
No anon, you don't just let a slave pick her master.
We can ask her if she has taken liking to anyone in particular beside Ur, but Ur is the one who decides.
Depends on how useful she proves, might give her to a hunter.
If I recall correctly the DC to outfuck Aza'ra was actually pretty high, meaning it was more likely that she would outfuck us than the opposite.
Of course, now that we've established a narrative precedent odds are she can't just demand a reroll or something, but anyone new with a similar statline and relevant skills would probably also sit on a DC we won't pass more than half the time.
This does of course assume that the other party is scaled up appropriately to compensate for Ur's gains since then.
But, yeah, Ur can definitely still be outfucked and it likely wouldn't even take a real high priestess until Ur hulks up more.
“Make for the far end of the pass,” you shout, breaking from cover, the rest of the group following on behind.
Rocks rain down around you, but you pick your path well between the boulders, those of you with shields holding them high to help weather the assault. The furious cries of the Gorm as they realize you are passing beyond the reach of their throws echo down the pass, the creatures breaking from cover to chase after you, setting off a cacophony of dislodged scree.
Some come from the front, having lingered further ahead, skittering down the sides of the pass, one slipping on the loose footing in its haste, cracking its skull open on a rock as its tumble down the slope reaches and abrupt stop.
A gorm leaps from a crack in the rock, a sharpened animal bone gripped in its hand, you skid under the clumsy swing, the creature overextending itself in its haste. You can smell its stinking breath on you, too close for your spear. You pull the dagger from your belt with your free hand, ramming the tip of the sharp flint through the smaller, softer scales of the beast's throat, once, twice, three times, wrenching it loose to continue your escape as the Gorm thrashes on the ground amidst a growing pool of arterial blood.
Some of the Gorm break off the pursuit, turning on the fallen and injured, but others still chase you, driven on by some mad bloodlust quite out of keeping with how the beasts usually act. You see the end of the pass ahead, wider, open terrain feeding into one of the valleys. Dogged though the pursuit may be, you doubt the Gorm would chase you into fair, pitched battle on flat ground.
Sure enough, glancing over your shoulder as you break through into the valley, you see the Gorm start to slow, frustrated, hungry eyes watching you from the shade of the pass. Coming to a stop a safe distance away, you look over your followers. No deaths, nothing more than a few minor injuries, bruises and scrapes from the barrage of rocks that will heal soon enough provided you can wash them off to prevent infections.
You spy the Mountain Lion Tribe's village on the far side of the valley, looking much as you recall from the last time you came here to barter for fish from the river in exchange for leather. You were only a child then though, so you doubt anyone here would recognize you now. The question is how you choose to approach.
>You have some hides and meat you gathered on the journey here, claim to be here for trade.
>Claim to be survivors of a destroyed tribe looking for a new home.
>Claim to be travellers passing through.
>Claim to be tribeless warriors come to join Slaagyr's service.
>Claim to be survivors of a destroyed tribe looking for a new home.
Odds are with Slaagyr on the warpath this should get us conscripted anyways and people are always less willing to question something's convenience if they came up with the idea.
Well, if we want get a lower estimate, then.
Let's say our humans pump out a litter once every 3 years, our elves once every 5 years, harpies once every 2 years, lamia once every 5 years(?), orcs once every 2 years, dwarf once every 4 years, ogres once every 4 years, harpies every year, centaurs once every 3 years, and fey once every 2 years.
Assuming all races birth at least 2, with orcs averaging at 5, humans at 3, elves, ogres, and dwarves at 2, lamia and harpies at 1, centaur at 2, and fey at 4.
And assuming Aza'ra practically becomes our mate as far as breeding is concerned, and we impregnate Aurora as well.
If T is the number of years, then the present harem would produce about T(4*5/2+4*3/3+1*2/5+2*1/4+1*1/4+1*2/3+1*2/4+2*2/4+1*4/2)=19T, so Ur has 19 whelps every year, but that's probably not exact and I may have messed up somewhere along the way.
>>Claim to be travelers here to trade and rest for a while.
How is that an alright plan? We don't want to be in the army, we want to have free time to gather info and plan. Being in the army, as low grunts as well, would not only put our movement at the whims of the commanders, but also make it more likely that one of us would crack under pressure.
Why don't we want to be in the army? If we're going to sow the seeds of rebellion anywhere, Slaagyr's fighting men might be the best place to start. Armies under the control of brutal megalomaniac dragons probably also suffer from morale issues we can turn to our advantage.
Nah anon, mind control and zealotry.
The common man suffering from shitty economy and war mongering as well as cannibalistic sacrifices would be more receptive to ideas of revolt, which would then spread nicely to those who have power but want to change, like some of those local heroes we heard of.
Besides, information right now is more important than a rebellion. We want to know what we can about Slaggyr, a human revolt would only serve as an annoyance and distraction anyway, if we do spark one, we need to time it right with our clan's raid on Slaggyr.
We won't learn much from being noname grunts in the army, knowing what weapons the humans have is unimportant. It's better to know political situations, what movements have been made on the grand scale.
That is all wrong.
Human pregnancies are like 5 months, and a fe months recovery. we can expect a human litter in less than a year, prolly 10 months. orcs are like 6-7 months, elves are like 1.5 years max, I dont know the rest off the top of my head but i know all of those numbers are grossly high. Also dwarves have same birth rate as humans, centuars are prolly about that too, no idea on lamia, harpies have really high birth rates
I did the initial calculations but cannot remember the exact numbers.
How can anyone possibly be this thick-skulled?
You honestly think that the only possible information we can glean from spending time among Slaagyr's fighting forces is the state of their goddamn WEAPONS?
I'm done trying to debate this with you as you are clearly moronic.
>in a goddamn dragon-run despotic state
Fucking hell, man. Just. Wow.
Anon, we don't want to rush our pregnancies, I'd leave at least a year for the nonorc races who don't fight to recover after giving birth.
And I told you those were conservative estimations, they give a good idea of the bare minimum of whelps.
Well thinking it that way doesn't sound to bad.
Having them sow dissent among the common people. But think this should all be long term. So having 2-3 of our stronger humans in the army wouldn't hurt. As in a year or two they could go from grunts to captains or higher. Knowing far more than the avg citizen would about the dragons wars/ tactics. Also obtaining friends in high places of the army.
We've already gotten confirmation on what's safe. besides we couldn't keep our slaves not pregnant, there's not enough of the birth control herb in the world for that shit.
you could easily triple the numbers you gave and they would still probably be low
"Hey, Steve, what's the political climate in Slaagyr's realm?"
"You mean the all-powerful dragon who can exert mind controlling powers over the general populace and bend them to his will?"
"Yeah, that one."
"Steve, have you been drinking?"
Where were you when anon failed Draconic Politics 101?
There may not be any politics at the level Sascha will likely have access to, but you can bet there are politics going on between Slaagyr's lieutenants. I'm sure Casimir, Joachim and the others have their own agendas and reasons for joining up with the dragon in the first place, and probably do a fair bit of jockeying for position amongst themselves.
I don't know anon, I guess you're right, the states neighbouring Slaggyr and his relation to them, or the death of a whole mining tribe because of ritual sacrifice must simply not influence his kingdom at all.
You make your way across the valley. Open is it is, you're spotted by the Mountain Lion Tribe before you're even halfway across, a delegation sent out to meet you. Usually such a group sent to meet an unknown armed band would be used as a show of strength, the tribe's warriors sent out to deter any violence. If this is the best the Mountain Lions have to offer, they have grown even weaker than the last time you saw them, old men and boys barely old enough to grow hair on their faces gripping spears with trembling hands and fear in their eyes.
“What is your business here,” one calls, old and leathery-skinned, leader perhaps by virtue of looking slightly less frail than the rest, though you don't doubt you could end the old man in a heartbeat if it would serve your masters' ambitions.
“We're not here looking for trouble, friend. We came from the west, looking for a new place to settle,” you call back, the tension in the shoulders of the jumpy tribesmen relaxing immediately.
“What of your tribe, sister?” the man asks, normally 'girl' or something similar would be a more appropriate way of referring to a woman of your age by a man of his, perhaps he fears the consequences of disrespecting you.
“Gone, shattered by the beasts of the mountains,” you reply, shaking your head.
“You have my sympathy, sister. Come, join us, you will find the lands here safer, the great Slaagyr keeps us safe from marauding trolls and ogres.”
Not from gorm though, you ponder, following the old man, giving your group a warning glance to mind their tongues as the curious tribesfolk mingle to chatter with them.
“I am afraid that food is slim, many of our young hunters have gone to join Slaagyr's warriors, but we will share what we can with you,” the old man nods.
“It will be a harsh winter with such low supplies,” you comment, glancing around the village as you enter. More old men, children, women, this tribe has been stripped bare of anyone who could put up a fight, hunt, defend themselves.
“Perhaps, but we must have faith in great Slaagyr's plan. When his enemies are swept aside, we will be rewarded with great bounty,” the old man smiles, a weak, uneasy smile.
“Ah, but forgive me, my name is Marzell. Elder of this tribe.”
You are led towards the centre of the camp, where some of the tribesfolk gather around the fire, many giving you curious looks as you arrive. A goat roasts over the fire, small and scrawny looking, hardly a meal for this many.
“I am Sascha, leader of this group,” you reply simply, gesturing to the others as the Mountain Lion tribesfolk gather around to speak with them.
“Well Sascha, I would offer you and yours a place here, but I suspect you would not be with us for long. Great Slaagyr's patrols gather up those who can fight to join his cause. If the thought does not appeal, you would be well advised to be on your way first thing tomorrow before the next one arrives.”
Whatever you decide, it is already evening now, and you aren't going to risk pressing on in the dark and falling afoul of some night time predator. For now, perhaps you can seek to drag some information from the old man and his anaemic tribe.
>Write-in anything you wish to discuss
Need to keep up the facade.
>Your liege Slaagyr recruits all of your able-bodied hunters to fight for his cause? Against whom?
And after feigned ignorance.
>You do not seem to be the only ones in these parts who are hungry, friend. We were accosted by a troupe of Grom during our travels. They, too, were famished and weak, and we held them at bay with ease. I know this land is hardly lush, but perhaps it is growing more meager?
Pave the way to discuss a possible relocation. If we can convince them that Slaagyr's protection - splendid as it may be - cannot keep their bellies full, we might be able to convince them to move south.
And if they move south, a raiding party can pick them up. Easy slaves.
I got a feeling the old man has a bit different thoughts than what he's saying.
We should talk to him in private, ask if he knows any who would doubt the eventual greatness that Slaggyr will bring the people, which we of course believe in, even if many villages shall starve before any sign of the reward arrives.
We know he's not stupid, but he seems to be able to hold his mouth when needed.
>Tell me, would you stay silent for the good of the many, even if some of the village shall suffer for it, at the hands of Slaggyr?
Try and put on some vague questions about trade, travelers, and so on, about the people who have been taken away, about how enthusiastic they were, about how they must be missed, ask if Slaggyr sends supplies in harsh times. Gauge their faith in Slaggyr.
They'd probably have their family back than continue to serve a distant tyrant who would let them starve.
We don't have raiding parties near the south of the mountains, and don't exactly need more slaves, especially those of the elderly and young variety.
What we need is connections.
Isn't the whole point of this mission to rob Slaagyr of his support? If we aren't trying to turn the locals away from the dragon, what are we actually doing here?
And when the fuck do orcs ever NOT need more slaves? Women for breeding. Children will grow into laborers, and what if there are magically adept among them?
Seems foolish to pass up a free meal. Seems un-orcish to not take slaves. Seems like a waste of time to prod one old man for information then leave, when we can gain all of that and more.
Seems out of character for Sascha to not try to send possible slaves back to her master, tbqh. She's fanatic enough about Ur to want to make that sort of thing a priority.
Sascha is to Ur'shal as Aurora is to Slaagyr.
Sascha was entrusted with a mission, she isn't as obsessive as Aurora and Inka, she'd know not to jeopardize the mission just for a chance to maybe please Ur a bit more, when doing her job well is her best chance at pleasing him.
Well, sure, it probably adds an element of risk. But if we play it safe all the way through, we won't get very much out of Sascha playing at spy.
No rewards without at least some element of risk. And we don't get to play other characters very often - this is solely my preference, but I want characters like Sascha to be able to bring meaningful impact to the story. If we play people like her too safely, we don't get that.
Oh, that's cheeky as fuck. Supporting.
We already ran from Grom we could have easily murdered.
Can we be honest here? We've taken it slow ever since the shit-monster incident. In EVERYTHING. Ever since we nearly lost Ur'shal this quest has moved at a snail's pace because we're all goddamned terrified of ever taking risks.
We don't have to be stupid, but we also don't need to be boring. We've been playing it safe against challenges we don't really need to play it safe for.
>We already ran from Grom we could have easily murdered.
Now you're just being fucking retarded.
There were 3 times as many of them as us, even if Sascha could have murdered 5 of them alone, we'd have been overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
No, starting to take unnecessary risks that don't even have a chance to provide high reward just because you're bored isn't reasonable, it's retarded.
Porque no los dos? If the old man isn't full of shit, Slaagyr's recruitment teams will be along shortly. We can work on trying to get these people to at least distance themselves from Slaagyr and become easier pickings for the Stonetusks, if not rebel openly.
Then join up with the recruiters when they come along and enjoy a free ride to Slaagyr's house.
If you're really this content with being boring all I can do is encourage you to do is sit quietly in a corner and stare at the wall. Should be perfectly stimulating for your tastes, no?
>risking the crossing the valley hiding cannibalistic creatures and running through it to safety while killing those that come to close, then staring them down is the same as watching grass grow
Hey, you know what you should do? Try jumping in front of a moving train, I bet that will be exciting enough to stimulate your brain just a little bit.
Tried it once. Conductor pulled the brakes. Fucking boring.
Seriously though, what made you hate fun? Did fun molest you as a child? Did your parents divorce, and fun moved in a week later with your mom and they made funny noises together all night long?
DID FUN STEAL YOUR FAVORITE POKEMON CARD, ANON?
Yes ;_; But no seriously you're fucking retarded if you think we should run headfirst into danger when we Sascha was specifically chosen because she still had her wits about her and thus sent on an undercover espionage operation.
She was chosen because Za'ria conditioned her to be absolutely loyal. Loyalty which was then reinforced by a heavy dose of orc dick.
Seriously, read the previous threads. I'm trying not to sound rude about this, but you're wrong. The primary concern when selecting slaves for this mission was guaranteeing that they wouldn't turn on the Clan under pressure.
I mean, sure, you don't send a designated breeding slave because the withdrawals would probably kill them. But that's just common sense, and wasn't the thought process behind sending Sascha and the others.
And all of that is without even getting into Sascha's near-compulsion to please Ur with every move she makes. Almost every other sentence this thread has ended with 'to please the master'.
Guys she was literally just introduced
Her character hasn't been developed much, what she does now will decide the type of things that she will do and what kind of character she is
Stop arguing about what she would or wouldn't do and start figuring out what she should do, what would work
How? Orcs are pretty much uniformly pleased by getting more slaves. Therefore, the 'masters' would be pleased by her shepherding this group of Cragfolk towards them to be enslaved.
Seriously. Fucking semantics.
We already know what she should know if she wants to do what she was told to do.
Keep low, gather information, and if it seems safe and advantageous, support and influence those receptive to ideas of revolting against Slaggyr. While it wouldn't provide her satisfaction, she could try to use her sexual skills, surely having been an orc slave for months has taught her a thing or two, and trained her lower muscles.
Ask 'who' exactly Slaggyr is fighting.
Make some off hand comments about this area being a fucking unliveable wasteland. Maybe imply their tribe isn't really strong enough to survive in it.
Then we wait until the recruitment teams show up.
>Orcs are pretty much uniformly pleased by getting more slaves. Therefore, the 'masters' would be pleased by her shepherding this group of Cragfolk towards them to be enslaved.
That still doesn't support your statement that she's obsessed with compulsively trying to please Ur whenever possible.
How about you actually read what I said instead of being triggered by someone disagreeing with you?
You settle down for the evening by the fire with the rest of the Mountain Lions, while curiosity at the new arrivals buoyed their spirits somewhat, the heavy mood around the fire has settled back in soon enough, especially with your group being understandably standoffish for fear of saying something unfortunate.
You seat yourself by the chieftain, chewing on a tough, gristly piece of goat meat, which you just about manage to gulp down, the taste making you yearn for the far sweeter flavor of the gift stored in your flask.
“Your master recruits all able-bodied hunters to his cause? His enemies must be mighty indeed, to warrant such a force,” you comment, breaking the long silence between you.
“Perhaps not mighty, but troublesome enough that all the tribes must gather together under his banner for safety. The Butcher is always at our throat, and the Snowfox and Ludger couldn't have held him back forever alone. Many of our kin in the nearby tribes fell to the raids of the savage orc chieftain to the south as well, though I'm told he has fled further south for fear of Slaagyr's rage.”
You bite your tongue against the insult to the Chieftain, your hand twitching towards your dagger for a moment. As if he would fear some skulking lizard. No, you will be patient, the old man simply doesn't know what he's saying. He's been fed lies by the dragon and its servants, or he's simply stupid.
“Ogres and orcs, dangerous.”
“Hmm, and dragons too, sisters from the east past the ogres.”
“It seems your master has an ambitious list of enemies. I can't help but wonder how long it will take, even for a being of his formidable power with the warriors of all the tribes to help him, to carve his way through so many,” you reply.
You see the old man flinch almost imperceptably, and you know your point got across. None of them would live to see Slaagyr's victory, if indeed it ever came at all.
The grim mood persists to the morning, and you awaken feeling the pangs of hunger from last night's sorry meal. Still, you are well rested at least. The question now is what to do next. You could wait for Slaagyr's patrol to arrive, perhaps try to get yourself recruited to his followers, or you could continue on on your own, towards Slaagyr's camp.
>Wait for the patrol
Tell the chief that we don't know about him, but we aren't willing to sit and wait for our death from our master's neglect and indifference. This land is barren and hostile, even the predators are starving, and to the north there's only the cold. If there's a will, there are always options.
>people literally aren't taking this seriously
>when Lordy is doing this so that we aren't leaving the success of this whole thing up to a single roll
>meaning we can fuck up beyond expectations
I'd rather have rolled for it and burned both our Y'zagya Zoka favors for a guaranteed mediocre success desu
You spend the morning with the tribe. You had wondered, on some level, if in spite of the joy you feel in service of the masters, that you would still feel nostalgic for your life amidst your people.
You're still wondering that, because this miserable collection of decrepit and fearful castoffs of a gutted tribe are a miserable shadow of your people. Marzell wanders the camp as if in a daze, trying to keep what's left of his people together, many of the children and elderly showing early signs of sickness from the lack of food. You spend some time speaking with him as he walks the camp, hinting at a journey along the southern edge of the mountains, where game is more plentiful. You never suggest he should travel there, but you leave him to wonder at least.
The cragfolk who arrive at midday look nothing like the emaciated and beaten down folk of the Mountain Lions Tribe. You spy them coming down the mountainside from a pass further up, the opposite way from you, dressed in sturdy leather and furs, with weapons of steel rather than stone, their armor and skin decorated with black warpaint in spiral patterns.
The woman who leads them cuts quite an imposing figure, a long hooded cloak of black fur around her shoulders, a sword at her hip and a bow at her back, with the carcass of a fat, strong mountain goat slung across her shoulder.
The mood seems to brighten noticeably as the tribe spies the woman, a sudden change from the grim mood to that point.
“The Snowfox... why is one of Slaagyr's lieutenants on patrol?” Marzell mumbles to himself, as the group arrive in the village.
“Sister, we hadn't expected to see you with the patrols,” the village elder calls, as the Snowfox steps forward, letting the goat carcass down from her shoulder, pulling back the hood to release a long mane of white hair.
“Ah, but Great Slaagyr, in his wisdom, believed that a stronger presence was needed in the mountains, to defend our loyal people from the orcs, ogres and gorm stalking the crags,” the woman smirks, resting a hand on her hip as she glances back to the twenty warriors with her.
“So here I am. The fresh air does me some good after all the politicking, I think, even found the time to hunt when the non-stop assaults by our enemies slowed for a time.”
The tribe elder looks to the carcass with unrestrained happiness, you suppose he's simply too worn down to try to maintain a more stoic look.
“Go on, best you fill your bellies with something wholesome before Joachim comes peddling more exotic meats,” she sighs, stepping aside to let the tribesfolk come and retrieve the goat, happy chatter returning to the village.
The Snowfox lets her gaze drift across the camp, lingering on you and your group for a moment before moving on, only returning her eyes to you with a smile once she's finished.
“Where were you hiding these ones, Marzell? Travellers from another tribe?”
“Survivors, from the west,” you explain, Snowfox giving a slow nod.
“Ah, trolls? Fey? Ghouls?”
“Trolls,” you reply, banking on the safe option. Mountain Trolls were always a danger here. While a tribe could handle one or two well enough if they were coordinated and careful, just occasionally a troll with a little more brains to it would gather together a group of its kin for an assault. Plenty of tribes had fallen that way over the years, and many more would to come.
“Sorry sister, don't mean to dredge up bad memories,” Snowfox shrugs, tapping fingers to the hilt of her sword.
“So what do you plan on doing now? You can't stay here, you've all got too much of the look of warriors about you to be left alone. You'd be expected to join Slaagyr's forces, though perhaps...” Snowfox frowns, leaning in conspiratorially.
“...Perhaps we did not get such a good look at you if you want to keep moving, hmm?” she winks, giving a smirk.
“Is fighting for Slaagyr so bad?” you ask, keeping your voice low as Snowfox breaks off from the patrol, heading into the village as you fall into step alongside her.
“Eh, beats being ogre slaves, though I'm not sure I'd call this a good time to join up. Too many egos at play in the camp, too many power plays,” she shrugs.
>”I'm not interested in politics, if you've got food and beds, I'm happy to join.”
>”I'd heard Slaagyr was a powerful leader, and I'm eager to serve.”
>”Sounds like a few more good fighters is exactly what you need right now then, hmm?”
>Hmm, middle management not so loyal and united, then? Sounds like it could be trouble in times of crisis. Though, trouble to whom is the question, isn't it...
She seems fun.
Will make a fine slave.
>”I'm not interested in politics, if you've got food and beds, I'm happy to join.”
"Besides, where else is there to go? This sounds like the best way to avoid becoming slaves to ogres or orcs."
So, this is basically the situation right now.
We need to gain Snowfox's trust or respect somewhat, then say we've come from much further south, from the elves who aided us when we escaped there, and that we've come here with promise of help from them, and to try to help our brothers and sisters stand up for themselves. Talk to her about how great it would be to overthrow the tyrant dragon, to not have to live in fear.
Once we've got the idea down and she has started amassing supporters stealthily, we leave, tell Ur, then we come back while the orcs move along the tunnels, and tell Snowfox when to set off the revolt, coordinate it with the attack on Slaggyr.
Best would be if she was willing t work with orcs, but if that's impossible, best would be to have them start guerrilla/sabotage tactics and serve to distract some of Slaggyr's forces away from his base, while we strike right at his heart with several hundred orcs.
Could even have Lokasi go meet her as proof that Elven support is coming.
Sounds like a really solid plan, especially if we can get Lokasi to head up a token force of elven slaves to complete the illusion. They don't even have to be fighters, really, as their primary purpose is to be the 'go' signal for Snowfox.
All of this is contingent on the fact that Snowfox isn't totally playing the shit out of us, though. And I'm not entirely convinced she isn't. This could be standard Slaagyr-lieutenant protocol for weeding out would be saboteurs and rabble-rousers from his enemies abroad.
“Perhaps now would be a good time for you to have more warriors then, hmm?”
“Dangerous game to play sister, but you're not wrong, feels like I've barely fought a battle since I joined, and I'm losing more a day than I did to the ogres,” Snowfox sighs, running a hand through her hair.
“Besides, I'm guessing there's warm food and beds, and my alternatives are ogres, orcs, or back the way I came, so...” you shrug.
“At least down south there's good sex and good weather, or so I'm told. Not so keen on the spiders though, or winding up a drooling wreck,” Snowfox replies, chuckling to herself, and you suppress a little shudder as her words bring back pleasant memories.
“You're not wrong though, not many options around these days. Well, I won't tell you no if you want to join us, just be careful, the camp isn't a safe place these days.”
“I can look after myself.”
“Sure, so can a lot of folk who wind up dead. Every last one of my tribe could look after themselves, still couldn't hold back the ogres,” Snowfox frowns, resting a hand on her hip.
“Ah well, no whining, no whining. This is the last stop, got to head back north to the camp, so I can introduce you to the others. Ludger's alright, miserable old sod, but he doesn't eat people or consort with demons, so he's golden when compared to the competition,” Snowfox chuckles, putting two fingers into her mouth to give a sharp whistle, her warriors slowly returning to her.
“Alright people, come on, we've got places to be, stop flirting and get moving.”
>Tell her about the Gorm to the south, suggest dealing with them before you leave
>Leave with her
>Write-in anything you wish to discuss.
Well yeah, but if it is, we really have no way of sparking a rebellion.
Yeah, protecting them from other dangers, by starving their villages and sending their people to Joachim as appetizers.
If we give reason for her to believe that we can fight off the threats better than they can, she has no reason to not do it, especially if she's as free/wild a spirit as I imagine.
>Well yeah, but if it is, we really have no way of sparking a rebellion.
I wouldn't say that. We could even stick to the original formula - I say we hold off on making a decision until we come into contact with the other lieutenants, see what the pecking order between them looks like. Whoever's getting shit on the hardest by Slaagyr or the other lieutenants will be our mark.
We'd approach from underground, Grom not an issue I think.
>Leave with her
>>Tell her about the Gorm to the south, suggest dealing with them before you leave
If they're getting this aggressive than the Mountain Lion Tribe might not last too much longer with them.
>>Tell her about the Gorm to the south, suggest dealing with them before you leave
Gain something resembling trust, then ask her true feelings about Slaggyr. What if there were... alternatives?
>“At least down south there's good sex and good weather, or so I'm told."
Oh yes. It's decided. She's ours.
Gorm are nothing for orcs, anon, don't be silly, they wouldn't even dare approach them.
>Oh yes. It's decided. She's ours.
I almost want her to be conning Sascha right now. I want her too, but I'd rather lay her low on the field of battle than have her waltz into camp willingly. She's obviously tough as nails, seems like a shame to induct her into the harem without a fight first.
Is it just me?
I know, I know. It's just not the same for me. Fighting against and subsequently claiming Ashuris and Lokasi was life or death. The stakes were high, it was exciting.
Not to mention both of them sharing the mantle of best girl. Only one that outdoes them is Aleida, albeit for entirely different reasons.
We didn't even fight Ashuris. We ambushed her, dodged a spell, bullrushed her, then raped her. Not exactly a fight to the death.
Lokasi, the skinchanger, and Ya'zada were the only ones we really fought with.
TECHNICALLY it was a fight to the death, as she certainly would've killed us had we failed the ambush.
It just wasn't a FAIR fight to the death.
I'm being facetious but come on, ogretits.
That was a very rough fight. The entire lamia compound wound up being a lot more difficult than I thought it would. When Lordy said 'cultists' I pictured sculptors and priestesses burning incense and devoting their lives to the Serpent Temple. Not a bunch of crazy strong spell-slingers.
Good raid. Very good raid.
“Before we go, there's something you should know.”
“Oh? Sister, we only just met, bit soon for that isn't it?”
You sigh, shaking your head as Snowfox smirks.
“We came through the southern pass, there's a lot of gorm there, hungry enough to get brave. If they're left alone...”
You turn your gaze to the emaciated figures of the Mountain Lion Tribe, Snowfox's eyes following yours.
“Hmm, I see your point. How many?”
“I counted twenty, possibly more we couldn't see. No more than thirty.”
“Can't let that stand then, doubt the Mountain Lions fighting for us would like it if their wives and children got eaten by a pack of gorm,” Snowfox nods, turning to her warriors.
“Alright, listen up, we've got some pest control to do before we head home. Gorm, medium-sized pack, in the pass to the south. You know what to do, so I don't want to see any fuckups, clear?”
There are some shouts of assent from her followers, as you silently gesture for your group to follow. Snowfox's warriors are obviously no strangers to combat, the warpainted tribesmen stalking down the pass two by two, bows and spears at the ready, your group taking up the rear.
“I count... twenty-seven... no, twenty-eight,” Snowfox mumbles, glancing this way and that.
You see about half that many, though considering the Snowfox's renowned skill for hunting and tracking, it shouldn't be that much of a surprise that you can't keep up with her, despite how proud you are of your abilities.
“So what now? They might not attack a group this big,” you comment.
“Then we flush them out,” Snowfox grins, pulling an arrow from her quiver, holding her bow high overhead as she draws it back.
“Volley on my target,” she shouts, her warriors drawing their bows as she releases the shot, the arrow arcing high into the sky, disappearing behind the jagged rocks lining the pass, a surprised gurgle echoing out from behind it as the arrow finds its mark.
The rest of the warriors open fire, arrows raining down around the higher rocks lining the pass. That did the trick, the gorm swarm from their cover, obviously planning to rush your group now that the element of surprise is gone. They must be starving, to risk unfavorable odds like these.
They scramble down the scree, some still hurling grasped rocks, which clatter down around you. They'll be on you in moments.
Believe me, she's better as a full coloured in knight
even if the flag spells Arendelle wrong
You level your spear as the gorm close in, Snowfox's warriors firing off a few more shots before dropping their bows to prepare for the charge, as Snowfox drops two more of the gorm with well-placed arrows, one in the throat, another between the ribs.
A gorm charges at you, a sharp rock in hand, trying to scamper under your guard to slice for your belly. You drop the speartip down, his attack brought to an abrupt close as his own momentum drives the point through his eye.
The gorm is dead within moments, but more are closing in. You plant a boot to the creature's face, wrenching the spear free just in time to bring it around to stab into the throat of another gorm closing in on you clutching a large rock in both hands, ready to cave in your skull.
You wrench the tip loose once more, turning your body to let a claw swipe scrape harmlessly along the tough leather of your tunic, slamming an elbow into the Gorm's scrawny body, the scaled scavenger tumbling to the ground, where you finish it with a couple of hard stabs to the chest.
All around, the gorm assault is being easily beaten back, the disorganized, starving beasts falling to the spears and blades of the tribesfolk. You see Snowfox, sword drawn, parry a blow with some makeshift axe by one of the gorm, opening its belly with a hard chop on the return swing.
What few gorm remain quickly lose their nerve, some three or four managing to scatter back down the pass, another dropped by an arrow as they flee.
“Doubt those three'll be causing any trouble,” Snowfox smirks, shaking some gore from the end of her sword.
“One less danger the Mountain Lions have to deal with then,” you nod.
“I'd say that sure proves you can fight, Sascha, and then some,” Snowfox grins, turning back towards the valley, slapping a friendly hand down on your shoulder, the grip lingering for a moment before she passes you by.
“Okay, unless there's any more threats skulking around you want to tell me about, we really do need to get moving now,” she calls, your two groups falling in behind her.
>End of Thread
Sorry for the short thread and delays, folks, today's been a bit hectic.
We can pick this up next time and continue Sascha's journey, in the meantime, if any of you have any questions or the like, I can loiter for some Q&A for a short while.
Thank you all for playing, next thread hopefully early next week.
Sounds like Snowfox has heard tales of what go on in orc lands. How much work would it take for Sascha to make Snowfox think that the orcs might be better than Slaaggyr or should Ur just handle that?
She regularly has sex with male slaves, how do you think she got the male members of Sascha's party so loyal?
Admittedly for her sex with slaves is more arousing from the powerplay standpoint than because she actually gets off physically from it.
She totally hopes that she is, isn't SHE?
Or was she rubbing her belly because she was remembering the feeling of having her womb pushed up into her torso because of all the meat filling her over and over?
Is this the future of one of Inka's until now unbroken remaining 2 sisters?